“I say we make this interesting,” Rafe said. “Usual rules, except when you bump someone’s pawn back to start, you get to ask that person a question. Same if you land on a slide that’s not your own color.”
“What types of questions are we asking?” she asked.
“Any kind you want.” The southern drawl Rafe tried so hard to hide slipped out on the letter i. He shuffled the cards. “Everybody choose your pawns.”
She chose blue while Mikey picked green and Rafe decided on red. They each drew cards and made moves. Krissy was the first to bump Rafe back to home.
She did a little victory dance in her seat. “How old are you?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know the answer to that.”
“Yeah, but Mikey doesn’t.”
Another eye roll was coupled with a shake of Rafe’s head. “I’m twenty-seven.” He chucked a card at Krissy. “Make your next question less boring.”
They each drew cards again, and Krissy groaned when Rafe sent her pawn to the starting point.
“What was the first thing you said to me when you got back from your visit here?” he asked.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate you.”
“That’s not what you said.”
“I said I loved Maine.”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Rafe sang.
She opened her eyes, grabbed a yellow pawn from the box, and threw it at him. He laughed and caught it. “Come on, Krissy. You can’t lie during the game of Sorry.”
“Otherwise known as The Game That Screws Krissy Over.” She turned to face Mikey and sighed. “I told him I thought I’d finally found someone who got me.”
Mikey bumped her shoulder with his. “So did I.”
A thrill went through her, bringing back the memory of his mouth on hers. On her next turn, Krissy was able to skid her pawn along a green slide. She shifted Mikey’s way and leaned close enough to whisper, “Did you want to kiss me yesterday in the truck?”
“Yeah,” he whispered back.
“Hey!” Rafe hollered. “No keeping secrets during Sorry.”
Mikey pinched his lips together, amusement in his eyes. “Sorry, not sorry.”
The two men exchanged friendly looks, seeming for the first time like they felt comfortable around each other. It made Krissy’s body hum with an energy better than any drug. She reached for a card, cheering when she saw the word Sorry printed across it, and knocked one of Rafe’s pawns back home.
He stared at her. “It was my turn, Krissy.”
Her shoulders lifted with her giggle. “Oops.”
They continued playing, chasing each other around the game board. All but one of Krissy’s pawns had made it to safety when Rafe pulled a card that let him skate across a blue slide. He sat back and pursed his lips while she waited for her question.
“What’s your favorite sex act?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes at him, her cheeks going hot. “Can I veto this question?”
Rafe chuckled. “No.”
She glared at him, but what the hell? This wasn’t the worst thing she had to admit by far. “Being fingered. I’m boring, I guess.”
Mikey cleared his throat, then shifted so his knee nudged hers. “You couldn’t be boring if you tried.”
The small touch made her shiver, the compliment making her face flare even hotter.
“Awww,” Rafe said. “You guys are so cute.”
He nudged her other knee, prodding her closer to Mikey, and the double points of contact made her skin tingle. The fantasy that had driven her over the edge last night came flooding back, and Krissy had to clench her hands into fists to stave off the torrent of images, old ones and new: Them touching her. Her touching them.
Them touching each other.
Her next move gave her a chance to ask Mikey another question, but she couldn’t think clearly. “Can I pass?”
“No way,” Rafe said. “We’ll default to a version of the last inquiry.” His grin was pure evil when he turned to Mikey. “So, Mr. Pelletier. What’s your favorite sexual position?”
Shit. “You don’t have to answer that,” Krissy assured him.
“Yeah he does. Rules are rules.”
The look Krissy threw Rafe’s way clearly said shut up, but he wasn’t backing down.
“Come on, Mikey. Fess up. Krissy won’t care if it’s dirty. But remember, you’ve gotta tell the truth.”
Mikey’s voice was low when he said, “I don’t have a favorite, because I haven’t done it.”
It wasn’t often that Rafe was stunned into silence, but that did the trick.
“Oh…damn.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mikey. Didn’t mean to put you on the spot there.”
