Bound For You: Men in Blue, Book 6

by Jayne Rylon

  “Do you want me to fuck you while she watches?” Ben asked. “Show her how you take me so deep inside your tight ass? I bet she’ll like that show even more.”

  “Yes. Yes, please.” Ryan would have done a better job of begging if he could have sucked more oxygen into his lungs at the thought.

  “Fine. But no coming yet.” Ben reached down and pinched Ryan’s nipple, making his cock pulse. “When I’m finished with you, you’re going to take care of her. However she likes. And if you do a good job, maybe then we’ll reward you, you hear?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He meant it sincerely. The chance to please these two would bring him as much joy and delight as he imparted, maybe more. In fact, the idea alone was enough to nudge him toward climax. He tried to slow down. To muster some self-control, but it was no use.

  Ryan hovered on the edge, desperate for his daydream to continue. Refusing to go over until his balls ached from holding back. Until even rapture became a special brand of torture.

  Only then did he allow himself to imagine the impossible, though the seductive thoughts tumbled through his brain in fast-forward.

  Ben would mount him, face-to-face, so there couldn’t be any mistaking the lust in his stare. For Ryan. Without apology.

  That was Ryan’s greatest desire.

  Sure, Ben’s big fat cock would feel amazing plowing into him with enough force to shake the home gym and clank various metal parts together in a furiously escalating tempo. The pressure of his dickhead on Ryan’s prostate would be divine. The eventual liquid heat of his come filling Ryan’s ass when he lost control would grant some affirmation of their compatibility both in and out of bed. But unflinching acceptance of their attraction—hell, their bond—despite the fact that Ben identified as straight(ish) and Ryan was most definitely not a woman…

  Well, that was what he craved above all else.

  “Ben…” he whisper-gasped into the night.

  To his horror, a soft grunt came in response.

  Ryan’s eyes flew open, yet his hand didn’t stop its furious shuttling along his length.

  Flesh and blood Ben turned and stared into the mirror, indirectly meeting Ryan’s gaze. He had to know it was a monster erection clutched in Ryan’s fist. The motion of his masturbation was unmistakable.

  The dominant flare in those molten eyes was irresistible. Close enough to Ryan’s vision.

  He surrendered. Shattered, pumping his release from so deep in his balls he’d swear they were in danger of flipping inside out.

  He hoped his roommate could see every bit of the longing, desire, and pure need etched onto his face as he allowed his orgasm to overtake him, possessing every molecule of his being. Ryan grunted as the first blast of his thick come shot from his dick and decorated his chest.

  Ben inched closer, as if drawn by the pull of so much naked arousal. He approached until his toes teetered on the threshold to Ryan’s room.

  And went no farther.

  As Ryan milked the final drops of fluid from his cock, his eyes rolled back for a moment before he could refocus on his best friend.

  Ben offered a wan smile. “Felt that good, huh?”

  “You should try it sometime,” he rasped in a shredded whisper. Though he already knew how this would end, he had to try. “Like right now. Let me—”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Ben cut him off with a murmur that held steel despite being softly spoken. “I know I have no right, but can I ask just one thing?”

  Ryan nodded, a lump in his throat.

  “Were you imagining Shari just then?”

  The complicated, detailed answer—about how he’d been imagining all three of them feeding off each other—didn’t pop out of Ryan’s lust-addled brain fast enough. The look on his face must have confirmed Ben’s suspicions, though.

  “You should go after her. You deserve each other. You’ll be happy together.” His roommate nodded solemnly.

  “Ben—”

  “Good night.” Ben shut the door softly, as if the sight of Ryan—absolutely wrecked—was too much for him. Hell, maybe it was.

  A clunk sounded from the other side of the solid oak, as if Ben let his forehead rest there for a moment before the thumps of his footsteps faded down the hall, toward his own private space.

  Wrung out, exhausted—in so many ways—Ryan simply collapsed.

  He stared at the ceiling for so long, infomercials for some off-the-wall invention flickered in the background by the time he had recovered enough to budge. It was shame that motivated him then. Not over his honest arousal or how he’d let Ben see it clearly. But because it wasn’t enough to lure the other man to his side.

