The Triangle (Shape of Love Book 1)

by JA Huss

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “And why exactly did you move her from the apartment where I had her in the first place? Maybe that’s the better question to be exploring.”

  I lean in toward him, because I don’t like what he’s suggesting. “What are you trying to say?”

  “I don’t know. I asked you to look after her. To keep her safe. And you moved her to an unsecured location.”

  “Unsecured? Fuck you, dude. We’re only alive right now because of me.”

  “Is that how you see it?”

  “You’re goddamn right it is.”

  I don’t take my eyes off him. He doesn’t blink. He does smirk, however. Which makes me want to knock the simpering look off his face. My fist balls up, but before it can gain any momentum, Christine puts her hand over it. I glance down quickly and see her other hand holding one of Alec’s.

  “Please, don’t.” The pleading in her voice takes me by surprise. “Please?” she says again.

  There’s a neediness in the asking that undoes me a tiny bit. It’s so sincere. So fragile. Sincerity and fragility are not qualities that I’m particularly accustomed to. And hearing them come out of the mouth of the person I’ve known the longest in my life is an unexpected jolt.

  My fist loosens, and I let my grip uncurl. I turn my hand over, open up my palm, and allow her hand to cup into mine, our fingers intertwining.

  She does the same with Alec, and then she lifts both of our hands to her mouth, pressing our coupled fists together and kissing our knuckles simultaneously.

  Then she draws them to her chest and holds us there. Next to her heart.

  She looks at Alec, who smiles at her. She looks at me. I’m not sure what expression I should offer in return. So I just stare at her.

  Then she leans in, and she kisses me on the mouth.

  I don’t return the kiss. Not right away. I just let the feel of her lips on mine linger there for a moment. I can’t help noticing that she’s still holding both of our hands together, and the fact that my fingers are somewhat tangled with both hers and Alec’s is distracting me.

  But then, after a beat, I kiss her back. I lift my other hand and place it around her throat, holding her here. Or maybe I’m holding myself here. I’m not really sure.

  And now, she’s let go of Alec’s hand and is using her newly freed-up fingers to pull my jacket off my shoulder. She forces it down and I let go of her neck, sliding the leather free from my other arm as well. My eyes are still closed. I don’t want to know where Alec is.

  But that ‘please,’ the way she said it… It has me willing myself to stay here and give her what she’s asking for even though there’s an unknown number of competing emotions urging me to walk out.

  It’s just that all the voices in my head telling me to move away from here are speaking out for the preservation of me. The lone voice encouraging me to stay is entirely about her.

  She’s not a child anymore. That girl is gone and this woman took her place.

  And it makes me sad.

  Because I missed it.

  And I don’t just mean these last few years. I mean even when we were all together too.

  I had some version of her child-self trapped in the amber in my brain and didn’t notice she’d become a new person.

  Still the same Christine, but a renewed version.

  And so, when I hear that word, ‘please,’ I don’t just hear it being asked now. Being asked so that Alec and I will stop fighting. Being asked so that I will put my lips on hers, my body against hers. Being asked so that I’ll move out of my head and into her heart.

  I hear it being asked from a place of ancient desire. From a lifetime of want.

  Whatever this danger is that’s happening to us now isn’t about now. It’s about before. It’s about everything that’s led to today. It’s about karma. It’s about a couple thousand yesterdays of someone else’s anger and retribution stockpiling in wait for us to all become unaware, unprepared, and weak.

  I don’t know if we’re going to survive. At least not all of us. I had that feeling back at Brasil’s when I decided that I would hand him Alec. I can’t prove that Alec is definitely the source of our fresh danger, but even if he isn’t, it’s time that Christine had a chance at living a normal life. She’s twenty-four. In some other life she’d just be getting out of grad school or something. Just beginning her life of climbing the corporate ladder or whatever the fuck people do.

