Mine: MMF Bisexual Menage Romance

by Chloe Lynn Ellis

  “Camping?” Cate says, laughing incredulously. “In Boston?”

  “Heck, yeah,” Jack says, his enthusiasm making him sound fifteen again. “You can put sleeping bags on the roof, can’t you?”

  And then he’s off, cracking us both up and bringing up some memories that I’d all but forgotten. We all get ready for bed together, playfully nudging each other at the double-sink in the master bath and stealing little touches, soapy kisses.

  It’s heaven.

  When we finally pull back the covers of the gigantic bed and slip right in, there’s a moment of tangled covers and jostling as we figure out who wants to be where, but eventually we settle in, Jack on one side of me, Cate on the other. I think we all expected to come up and have another replay of some of the hot times we’ve had together between these sheets, but the day catches up with us and both of them crash out almost immediately, Cate with her head on my bicep, and Jack with his arms behind his head, his hip pressed against mine.

  My cock swells at their nearness, but no matter. I’m content just like this. In fact, it’s really nice how we all fit together, and my last thought before sleep takes me, too, is that I want to fall asleep just like this, with them, for the rest of my life.

  22

  Cate

  “It’s just a hair too high on the right,” Dylan says, holding onto my hips as I balance on a chair.

  I’m trying my best not to be too distracted by the feel of his strong fingers, but I’m not doing so well.

  The portrait of Grandpa Sully that we ordered finally arrived yesterday. Jack commissioned it right after the fire, about a month ago now. It’s gorgeous work; whoever Jack found to paint it, they must’ve known the old guy personally, because they really captured him. His eyes practically twinkle with shrewd cleverness and good humor, and it makes me miss him all the more. I wasn’t so sure it wouldn’t clash with all the other changes we’ve made to the townhouse, but it seems to fit right in.

  If only I can get the damn thing to hang straight.

  “How about now?” I ask, hands spread wide as I tug on one of the bottom corners of the heavy, burled walnut frame.

  It doesn’t escape me that Jack chose a frame that matches the huge bed we all share. He really doesn’t miss a thing; it’s the kind of detail I’d choose myself, and it makes me smile. He’s still not one to show he cares with a lot of words, but all the subtle things… oh, they get to me. They really do.

  “Okay, I think we’re good,” Dylan says, slowly letting go of my hips. “Don’t move.”

  “Dylan,” I whine, up on my tippy toes. “Is it good?”

  He doesn’t answer, but finally, after what feels like an eternity, I feel his hands on my hips again. Mmm. His touch gives me happy shivers up my spine, even when we’re nowhere near the bedroom.

  Or the couch.

  Or the dining room table.

  Or… I shake my head, pressing my lips together as my racing imagination offers up a seemingly unlimited supply of eroticism. Dylan’s saying something, and I come back to earth, determined to listen.

  “What… um, what did you say?” I prompt him.

  “I said, it’s good, Cate.” I can hear the smile in his voice. Oh, yeah. He knows all my tells, and I’m sure he figured out exactly what had me so distracted. “You can let go now.”

  “Thank God,” I exclaim with a laugh, letting go of the frame.

  He pulls me off the chair, and I squeal with joy as he spins me around in the air. He’s so strong, both him and Jack; I love that they can twirl me around like I weigh nothing, can toss me around when we make love.

  Dylan gently sets me down on my feet and I beam up at his beautiful face.

  “Thank you for the help,” I say, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “This is going to mean so much to Jack. It means so much to me already.”

  “Of course,” Dylan says, smiling. He wraps an arm around me and holds me close as we look at the painting.

  It’s the big centerpiece to the living room, a culmination to all the hard work we’ve been doing over the past month on the first floor. Jack has been wonderful about making sure we have the funds to really spruce this place up. Without his help, I’d be scrounging around thrift stores, committed to a decidedly “shabby chic” style.

  But thanks to Jack, we can give this place the love it deserves.

