Fake it Baby

by Tia Siren

  My stomach tossed and turned. But when Brooke’s pleading pouty gaze caught mine, I couldn’t resist.

  “Fine,” I said.

  I latched my lips onto hers. Damn, they felt good—it had clearly been too long. Our tongues twirled with each other’s, while my hands cupped her face. Her beautiful sweetly soft face. Mmmm.

  “Ahem,” Mark said, clearing his throat.

  We broke away grudgingly.

  “I think—if we go through with this—one ground rules should be no breaking up kisses or other stuff,” I said, shooting a glare at Mark, “unless it exceeded a certain time limit or something.”

  “Yo, that was like ten minutes of lip slobbering, okay?” Mark said, “So sorry, but I’m not sorry.”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  He blew me a kiss, then plastered his lips over Brooke’s. Their lips touched and re-touched, their heads bobbing side to side as they moved. As I watched, I was annoyed, there was no doubt about it. I even had to tear my eyes away after a few seconds. But something struck me. The whole rage and pain when I’d first seen Mark even brush by Brooke was gone. The feelings now were dulled, like some faded memory of what I was supposed to feel.

  As I returned my gaze to Mark and Brooke’s feverishly kissing faces, I only felt a slight twinge of annoyance.

  When Brooke turned to face me, her eyes lit-up, her whole body poised and hyper-alive, I knew I’d agree to whatever she asked.

  “Kiss me again?”

  I didn’t even have to think to agree—my lips did it themselves. They plastered themselves to her full, pillowy lips the second the words were out of her mouth. Now, just kissing her, just flowing my tongue with hers wasn’t enough. My hands joined in, rubbed up and down her sides, over her dress—and under. Her legs were as smooth as marble, as soft as cream.

  Mark was somewhere—saying something, but I could barely hear him. Everything was swallowed by this rhythm, this continuation. My boner was pressing against my leg urgently. I couldn’t stop now.

  My lips devoured her neck, while she sputtered out moans. My hands were sweeping under her dress now, farther and farther, almost so far that I could almost touch her puss—

  “Time’s fucking up,” Mark snapped, pulling me away.

  His glare went from me to Brooke.

  “I thought you just said a kiss. You didn’t exactly prepare me to see sex in action.”

  Brooke’s face fell, although the glaze of arousal remained.

  “I’m sorry—we just got carried away. If you want, you could kiss me, too.”

  “If by kiss you mean eat your face and lead up to sex, then I’m hella game,” Mark said, shooting a pointed glare my way.

  “Is that okay?” Brooke asked.

  To her hopeful penitent look, I nodded. Mark wasted no time, throwing his face over Brooke’s. Almost immediately, he slid his hand down her back, cupping her ass.

  It was uncanny watching them now, their mouths swirling over each other’s. My dick was still hard, and I felt restless. Like I wanted to rip her away. And yet, once again, there was no denying it. That now, watching them, I felt the least bit of jealousy yet. The other night we’d had the threesome, I’d been so turned-on I’d barely had time to feel jealous, let alone act on it. Seeing Brooke so happy, so turned on like that had gotten me off, too. Not to mention that the sex had been glorious. Brooke was as hot and skillful as ever. It had surprised me how easy it had been for her to pleasure us both. Maybe it was insane to admit, but here was the cold hard truth— Brooke had pleasured me better, while fucking Mark and I at the same time, than any woman ever had on her own. Perhaps Brooke was just built for sex like this—it lit her up, made her more than herself. Who was I to tell Brooke that she couldn’t or shouldn’t be herself?

  I returned my gaze to Mark and Brooke. By now, his hand had slipped under her bra, was massaging her breast right in front of me. And yet, as I watched his fingers rub the nub of her nipple, no jealousy stabbed through me. No, all I wondered was when it would be my turn.

  And then, all that was left was the undeniable conclusion that maybe Brooke was right.

  Brooke was the one to stop things, once Mark escalated to slipping his fingers into her panties.

  Gasping, Brooke directed her glare to me.