  Giving Alec up to Brasil wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen, no matter what. And if Alec is somehow directly involved in the trafficking of human lives now, instead of just the passive way that he’s previously been responsible—hell, the way we all have—then it’ll be deserved justice. Which is a pretty fucking ironic thing for me to be doling out. Justice. But somebody has to, and I’m just about the only one who can.

  But that’s all bullshit. Because it’s not about Alec. Or justice. Or even saving innocent lives. Because no one is innocent. But Christine was. Once. And because of me, she lost it far too soon. So it’s about her. It’s about saving her life. And if Alec has to die for that to happen, so be it.

  Shit, if I have to… Same thing.

  She’s on top of me now. Straddling me as I lie back on the bed. I open my eyes and glance left and right to see that Alec seems to be gone. Did he excuse himself out of courtesy so that he wouldn’t interrupt this private moment?

  Fuckin’ right.

  I lean up to look for him, though. I let my eyes settle on Christine. Her bathrobe is barely held closed by the belt wrapped around her middle. But it’s starting to come loose. My eyes track to the edges of her breasts. Bare skin. So soft I want to reach up and touch her.

  I don’t do that. I avert my eyes and, good fucking God, there’s a tantalizing shadow between her legs that makes me want to rip the goddamned bathrobe off completely.

  I don’t do that either.

  Not because I don’t want to, just because I’m now thoroughly distracted by what she’s doing.

  Which is… grinding her pussy back and forth across the denim covering my growing cock.

  I lean back and… Fuck it.

  I let her grind.

  My hands go looking for something. Land on her legs, fingertips clenching into her skin.

  And now they’re working themselves up, gripping the muscles in her legs, my thumbs massaging the insides of her thighs as they travel forward, pushing the bathrobe aside as they journey up.

  She keeps grinding. Left to right. Front to back. And my cock is swollen and throbs more with each move. My hips push up to meet her. Silently asking to be freed from the burden of my pants so that my dick can find a home inside her.

  As my hands reach the interior of her upper thighs, warmth radiates out in waves. But I don’t stop there yet. I keep pushing, gliding my rough hands up the sides of her hips. Then her ribs. Pushing the bathrobe away with each inch.

  The belt is finally loosened. The robe falls away. She shrugs it from her shoulders and her whole, quivering, naked body greets me. My hands land on her breasts. Cupping them from underneath, tracing them, and then finding her nipples and twisting them between my fingers. Her head falls back, and she moans without opening her mouth, the sound rumbling from her throat.

  She unfastens my pants and lifts her hips just enough to get the zipper down. Then raises her arms and stretches, extending her hands above her head, pinching her shoulder blades together, and rearing back wide. It is a gesture that says she feels safe enough to be totally exposed and also a gesture that allows me to see every possible millimeter of her, and it makes my dick harder.

  The only thing that feels off is…

  Her hands are in the air.

  And my hands are on her.

  So… who the fuck is taking off my pants?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - ALEC

  You can call me a lot of things, but I don’t want it ever said that I’m not a helper.

  I can feel Danny stiffen. E
verywhere. His head pivots from around Christine and he and I make eye contact. I try to convey to him a sense of don’t worry, bru. I ain’t gonna do nothing. And he tries to convey a sense of something I can only interpret as worry.

  But I don’t let it stop me.

  I’m knelt down, working his jeans along his legs, and find that in so doing, my face is right by Christine’s extraordinary ass. I’ve had the chance to observe it from every imaginable angle, hundreds of times, but it never ceases to impress.

  I pause long enough to give her a tiny kiss on both cheeks and then slide my tongue up along her crack. She giggles and glances ever so briefly over her shoulder. I smile and continue unencumbering Danny from his trousers.

  I recognize the risk. But I’ve always found that old expression, “fortune favors the bold,” to be true. I’m of the belief that in this moment, being bold is my best ally. Danny and Christine fucked for the first time ever earlier. I know how it feels. I know how fokken good she feels when you’re inside her. And Danny is not going to be able to shield himself off from another opportunity to be satisfied.

