by Cari Quinn
Her hands gripped his hair and he followed her down until his mouth was at her neck. “You like this? Want it this hard?”
“More,” she said on a ragged moan. “I’m going to come. Don’t stop.”
“Never.” He hammered into her, keeping his fingers busy between their bodies. Randy held onto her. His head was thrown back and the cords of his neck stood out in stark relief.
Sweet fuck, they were all on the edge.
Tristan doubled his efforts on her clit, as he pressed her harder into Randy until the friction was unbearable.
Her screams seemed like she was a moment away from pain, but then the sounds tumbled into a void. He didn’t know if it was because his own blackness was taking over, or because she was so far gone that words and sounds couldn’t even materialize.
Tristan pulled out of her and whipped the condom off. His cum splashed along her back and striped the curve of her ass. She collapsed on Randy as he gripped her hips and slammed into her one more time, erasing the space between them.
His bellow was more animalistic than Tristan had ever heard before.
She curled her arm under Rand’s neck and simply held on until they were nothing but a pile of sweat and skin. Her other hand gripped Tristan’s ass to make sure he didn’t get away. Her nails bit into his flesh when he tried to move.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
Tristan couldn’t deny her. Not now.
Perhaps not ever.
They slowly slid to a more relaxed position with a sleepy and sated Juliet between them. She let her head fall back against Tristan and hooked her leg over Randy’s hip. “Holy fuck.”
“That’s what we did,” Randy said sleepily.
Tristan peered over her shoulder and laughed. “Did you just make a joke?”
Randy rolled onto his back with a yawn. “I have my moments.”
Jules stretched with a jaw-popping yawn. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”
Tristan stroked her belly, appreciating the smoothness of her skin. He nuzzled her neck, dragging in her plum scent. “I think I might have a clue.”
She twisted to meet his mouth. Their kiss was languid and easy. The frenetic pace of just a few moments ago had faded to an easiness he’d never really had with anyone before. He couldn’t quite stop touching her. His hand drifted lower to play between her legs as she rolled her hips against his.
“Sensitive,” she said on a shaky breath.
Randy inched lower against her chest, taking her nipple into his mouth. He sucked hard until she made a tiny whimper. He let her nipple go with a long slow lick. “The best kind of afterglow, right, Tris?”
Tristan nodded. “Especially when you’re still so wet and swollen.” He draped her knee over his thigh and held her open for Randy who slithered down her ribs to her hip and nibbled his way to her pussy.
Randy stayed there, his mouth hovering over her slit. A puff of warm breath teased Tristan’s fingers. “How sensitive is too sensitive?” he asked.
Jules trembled, her back arching for Tristan’s kiss behind her ear at the same time.
Randy’s tongue slid along Tristan’s fingers as he separated her folds and exposed her clit for Randy. He tapped on the top of her clit where she was most sensitive then made room for Randy’s mouth. She bucked against Tristan and he held her firm.
“Just one more, baby. We can’t help but want to give you one more orgasm.” Tristan tugged at her earlobe. “That’s it. I feel your legs shaking.”
“Too much.”
Randy lashed at her clit. Tristan could hear the wetness and felt the flick of his best friend’s tongue.
None of what happened between the three of them felt odd or strange. Just natural. Even when he and Randy shared the same space to give her everything she needed. It was all about Juliet, their center.
“You want Sparky inside you? You want him lighting you up one more time, baby?”
Randy looked up from his position between her thighs. His lips twitched at the bastardization of his nickname, and even that was a revelation.
They found laughter and joy mixed in with the dirty sex. Underneath all of it was a deep and abiding friendship. And trust.
They were learning to trust each other anyway. That was a steeper mountain than all the rest, but they were climbing it.
Together, as they did everything else.
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can take it.”
Tristan laughed in her ear. “That makes me want to see it all the more.”
“What about you?” she asked desperately.
He smiled into her neck. “I’m good. I swear it. I just love to watch you fall apart.”