  Not now, and—he was coming to believe—not ever again.

  Ryan flicked off the TV. Then he snatched his discarded T-shirt from the floor beside his bed. He swiped it over his abs, wishing he could clean up the mess he’d made of things between him and Ben as easily. Rolling to his side, he punched his pillow several times in rapid succession.

  The soft blows did absolutely nothing to alleviate the flood of uselessness that rushed into the space ecstasy had occupied for the briefest of moments. It formed in that hole clean through his center like pus filled an abscess.

  Marching into Ben’s room and demanding that his best friend use him to vent some of his pent-up rage might take care of both their problems. But he couldn’t take the chance that Ben would reject him.

  Again.

  Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t consider himself a quitter, but what else could he do?

  Maybe it was time to give Ben what he really seemed to want—distance. A life without Ryan lurking around to remind him of the past while jacking off to memories of his luscious mouth or the very current temptation of his gorgeous body… Confusing Ben, as Ben had so assholishly put it during one of the rare fight-discussions they’d had about the twisted vibe between them.

  There was nothing to be uncertain about.

  Ryan wanted Ben. Ben didn’t feel the same. Not anymore.

  That disinterest crushed Ryan in ways he hadn’t realized possible. It broke him when nothing else—not even being captured and forced into sex slavery at the hands of a monster—had.

  It was time to go.

  Time to move on.

  What a joke! That would never be entirely possible. But at least he might give Ben the chance to find something that made him happy. This—their living arrangement, their thorny relationship—certainly wasn’t it.

  Shari?

  Hell, no. Although she was perfect for Ben—and Ryan—the dumbass had never made a move on the woman either, despite the hurt Ryan could see in her that mirrored his own. Fuck that, Ryan could at least alleviate some of the guilt adding to his own misery.

  Floundering any longer would certainly mean going under. So he committed to a single goal.

  Stop doing to Shari what Ben was doing to him. No one deserved this kind of cruelty.

  With that resolved, he fell asleep quickly for the first time in months.

  2

  Julie scuffed the toe of her lime green sneaker in the dirt beneath her play set. The rut there grew bigger every day. A few orange leaves swirled then settled into the dip she’d dug, so she crunched them with her heel as if they were nasty bugs.

  It didn’t make her feel any better, though.

  She clung to the chains of the swing she sat on, hard enough that they pinched her fingers in places, but the stinging hardly distracted her. Neither did the rust stains they probably left behind.

  All she could think about was Uncle Ryan’s face.

  Julie had run outside after seeing it. His expression had been kind of mean and lots sad when he stared at the back of Uncle Ben’s head across the kitchen. He didn’t look anything like the fun person she had come to know since he’d moved in after…the bad stuff.

  His silly grins at the rotten jokes he told her had come less and less often. Then stopped. And she sort of missed them, although she didn’t need cheerin
g up as much as she had a few months ago. Even when she’d tried out the worst knock-knock she’d heard at school this week on him, he hadn’t cracked a real smile. At least not the kind that made his eyes seem even bluer than her friend Johanna’s.

  Uncle Ryan still made the yummiest pancakes ever for her before school each morning, but he’d stopped painting on smiley faces with the whipped cream and berries. He didn’t wear the special chef’s hat or apron Uncle Ben had given him for his birthday either.

  It was kind of like that. The same, and different. Everything.

  Julie’s tummy flip-flopped like the fish Uncle Clint had caught at Uncle Lucas’s pond last weekend, waiting for the worst part of this morning to start. Sure enough, angry shouts had her scrunching her eyes closed and flinching a few seconds later. The noise reminded her of those two mean dogs down the street, who snapped at her every time she walked too close to the beat-up fence that barely held them inside.

  She wished she could make her uncles’ fight go away just by crossing the street.

  It was hard to breathe when their loud words mixed with blurry memories of other arguments. Her heart beat so fast she thought it might pop right out of her body and plop onto the ground.