  I look at it in the following way: Christine has now gotten something she’s wanted for a long time. And Danny has gotten something he’s wanted for a long time as well, even if he’ll not admit to it readily. And dear old Alec? Well, dear old Alec should be entitled to get something he wants.

  I recognize there is an argument to be made that dear old Alec always gets everything he wants. But that’s just life then, ain’t it?

  As I pull Danny’s jeans free from his ankles, he kind of tries to kick at me, but Christine has leaned forward and is kissing his chest while still rubbing her wet clit along his shaft. He may not want me here. He may want to fokken kill me. But there’s no way he doesn’t want her more.

  Watching her writhe against him; watching her back rise and fall as she kisses him and sucks at his nipples; watching her tease his cock as it slides back and forth between her legs, almost sliding inside her but then her pulling away…

  What it’s doing to my own cock is providing a clear answer to the age-old question, ‘What is there in the world that’s harder than a diamond?’

  I want to touch her. To touch him. I want to join them. Complete the triangle. But it’s not right. Not yet. I pushed too hard too soon the last time and it was the beginning of the end. So I will just have to satisfy myself for now with continuing to watch.

  That’s fine. I can wait. But just because I’m waiting doesn’t mean I have to feel unfulfilled. I can still share in this. I can be part of it. I am part of it. As are they a part of me.

  Fokken hell, man. When I was killing Wallace and his men just the other day, I didn’t imagine that I’d find myself here. Now. Life’s funny that way.

  I unfasten my trousers and let them fall to the floor. Kicking them off along with my boxers, I look down the length of my body. I’ve never felt my cock so full. So engorged. So thick and pulsing with the blood pumping through my veins.

  It’s the equivalent of what happens to my other limbs when I’m threatened or under assault. I can feel my skin expanding. I can feel my chest expanding. I can feel my heart pounding in my cock. Sex and violence. Best mates.

  I reach down and take myself in my hand right at the moment Christine finally releases Danny from his torment and lets him slide inside her. He moans out and it’s like it’s happening to me. My breath catches in my throat and my fist tightens around the shaft.

  She begins riding him and I stroke myself in time. I close my eyes for a moment and listen to the sound of her groaning. Straining. I imagine myself under her. Between her and Danny. And I stroke myself harder.

  Before I know it, I’m walking toward them. I don’t mean to. My body just pulls me in their direction. From where I stand, I can see that Danny has his eyes closed. I move around to the side of the bed, facing their undulating forms.

  Christine glances over and sees me there. Danny still has his eyes closed. She smiles at me. I fist myself harder as she rocks back and forth, allowing Danny’s cock to be stroked and massaged inside the walls of her pussy.

  And then Danny opens his eyes.

  “What the fuck, dude?”

  Christine reaches down and turns his chin to face her again.

  “Shhh,” she chastens, “Stay here. With me. Just look at me,” she says.

  He shakes his head a bit in resistance, but when she drops her hips low, driving her ass backwards and pushing him as deep into her as she can drive him, he relents.

  “Oh, God,” he moans out. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

  He closes his eyes again, and now he turns his head away from where I’m standing. I know the expression he has on. It’s that of a person trying to will themselves to stay lost in a moment. Not to give over to whatever anxieties they have or cautions their brain is telling them to listen to.

  Good.

  Christine is sliding back and forth now. Pushing and pulling on him. Working to milk him dry. And looking at me.

  She bows her head in my direction and I move forward, stroking more slowly as I approach. I’m about, oh, I’d say ten inches away from her when she lifts a hand, takes my cock in her grip, and begins stroking for me.

  My neck twists and my shoulder blades pull together. I’m leaning back while pressing my hips forward. She leads me to her, closer, closer, closer, riding Danny hard the whole time. I’m right beside her now. Danny’s still looking the other way, moaning and thrusting his hips into her deeper and deeper.

  I know he can feel my body heat. I know he knows I’m here. It gets me even harder, which I didn’t think was possible. I want so desperately to straddle him and let her take my cock in her mouth. But I feel like I’d be pushing my luck if he looked up to see my ass in his face. Maybe that will be something that can happen just now, but not now now. Maybe if we make it to tomorrow.