Mikey didn’t answer. Krissy turned the tables on her roommate.
“What about you?” she asked, arms crossed in a challenge. She knew Rafe’s sensitive spots, but since actual intercourse was sexuala-non-grata, this was information that had eluded her.
“I’m not the one who lost their turn,” he said. “You don’t get to ask me a question.”
“Don’t care. Answer it anyway.”
He smiled broadly, then conceded. “It depends on who I’m with. With girls I like to be on top. With guys, I prefer bottoming.”
“Wait, so you’re…” Mikey started, his eyes wide.
“Bi.” Rafe’s verification came out so matter-of-factly, typical of an actor who was confident in his sexuality and his looks. It was not typical, however, of someone who’d been through what he had. “Krissy didn’t tell you?”
“No,” Mikey replied stiffly, and Krissy reached for her pawns. Rafe’s intentions with the game were finally clear. He was going to use it to worm out the truth and broadcast it like a billboard in Times Square.
“This is a dumb game,” she said. “Let’s play something else.”
Rafe threw an arm out to stop her. “You’re just saying that because you’re losing.”
He reached for a card, and his move bumped her last piece backward. He flicked the card a few times before dropping it in the pile.
“What was that fantasy you told me about? The one involving Mikey.”
Even with only their knees touching, Krissy felt Mikey go rigid. She was pretty sure he could feel the same from her.
“You know the answer to that,” she said, but there wasn’t the same mirth in her tone as there had been when Rafe had said it.
“Mikey doesn’t.”
Krissy crossed her arms. Stared up at the ceiling, then at her lap. She wanted to lie, desperate to cover up the truth, but there was that burning, hungry part of her that didn’t want to hide, and Rafe probably wouldn’t let her anyway.
“Having a threesome,” she admitted quietly. “With both of you.”
Rafe sat back on the couch and slinked an arm around her. “What do you say, Mikey? Want to help me make Krissy’s fantasy a reality?”
Oh God. Rafe was doing this. He was actually doing this. Krissy braced herself for Mikey’s response, waiting for him to completely freak out, the endgame she’d expected all along when he found out the truth.
“Help you?” he sputtered.
“Sure.” Rafe twirled one of her pigtails around his finger. “You two obviously don’t know how to get things started on your own, and I’m getting bored watching. Someone needs to get the ball rolling.”
Mikey’s mouth dropped open. There was so much insecurity in his eyes. “So, you two are together.”
“No,” she said quickly. “Not in the way you think.”
“What way, then?”
Krissy couldn’t speak, couldn’t figure out any way to tell him that didn’t sound one hundred percent certifiably nuts.
Please don’t think I’m crazy.
“We have a sexual relationship,�
�� Rafe answered for her, “but are strictly platonic otherwise.”
It hurt to hear him say it out loud, but not as much as the look on Mikey’s face as his gaze darted between them. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re not sleeping together,” Krissy said. “We just…fool around.”
His silence dragged on for several seconds. Or years. Krissy twisted her shirt in her hands and gave Mikey an imploring look, hoping he could see the apology in her eyes.
“Then you’re not a couple,” he finally said.
“Nope,” Rafe confirmed, then winked at Mikey. “I sway a little more the other way.”
Mikey exhaled in what could’ve been a laugh but wasn’t, not really, and pushed his hair out of his eyes. Krissy found the courage to brush her fingers against his. By some miracle, he didn’t wrench away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.”
“And you still…” Mikey made a tentative sweep of his pinky along hers. “Want me?”
“Oh, she wants you, all right,” Rafe interjected. “She’s got a dirty little mind, this one. You should hear the stuff she’s thought of about you.” He shifted her on the couch until she faced Mikey and hooked his chin over her shoulder, positioning her like an offering. “So what do you say? Interested?”
Krissy’s heart was pounding. Mikey swallowed, looked hard at her, and whispered, “You want this?”
