The Dangerous Delaneys and Me

by Anne Brooke

  Mark pushed open the door and strode in like he owned the place. Probably he did, in a round-about way. I followed him, and Johnny was last. It seemed to be the order we’d taken up. Inside, the deep red carpet was a soothing base for the solid wooden tables and the soft glow of candles sending shadows and light flowing over the walls. The smell of warm bread with a faint hint of garlic filled the air. It was the perfect place to bring a date to, really, which was, I supposed, what we were. Kind of.

  I didn’t recognize the waiter who trotted over to the three of us, smiling, but I couldn’t help my sideways glance to the table in the corner where I’d made my feelings about Brandon’s announcement perfectly and utterly clear only a day ago. It all looked relatively unscathed. No wasted champagne and no sparkling slivers of glass.

  As he got closer, the waiter’s expression changed. I could almost follow his thought processes: Oh God, it’s the lunatic from last night. We can’t let him in. Should we call the police? And then, just as quickly: But he’s with the Delaney twins and we must be nice and sweet and offer appropriate discounts so we don’t wake up with broken kneecaps and horses’ heads on our pillows. I’d always thought the Italians were surprisingly open people. Must be all the pasta.

  By the time the wretched man arrived with us, his expression had been schooled into one of suitably bright hospitality. “Ah, Mr. Delaney and Mr. Delaney, how lovely to see you both tonight. And you have brought your…friend with you; how delightful. Can I offer you your usual table?”

  “Naturally,” Mark said, barely looking in his direction. “We expect nothing less.”

  “Yes, of course, of course,” the waiter said hastily, as he grabbed a sheaf of menus and trotted off. “Please, come this way.”

  The table he led us to was already occupied by a young couple, but they, like the crockery and glasses, were quickly cleared away. In no time at all, the three of us were ensconced in a prime position from which we could see the whole restaurant and the doorway. And everyone could see us. Fresh napkins, glasses and cutlery were brought and a wine list given to Mark. He frowned at the elegant black writing on its background of cream and handed it back almost at once.

  “The usual,” he said. “You know what food and drink we want.”

  “Yes, sir, certainly, sir. And what about…” The waiter turned to me, and I could see he was sweating.

  I smiled back at him and raised my shoulders in a slight shrug. God, I wished I was him.

  “Our friend will have nothing. At the moment,” Mark replied. Then, “Tell me, is Luigi here?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course. Shall I get him for you?”

  “Please do.”

  The waiter scuttled away, the relief of escape obvious from his rapidly disappearing back. A few moments later, a broad man with dark curly hair hurried over to our table. He wore a crisp suit and a rich red-and-gold waistcoat. It was the most stylish thing I’d seen in a long time. This had to be Luigi. I’d never met him, but his reputation as the best restaurateur in the city was second to none. Also he had a reputation as the best womanizer and party guy. When he saw the twins, he smiled, and shook hands with them both. The gesture looked genuine, but then again the waiter had warned him. The smile disappeared when he looked at me. It seemed to be becoming a habit, but not one I could blame anyone for.

  Luigi didn’t offer to shake my hand and looked like he might be about to say something. Mark got in there first.

  “Luigi,” he said, and the restaurant owner’s eyes instantly snapped to him. “Everyone—all of our associates—are very sorry to hear about the terrible scene in your fine establishment yesterday. My brother and I like to think we’re a close-knit community of business folk in this area and so we have taken it upon ourselves to bring the perpetrator along with us in order to offer you a heartfelt apology. Liam?”

  At the sound of my name, I jumped. “Yes, Mr. Delaney. Of course. Please, Mr. Luigi, I—”

  “On your knees, Liam.”

  “What?”

  He sighed. Stroked his hand down past his pocket where he had hidden the gun. “Ah, Liam, Liam, I had such high hopes for you. I think to show Luigi here just how sorry you really are, any apology would be better coming from a position of humility, don’t you?”

  My mouth was, by now, extraordinarily dry, but I managed to squeeze out some suitable response. “Y-yes, of course, Mr. Delaney. No-no problem.”

