Mine: MMF Bisexual Menage Romance

by Chloe Lynn Ellis

  She moans again, still shaking, and clamps her lips around his cock.

  Not stopping.

  Not slowing down.

  I have no idea who comes first, Jack or me, or if it’s both of us at once; I just know that it’s over for me. I slam into Cate’s tight heat, and Jack grips Cate’s head tightly with both hands, burying himself in her mouth with a long, low moan that rips my orgasm right out of me. I see him go tense, and my balls start to empty in heavy, hot spurts that almost blind me, shooting through me in wave after wave of a kind of bliss that’s so much more than just sex.

  It’s so good that my vision whites out for a moment.

  But I don’t need to see. Jack and Cate surround me, and—as I grip Cate’s hips and cry out with the tingling, mind-blowing pleasure—emptying myself inside her with Jack’s hoarse shout ringing in my ears feels exactly like coming home.

  Jack’s hand wraps around the back of my neck and I open my eyes, still coming. It goes on, and on, and on, and once I’m finally emptied out, Cate pulls both Jack and me down on top of her, the three of us somehow managing to fit in a tangled, perfect mess on the couch together.

  Sweaty.

  Spent.

  Satisfied.

  Perfect.

  God, I love these two. I really, really do… and someday soon, I’d like to tell them that.

  16

  Cate

  “Again!” I shout, and my students join me, kicking their heavy bags in unison and filling the gym with loud, satisfying thuds. “And three!” They kick again. This is always the best part, the final countdown. “Now two!” Another kick. “And one!” They kick their bags one last time with a little more power. “Good!” I exclaim, grabbing my water bottle. “That was excellent work, everyone. Same time on Friday, and remember to bring your club dues.”

  There are assorted cheers and groans, and conversation picks up as the students all start to clean their gear up and move on, some to home, others to another class.

  After I found out that my mother poisoned the well for my personal training service, I ended up reaching out to an old friend from college to see if she had anything at all. Turns out, she’s still a Boston local, and she owns this gym. Just like that, I’m an instructor with a class, and it’s not even that far away from home. Just a nice brisk jog away.

  Of course, I can’t quite let go of that voice. The nagging, eternally critical voice of my mother, always popping into my head when I least expect it. I look down at the slight curve of my stomach, pinching at my clingy gym wear. I’m soaked with sweat, and I probably look as fat as a house in this getup. What a mess I am.

  The first couple of days, I couldn’t get it out of my head. I just kept thinking about how I shouldn’t be teaching anyone when I’m not even happy with my own body. Today, though, it’s Wednesday and I’m having a good day. I’m getting the hang of this. I’m not going to let Mother get the best of me, especially from hundreds of miles away. I love the work, and I’m good at it.

  I repeat it in my head like a mantra every time she bubbles up.

  I take a long, deep slug of my water, and dry my forehead and face with my towel, when I notice that Jack is standing just inside the room, holding a gift bag, watching me.

  I wonder how long he’s been there. It couldn’t have been the whole class, but I can tell by the look on his face that he at least caught the tail end of it. I can feel the color flooding into my cheeks; it’s a little embarrassing, having people watch you when you’re in work mode. Then again, I’ve been doing high kicks all afternoon; maybe he got a bit of a show. I know he wants me. Maybe he didn’t when we were kids, but he does now. It’s hard to accept it fully, but he’s made it pretty clear at this point.

  Extremely clear, really. He starts to walk toward me, in that impeccable suit of his, and I mentally undress him. That lean, perfect body, his strong arms, the way he carried me from the kitchen to the couch. The feel of his lips against mine, and how his beard feels against my cheek. I have a short but intense memory of him deep inside of me, filling me up in the best of ways, and how I practically begged to get that cock in my mouth so I could suck him completely dry.

  And seeing Jack and Dylan together?

  I tighten my thighs a little, feeling arousal starting to throb inside of me, my desire whispering that I could drag him into one of the windowless studios and have my way with him; nobody would know.

  I far prefer the voice of desire to the voice of my mother.

