by Jo Raven
We’re not supposed to receive phone calls during work, and he knows it, but he looks so pale and rattled I say nothing and take the customer to the art shelves myself, showing her our latest arrivals and our bestsellers, like Magical Jungle and Calm the Fuck Down.
That’s what I need today. Maybe I should get one for myself.
“You call me,” I hear him say as I explain to the customer she can also order books we don’t have in stock and that they’ll be here in a matter of days. “Call me if that happens again, you hear me, mate?”
Mate?
I glance at him briefly before I’m forced to turn my attention back to the customer who has decided to check every coloring book on the shelf, asking all the while which ones are more relaxing and whether getting them online would be cheaper.
Jet is Australian? There was an unmistakable hint of an accent there. Christ, can the man get any sexier? Did he have to go and get an accent, too?
That’s it, I’m blaming these two boys for my obsession. Yes, I’m sick and crazy about you, and it’s on you. So I’ll stop feeling guilty about it.
Easier said than done.
Plus, he’s still staring at his cracked phone—a phone I caused him to break—and drumming his fingers on his thigh. Two spots of color have appeared on his white cheekbones, and he’s still breathing hard.
Like he had on Saturday, when he had the headache and I drove him home.
I’m aching to ask what is wrong, but… customer. Who now wants to know whether we do discounts if she buys two books instead of one.
No, lady. Not unless there’s a sticker on the book saying so. Not unless there’s a label on the shelf saying so. Please, make up your mind and go.
I feel bad for thinking that, but then I feel profound relief when she finally picks a book and heads to the register where Donna is sitting, reading the latest romantic comedy by Helena Hunting and giggling to herself.
I’m scared to imagine what our customers must think of us. They’ll probably never return. And strangely enough, it’s probably not entirely my fault.
Look at our boss, for chrissakes. Now she’s cackling out loud and rocking in her chair.
Jethro at least has put his phone away, but his gaze is curiously empty as he leans against the shelf, arms crossed over his chest. Blank. Not what I’d expect after the manic energy that had vibrated through him during the call.
I don’t like this. At all.
“Hey, Jet.” I keep my voice soft, because he looks like he could be easily startled. “Is everything okay? Who was that on the phone?”
He blinks slowly as if noticing me for the first time. “My cousin,” he rasps, his voice scratchy.
“Is he okay?”
He shakes his head, and you know what? Screw this. I slide beside him and put an arm around his lean hips. “Tell me how to help him. Help you.”
He’s rigid against me, an unfinished statue of a man. “You can’t, girl. I’ve got a fucked-up family. Hell, I’m fucked-up, too. Nothing anyone can do.”
He’s not going to talk. I can feel it in his stance, his voice. Something really bad is lurking there, in his past, in his family, and he’s not ready to tell me about it.
I slip my hand up his back, rub it in circles, and try for something light. “I have a brother. We don’t get along so well. I’m into literature, and he’s an idiot.”
Jet sighs, but his mouth twists just a little.
“My mom thinks I fart rainbows,” I go on, encouraged, “and that it’s cool to ask me for advice on her sex life with my dad. My dad thinks I’m a magical virgin. Neither of them know I’m a unicorn in disguise.”
“A unicorn.” He turns toward me, grinning now, his arms sliding around my waist. “I thought I was the one with the magical horn here.”
I give him that, because of that happy, sexy grin that’s melting my panties as we speak. “Okay, you can be the unicorn. Which makes me…”
“…a girl?”
Suddenly his gaze is so dark I lose myself in it. “A girl,” I repeat dazed. One hundred percent girl, one hundred percent aroused and wanting.
His hands travel up my body to hold my cheeks, and his mouth brushes mine, scorching hot. “Come home with me,” he whispers.
“And Joel?”
“He finishes work later today and won’t be home. Do you want him to be? Want him to join us?” He licks at my mouth and my legs tremble. My thoughts unravel. The heat shooting straight to my core brings a moan to my lips, and I do my best to swallow it. “Say yes.”
“Yes,” I breathe, wondering what I’ve just agreed to.
