His: MMF Bisexual Holiday Romance

by Chloe Lynn Ellis

  “It’s all right,” I repeat. “He’s a coward, we can handle him. I’m going to make sure he’s out of your life as soon as possible; I doubt his bosses will be pleased to find out he’s behaving this way. You won’t have to deal with that any longer.” I reached down and stroke her lovely face, wiping away one of the tears still glistening on her red cheek.

  “Thank you,” Ginny says, and swipes at her eyes. “It’s not just him, though,” she confides. “This is, um—” She swallows hard, coughs, and lays her head down on my chest. “It’s the anniversary,” she mumbles into my coat.

  I reach down and gently take her chin, lifting her to look into my eyes. “The anniversary of what?” I ask her softly.

  She squeezes her eyes shut, and lets out a ragged breath. “Last year, I lost my parents in a car accident,” she says, her voice a hoarse whisper. “This is the anniversary of the day I—I—”

  She starts to hyperventilate, and I stroke her hair. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.” I make a decision. “Come on,” I say to her, raising my arm to flag down a passing cab. “You shouldn’t be alone right now; let’s get you out of the cold.”

  Ginny snuggles up against me in the cab, and all I can think about is the satisfaction of knowing that she’s safe.

  Chapter 7

  Ginny

  Today was supposed to be the second worst day of my life: the anniversary of losing Mom and Dad, on top of a crappy shift at work. And if that weren’t enough, then that asshole Tucker decided that today was the perfect day to tell me I had to, ugh, “put out or get out,” in his words. Totally enough to make me want to go home, pull the covers over my head, and pretend the whole world didn’t exist.

  And then Luke comes bursting into Tucker’s office like some kind of knight in shining armor, talking about suing Tucker on my behalf, and telling me I’m not really fired, and then whisking me out of there. It’s almost too much to believe. Even when we pull up in front of a gorgeous place in Back Bay and Luke helps me out of the cab, I can still scarcely believe it.

  A guy like Luke doesn’t take a girl like me home, especially not when I cried and snotted all over his incredibly nice coat. A guy like Luke doesn’t have to listen to someone like me pour her heart out, or hug them while they cry.

  He said I shouldn’t be alone; maybe he’s looking for me to pay him back for how he helped me with Tucker, even though Luke doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to leverage sex like that. I guess I wouldn’t mind if that was the deal, but I can’t imagine I look especially sexy right now. And the way Luke looks at me as we go into his building, the way he offers his arm to help me get up the stairs into the lobby vestibule… he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who expects that he’s about to get laid. He looks like a guy who’s genuinely worried about me and how I feel.

  God, it’s been so long since I had a man go to bat for me; so long since I had a guy stand up for me, really care about how I felt. Even the sweet guys I hooked up with after I lost my folks didn’t want to get into the really emotional shit I was dealing with, and the forceful guys sure as hell didn’t want to hear about it. I did a lot of crying alone, in the tub with more glasses of wine than I’d like to admit, because guys kept acting like crying in front of them, natural grieving, was inconvenient for them. But Luke… Luke is looking at me like he cares, honestly cares.

  I think about the way he held me outside of the restaurant; I felt safe, wrapped up in his arms. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve been super turned on to be that close to him; he smells amazing, and I could feel the heat of his body through his shirt and suit coat. God, I’ve wanted him for so long, and now I’m going back to his place. But right now I just feel warm, protected.

  He opens the door to what has to be the penthouse, after the elevator ride we just took, and flips on the lights before ushering me inside. I really don’t want to think about what a place like this has to cost; it’s gorgeous, all open space and views of Boston, gleaming hardwood and leather furniture. There’s even a green marble fireplace that Luke turns on with a remote. It’s gorgeous, but it feels… kind of like a hotel. Not really a home, you know? He hasn’t put up any decorations for Christmas at all; if it weren’t for the potted plants and the full wine rack, I wouldn’t think this was a place where anybody really lived.

  “Did you, um, did you just move in?” I ask him as I take off my shoes and coat.