  “Hey, stranger,” I say, trying for a casual tone like I totally wasn’t just imagining tearing his pants off.

  “Hey yourself, Duchess,” he says back with a grin, and I nearly melt.

  Keep your cool, Cate.

  “What brings you down to my little grinder?” I ask, winking. When Jack’s around, I find myself using body language that I normally wouldn’t dare to; moving my shoulders and hips around when I say things to him, leaning inward, inviting him to touch me wherever the hell he wants. I shift my weight from foot to foot, my hips swaying gently, as I wait to see why he’s here.

  “I actually came to give you this,” he starts, and hands the gift bag out to me.

  I smile, and feel practically giddy inside. A gift, for me? From Jack? What world am I living in now? “What is it?” I ask playfully.

  “I felt real bad about everything that happened on Saturday, so.”

  I wince a little internally. “Everything?”

  I can see him recoil a little, as he realizes what he’s saying. “No, I mean, y’know. About the first ten minutes or so, let’s say, yeah?”

  I smile, and reach inside the gift bag, pulling out a box. I laugh. It’s a coffeepot.

  “You really shouldn’t have,” I say. “That happened way before you showed up.”

  “Yeah, well,” he starts, shrugging. “I hated seeing you hurt. This one’s all shatter-proof, or so it says on the box, anyway. In case you have another bad day, y’know?”

  I can’t help but beam at him, seriously touched. He cares. He really does care about me.

  “This is very thoughtful of you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it, Jack, really.”

  We stare at each other, but it’s not awkward at all. It’s just calm, content, happy. After the whirlwind of the first two weeks here, this third week has been surprisingly pleasant. I can get used to this.

  We’re interrupted by one of my students, a young girl named Sam with a deep brown ponytail. She’s maybe nine years old? Ten? Just the cutest thing. I have a quick thought about having kids of my own one day. Maybe if everything works out here, and if we somehow manage to keep the townhouse? Who knows. For now, anything feels possible.

  “Miss MacMillan?” she asks, looking shy with Jack standing there.

  “What is it, love?”

  She stares at Jack a little longer, and I look at him. To my amazement, he offers a perfectly comforting smile, and holds his hands palms-up.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m not gonna get in the way of someone who kicks as hard as you two ladies do, believe me.”

  Sam giggles, and looks at me. “Is this your boyfriend, Miss MacMillan?”

  Both Jack and I laugh together, and look at each other just a little bit awkwardly. “I, uh…” I start.

  “Yeah, well,” Jack continues. “I think we’re still figuring that out, pumpkin pie.”

  Sam beams and looks at me, whispering conspiratorially, “He’s nice. Keep him.”

  “Oh, I’ll definitely think about it,” I say back. “Need me to sign your participation form?”

  “Yes, please.” It only takes a second, and as soon as I sign it, she yells out a quick “Thank you!” and sprints for the door. She’s gone in a split second. Jack and I look at each other, and share another loud laugh.

  “She’s a character, ain’t she?” Jack says.

  “I think she just has good taste,” I reply. “So was this all you came down for? To shower me with gifts?”

  “Nah, not
entirely,” he responds. “I thought maybe we could have dinner.”

  “Oh!” I say through a quick laugh, and blush a bit. All I can think of is that first dinner, and how sexy Jack sounded when he went in for the kill. Is he saying he wants to sleep together again? Is this our new code? I’m not completely sure how he’s dealing with his newfound bisexuality, if at all; if we were anywhere else but work, I could be more explicit.

  “Do you mean, like last time? With you, me, and Dylan?” I ask coyly, covering up my anxiety. What if he says no?

  “Yeah, definitely,” he says, and I let my breath slide out of me in relief. He sounds a little anxious, but I can see in his eyes that he means what he says. We’ve shared so much at this point that I can’t imagine him doing anything he doesn’t want to do with us. “I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

  “So, at the house?” I ask, a little note of hopefulness in my voice.

  “Well, y’know,” he starts, and I suddenly feel a pang of anxiety. “I thought maybe we could do this in public.”