  “We’re out in the open—we shouldn’t have let it get that far. I thought you’d be the one to break us up.”

  I shrugged.

  “I was feeling generous. You two looked like you were enjoying yourselves.”

  “We sure were,” Mark said, throwing me a cocky smirk.

  “Does that mean that you’ve decided you’ll do it?” Brooke said, her eyes sparkling with eager excitement.

  And, all at once, the calm ease that I’d been feeling left me. This was it—the one and only choice. I had to decide—could I accept this, and actually give it a try?

  My gaze met Mark’s. His flushed face looked turned on—and as uncertain as mine did.

  “No,” I said finally, “I am warming up to the idea, but this still feels too fast. I’ll need a bit more time.”

  “Me too,” Mark agreed, looking relieved.

  “Okay then, of course,” Brooke said, “It’s late anyway, we should probably go home.”

  She said it wistfully, as if she’d hoped one of us would argue with her. Slam her on the table and take her right here, while the other joined in. But her question had set a strong current of uncertainty buzzing through me, and I needed to clear my head. Fucking Brooke would just further mess up any kind of neutrality I was trying to have about this whole situation.

  “You’re right,” I said, avoiding her gaze as I rose.

  “Jake—” she said, in a small hopeful voice.

  I paused, but didn’t turn to face her. If I saw those big hopeful green eyes staring into me, I’d never be able to say no.

  “Don’t,” I said hoarsely.

  She fell silent. I’d known what she was going to ask for—another kiss. Another lip-sucking, body-stroking, panty-dropping, fuck-inducing kiss. And I couldn’t do that for her. Not now.

  “Goodnight then,” she said sadly.

  I grasped for her hand, still without looking at her, and grasped it.

  “Goodbye.”

  And then I hurried out. I didn’t wait to see if Mark followed behind me. It didn’t matter. This choice wasn’t just about him, and it wasn’t just about Brooke. It was about me, more than anything. I was the one who’d have to live with it, who’d have to deal with the consequences.

  And, as I stepped out into the cool night and stared at the uncaring navy sky, I had one thought on my mind. What the fuck am I going to do now?

  Chapter 28

  Brooke

  I woke up wet. I’d been dreaming of them, Jake and Mark. They were rubbing their dicks all over me, nosing them partway into my mouth, my pussy, my ass. Teasing me, tormenting me. Getting me right up to the edge and keeping me there.

  When my eyes snapped open and I awoke, I smiled. Now, it was my turn to take charge of the dream. As I swirled my finger over my clit, I thought of them. I thought of them throwing me onto the bed, ripping off my clothes and coating my body with kisses. They sucked and nibbled on my tits, every little nerve ending on them, until they throbbed with painful pleasure. They lay me flat on the bed, dipping one of their dicks in my mouth and then the other. I sucked as hard as I could, until my jaw ached, and still they jabbed at my throat for more. And then, finally, when the pleasure spiraling out of my pussy overtook me, they spread me on the bed and fucked me. This time, Mark was in my ass, stroking it into submission, and Jake was in my pussy, fucking me for all he was worth. Just like before, they fucked me perfectly in sync. In and out, harder and harder. They tugged my hair. Slapped my ass. Fondled my tits. My bed was whining with our fucking, while the whole room was filled with the slamming-together slap of our eager bodies. Their dicks stayed so hard for so long, it was like they were on Viagra or something. As they jackhammered me, I cam
e—once, twice, three times. Over and over again, I came, yelling, howling at them not to stop, to never stop, to fuck me harder, to never stop fucking me.

  And they obliged, and as they fucked me in my imagination, my body on the bed started shaking with a real-life orgasm, this one finally matching the fantasy one. I wailed and writhed. The pleasure entered me, shook me, and finally, delivered me. And then, I was quiet on the bed, thinking about how lucky I was.