  He gives me a sort of rueful half smile. “No decorations, I know,” he says. “I’ve been remiss in my respects to the holiday.”

  “No, I mean, it’s okay,” I say as I lean against the kitchen counter. “Christmas used to be like, my big thing. But now it’s…” I trail off, wrapping my arms around myself as all the sorrow about my parents threatens to come rushing back. I don’t want to cry on Luke again, not when he’s doing so much for me already.

  Luke puts a big hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, Virginia,” he says softly, and despite my sadness, I can’t help but feel a thrill at the way he says my name. “You’re safe here. You’re with me; I’ve got you.” I can hear steel in his voice underneath the silkiness, a force that would protect me from anything. I think about how ferocious he looked when he read Tucker the riot act, and my broken heart suddenly feels warm, fluttery despite my grief. “Here,” Luke says, taking my arm. “Come sit, let’s get you off your feet.”

  “Actually, um,” I begin. “I’m kind of freezing, could I borrow a sweatshirt or something?” There’s a chill that crept into me when we were outside that I can’t seem to shake, despite how toasty warm and lovely Luke’s apartment feels.

  “I’ll do you one better,” Luke says. “This way.” He leads me down a short hallway with a door on either side and opens the one on the left. Inside is a gorgeous bathroom with a huge glass shower and marble floors. He opens a cabinet and pulled out a huge, fluffy towel before setting it on the counter. “Take your time,” he says. “Use anything you want in the shower. I’ll be right back with some fresh clothes for you.”

  I’ve just started to unbutton my blouse when there’s a knock on the bathroom door. Wow, that was fast. “Still decent?” Luke’s voice asks, and I open the door slightly for him.

  Instead of opening the door fully and coming in, he just sticks his hand through a narrow crack in the door and leaves some folded clothing on the counter. I can see him reflected in the bathroom mirror, and his eyes are shut. I didn’t even know they made guys who did that anymore. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, and closes the door with a little click.

  The shower is hot and wonderful, and everything seems to wash away under the steaming water. All the heartache and exhaustion seem to dull, and I realize I’ve found a kind of tired peace. I get dressed in the huge man’s sweatshirt and penguin boxers that Luke left for me and comb through my hair before I head back out to the living room. Luke is sitting on the huge leather couch in front of the fire, wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt instead of his suit, two glasses of red wine on the coffee table.

  “Better?” he asks me with a smile, and I nod. He pats the couch next to him and I sit down, leaning into the warmth of his body. His shirt is so soft and thin, I can feel the hard muscles of his body under my hand. He reaches across me, and I expect him to make a move, to push for something, but instead he snags a thick, soft throw blanket from the back of the couch before wrapping me up and passing me a glass of wine.

  “I said you were safe here,” Luke tells me, and the fire light reflected in his blue eyes makes them look like they’re burning. “And I meant it. This year, Christmas is hard for me, too,” he says. I’m surprised that anything could be hard for Luke. “It doesn’t compare to your loss, not by a long shot, but I’m still struggling. My family is out in Arizona, and this is my first year where I couldn’t visit them,” he says. “I miss them like hell. Part of why I’ve been having a hard time getting into the swing of the holidays.”

  I snuggle against him, the warm
th of the shower and the fireplace mingling nicely with the slight haziness from the wine. “That’s sweet,” I say. “Are you really close?”

  He looks down and nods. “The people in my life are extremely important, Virginia,” he says softly. “The people I care about matter deeply to me. Now, I want you to get some rest,” he says and I realize suddenly exactly how exhausted I am from all the stress and the crying.

  It’s clear Luke has no intention of trying to get me into bed, not tonight, and while my libido is definitely disappointed, my heart is grateful. I feel like he’s really looking out for me, for what I actually need. He’s so strong, so commanding, that I feel like I can truly let myself relax. Like he said, he’s got me. The last thing I feel is Luke gently taking the wine glass out of my hand and stroking a hand across my hair, and then I’m asleep.