  “Public?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says, looking sheepish. “Y’know, to finally talk about the contract, without all the… distractions we keep running into?”

  “Oh, right! Yeah, of course,” I say, trying my best to sound cheerful and unbothered, but I don’t know that I’m doing a great job of hiding my disappointment. I feel just a little ashamed and self-conscious; great sex, no, phenomenal sex has never been a part of my life before, and the more I get, the more I find I crave it. I’ve been so focused on the hot, amazing fun we’ve all been having that I almost completely spaced on the contract hovering above all of us. “That’s probably a really good idea.”

  “But hey,” Jack continues, with an edge of playfulness in his voice. “Maybe afterward, we can all have a nightcap? Back at the townhouse?”

  “Oh, God yes!” I blurt out before I can stop myself. I cover my mouth and grin like a kid. I take a quick moment to compose myself. “Yes, of course. That’d be lovely.”

  Jack laughs. “Yeah, okay, Duchess. How’s Friday night? Give you a couple days to think about what you wanna do before we get together and hash it all out?”

  “That sounds perfect, Jack,” I say.

  “Good,” he says, and I feel that flutter in my heart as he leans in. Is he going to kiss me here, in semi-public? The thought has barely occurred to me before he’s pulling me in close, his hands gently cupping my face as his lips meet mine, and suddenly all thoughts melt away, replaced by sensation and fluttering delight. I sink into the kiss easily, and smile into it as it comes to an end.

  “Good,” I repeat, eyes half-lidded as I look up into his. God, he’s tall. Both of them are. I love feeling small around them. Small and safe and wanted. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Not if I see you first,” Jack says with a wink, before turning and striding out of the practice studio. He gives me one last glance over his shoulder, and I wave like a dopey teenager. He laughs and pushes out the gym door onto the street.

  I watch him go, every single step, until he’s out of sight. I can feel I’m smiling, and I know I must look ridiculous and dreamy. How does he do this to me? How do both of them keep doing this to me? I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, and now I have it with two people. Two almost completely different people, who, when you put them together, make something so beautiful that I can barely comprehend it myself. It leaves me breathless, and aching for more.

  I’ve known them forever, and yet I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface in some ways. I look down to the gift bag with the coffeepot in it, and beam all over again. This was the end result of me being myself, my whole ugly and beaten-down self. A gift, an apology, being taken care of. The world didn’t end; it just opened up in ways I would never have imagined before.

  I touch my fingertips to my lips, still tasting the ghost of Jack’s kiss. I can’t wait. Two days seems almost like forever, now.

  17

  Jack

  The rest of my work week goes by in an instant, like I sailed right through it, looking forward to this night. The three of us are at a round table, sitting around it like points on a triangle, in perfect view of each other. I can feel bubbles in my chest, and I’m not sure how to deal with it. This is all so damn new, so damn different than anything I’ve ever done before.

  We get steaks. It’s my own personal touch on an apology to Dylan for how I’d acted the last time we were at this restaurant. He, of course, takes the time to give the waiter special instructions, and Cate teases him about kicking the chef out of his own kitchen. Dylan shrugs, his hands spread. He knows his stuff, though; Cate and I have to admit that it’s the best steak we’ve ever had in our lives. I trust Dylan, with food, and now I’m realizing, with everything else, too. I can only hope that they learn how to trust me; I haven’t given them much reason so far.

  We don’t do much talking during dinner — we’re too busy eating. But then the waiter clears the plates and brings us after-dinner drinks, and I realize talking’s going to have to start.

  “Hey, there we go,” I say as the waiter sets the glasses down in front of us. “Go on, drink up,” I say, smiling. “You might be the best chef, Dylan, but you’re gonna find out that I’m the best bartender. You’ll love it.”

  “What did you call them?” Dylan asks, picking his glass up and looking at the bubbles as they fly to the surface of the mostly clear drink.

  “French 75s, right?” Cate answers for me, then takes a drink. She closes her eyes, and it looks like she’s enjoying the bubbles all the way down. She gives me the girliest smile, all catlike satisfaction and indulgent glee. “It’s perfect.”