***
Jet drags me inside their apartment, pushing me against the wall to kiss me thoroughly the moment the door closes behind us. His mouth moves over mine, his tongue explores every inch of my mouth until I’m a shuddering mess, held up only by his strong hands on my waist.
As he hauls me to the couch, though, I struggle to get myself under some semblance of control. “Jet, wait.”
“It’s okay. Just kissing.” He tugs me to the sofa, pushes me down and leans over me and his mouth covers mine, a groan vibrating between us. His hands brush over my cheeks, remove my glasses, dig into my hair, haul me against him. “We can stop when Joel arrives. We don’t have to do anything else. What I said, about me and Joel doing stuff together… Just forget it.”
But that’s the thing: I don’t want to. He doesn’t know, and I need to tell him.
Before I find my courage, though, he rolls us sideways until I find myself sprawled on top of him. His head is thrown back on the backrest, and he drags me up his body with startling strength so he can kiss me again.
“Jet, we need to talk.”
“Screw talking.” He moans in my mouth, the vibrations traveling from his broad chest to my body, making me clench with need.
“Jet…”
“You want me,” he whispers. “Say it.”
“I want you,” I whisper, and he moans again.
“Oh yeah. Tell me what turns you on. What your fantasy is.”
Holy crap.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” I lick his lips, inviting him to kiss me again, to stop my confession, but it’s not enough to stop the words. “I want you, Jet. And Joel. I want what you want, and I can’t…”
Jet’s breath hitches, his lashes sweeping low on his cheeks. “Can’t what?”
“Can’t choose between you. Don’t you see?” The truth is finally out. It was choking me all this time. My eyes sting, because I know he’ll push me away any second now. “I’m sorry. I should have said it from the start. I should—”
“What exactly are you saying, Sugar Pop?” He drops back on the sofa, brows knitted. “Are you walking away?”
“No. You have no idea…” I shake my head, my cheeks on fire, my heart thudding heavily in my chest. “I want you both. Here. At the same time. With me. God, I can’t believe I told you.”
He licks his lips, his eyes so dark. “Say it again, sugar.” He lifts a hand to my face, draws me down to him. “Say it again.”
“I want the two of you, with me.”
“Fuck, you have any clue what you’re doing to me? What you just said…” His gaze is full of wonder, wide and hot. His hands move down my back, finding bare skin under my blouse, scorching brands. “Come here.”
He pulls and tugs until I’m fully seated on his lap, his hard cock pressing sideways against my inner thigh.
I brace my hands on his shoulders, gripping the thick muscles there as he kisses me deeply, so hard my lips hurt. His stubble scrapes over my chin.
It’s hot. He’s so frigging hot, I can’t even think, can’t do anything but fall into the kiss.
Then a low male voice says from behind him, “Harder, Jet.”
I jolt with shock. Jethro’s hands grab my waist, fingertips digging deep.
A shadow falls over us. Someone comes to stand behind the couch and slides a hand into Jethro’s wild hair. Famili
ar blue eyes dart from my face to his.
“Joel?” Jethro’s voice hitches. “Didn’t know you were here. J, listen—”
“Kiss her harder.” His hand slips down Jethro’s face to his jaw, and he leans down to whisper close to his ear, “I wanna watch.”
***
My brain is officially shutting off.
I must be dreaming. Or maybe I wandered into my own blog and the serial I’ve been posting there. Any moment now, something will jerk me out of sleep and break the dream in half.
“Open your eyes, Candy,” Joel says, and I obey.
Joel is always in charge in my story, in my fantasies.
Jethro’s dark gaze is fixed on me, eyes wide and pitch-black with want, his mouth slack. He reaches for me, touches my cheek, and I lean into his touch.
It feels real. The hard bulge between my legs, his rough skin on my face, his hair standing up in all directions.
And Joel right behind him, tall and imposing with his broad shoulders stretching his white button-down shirt, dark hair falling in his bright eyes, kneading at Jethro’s neck, his breath coming fast.
Holy crap, I can’t wrap my mind around it.
Thankfully, Jethro doesn’t leave me time to freak out. With a low hum, he jerks me up against him, licks my mouth, parting my lips, and thrusts his tongue inside.