“Then yes. If you’re sure.”
Tristan groaned into her hair. “So sure.”
Randy reached for one of the condoms and suited up. Tristan situated her knee up higher on Rand’s hip so he could still see each thrust. He pushed her hair out of the way and scraped his teeth over her neck.
She moaned. Just as he knew she would.
He knew her spots. He knew what would push her to the edge and what would bring her back. Right now, he just wanted her over. Tristan brushed his knuckles down her spine as she rocked against Randy. He gripped her hips and added his own rhythm to theirs.
Juliet’s fingers slipped into Tristan’s hair to hold him against her back as they all moved in tandem. He knew she wasn’t ready to take him again. They’d stretched her to her limit just a little bit ago, but Tristan rubbed light circles around her rosette. When her breath turned to a keening cry, he plunged his thumb inside her again.
She vised around the pad of his thumb, her knees locking around Randy’s hip. From the look on his friend’s face, she was locking down on him too. Randy’s eyebrows furrowed, agony etching his features as he was suspended in that space between release and pure willpower to drag it out.
Jules shook and arched between them.
“Come for us.” Tristan nipped her ear, crowding closer. “Everything. We want everything.”
He was beginning to think that was truer than he’d even realized.
Randy plunged inside of her, powering up into her until the bed rocked in response.
Tristan didn’t think there was anything left inside of him to give. His spine crackled and heat raced between his skin and hers. He fisted his aching cock, painting her hip as she cried out their names.
Not just one of them. Both.
When he came around again, they were still in a pile of bodies. By far, Randy was the most contorted on the edge of the bed. His spine was twisted at an unnatural angle, but Jules was nestled against him, her head on Randy’s chest even as her fingers were twined with Tristan’s.
Somehow they always nested together while sleeping.
In the past, Tristan had needed his space while he was unconscious. Until Jules. Until the three of them had learned just how crowded a king-sized bed could become.
And yet, when they had been gone, he hadn’t been able to sleep.
Tristan rolled onto his back to stretch the kinks out and slid out from under her.
Jules moaned and reached back for him. “Where are you going?”
He perched on the edge of the bed then bent to kiss her. “If we slept in this position any longer, we’d be in traction.”
She wrinkled her nose in that cute sleepy way she had.
Tristan nodded to Rand. “Look at him.”
She pushed a lock of hair out of Rand’s face. “He’s so good to me. Always makes sure that I’m comfortable, even if he’s broken.” She shifted up onto her hip.
In sleep, Rand moved into her, his arm looping around her waist to pin her in place.
Tristan grinned. “Ol’ Sparkplug doesn’t want you going anywhere.”
She elbowed Tristan. “I seem to remember you were Velcroed to my ass just a minute ago.”
Tristan shrugged and stood. “Who needs blankets when I’ve got one of the hottest bassists in the country
in my bed?”
She pushed her wrecked hair out of her face and rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Super hot.”
Tris leaned across the bed and fisted his fingers into her hair, dragging her mouth up to his. “Hot," he said against her lips. He slanted his mouth over hers, savoring her taste as she curled herself around him. “Perfect."
“Only to you guys.”
“We’re the only ones who matter.”
She cupped his jaw. “There’s so much truth there.”
Her eyes were troubled, but before Tristan could ask if something was up, her belly growled. Loudly. Her dark eyes went wild and a giggle bubbled up between them. “Sorry.”
“When did you eat?”
She frowned. “Bagel this morning?”
“Really?”
She shrugged. “Only thing edible at the airport.”
“Truth.” He slid back off the bed, then nodded to Randy. “Wake up Sleeping Beauty. I’ll make us some omelets.” Tristan dragged on a pair of workout shorts and a T-shirt.
“Wait,” she called after him. “Do I have time to take a shower?”