  I grin. It’s not just that it’s looking good, it’s been fun. Definitely more fun than any of the decorating I did for MacMillan Designs. And sure, there’s still a lot left to accomplish, and doing the kitchen alone is going to be crazy, but it’s all really starting to come together.

  “I’m glad we have a part of Sully here, looking out for us,” Dylan says, and I couldn’t agree more.

  “I wish Jack were here to see this,” I say, but then I furrow my brow. “Where is he, anyway? He snuck out of bed early this morning.”

  I’d been hoping he’d headed out to Dunk’s to pick up donuts for us, but he’s still not back, so it can’t be that.

  “I don’t know,” Dylan says, shrugging. “It’s Saturday. I can’t imagine he’s at work.”

  As though on cue, we hear the door open, and both of us turn to see. It’s Jack, and my heart trips at the sight of him, just like it always does. These two, it just never gets old.

  He walks in all smiles, his hand outstretched and holding onto a manila envelope.

  “It’s official,” he says, practically bouncing with excitement. “Clean as a whistle, lab-tested and science-approved!”

  My mouth drops open, and then I squeal. Even better than donuts. I run over to him and jump into his arms. “Jack, that’s fantastic news!”

  “Whoa there, Duchess,” Jack laughs, catching me easily and settling my legs around his hips.

  “Damn, bud,” Dylan says, approaching from behind, setting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Then it’s official. All of us are clean, and maybe we can stop buying stock in condom manufacturers.”

  “Thank God,” I say, knowing I’m pink-cheeked. Not that I have any reason to be embarrassed around these two, I know for sure that they don’t judge me for liking what we do, but still… sometimes I still feel brazen.

  Well, okay, I kind of like that feeling, actually, but I’m still not sure how long it will take for it not to make me blush, too.

  I unhook my legs from Jack and stand back on my own two feet as my men give me a bemused look.

  “Not that every time we’ve been together hasn’t been mind-blowing,” I clarify. “But I’ve been dying to get to actually, um, feel you guys, instead of being separated by balloon material.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Jack says, and leans in for a kiss. I arch up into him and marvel at how every kiss with the two men I adore still sends fireworks of delight bursting in my heart.

  He takes his time, but once we step apart, his eyes shoot up to the fireplace.

  “Oh, wow,” he says, a gorgeous smile blooming across his face again. “That’s really something, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Dylan says, reaching down and taking Jack’s hand.

  “It’s perfect,” I agree. “That’s the only word I have for it.” I look up at Jack and bite my lower lip in the way I know drives him crazy. That’s right, I’m pulling out all the stops. “It took so long to get this just right. Any chance you’ve reconsidered selling the townhouse?”

  I can see him wrestling between old Jack and new Jack. I’m so, so proud of all the growth he’s gone through in the last month alone, but he has me just a little nervous. I want to trust him fully, completely, but the more memories I make in this house with the three of us, the less I think I can handle it if I have to say goodbye to the place.

  “Yeah, about that,” Jack finally says, sounding sheepish. “I think…” He pauses, looking a little pained, and I can’t help it, I tense up.

  “Out with it, buddy,” Dylan says, and I see him give Jack’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be okay, no matter what your answer is,
right, Cate?”

  I nod; it’s all I can do. “Yes” would be a lie. If he still wants to sell the place, I’ll be heartbroken. Devastated. But the last thing I want to do is hurt Jack, so I bite my tongue.

  “I think… I want to reconsider selling,” Jack finishes, his cheeks flushing.

  I wait a beat to absorb his answer, and then, when I do—

  “Yes!” Dylan and I shout in unison.

  Dylan wraps his arms around both of us, squeezing tight.

  Jack laughs. “Well, wait, I mean, this was always a temporary situation with my house going up in flames, I thought.”

  Dylan snorts. “Yeah, and?”

  “And,” Jack continues, “I guess I just figured that once the insurance closes on the investigation and cuts me a check, I’d be headed out again.” He clears his throat. “I mean, what, we’re not all just gonna live together forever, right?”

  He laughs nervously, but it’s easy to hear the longing in his voice.