Heat pools between my legs. Every thrust of his tongue echoes inside me, down low, like a thrust of his cock. The feel of his ripped chest under my soft breasts, his salty-sweet taste with that hint of mint and smoke, the shift of his muscular thighs under mine.
I’m so caught up in it, I barely notice Joel circle the couch and sit down beside us, making the cushions dip a little as he settles, sprawling back.
I do notice the moment he starts unbuttoning his shirt, exposing inch by inch a sculpted chest made of corded steel. Bulging pecs, flat pink nipples, a six pack to die for, a dark treasure trail leading into his black pants.
It distracts me enough that I break the kiss to get a better look.
“Undress him,” Joel says, a growl riding right under his voice. He smooths a hand down his bared chest, reaching for his zipper. “Take off his T-shirt.”
Oh God, yes. I find Jethro watching me from under his dark lashes as I reach for the hem of his T-shirt.
“Slowly,” Joel says, and his voice makes me hot, so hot I might burst into flames.
I pull up the soft fabric, unveiling Jethro, and the temperature has just reached combustion levels.
Crap, he’s beautiful. Not as ripped as Joel, but ripped all the same, smooth olive skin stretched over firm muscle, dark small nipples on defined pecs and a faint six pack that clenches and comes into sharp definition when I brush my hand over it.
Whoa… I watch as he grabs the hem and pulls the T-shirt over his head, those abs tightening, pecs rolling, biceps bunching. Dark ink ripples on his shoulders and arms. A ship. A crow. A clock?
Nice. Really nice. Oh my… Better than I imagined. Gorgeous.
“Now…” Joel’s voice drops a notch. “Take off your clothes, Candy.”
Jethro twitches beneath me, lips parting on an exhale. His eyes are dark like outer space. His scent rises, filling me up, citrusy shampoo and that dark spicy perfume that wafts off his skin.
Heat washes over me. There’s no question of refusing the command. My breasts tighten, and my nipples harden painfully under the heated gazes of two sets of eyes I never thought I’d have directed at me as I tug on my light sweater and tank top, lift them up and pull them off me.
Which leaves me in my bra and skirt, and sudden doubt makes me look down, checking.
Phew. Thank God I put one of my nicer bras on today, gray lace with a black finish that pushes my girls up and together—not one of those washed-out sports ones with the frayed straps.
“Christ, you’re pretty,” Jethro groans and puts his hands on my waist, sliding them up to cup my breasts through the lace.
“Fuck yeah, touch her tits,” Joel commands, and I whimper. “Take off that bra.”
Before I react to his words, Jethro’s hands slide up, pull down the straps and tug down my bra, letting my breasts spill out. My nipples jut out, diamond-hard, and my pussy clenches on nothing.
God…
Jethro breathes a curse, and suddenly his hot mouth is covering one of my nipples, sucking hard. I cry out and buck in his lap, taken by surprise at the sensation that shoots right to my center. He teases my other nipple with his hand, and I throb so deep inside I feel like I’m about to come already.
“Jet…” I grip his head to steady myself, my fingers slipping into wild spikes, my eyes closing at the onslaught of pleasure. “Oh God.”
“Yeah, like that,” Joel rasps, and another hand strokes up my side, curling under the breast Jethro is torturing with his fingers. “Suck on it, Jet.”
Oh crap. My hips rock. I need friction. Need to come. I’m panting, and my skin is burning, my insides tightening.
“Fucking sexy,” Joel breathes beside my ear and his teeth close over my earlobe, tugging.
A whine leaves my throat. I need… I need… “Please.”
“Beg for it,” Joel whispers, dark and low. “What do you want, baby?”
“Touch my kitty…”
“Kitty?” Joel chuckles, the sound warm and dark. “Hell, you heard the girl, Jet. Kitty needs some love.”
Jethro growls against my breast, sending shivers through me, and switches to my other nipple. Joel’s hand lifts to tangle in Jet’s hair, and I gasp, because the suction on my nipple grows harder, as if he’s trying to pull my whole breast into his mouth.