“A quick one unless you like cold eggs.” Tristan headed down the hall to raid the kitchen. He could use a shower himself, but if he got in there with her, there would definitely be no food. Unless she’d sneaked some of her blasted Pop Tarts into his cupboards.
He found mushrooms and spinach in the crisper from his last run to the market. By the time Randy came into the kitchen, Tristan had switched out from omelets to a frittata for the three of them.
The frittata they’d missed when she’d been called into work that morning not so long ago. Although he would’ve sworn a lifetime had passed in between then and now.
Randy scratched his belly before climbing onto a stool at the hightop table in the kitchen. “How long was I out?”
“I don’t know, man. You guys on the elevator, then there was a bed and it’s a blur from there to now.” Tristan rolled his shoulders. It had been nice to get a few hours of sleep. He hated how out of sorts he’d been since the two of them had been gone.
“I hear you. I passed out on Harper’s couch. Add in a four-year-old who gets up at the ass crack of dawn and had also taken a nap…well, you get the picture.”
Tristan pulled the pan out of the oven. The scents of garlic and Parmesan cheese wafted up from the hissing skillet. “I worked the early shift today. I don’t know how people do it.”
“Definitely not my preference.” Randy groaned as he slid off the chair. “That smells awesome.”
Tristan shifted it out of the pan to the butcher block island. “Jules woke up with a hungry belly.”
“We may have worked up an appetite.”
One that never seemed to be sated. Tris snagged a wide cutting knife and cut the egg concoction into sixths just in time for Jules to saunter into the kitchen. Her wild hair had been tamed into a fat, wet braid and she’d stolen another one of his shirts.
She came straight for the food. Tristan held his hand up. “It hasn’t—”
“Come on, it doesn’t need to set anymore.”
“Who’s the chef?”
She pouted. “Hungry.”
Tristan rolled his eyes. “Go sit down.”
“Can you not do the whole dressage and stuffs? I just want to put it in my belly.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “It smells so good. I’m not even going to put ketchup on it.”
“Over my dead body,” Tristan growled.
“I said I wasn’t.” She propped her head on her hands. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
Tristan plated the food and added a small salad. When Jules gave a heavy sigh, he made sure to slowly dress the greens too. Randy’s lips twitched as she wiggled in the chair, her head dropped back. Tristan crossed to them and set a plate in front of Rand first.
“You suck,” she muttered.
Tristan started to set the plate in front of her, then took it away. “Payment first.”
One slim eyebrow shot up. “Oh, really?”
He grinned. “Really.”
She slid her fingers under the hem of Tristan’s T-shirt and into the elastic waist of his shorts. He swallowed hard. He’d meant a kiss, but this worked too. She bypassed his rapidly hardening cock and cupped his balls.
“Now, Jules.”
She leaned in. “Yes?” Her nails grazed his sac as she tightened her grip ever so slightly. The sly smile that spread across her face had him dropping the plate. “That’s what I thought.”
“I was just looking for a kiss.”
She picked up her fork. “Sure you were.”
Randy snorted. “You know better, Tris.”
“Don’t mess with Jules and her post-coital food.”
“Damn right.” Juliet forked up a bite and moaned around the first taste. “But wow, can you cook.”
Tristan pulled out his chair and sat down. “Handy, that chef thing.”
“I’ll keep you for another day.”
Tris grinned down at his plate. Stupid how such a flippant comment was now capable of making his chest tighten. “Glad to hear it.”
“So what are the chances you can get to my show on Christmas Eve?”
“Me?” Tristan asked.
She pointed her thumb at Randy. “Well, this guy will already be there.”
Randy picked at his crust full of mushrooms. “Pretty sure she wants lights on for the show.”
“It’s a really big concert. Lila managed to get us this gig and it’s probably one of the biggest ones we’ve done.” She nibbled on the corner of her crust. “It would mean a lot if I could have both my guys there.”
Tristan’s chest tightened. “Where?”
“Greek Theater at U.C. Berkeley.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit, Jules.”