  “Jack,” I say, raising my hand to cup his cheek. “It’s okay.”

  “Yeah, Jack,” Dylan says. “I think we’d both like that very much.”

  “Like?” I tease, beaming up at the two of them. “I’m over the moon for the idea. Please stay, Jack.”

  It takes him a second to join in, but finally he smiles, and I can feel his tension melt away.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think I really like it, too. But, y’know, what if this doesn’t work out with the three of us? What if any of us changes our minds, rubs each other the wrong way… Hell, I don’t know, gets outta bed on the wrong side or forgets to change the toilet paper roll? Are both of you really okay with this?”

  Are you really both okay with me? That’s what he really wants to know.

  “Oh, you,” I say, reaching out for both of their hands and leading them over to the couch.

  We all sit down, Jack in the middle.

  “I need you to listen to me very carefully, Jack,” I start. “We’ve known each other forever. Those summers, years ago, were my only lifeline away from a place I couldn’t stand, and from a person that I couldn’t accept that I was turning into. I know we’ve had our issues, you and I, but even when we kept our distance from each other, I’ve always wanted to be here more than I wanted to be anywhere else.”

  “And now,” Dylan jumps in, putting his hands on Jack’s shoulders and rubbing slow circles that I know firsthand melt tension like it was butter, “We’re all here. All three of us.”

  “Let’s be real here,” I say, grinning as I look back and forth between them. Goodbye, shy Cate. “I’m greedy. I’ve finally found the man of my dreams, and it’s not just one, but two. You are the most beautiful, gorgeous men I’ve ever been with in my life. Not to mention, absolutely dynamite in bed. I would be a crazy woman if I didn’t want to keep you both here with me.”

  “But it can’t just be about us,” Jack says. “You ain’t no slouch out there. You don’t deserve to just be all about us men, with as much talent as you have in your little finger.”

  “Of course!” I say, but blush all the same at the compliments. “Like I said a while ago, I’m not yours to take and trade. I choose who I belong to.” I motion to the big bright windows, so different from Grandpa Sully’s former decor. “Look at what we’ve done with the place in such a short time,” I say. “I love it here. I love Boston. I love my job at the gym. And maybe, once we get the house together and settled the way we want it, I’ll try to put out an interior decorating shingle of my own. If there’s any one thing that the MacMillan name is good for, it’s hooking a client or two once I’m on solid ground again.”

  “Honestly,” Dylan says, “I thought you left New York because the job was killing you. But I’ve been so impressed with your work around here that I was kind of hoping that you were growing fond of it again. You know?”

  “Yeah,” Jack adds. “Finding the fun in it again, I guess?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim, beaming. “I take genuine pleasure in it again, and it’s because I’m doing it for us. I can be myself here, more than I ever have in my entire life. Now that I’m getting back into that headspace, why shouldn’t I go for it?”

  “Absolutely,” Jack says. “You do amazing work. Shit, the interior designer I hired for my burnt-up condo was probably twice what you charge, and not gonna lie, he only did half the job you’ve done here.”

  “It’s been uniquely lovely to watch you work,” Dylan adds. “I’m proud of you, and impressed with you, at the same time.”

  And now I’m blushing again. The old me would have brushed aside the praise, but they’re right. I am good at this. Even better, though, is knowing that they see me—the real me. Nothing could be sweeter, and as I thank them, I feel like I could burst with the amount of joy inside of me right now.

  “I love you guys,” I say, then freeze for a second. For all we’ve done, as close as I feel to these two, none of us have said those words.

  Jack kind of grunts, like the wind’s been knocked out of him, but Dylan just wraps an arm around him, pulling him close, and when I press against Jack’s other side, Dylan leans around Jack for a moment, smiling, and plants a kiss on the top of my head.