  When I wake up, sunlight is streaming into the living room. For a minute, I don’t know where I am—I’m wrapped up tightly in something that smells like a man’s aftershave, and the pillow under my head isn’t my lumpy, old Target buy. I blink at the room around me, and gradually, I realize where I am. And I remember last night. Luke—he rescued me from Tucker, saved my job, and then he took me home with him. To his place.

  I feel a hot curl of desire low in my belly at the idea of being in Luke’s home. He must have tucked me in after I fell asleep—I’m all snuggly, wrapped up in a soft chenille throw—and he even brought me a pillow. My heart flutters, adding a delicious lightness to the growing want in my body. There’s a Post-it stuck to my phone on the coffee table and I wriggle out of the throw blanket.

  Sleep well, Virginia, the note reads. Master bedroom is at the end of the hall on the right. If you need anything, come get me. That’s an order. —L.

  “That’s an order,” I repeat to myself softly. God, it’s funny how that phrase makes my heart race. Even in a sweet note like this, Luke is showing me that he’s got it all under control, that he could have me under control. My whole body is a mass of butterflies and tingling, my nerves flustered by the care and dominance that seems to exist in Luke simultaneously.

  Before I can do anything else, the flutters start to get more intense, and suddenly I don’t feel so hot. What if I’m misreading his generosity? Does this note really mean anything? The familiar ache of loneliness inside of me starts to replace the tingles, a stark reminder of both how much I want him and how much I want him to be everything I need. Maybe I’m just projecting my own desires onto a guy that’s way out of my league.

  I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Everything was so nice just a moment ago, so floaty and contented, but now, as reality intrudes, it’s starting to turn. I am not, nor have I ever been, that lucky.

  Luck is when opportunity meets preparation.

  The thought wells up from that spot deep down where my hopes and dreams live, and I look across the way to where the master bedroom is. The tingles start to gain dominance again over my insecurities, and I can feel a slow smile start to spread over my lips.

  I’m not sure about this. Not at all. But… this is definitely opportunity. One I never would have believed would land in my lap. The only question is, am I prepared to pounce on it?

  I don’t know if I’m just groggy and out of my mind, or if I’m just starting to get fed up with always assuming I’ll never have what I want. What I need. Or maybe it’s the influence of Luke’s powerful words, his forceful personality, but all I know is that I’m happy when I think about him.

  I look down, tracing a finger over his note again.

  That’s an order.

  I’m happy taking orders from him.

  My fingers find their way up to my lips, tracing the smile that’s still growing. Giving me even more tingles as I imagine them replaced with his.

  Yes, I decide. I’m prepared.

  As soon as I make the decision, the nausea subsides, and the good kind of flutters return. The tingles are now a heated ache, radiating out from between my legs and up through my stomach, and I realize just how helpless to resist the idea of being with him… of touching him… of allowing myself to let go and trust in his power over me.

  I set down my phone, my hesitancy overridden by his magnetic pull. By the hope that I might find something I’ve craved for so long with him. I rise to my feet and step lightly toward the master bedroom. Luke did say to come and get him if I needed anything, after all, and I’m definitely feeling a need right now, more than I’ve ever felt anything in my entire life.

  He’s still sleeping as I slowly push open his bedroom door. God, he has the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, a massive carved wood thing with a slotted headboard and footboard. There are nicks on some of the slats, and I wonder what exactly he’s been doing with this bed frame. A naughty little thrill goes through me; I think I might know, and I can’t help but imagine myself tied down to this bed. It’s so big that I would be spread out utterly, totally helpless, at Luke’s mercy… I bite my lip, stifling the groan. “Luke,” I call softly.

  He seems to stir, and I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. I could turn around now and pretend this never happened. Go back to fantasizing about him in my bathtub and never knowing whether or not the reality is as good as what I’ve imagined.

  Better, that insistent part deep inside me offers. Staying alone—lonely—is a worse fate than the potential embarrassment if he rejects me now.

  I take a deep breath, forcing myself to continue. I’ll never know if I don’t try, and I really think he’s someone I can count on to take care of me if I do. I long to put myself in his hands, in every sense.