She blushed. “I know. We’re replacing another band. The lead singer had to go rehab–”
“For sex addiction,” Rand put in.
“Huh. Why would you want to recover from liking too much sex?” Tris held up his hands. “I know, bad joke. It’s a serious problem.”
“Yeah, it sucks for Luc and The Grunge, but it’s incredible for us. We tripped into the opportunity, and I really want you there.” She reached for Randy’s hand. “Both of you.”
Tristan leaned across the table and captured her mouth. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Even if he had to offer up an entire wardrobe of monogrammed chef jackets to Kendra to get her to cover for him, he would do it. Whatever it took.
Keeping that look on Juliet’s face was worth whatever price he needed to pay.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Juliet was sprawled on Randy’s lap, and his old acoustic was tucked on hers. Together, they were working their way through “Sweet Home Alabama.” She was singing in her sexy, voice, low and soft so they didn’t wake Tristan.
Randy nudged her fingers aside and strummed a few notes, pretending to be affronted when she elbowed him back and took over again. The sight of Juliet wearing one of Tris’s unbuttoned wine red chef’s coats—and only a chef’s coat—with her long hair all wild and her eyes sleepy and satisfied would stay with him forever. He wished he could keep right on holding her, and at the same time, take a million pictures to record the moment for posterity.
For after this is over.
Nope. Not going there. After last night, along with the revelations he’d come to over the holiday weekend, he wasn’t going to dwell on anything negative.
“I have an idea,” he murmured against the side of her neck.
She let out a mock groan and continued to strum. “I think we’re almost out of lube.”
He laughed against her hair. “No need for lube for this.” He nosed her hair aside so he could suck on her earlobe. “Though maybe later…”
“Buy more lube first. And more condoms. And maybe one or two of those fancy bath bombs, because parts of me are sore that haven’t had a workout in a while.” She tossed him a heavy-lidded glance over he
r shoulder. “Definitely never a workout like that.”
“I should hope not. We like taking your cherries.”
“Oh, do you now? Dirty man.” She licked her lips and snuggled back against him, letting out a little purr as she bumped into the hard column in his loose pajama pants. He was always hard for her, morning, noon and night. No matter how much sex they had or how many times he got off, he couldn’t stop wanting her.
Or wanting to share her with Tris. They hummed in his blood like an electrical charge.
“Insatiable dirty man. So about your idea.”
“Let’s take some pictures.”
“Wow, you really are dirty.” She set aside the guitar and shifted toward him, looping her arm around his neck. “I love it. I’m in. We need a tripod.”
“I have one.” His eyebrows climbed. “Whoa, I think you think I’m talking about a different kind of photos.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “You’re not?”
“God, I adore you.” He tipped his forehead to hers as she sucked in a breath. “Don’t panic on me.” He kept his tone teasing. “That wasn’t a declaration of eternal love.”
“I know. It’s just…this is a lot. We’re a lot. Last night…”
“Was a lot.” He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her damp lips. “Let me get that tripod and my camera. Wait here?”
She nodded, her eyes huge and so dark he could’ve gotten lost in them, willingly.
It took him only a couple of minutes to unearth his camera and tripod from the closet. On the way back from his room, he poked his head in Tris’s doorway. The guy was still passed out on his stomach in the center of the bed.
Hello, fuck coma. If Randy wasn’t such a perpetually early riser, he’d have been in the same state.
He backed out of the room with a grin. This woman was either the best thing that had happened to them, or else she was going to kill them.
What a way to go.
He carried the tripod and camera into the living room and stopped dead.
Juliet was sprawled in the chair, Tristan’s coat too big for her except for across the front where her full breasts were tugging it tight. Of course, her pose—leaning forward and cupping the neck of the guitar between her thighs—had something to do with that as well. The top two buttons were undone and the hem of the coat flirted with her upper thighs. Her long, silky legs were wrapped around the guitar.