  Before it did, though, a truck pulled up at the curb out front, on the other side of the white wooden fence. Well, mostly white. The paint had started to peel in a few places. Last week, when Julie had played with her ponies in the mulched flowerbed next to it—making a jumping course for them—she had started to pick at the flipped up edges until the piles of flakes made it seem like her figurines were trotting through the snow.

  Maybe she should see if any more had gotten loose since then.

  Uncles Ben and Ryan took her to talk to a nice lady, Dr. Epstein, once a week. She was smart about feelings and had explained that Julie did stuff like that—and the dirt rut she realized she’d just widened some more, and the paper she ripped into itty bits at her desk in school sometimes—because of something she called nervous energy.

  What Dr. Epstein really meant was that Julie did weird things because of the bad stuff that had happened. Only she was too polite to say it exactly that way.

  Julie couldn’t help it. Now she knew how terrible some grown-ups could be. To kids, and other adults, and even to themselves.

  Uncle Ben was hurting Uncle Ryan. Or himself. Right now. Nothing she did could stop it. It was as if she’d found a time machine then jumped back to last year, when she hadn’t been able to fix things for her mom either. Uncle Ryan seemed as grumpy as Uncle Ben had been when Julie’s mom had started taking drugs. Uncle Ben wouldn’t do that too, would he? Not after what happened to her mom, who had been his sister.

  They’d said it was a disease that made her mommy act like that, do all those bad things. What if he’d caught it too? Could Julie have it?

  She scrubbed her shoe over the dirt some more.

  Until she thought of her Uncle Ben and how he tucked her in every night. The way he’d kept her safe and how brave he had been to make sure she escaped the bad stuff. He wouldn’t hurt their family like that.

  Not on purpose, she didn’t think. But it seemed like whatever was wrong was getting worse. And she knew just how awful things could get.

  Julie gnawed on her lip, biting off the chapped skin and maybe a little more. Busy trying not to cry at the thought of going back to those places, of losing more people she loved, she didn’t realize someone had opened the gate and walked up the sidewalk until the visitor started talking.

  “Hey, sweetie, what’s going on?”

  Julie’s head snapped up at the familiar voice. “Aunt Shari!”

  She hopped off her swing and charged their visitor, a friend of her uncles. The two that lived with her and all the other police uncles too. Uncle Ben told her the police uncles were Men in Blue and they’d met their wives, husbands, girlfriends, and boyfriends, while protecting them from danger. That’s how Uncles Ryan and Ben had met all the police uncles too.

  Except for Uncle Lucas, who was going to marry Aunt Ellie. Aunt Ellie was Uncle Ryan’s sister and Uncle Lucas used to be a real life spy before he’d helped get her out of the bad stuff. Aunt Shari’s brother had been a spy too, with Uncle Lucas, and somehow he knew Aunt Jambrea, who became really good friends with Aunt Shari. It was confusing, and some of it she couldn’t remember. Once she’d tried to draw a family tree with all of them on it. The thing had looked more like a plate of spaghetti, so she gave up. Really, all Julie knew for sure was that she might not have a mommy or daddy, but she sure did have oodles of aunts and uncles who always told her how much they loved her.

  Aunt Shari wasn’t very tall. Still, her hugs were big and warm. Right then, it felt so good Julie wished she didn’t have to let go until Christmas at least.

  So she didn’t.

  Aunt Shari laughed until she realized something wasn’t quite right. She held Julie out at arm’s length and studied her.

  “Are you okay? Have a tummy ache?” Aunt Shari squinted. Her head tilted kind of sideways as she looked at Julie even more closely.

  She realized she’d been rubbing her stomach, trying to stop what felt like rocks tumbling around in there. Before she could stop it, the truth exploded from her. “I don’t want him to leave us!”

  “Huh? Who, honey?”

  “Uncle Ryan.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Shari might have said more, except all the things Julie had been keeping inside started to bubble up and she spilled her guts.