  I take a deep breath, amazed at how bold I’m about to be, and climb under the covers with him. The sheets are luxurious, toasty warm and soft. I reach my hand out, still hesitant. What if he’s upset? What if I’m misreading everything and he kicks me out to the street? I pull my hand back, the fear taking over for just a moment again.

  I can hear his strong breaths—slow and steady—from his nose. Jesus, he’s even put together when he’s asleep, I think, and stifle a small giggle. This finally breaks the grip of my fear, and I tentatively run my fingers over Luke’s collarbone, touching him with just the tips as I indulge myself by tracing his chiseled chest.

  God, he’s built—I knew he was fit, but he must really put in the work at the gym. It all looks like functional muscle, muscle that means solid, compact power, and I feel that jolt again as I imagine how strong he must be.

  “Luke,” I whisper again, and hold my breath.

  This time, he rolls toward me, his eyes still closed, and reaches out with one arm, drawing me against his hard chest like I’m a teddy bear. I can’t help but moan softly as his arms wrap around me—he feels so good, so warm, and it’s been so long. And the ease with which he hauls me against him just gives more proof to my conviction about his physical capabilities.

  Yum. This was definitely the right choice. I need this.

  “Ginny,” Luke murmurs. A small smile quirks his lips, and my breath catches. He may be half asleep, but he know’s it me.

  And, God, he’s stupidly gorgeous, even half-asleep like this.

  “Yes,” I say. I let my hand rest lightly on the firm muscles of his pecs. Even with him holding me, I don’t dare do more than that. “You said to come get you if I needed anything.” Ordered me to.

  His chest rumbles with a soft groan, and even though his eyes are still closed, his lips curve up in a smile that tells me how pleased he is that I obeyed.

  “You’re right,” he says softly. “I did. Good. Good girl.”

  Being called good girl does something to me, something a lot like what happens when he calls me Virginia—there’s a rush of heat through my entire body, and I shamelessly press myself against his muscled thighs without thinking, a fresh wave of desire roaring through me like a freight train.

  His hands roam down the curve of my body, one on my spine, the other sliding down my arm until he takes my hand, gently but firmly, and pulls it from hi
s chest down to his groin. I gasp in spite of myself—so much for worrying about my being too bold.

  He’s hard, throbbing, and I can tell that even my fantasies didn’t do him justice. I begin to stroke his thick length as I grind against his thigh, his hand on my ass now, pulling me hard against him, rocking me in place. It’s so good. So, so good. And we’re just starting.

  My grip tightens on his cock and Luke grunts, his eyes fluttering open.

  “Virginia,” he says softly, and hearing my full name from his lips, in bed with him, intimate like this, I feel like I’ve been struck by lightning. “I want—” Luke begins, then breaks off in a snarl. He gives my ass a sharp tap, making me yelp softly at the bright sensation, then takes his hand away and rubs it over his face. “Stop that, Virginia,” he tells me in a hard voice. Not cruel, but not one to be disobeyed, either.

  I freeze, pulling my hand away from his cock and drawing it close to my chest in horror. I can’t believe what I’ve just done. Can’t believe I convinced myself this would actually be okay.

  “Oh my God, did I just—I’m so sorry,” I whisper, mortified. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

  But when I move to scoot away from Luke, his other arm holds me fast against his body.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Virginia,” he says, looking at me with those keen eyes of his, now fully awake. He says it like he means it, and even though I still want to die, it starts to calm me down. “If you remember, I’m the one who moved your hand down to touch me. You were doing everything just right. But I won’t do this,” he says.

  My heart plummets down to my toes. If I was doing it right, but he still doesn’t want to… that must mean he doesn’t want me.

  “Virginia,” he says firmly, reaching up to cup my face and forcing my attention back on him and away from the spiral of self-doubt I’d been falling into, “What I mean is, I won’t do this without Aiden, too.”

  My heart doesn’t know what to do, yo-yoing back up into my throat. “Aiden?” I ask numbly. My mind immediately goes to Aiden Campbell, the cute retail guy that I kissed in the Dunk’s. The one who ran away from me.