She wanted to forge something real with Mikey. To trust him with her mind, body, and heart. But right now a haze of lust was clouding her mind, and all she wanted was to be sandwiched between them, a helpless prisoner while they did all sorts of delicious things to her, then to see if she had the skills to please them both at once.
“Yes,” she answered. “I want this.”
Another swallow. He nodded at her, then at Rafe. “Okay.”
Krissy felt the shape of Rafe’s smile, his breath hot on her cheek. “It’s your show now, sweetheart. What do you want to do?”
She arched against him, then reached for Mikey, tangling their fingers together.
“Bedroom,” she managed, her body alive with the need to kiss and touch and come, to act out the real-life version of what she’d only played at onstage. “I want you both in the bedroom.”
Rafe coaxed her forward, and Krissy’s legs were wobbly when she stood. He took her free hand, linking the three of them together, and she allowed herself to be towed down the hallway, Rafe in the lead, Mikey following closely behind her.
Inside the bedroom, Rafe let go of her, flicked on the bedside lamp, and reached for his belt. Krissy’s breathing hitched at the tinny sound of metal unlatching. She watched him shuck his jeans, his powerful arms crossing his body as he dragged off his shirt. Hairless chest. Washboard abs. He really was one of God’s most beautiful creations.
“You’ve seen all this before,” Rafe teased. “Turn around and show Mikey what you want.”
She moved slowly. Mikey’s forehead was creased, his posture tense despite his quickened breaths. Krissy touched his glasses.
“Can I? You’ll be able to see?”
He nodded. “I can see enough.”
She slid the glasses off his face and placed them on the nightstand, then danced her touch at the hem of his sweater. He paused, then took her hands in his and slipped them under his shirt.
Oh, the relief. The delight over his acceptance. She felt like she was flying, and it juiced up her libido to epic proportions.
She hauled Mikey’s sweater over his head, giving in to the desire, pure adrenaline taking over. His body was thin but paneled with flat, strong muscle. A trail of dark hair made a path from his navel to his waistline. She wove their fingers together and leaned in to kiss him, dipping her tongue into his mouth. He yielded to her, moaning softly as his tongue touched hers. It was a sound Krissy echoed when Rafe’s hands skated around her waist and found the front of her shirt.
One by one, he popped the buttons open, then slid it off her shoulders before unhooking her bra. He dragged the straps down her arms, and Krissy broke the kiss, too turned on to breathe. Rafe dropped her bra to the floor and moved in behind her. He ran his knuckles along the sides of her breasts, slow up-and-down caresses that made her skin rise with gooseflesh, made her nipples bead up and tighten. She shivered and fell back against him.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” he asked Mikey.
“Incredibly,” he whispered.
Krissy could barely contain her shudder. Mikey ran a fingertip along the underside of one breast, then circled her nipple. With his head cocked to the side, he pinched, and Krissy’s responding gasp made him back off.
“No.” She shook her head. “Don’t stop.”
He did it again. Repeated the action with the other nipple. Every tweak made her jolt, but Rafe palmed her hips, holding her still. A determined crease formed between Mikey’s brows. He lowered his head and sucked one pert nub at a time, fondling the other when it was exposed to the air.
“Fuck,” Krissy said on a surprised and pleased laugh. Mikey might have been a virgin, but he sure seemed to know what he was doing right now.
She reached back for Rafe, a frantic move that said touch me, please, but her roommate had other ideas. Kneeling behind her, he untied her laces, then urged her out of her shoes one at a time. He tugged down her leggings, helping her step out of them as Mikey continued to tease and torment her breasts. Once both her feet were on the ground again, Rafe trailed his touch up one of her legs until his fingers rode along her damp panties. He cupped her pussy, rocking her with steady pressure from the heel of his palm.
“Oh God.” Krissy’s knees nearly gave out. She clutched Mikey’s arms in an attempt to stay upright. “Bed. Please. I can’t…”
Her sentence died on a grunt when Rafe gave her another firm press. He chuckled at her reaction, then stood and climbed onto the bed.