Joel’s hand meets mine on Jethro’s head. His mouth moves down from my earlobe to my neck, sucking and kissing, every touch, every press of their lips on me driving me higher.
Oh, please… Please…
A big hand slips between my legs, into my panties. A thumb rubs over my seam, opening me up, and I moan helplessly. Shamelessly.
This never happened like this in my serial story. Maybe I should add it, or—God, oh my God. Jet’s thumb presses into me, and I’m so wet it slips inside me.
My breathing comes in short gasps. Caught between Jethro’s thumb inside my pussy and his mouth on my breast, I’m starting to come before I even realize what’s happening.
Shaking and moaning, my pussy clenching again and again until I can’t breathe, I can’t do anything but ride the pleasure as it shoots through me. Finally I slump bonelessly between the two of them, my body still thrumming.
Christ.
Jethro’s mouth leaves my breast. He straightens, and his dark eyes flash over his flushed cheeks. He licks his lips and leans back against the cushions. I push my hands against his solid chest and realize his thumb is still inside me, sending sparks of pain/pleasure into my core.
Slowly his hand withdraws from between my legs, making me shiver.
“Fuck, babe,” he mutters, watching me through heavy-lidded eyes, then licks his thumb, sending a fresh bolt of lust through me.
“She’s so hot when she comes,” Joel whispers, leaning away from me, back against the cushions. His big hand rests on his zipper, and my gaze snags on the bulge between his legs. “Show me more.”
***
Slow seconds pass while I get back my bearings and sit up, my legs and arms trembling. I’m straddling Jethro’s lap, and his hot erection presses between my legs, where I’m still tender and throbbing.
He makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Fuck,” he mutters and shifts on the sofa.
Biting back a moan, I scoot further back, watching as his hand moves down his chest, over his taut stomach with the faint treasure trail leading into his pants. He cups his hard dick and squeezes it through the fabric, his eyes all but rolling up.
He looks so sexy, sprawled back like that, his bare chest a landscape of light and shadows, his face twisted with desire. So hot, desperate with the need to come.
Utterly lickable.
“Jet, hands off,” Joel orders his friend, and then, as if reading my mind, “Candy, suck him off.”
I turn to stare at Joel. I could refuse. I could tell him to stop telling me what to do.
But why would I do that? He’s so hot, issuing commands, the bulge at his groin growing larger with every passing minute, and yeah. Sucking Jethro off has been at the top of my fantasy list since the beginning.
My mouth fills with water at the thought.
“What about you?” I breathe, nodding at his still covered hard-on. I’m dying to see it, touch it. To see if he’s as well hung as I imagined, as beautiful as I think.
“I’ll take care of it.” Mesmerized I watch as he unzips his pants, revealing tight white briefs and the outline of his big cock in the soft cotton.
The chest under my hands rises and falls more quickly. Jethro is watching, too, eyes fixed on Joel’s crotch.
I swallow hard. Does Jethro like watching his best friend undress as much as I do? Does it turn him on?
A glance down shows me that, yeah, Jethro’s growing harder, his hand fisting his cock through his jeans so tightly it’s trembling.
Oh my God, this is crazy. It’s like Christmas and my birthday wrapped into one.
I wonder if Joel knows. If he’s realized that his bestie has the hots for him. Looks like Jethro’s batting for both teams.
Yes. Yes! I want to run naked around the room and squeal with glee. Did I magic this story into life, or did I just sense something from the start in the way Jethro always touches Joel and hangs out with him?
Right now it doesn’t frigging matter, because Joel has stopped again, a hand cupping his hard-on, mirroring Jethro’s.
Dark eyes snap back to me when I scoot off Jethro’s lap. The heat in them is consuming. He lets his hands fall to his sides, digging his fingers into the cushions when I unzip his jeans and carefully ease them down his narrow hips. He lifts himself up a little to help me, his abs contracting in seriously amazing ways.
Gah. With his spiky hair, the ink on his muscled chest and that sinfully soft mouth, he’s too delicious for words.
Then all thought flees my overworked brain, because I tug again on his jeans, and they slide down his legs, leaving him bare.