  Most women had trouble finding one good guy they were attracted to. But me? I’d found two. Two sexy-as-fuck talented studs who were great in bed, successful, and fun. It seemed too good to be true. My stomach lurched. Another one of my Mom’s old signature phrases played in my head, “If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

  My stomach lurched again and I sighed, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. Last night had been so hot too. And I’d seen it, the indecision written all over their faces. They were getting closer to agreeing to it, I knew it. They had to be.

  As I sat myself upright, my phone rang.

  “Brooke?”

  It was my Mom.

  “Oh, hi Mom,” I said.

  I hoped I’d said it in a normal, ‘no, I haven’t just been masturbating’ voice. But then again, my mom was an eagle who could spot things from miles away.

  This time, luckily, she seemed oblivious, just concerned.

  “Honey, it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine, Mom. Sorry, it’s just been this new job, it’s been keeping me really busy.”

  “Hm,” she said, “But do you like it? I know it was your dream job, but if it didn’t turn out to be what you thought then.”

  “No, no. It was exactly what I hoped for, better even. I get to work in a really nice building, my bosses are great and—”

  “Yeah, tell me about your bosses. Those two surgeons who are kind of famous, aren’t they? Mark and Jack.”

  “Mark and Jake,” I corrected her, smiling, “Yeah, they’re really nice and fun to work with. It’s a great atmosphere.”

  “And they’re pretty handsome too,” my mom said, and I could hear her smiling over the line.

  “Mom,” I said.

  “Really, though, honey. Would ending up with a nice handsome surgeon be the worst thing? Now I know, I know, you haven’t been much into dating these past few years, but still.”

  My phone beeped with another message. It was Mark—speak of the devil.

  “Uh Mom, I have another call coming in. Hang on—I’ll be right back.”

  I switched over to Mark.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I said.

  “Just hanging at my place. Want to come over?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said, “Give me 30 minutes, and I’ll be there.”

  I hung up and returned to my Mom.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Who was that?” she asked.

  For a minute, I considered telling her—about Mark, about Jake. But then I heard her disappointed voice in my head, saw her quivering upset lips, and I couldn’t bear it. It was one thing if being a throuple worked out. But Mark and Jake hadn’t even agreed to it yet, or if we tried it and had to part ways, I’d be freaking out my mom over nothing.

  “Karly,” I lied, “she forgot her slippers here.”

  Which was true. Those big-ass gorilla things were on my kitchen counter, an annoying reminder to return them to her ASAP.

  “Okay. Well, I have to get to brunch with the ladies. But I’m glad we got to talk. I miss you.”

  “Me too, Mom,” I said, “I’ll come by one weekend in a few weeks.”

  “Oh good!” she said, obviously pleased, “Goodbye then!”

  “Bye Mom!”

  Only once I’d hung up the phone did I exhale in relief. The uncertainty of this Mark and Jake thing was driving me crazy—and now I’d had to lie to my mom because of it. Today when I went over to Mark’s, I was going to demand an answer—right then and there.

  Although the closer I got to Mark’s house, the less self-assured I felt. The brief phone conversation with him kept replaying in my head for some reason. Was it just me, or had he seemed to have a sad tremor in this voice, like he knew something I didn’t. Something he was going to tell me when I came over? I shook my head firmly, forced myself to inhale and exhale with a calm slowness. No, that couldn’t be it. I was just freaking out over this because it was so important to me.

  When I pulled into Mark’s driveway, there was another car parked on the expansive cobblestone spread. A black Lamborghini. I stared at it for a minute in surprise. Was Jake here too? Now my stomach was twisting with fearful anticipation. I don’t know why I was so sure, but something told me that this wasn’t good…

  As soon as I knocked on the door, I had my answer regarding Jake’s presence, both he and Mark answered the door.

  “Oh, hi,” I said.

  I lowered my gaze. For some reason, at this moment, I felt like a shy little girl with them.

  “Hey,” Jake said, giving me an awkward half-hug.

  “Hey,” Mark said, doing the same on my other side.

  As soon as they’d let me go, I could tell something was wrong.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked them in a wavering voice.

  No, no, please no, a voice inside my head was moaning. I steeled myself—I didn’t want them to see that I’d caught on already.