  “I don’t want to move to a new house, start another new school, have to find new friends. Or a new mommy. Or new uncles. Or be on my own—”

  “Hey, now.” Aunt Shari drew Julie close again, then squeezed her tighter. “Slow down. I promise, your Uncle Ben isn’t going to abandon you for anything. I’m here too. All of the Men in Blue and their wives adore you. They would do anything you needed. You have lots of people who care for you, remember? You will never be alone. I know I’m not as important as your uncles, who are really like daddies. Or your Aunt Ellie or Uncle Lucas. But I swear—”

  Julie stopped listening as each of the people Aunt Shari talked about flashed through her mind. Their smiling faces blocked out her ugly thoughts and started to calm her. When she could think, something Aunt Shari had said stuck out in her brain. She thought she didn’t count as much as the other grown-ups? Julie hated when she felt that way.

  “Aunt Shari, don’t tell, okay?” Julie whispered.

  “Umm… If it’s something that puts you in danger, I can’t promise that, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing like that.” Julie shook her head where it rested against Shari’s shoulder. “You’re important. You’re my favorite aunt.”

  “I am?” Aunt Shari blinked a few times then grinned and let her arms loosen enough to do a funny dance. “Yes!”

  Julie giggled.

  “See, you always make me feel better. You listen good, and tell me things that make me less…” What was the word Dr. Epstein used? “Anxious.”

  “I’m so glad I can help.” Aunt Shari scrubbed her knuckles over the corners of her eyes, which were shinier than before.

  “Did I say something wrong?” Julie chewed her lip again, tasting blood this time.

  “No. You made me really happy, that’s all.” Unafraid to tell Julie the truth unlike most grown-ups, Aunt Shari continued, “Sometimes I feel kind of useless. After my brother died, and some boys I liked didn’t like me back, I don’t know… I started to wonder what I’m good for.”

  “You’re great at being my friend, and you do the best braids.” Julie hugged Aunt Shari this time. Then she peeked up and asked, “Were Uncle Ben and Uncle Ryan the dumb boys?”

  Aunt Shari laughed extra loud and flung her hand over her mouth. “Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that part.”

  “It’s okay. I won’t tell. They are being jerks today.” Julie wriggled until she could stand back and cross her arms. It felt kind of like she was hugging herself and also lik
e she was protecting herself from the yelling she could still hear a little from all the way at the edge of their yard.

  “Is that why you’re out here by yourself?” Aunt Shari angled her head and cupped a hand around her ear. “Are they fighting?”

  “Yep.” She could hardly get the word past the knot in her chest.

  “Oh, honey, don’t let that scare you. Sometimes adults lose their tempers. It doesn’t mean Uncle Ryan is leaving. I mean, it could—I won’t lie to you—but it doesn’t have to. I, uh, shit…”

  Julie stared wide-eyed at Aunt Shari. She hardly ever said bad words. Not like Uncle Razor, who hardly ever said anything except curses.

  “Okay. How about this? I’m going in there. I’ll find out what’s happening. Then I’ll tell you as best as I can.” Aunt Shari bent down to kiss her forehead. “And no matter what happens, I’m here for you, remember? I’m sure that Uncle Ryan would say the same thing, even if he didn’t live in your house anymore. You are so special. We all love you very much. Nothing will change that. Ever.”

  Julie nodded, trying to swallow. If she said anything, she would start to cry. She hated acting like a big baby. Ever since the bad stuff, she had tried her best never to do that. Except for when she’d dropped her mom’s favorite glass and it smashed on the kitchen floor. That time she couldn’t help it until Uncles Ben and Ryan had glued it back together. Extra crooked. They’d agreed it wasn’t as pretty, and after she’d cut her finger on its jagged edges twice, they’d convinced her to throw it away.

  Another thing gone forever. Like Uncle Ryan might be if he was so mad at Uncle Ben that he was actually yelling, which he never did. Or both of them if they were angry because of her and she didn’t know it.

  “Can you hurry, Aunt Shari?” Julie rocked back and forth, but it didn’t help get rid of quite as much nervous energy as she’d hoped.

  Aunt Shari nodded, her mouth pressing into a frown.

  Then she marched toward the house, letting her shoes clomp and bang on each step.

  With one foot on the porch, she turned around to say over her shoulder, “If you hear me shouting too, don’t get scared. I’m tough. I have a tattoo and everything.”