  “Cate, I’ve always loved you,” he says, and I feel my heart leap into my throat. “And I’ve always loved you, too, Jack. Both of you, to the bottom of my heart. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

  “I, uh…” Jack clears his throat, but then he does it. “Me too. You know, about loving you guys. I love you, too. And about this place, well, I don’t want to go anywhere, either. Insurance’ll clear soon, no doubt, and I think I just want to pour it all back into this house.” He looks around a bit, and I can see the mist of memory in his eyes. “It’s tough, the way it makes me miss Sully sometimes, and it might be a little rough for a while, but I love this place and I don’t want it to be just another bad memory. I don’t want to be that person anymore. You guys are my…”

  He loses steam, but Dylan props him up.

  “We’re your family.”

  “Yeah,” Jack says, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as a gorgeous smile spreads across his face. “That’s right. I love you, and we’re family.”

  My heart suddenly feels too big for my chest.

  This?

  This is… perfect.

  23

  Jack

  Boston in late June is fucking sweltering. I close the door of the townhouse and wipe my arm across my forehead. Would have been so much worse if I was still wearing the slate-blue linen suit I went to work in, but hitting the gym after work means I’m freshly showered and dressed in my post-workout clothes. My favorite worn t-shirt and a pair of thin basketball shorts are a lot more comfortable in this heat than a suit jacket and tie, both of which I dropped at the cleaners on my way here.

  It’s good to be out of that monkey suit.

  Even better to be home.

  I kick off my shoes at the door and drop my gym bag, smiling. Hell, best of all is having a place to call home.

  I don’t see any sign of Cate—she said she was going to the market in the North End this morning, might still be there—but I can hear sounds coming from the kitchen. My smile broadens. So Dylan’s home, whipping up his latest work of art already.

  I’m a lucky guy, maybe the luckiest, to have one of my best friends, my partners, be such an amazing chef. Keeps me sharp about going to the gym, too.

  I’ll have to thank him for that.

  Sure enough, Dylan’s at the stove, an apron thrown over his bare chest and jeans. I can’t help it, my cock starts to swell. Damn. Should be used to it by now, and sometimes I am, but letting myself be this affected by another man still catches me off-guard sometimes.

  If you can’t stand the heat, get outta the kitchen.

  I snort a soft laugh at the idea of anyone taking Dylan out of a kitchen, and when he turns and grins at me as I walk into the kitchen from the hallway, something turns over inside my chest. Definitely weird, the
se feelings I have for him. I mean, weird when looked at from the way I was raised.

  They feel good, though.

  He raises a hand in greeting before turning back to a steaming pot on a back burner. “Hey, Jack,” he throws over his shoulder. “Good day?”

  “Eh,” I shrug. “Not too bad. What’re you making?”

  My day was a day, and whatever Dylan’s doing is way more immediate and interesting. Whatever’s in that pot smells incredible: rich and smooth and fresh in that herbal way. Mouth’s watering already.

  And, yeah, okay. Not just from the thought of food.

  Dylan shrugs, a tiny motion of his massive shoulders. “It’s not anything crazy, I’m just testing out a dill beurre blanc sauce for some swordfish I picked up this morning; figured I’d chargrill the fish and we could eat out on the patio tonight. Cate said she’d pick up wine; asked her to grab an oaky white if she could find a good one.”

  “Burr what?” I walk into the kitchen proper, leaning against the kitchen island for the best view.

  Honestly, that all went right over my head, but I know it’ll make my taste buds sit up and sing. I am catching on to some facts about what he prepares at the moment, actually, but right now?

  A little distracted.

  Dylan laughs. “Don’t try that rube act with me—you go to fancy enough restaurants that you should know what butter sauce is.” I shrug and he shakes his head, smiling. He holds out the wooden spoon. “Do you want to try it or not?”

  “Yeah, of course I wanna try it,” I say. “Give me that.”

  I’m a little too eager grabbing the spoon out of Dylan’s hand, or else maybe I misjudge the speed with which he’s passing it to me—instead of closing my fingers around the handle, I manage to overshoot it entirely. My fingers slip on sauce and the spoon goes flying out of Dylan’s hand, clattering to the kitchen floor.