  Then, before Mark could decide he wanted a closer look at the ruddy gun, I slid out of my seat and fell to my knees before the astonished restaurateur. For good measure, I clasped my hands together in front of me and looked him right in the eye. The room became suddenly very quiet.

  “Please, Mr. Luigi,” I said, licking my lips in order to find some moisture. “Please, I behaved appallingly rudely yesterday and I upset both your customers and your staff. I want to say how very sorry I am and how terrible I feel about it today. More terrible than you can possibly imagine. There’s nothing I can do to change what happened, but I want you to take whatever money you need from me to help compensate for the damage, and I want you to know, more than anything, how much I regret my rudeness and how very sorry I am. I promise to behave myself in future. If you can find it in yourself to do so, please forgive me. I apologize to you from the bottom of my heart.”

  By the time I’d finished speaking, Luigi had turned pale, even in the candlelight, and his eyes were flicking from me to the twins and back again. Then again, I didn’t suppose he’d ever had one of his customers in this position before, at least not a male one and not in a public place. The situation must have bamboozled him so he didn’t know how to react at all.

  In the end, he simply nodded and bowed. “Thank you very much, Mr… Liam. That is a very gracious apology, and I am happy, for the sake of my valued business associates here, to accept it. You are welcome in my restaurant. Mr. Delaney and Mr. Delaney, your order will be with you very shortly.”

  Another bow and he had gone. I couldn’t help but be impressed. In his place, I wasn’t sure I would have had the sheer chutzpah for it. Still on my knees, I glanced at the twins to see what they wanted me to do now.

  Johnny was folding his napkin into a variety of shapes, but Mark was gazing straight at me.

  He snorted. “Not bad. Why don’t you get off your bloody knees then and sit properly at the table? Show us you know how to behave.”

  “Yes, Mr. Delaney.” I slid up onto the chair again, my heart pounding in my chest. There I waited, not interfering, not calling any undue attention to myself, and not looking anywhere but at the table, until the twins’ wine arrived, followed almost immediately by their meal.

  They both had the house pasta—chicken with wild field mushrooms. How I remembered it. I’d ordered it myself yesterday, but never got round to eating anything. Now it smelled delicious. Spices and garlic, mixed with the glorious scent of a fresh supply of ciabatta. The steam rose from the bread when Mark pulled it apart. I watched its journey from the plate to his lips.

  When he finished, he looked at me. “Do you want some food, Liam?”

  “Please, Mr. Delaney.”

  He nodded as if he’d expected it. “All right. Beg us for it then.”

  My heart rate went up double-time. I had no real idea what the hell was happening here, or what they wanted me to do, but I was ravenously hungry and, if tonight panned out anything like how they’d told me, I’d need all my strength and wits about me simply to get through it. Without another thought, I was down on my knees again between them, that rich red carpet feeling more of the weight of me than it had expected to this evening. Whatever happened, I was giving the clientele one hell of a show, though rather more measured than the one I’d given them yesterday.

  “Please, Mr. Delaney,” I whispered, hands clasped once more, and eyes darting first to one twin and then the other. “Please, I’m so hungry and the food you have looks so good. I really need to eat. Please, just one mouthful? That’s all I’m asking for. Just one, if yo
u can spare it. Please, will you give me some food? I’m begging you. Please let me eat.”

  Mark looked across the table at Johnny, who shrugged and then nodded. As if by an agreed signal, Johnny then speared some pasta and chicken on his fork and held it out toward me. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth. It tasted heavenly, though I was surprised I could taste anything at all. I chewed slowly, keeping my eyes shut. I only opened them again when I’d finished.

  “Thank you, Mr. Delaney,” I whispered.

  All through the meal, I knelt there between them, with either one or the other occasionally feeding me the odd mouthful. The final time, Mark fed me with a torn-off piece of ciabatta. When he placed it in my mouth, I wrapped my tongue around his fingers, just as I had with Johnny in the car. I licked him, tasting garlic on his skin.