  I watch Dylan as he takes another look at the drink, then over to the two of us, before raising the glass and taking a tentative sip. There’s a brief moment of evaluation as I watch his chef’s mind turn over the flavor profiles or some other shit. Who knows what someone with that kind of skill thinks about? Ultimately, though, he grins and takes a larger drink.

  “This is delicious!” he exclaims, smiling at me. I feel the bubbles in my chest again, and I haven’t even touched my drink yet.

  “Perfect,” I say, taking my own glass and having a sip. “So, not to kill the mood, but I think now’s as good a time as any to jump into the townhouse talk, eh?”

  Cate and Dylan glance at each other, and then nod together. I try not to feel a pang of envy at how obviously on the same wavelength they are; I’m not some asshole intruding, I’m part of this.

  “I brought some paperwork that we can all sign together, once we’re all on the same page about what we want to do,” I say. “In the meantime, I’ll fill you in on Sully’s wishes.”

  “Is this something that Gary should be here for?” Cate asks. She looks a little uneasy. Such a sweetheart, worried about hurting the old guy’s feelings.

  “Oh, we’re okay. I bumped into Gary a week or so back. He brought me up to speed on the basics, and he gave me his blessing to discuss it with you all here.”

  “Ultimately, Gary will probably have to approve the paperwork, right?” Dylan asks.

  I nod. Truth is, I’d only listened with half an ear as Gary had walked me through the legalese, but nothing had jumped out at me as requiring my additional research. I’d been a little distracted by, well, by everything that had been going down between Cate, Dylan, and I, but it had all sounded pretty standard other than him splitting ownership among the three of us, and some provision about the requirements to ultimately transfer the title.

  Still, no worries. I know Gary would review it all with us in full once we were finally on the same page. Right now, that’s the hurdle we have to get over.

  I look at the two of them, some of that warm feeling that’s been growing in me over the last couple of weeks surging up again. They both matter so damn much to me, but I have to keep a clear head. I appreciate what Sully has done, bringing us back together, wanting to give us each something that mattered, but this sh
it has to be dealt with now so we can all move ahead.

  “Ready to start?” I ask, looking at the two of them. They both nod, and I continue. “Sully knew that the house means different things to each of us. For me, it was a place to get away from the streets. Without him, I’d probably be dead or in jail by now.”

  “It was the place I learned to shape my identity,” Dylan says. “To truly be the person I want to be.”

  “For me—” Cate pauses, takes a sip of her drink, then meets my eyes. “For me, it was an escape,” she says. “From New York, from the MacMillan name, and from my mother most of all.”

  I nod. “But,” I continue. “Sully also knew that things change, and life goes on. I think he was well aware, and very proud, of the people we all turned out to be. He touched our lives on such a fundamental level, and shaped who we would become. I know I wouldn’t be a lawyer without his help, that’s for damn sure.”

  Both of them nod, listening. Encouraged, I go on. “Sully told me that he wanted each of us to benefit from the townhouse in one way or another, to take whatever was meaningful from the house, and to sell off the rest. For the market value of that house right now, I think he knew that it would be life-changing money. Retirement money, in some ways, if that’s what we want out of it.”

  “I think that assumes that Sully believed we all had our own lives,” Cate says. “I mean, he had to have thought I’d live in New York for the rest of my life, and look at me now.”

  “Same,” Dylan says. “He left me enough to cover my old student loans, so I could afford to go to culinary school, and I think he figured that I’d move on with life after that, maybe travel the world. Maybe he underestimated how attached I am to that house, I don’t know.”

  “With the house sale…” I say, trying to nudge them toward the promise of money. Money is simple, money is easy to handle. Not like memory, not like feelings. I reach for my own drink, begin again. “With the house sale, we can all do whatever we want. We can start our own businesses, move wherever we’d like, do whatever, wherever and whenever. We can all start fresh, on our own terms.” I try not to sound excited, but I’m more than a little exasperated at how difficult it’s been to get this point across, and hell, who doesn’t want a fresh start? “We can have it all.”