  Maybe.

  But I do notice that Christine is doing a lot of work and I feel like I should lend her a hand. Mine, specifically.

  I step in further so that she can get a full grip around the whole of me. And also so that I can touch her. I want to feel her swollen and wet.

  I reach my hand to her belly and slide my fingers down so they’re resting on her clit. I know I’ve hit it because she jolts a bit. The jolt makes Danny jolt too, but he keeps his eyes closed and his hands clench the sheets.

  I’m rubbing with two fingers, as careful as I can be not to rub my hand against Danny. I want to. I very much want to. But right now, we are perfect, and that’s all I need. Perfection.

  The touch of my fingers on her tumescent pussy makes her wail. She’s moaning, shrieking, grunting, fucking Danny more and more angrily as she hammers her hand on my own inflamed cock. Danny’s grunting as well. He’s still refusing to look, but he’s close. I can see him. His face is contorted, and his knuckles are whitening with his grip on the sheets.

  My fingers on Christine are frantic. Miniature jackhammers vibrating against her beautiful, needy blessing. I’m willing myself not to come all over Danny. That feels like it would be ill advised. And it is fortunate for all involved that my will is a thing of legend.

  And now…

  Her grip around me tightens more and her back shoots up erect. Her knees crash into Danny’s hips and she stills, shaking from within.

  Danny yells, “Oh, fuck!” It’s half release, half surprise.

  They are coming at the same time and standing above them, I feel as might the savior himself. An amatory messiah standing holy over the degeneracy of his deviant flock.

  Christine shivers, spasms, twists, turns, and finally falls to the side of Danny.

  And when she does…

  She takes me, unexpectedly, into her mouth as she crashes off. She wraps her lips around me, fisting the base and at once sucking violently. And now I have no idea what Danny is doing. Because I can no longer see. My eyes are still open, but I go blind as I spray into her throat, hot and unceasing. It’s all I can do not to fall f
ace forward right across Danny’s chest.

  I come, and come, and come until I can come no more. And then I come more. And she takes it all. She keeps drinking me down until I am spent and useless and broken.

  And I do mean spent. I can no longer stand here. My legs betray me. And I fall forward. I collapse, hard, right across Danny’s stomach. He jolts.

  But he doesn’t say anything. I’m expecting him to yell, Get the fuck off me, asshole! Or something of the like. But he doesn’t. He just breathes in jagged bursts. Like he’s trying to take in air, but his lungs have forgotten for a moment how they’re intended to work and so they shudder and start, like an engine trying to turn over.

  Christine crawls around to the other side of him. And me. She positions herself at the point between where our heads lie. She stretches one hand out to place in Danny’s hair. The other arm straightens to reach the top of my head. She massages her strong fingers into my scalp. I assume she’s doing the same with Danny. Trying to knead us into shape with one another.

  My arm involuntarily slides down Danny’s legs. I allow my fingertips to stroke the muscles in his calf. Again, his breathing darts out of him in tiny bursts, but Christine whispering, “Shhh,” seems to calm him enough.

  I nuzzle my head into Christine’s hand. I turn my neck to spy the geometric way we are positioned together. Christine, one point, me and Danny, the other two.

  The automation in the house has turned the lights on, and the golden glow in the room casts warm shadows. The lights embedded into the base boards along the wall form long, arcing columns of radiance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the pattern we appear to be forming on the ceiling, and I smile. Unplanned, I grunt out a couple of tiny laughs.

  “What?” Christine asks. “What is it?”

  I don’t say anything. Just twist my neck further and cast my eyes ceilingward, gesturing with my chin for her to look up as well.

  She does. And she sniffs a laugh out as well.

  And finally, Danny opens his eyes also. I can’t read him as he sees what we see, but his breathing changes to a more normal pace. And as the three of us stare up at the contours of us painted on the room above us, I try to decide from the image I see…