Still keeping her grip on Mikey, she looked up at him. Despite the erection pressing at his slacks, she was still waiting for him to have second thoughts and book it out of here. But all he did was walk her backward toward the bed, surprising the hell out of her when he unzipped his pants, yanked them down, and kicked them off.
Fuck. Yes.
She stretched out on the bed next to Rafe. He feathered his touch over her hip, then leaned in to rake his teeth along her neck. His beard and mustache rasped over her skin, a tickling scrape that sensitized every nerve. Mikey lay down beside her with an awkward glance at Rafe, then zeroed in on her mouth.
Moving instinctively out of the way, Rafe bent his head lower and began suckling her breast. Krissy whimpered at the wet suction, but the sound got lost when Mikey kissed her again—hard and hungry, his mouth devouring hers. Rafe’s fingers spanned her pelvis, sliding lower until they dipped into her panties. Krissy’s breath rushed out when he parted her lips and traced a slippery circle over her clit.
She let out a moan, and Mikey pulled back, gaze dropping to where her roommate’s hand moved beneath the fabric.
“Holy shit,” he breathed.
“She’s crazy wet,” Rafe said, kissing her cheek. “She never gets like this with me. Must be you, Mikey.”
It was embarrassing, having Rafe talk about her like that, but he was right. She could feel how slick she was—the result of being unbearably, startlingly turned on.
With an audible swallow, Mikey reached over and cautiously lifted the waistband of her panties. His nostrils flared, his tongue coming out to moisten his upper lip.
He liked to watch. Fucking hell, he liked to watch.
Discovering this little kink of his was almost too hot to handle. His eyes trained on Rafe’s hand, Mikey ground his brief-clad erection against her hip. The fabric was damp where they touched, and Krissy felt the first trembling pulses of her release. She bucked up into Rafe’s hand, and he read her signals, shifting the circl
es he was drawing to a pattern of quick up-and-down motions. She arched, seconds away from bliss when he stopped.
“No,” she whined. She’d die if he left her on the edge like this, but Rafe simply smirked.
“Such a greedy little monster you are.”
He worked her panties down her legs, and Mikey’s hand drifted to her belly. Rafe hooked one of his strong thighs around hers and made a V over her clit with his pointer and middle fingers, spreading her open.
“What do you want, Krissy?”
She moaned again and squirmed between them, her hips lifting, body so empty she could cry. “Both of you,” she replied breathlessly. “I want both your hands on me. Making me come.”
He rocked his fingers back and forth. “And what do we get out of it?”
Death by pleasure. There had to be a special spot in hell for suffering like this. “I’ll repay the favor.”
Mikey’s eyes met hers. Desire flashed in them.
Rafe lowered his fingers, circling her opening, a tease that sent tremors everywhere. “What do you think, Mikey? Should we take pity on her?”
Mikey’s expression went a little devilish, a glance down her body coupled with a slow pass of his tongue along his upper lip.
“Yeah. Let’s make that fantasy of hers come true.”
“God.” Krissy gripped the pillows. She’d never have guessed this sweet, beautiful virgin would be into one of her dirtiest wishes, and it was like the answer to her prayers.
“I like the way you think.” Rafe leaned down and breathed hot in her ear. “Come for us, Krissy.”
He plunged a finger inside her in a slow spiral, then dragged it out again, wrist twisting until he found the spot that made her thrash. Mikey skimmed his palm lower, and Krissy lifted her head to watch. It was the climax to a scene she’d imagined over and over again, and she cried out when he found her slit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Her head fell back against the pillow. Mikey’s touch was more confident than it had been last night, two fingers rubbing hard and fast. Rafe began a slick pounding, and the dual sensations drove her back to the edge. She tried to hold on, tried to make it last, but one, two, three seconds later, her release bolted through her. She let go of the pillow to grip both their arms, her body jerking off the bed. When they’d wrung every drop of pleasure from her, she collapsed and tried to catch her breath.
The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3 Page 7