  Jake could hardly look at me.

  “I think you may want to sit down.”

  His words hit me like a kick to the gut. I nodded wordlessly, following them to the white leather couches in Mark’s salon. I flopped down on it, trying to calm my harried thoughts. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not when at the dinner last night, they’d been really seriously considering it. I couldn’t get this close to what I’d wanted only to lose them now.

  “So,” Mark said, as soon as I sat down.

  He glanced at Jake.

  “So,” Jake began.

  “Just say it,” I said quietly.

  Jake put his hand on my thigh.

  “Listen Brooke. Mark and I have been talking. He really cares about you. I really care about you too.”

  Silence.

  “But,” I said quietly.

  “But we can’t do it,” Mark burst out, “It just doesn’t feel right. I thought I could get over it, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. I rose, pulling away from both of them.

  “You know what this means,” I said miserably.

  “No,” Jake said in a low voice, his eyes seeking out mine.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I kept my gaze on my hands. If I looked at either of them, I’d lose it.

  “I’m sorry,” I continued. “That means I can’t be with either of you.”

  “Brooke,” Mark said, lifting my face to look at him, “I’m sorry. Just look at me. Listen—”

  Now I was gazing directing into his misty blue-green eyes, which were now more blue than green. The grief bubbling in me spewed out and I burst into tears.

  I ripped myself out of his grasp, and pulled away.

  “I’m sorry too, but I have to go.”

  I ran to the door. Behind me, someone called out, “Wait! Please!” I couldn’t tell which one it was, but it didn’t matter. Not anymore. With every step I took, my heart was shattering into more and more pieces.

  Once in the car, I drove in a blind panic. All I knew was that I had to get home, burrow into my cozy bed and throw the blankets over me.

  As I drove, different realizations beat each other out of the way. Why it had never felt quite right with any of the guys I’d dated. Why I’d always felt like there was something missing. It had been two-fold. It had been the wrong guys—and the wrong situation. And now that I’d finally met the right men for me in every sense—physically, mentally, and sexually— now, it wasn’t going to work out. It seemed unbearable, especially since I’d been so clo
se to having everything I’d ever wanted. I’d actually had a taste of what it would feel like—being with two guys who cared deeply for me, and caring deeply for them. To finally experience it, only to have it ripped away at the last second, seemed unbearable.

  And all that had happened with Karly, all the things she had said. She’d been right—and wrong. Really, there was no point to it. Life was unfair and stupid. I’d done it, I’d faced my demons and fears about Howlin and this whole throuple thing probably being fucked-up and wrong, and for what? So I could get turned down at literally the last second? And have my heart broken in a new and different—but equally cruel—way in the process?

  The enormity of the situation fully crashed over me once I’d scrambled into my apartment and flung myself into my bed and under the blankets. Now I couldn’t be with either of them—ever.

  Chapter 29

  Mark

  She never came in.

  At first, I figured she was just late. At ten, I called her phone, and got no response. At eleven, Jake and I talked about stopping by her place over lunch, but decided against it.

  Instead, at lunch, we moped around the office, hardly ate anything, and talked. About her, of course.

  “Remember that time she brought us both little cupcakes from that place next door—Catcakes—little cupcakes with cat faces?” Jake mused, staring at the wall wistfully.

  “Stop it,” I said.

  He rose.

  “What? I can’t help it. I’m worried about her.”

  “I am too,” I said, “But sitting around here crying about it, isn’t going to do her any good. Or us either.”

  “I don’t know,” Jake said, flopping back onto his armchair, “I figured that she’d be sad, sure, but not like this.”

  “We don’t even know if she’s sad,” I pointed out, “I mean, maybe she was just so fed-up and angry she decided not to come in.”

  Jake shook his head, frowning.

  “No, not Brooke. She’s dedicated to this job—you know that.”

  I sighed, cracking my knuckles, and glaring at my too-shiny shoes.

  “You’re right. But I don’t know what we’re supposed to do. Do you want to go over there tonight? That’s the only thing I can think of.”