  When, after a few moments, he pulled himself free, gently, I groaned. “You taste so good, Mr. Delaney. I’d love you to fuck my mouth. I bet you’d taste good then, too.”

  “Jesus.” This came from Johnny, the first time he’d spoken since we’d entered the restaurant. His knife fell onto the table with a clatter. “I can’t…”

  “Shut it, little brother. Don’t let him get to you. For God’s sake, Liam, sit at the table and keep your mouth shut while we’re eating. I’m sick of the sight of you.”

  Wordless, I obeyed. I said nothing more, but watched while they finished their pasta and drank the wine. They didn’t order coffee. And nobody asked about payment.

  At the car, Mark shoved me in the back and followed me inside, so Johnny had to make do with the front seat. I thought that was a little unfair as he was the one who most seemed to want a piece of me. And right now he was the one without the gun.

  Once we’d set off, Mark was all over me, touching my face, my back, my crotch. I spread my legs as wide as I could so he could do whatever he wanted. What he wanted was kissing. He thrust his tongue into my mouth so quickly I barely had time to draw breath. It wasn’t what I’d expected at all. The next moment he was tearing at my shirt buttons and pulling at the hairs on my chest, tweaking my nipple, making me groan and cry out, though he swallowed up the sound of it.

  Then, just as suddenly as he’d started it, he pulled away again. I was gasping, spread-eagled like a pro on the posh leather seats, while the driver stared at me in his rear view mirror and Johnny stared at me from the corner of his headrest.

  Mark snorted. “God, Liam, you’re such a whore. Brandon was right about you.”

  I thought this was a little near the bone, under the circumstances, especially as he’d jumped me, and anyway he was planning to get his fill of me later on—I hoped—but I didn’t argue. Hell, I was learning fast.

  Instead, I skittered closer to him and laid my hand on his leg.

  “You bet, Mr. Delaney,” I whispered. “I’m always a whore where you and your brother are concerned.”

  He didn’t respond to that; he didn’t even look at me. However, all the way back home, he let me stroke his prick through his upmarket trousers. If I was going to get raped—which was infinitely preferable to getting shot after all—I’d do my level best to make sure I got some kind of fun out of it.

  At home, Johnny got out first and came around to my side of the car. Mark pushed me out and got out himself. By the time he was standing next to me, the gun was in full view once more. I supposed he didn’t want me to try to run. Hell, I didn’t have the courage to run. I was planning to do exactly what he said every step of the way. Mark tapped the roof twice and the car rolled away.

  “Get inside.” He gestured with the gun at my front door, and I reached for my keys. “No funny business.”

  “No, sir, Mr. Delaney, no funny business at all. You got it.”

  My hands had begun to shake again so it took me a while to open the door, but neither twin commented. Mark simply laid the gun against the back of my neck, a gesture that made the rest of my body want to shake, too, but I tried to quell it. I led them through the shared hallway in silence and up to my flat.

  This is it then, I thought. This was where I got buggered. I had to get buggered, if I didn’t want to die. And there was only one way I knew to be sure of a chance at that.

  I walked to my bedroom, the two of them close behind. Inside, I closed the door behind the three of us and looked directly at Mark. I swallowed before speaking.

  “You’ve got the gun,” I said. “You can do whatever you like with me. But I thought that, after such a romantic dinner and an evening of being so considerate toward someone you’ve every intention of buggering anyway, you might like to try this.”

  Then, trying to ignore Mark and the gun, I knelt in front of Johnny, leant forward and undid his zipper with my teeth. It was something my first boyfriend had taught me. I always knew it would come in handy one day. By the time I’d nuzzled down his briefs, his cock was already at half-mast and, with a moan, I wrapped my lips around it and began to suck and lick it as if my life depended on it. It no doubt did. I heard a muffled gasp from Mark behind me. I think it might have been enjoyment. I hoped so.

  Funnily enough, he wasn’t the only one enjoying it. I took great pride in the fact I gave a damn good blowjob. It was something I’d always loved to do. Johnny appeared to be having a fun time as well. His legs were buckling and, by the time I’d swallowed down the length of him and tasted his explosion in my mouth, he had all but collapsed onto the bed.

  “Jesus,” he said, “that was…”

  “Good,” I whispered. “I know. Do you want more?”

  When he blinked at me, I licked my lips clean of his cum, but let some of it remain on my face. I’d always thought it was sexier.

  “Why don’t you fuck me now?” I whispered, half-turning and bringing Mark in on my question. “Like you want to. That would really teach me a lesson, wouldn’t it?”

  This was too much for him.

  “Stop screwing with us and get undressed,” Mark snarled at me, his face flushed and his hand still clutching the gun. “Now.”

  I obeyed. No more flirting, no more teasing them. I stood up and undressed as quickly as I could. I didn’t mind them seeing my body. I’d always been proud of the shape I was in. My hands still shook a little, but I couldn’t help it and, in any case, it was hardly surprising. When I was completely naked, I looked him right in the eye.

  “How would you like me?” I asked him.

  Mark tossed the gun to the edge of the room. My eye followed it. I was glad to see it go.

  “Forget the gun, Liam. Look at me.”

  Again, I obeyed him, without question. He took a couple of paces to stand in front of me, and my cock was instantly rock-hard. God, that was another surprise. I supposed this was at the very least going to be sex under duress. I’d never expected to have a hard-on, too.

  “This isn’t about the gun,” he continued, his voice lowering so he was whispering to me. Hell, it was almost romantic. “Not any more. This is about me, my brother and you. Okay?”

  Wordless, I nodded.

  “Get on the bed then. All fours.”

  I did so. Johnny shuffled backwards, toward the headboard, to allow me room. His cock nudged the side of my face. I opened my mouth and took it in again. It seemed like the natural thing to do. Behind me, the bed creaked as Mark leant against it. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and opening my bedside cabinet drawer. Then a satisfied sigh. The next moment, fingers, slick with gel, pushed into me. I would have gasped at their coldness, but my mouth was rather full at the time and there was no room for anything to escape but a muffled squeak. I’d never been at my most dignified during sex. Then again, who is?

  Still, the sheer courtesy of Mark’s actions all but undid me. I’d assumed he’d go for the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am approach. I’d never imagined he’d try to make it easier. After a few moments, the fingers withdrew, and I heard the sound of him tearing open a packet. Then I felt the warmth of his hands on my legs positioning me, and the feel of his sheathed cockhead linin
g up against my arsehole.

  “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s fuck him,” he whispered. “Both ends. You fuck his mouth, Johnny, and I’ll fuck his arse.”

  Then he pushed inside me. At the same time, Johnny groaned and began slamming his cock into my mouth, making my jaw ache. Mark followed suit at my other end and, for long moments, the only sensations I had were of being between the two of them, caught, ravaged, and well and truly plundered.

  God, how I loved it. It was bloody fantastic.

  Then they began to shout. All sorts of words.

  “Jesus, I love you.”

  “Baby, I…”

  “I’ve always wanted this…”

  “Oh, God, yes, but I never…”

  “…thought we could…”

  “…actually do it.”

  The last words they shouted were in unison. Another wave of warm spunk filled my mouth and, at the same time, I felt Mark shudder and collapse against me. The weight of him drove me down just as I reached my own orgasm and I twisted sideways, pumping my load onto the sheets. He came with me and nestled me with surprising gentleness onto the bed. Johnny turned to follow us, his cock still filling my mouth. I pushed back a little so I could hang on to the feel of his brother inside me for as long as possible and kept on licking that glorious mouthful.

  For a while, all three of us just lay there. The twins caught their breath, while I thought about the things they’d said to each other during the threesome fuck. Well, I supposed that was the city for you. We were full of mysteries. Buggery and group sex in these mean streets. Around here, people probably saw it as a good evening out. Nobody would even think twice about it.

  Finally, Johnny slipped from my mouth, and Mark slipped from my arse. Hell, but I really missed the feeling of being full to the brim with them both. It felt empty without them. I was sore and aching, but utterly and strangely satisfied.