The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  “Am I sure this is how I want my first time to be?”

  She nodded, sadness and worry clouding her eyes. But she didn’t need to worry that she was the one pushing him right now.

  Dipping his head to breathe against her ear, he whispered, “I couldn’t think of anything hotter.”

  A hard shudder shook every inch of her. Mikey kissed her, tongue skating past her lips and licking hers. He pulled back, and they shared a smile before he looked at Rafe. The other man’s eyes glittered.

  “I think the bedroom will do nicely for this scene,” Rafe mused, then raked his teeth down Krissy’s neck. Her hips kicked, a tiny reflex. “Go on, little prop. Into the bedroom with you.”

  Krissy’s face lit up. Exuberant, she pulled away from him and scampered down the hall. Rafe gallantly swept an arm out, and Mikey held his gaze for a moment before following behind her. She’d yanked her clothes off by the time they reached the door. Rafe meandered in behind Mikey with one eye squinted, his hands in a square formation as he mimed searching for the perfect camera angle.

  “This light will do nicely. Krissy, your first mark is on your back on the bed.”

  Eyes blazing, she did as she was told, her body parallel to the pillows. She spread her thighs open, knees up, feet flat on the bed. She raised her arms above her head in a move that lifted her small breasts, her cheeks ruddy with want.

  Holy shit, this was happening. This was actually happening.

  “Condoms, Mikey?” Rafe asked.

  Mikey’s hands shook when he opened the dresser drawer Dean had emptied for him and retrieved the plastic box he’d tucked away before Krissy’s arrival, hoping for this.

  Well, not exactly this. This was about a thousand times better.

  Mikey deposited his glasses on the nightstand before turning back around. Rafe plucked the foil package from his hand.

  “The scene begins with the young virgin looking over the girl offering herself to him. He knows he’ll barely have to warm her up at all, with the way she’s practically begging for it.”

  Rafe knelt next to Krissy and dipped his fingers between her splayed legs. She made a soft sound of pleasure, and Mikey needed to press a palm to his fly. He’d gotten painfully hard watching Rafe touch her the night before. He hadn’t known he was a voyeur, but seeing this was almost hotter than the prospect of doing it himself.

  Almost.

  He pulled off his shirt, hands getting caught in the sleeves in his eagerness to be with them, then shucked his jeans and boxer briefs. Any uneasiness he’d felt the day before at being naked around Rafe was absent, replaced instead with a wild, animalistic craving. To touch and be touched too.

  Krissy’s gaze met Mikey’s, her body undulating as Rafe glanced back at him.

  “Look how hard Mikey is,” he said. “I bet he can’t wait to feel you. To see how wet you are.”

  The low, taunting sound of Rafe’s voice combined with the blush racing from Krissy’s cheeks to her breasts had Mikey’s hands tingling. Rafe stepped aside, and Mikey moved in beside Krissy. He stroked her thighs, fingers light over her skin, then paused at her entrance, waiting. He wanted her permission, even if Rafe was running the show.

  She nodded wildly. Mikey pushed two fingers in to the knuckle, pumping deep.

  Krissy let out a mewl, a line forming between her eyebrows as her hips arched. Her stomach muscles bunched as he explored her, sliding in and out. She was slick and tight, burning up with heat, and he could only imagine how it would feel to be inside her. To finally, finally do this, and watch her reactions as he fulfilled her needs too.

  He’d wrapped his other hand around his dick before he’d even realized it.

  “I didn’t say you could do that.”

  Rafe’s chastisement drew Mikey’s gaze upward. “You want to do it for me?” he asked with a strike of boldness he hadn’t known he had in him.

  Rafe gave Mikey a smug look, one side of his mouth curling up as he stroked a knuckle along Krissy’s nipple. One tweak from him had her sucking back a breath, body clenching around Mikey’s fingers.

  “Up on your hands and knees, sweetheart. I want to see Mikey take you from behind.”

  Mikey shuddered and met Krissy’s lust-soaked gaze as he slid his fingers free. She moved into position, and Mikey stood, taking a second to glance back at Rafe. He was still fully clothed, his erection apparent beneath his jeans.

  “What about you?” Mikey asked. He wasn’t sure what he was ready for, but he wanted Rafe’s pleasure too.

  Pocketing the condom, Rafe moved in behind him. Pressed his chest to Mikey’s bare shoulder blades.

  “What about me?” he asked, his voice like honey. “I’m the director here, and directors like to watch. I’ll get mine from the two of you after. Besides, we both know how badly Krissy needs to get fucked.”

  She moaned, head falling between braced arms. One of Rafe’s hands slid over his hip, and Mikey’s mouth dropped open in a gasp. The three inches of height the other man had on him gave Rafe the perfect advantage, his lips at Mikey’s ear.

  “But if you want to know,” he whispered, “I’ve been thinking about your mouth on me since I first saw you at the train station.”

  “Oh God.” Mikey tilted his head back until he was looking at Rafe, and then their mouths crashed together, all hot lips and rough stubble and Jesus fucking Christ.

  The words made guilt burn in his chest, but then all that vanished, his knees going rubbery and his mind going blank as Rafe palmed his other hip and squeezed.

  His kiss was confident, stronger and more passionate than Krissy’s. Mikey was too eager, too sloppy, but Rafe slowed him down, tongue chasing Mikey’s back into his mouth with tiny teasing dips. He felt Rafe’s hands moving over his pelvis, and Mikey’s breathing went wild, his heart hammering against his ribs. He almost couldn’t stand Rafe’s slow taunt, fingers creeping inward one maddening inch at a time, until he gripped the base of Mikey’s cock with one hand and stroked over it with the other.

  “Fuck,” Mikey rasped, breaking their kiss. “Oh, fuck yes.”

  He swayed backward, his weight on Rafe as everything got hot and blurry. The languid tugs of the other man’s fist sent sparks of pleasure down his spine. Mikey dragged his eyes open, needing to see what Rafe was doing, and the way Krissy had her head tilted over her shoulder to watch too made everything worse. Or better—he wasn’t sure. There was a fiendish glint in her eyes that grew wilder the same second Rafe stopped, hands moving to rip the condom open.

  “Now you’re both my props.” Rafe rolled it slowly over Mikey’s stiff flesh. His breath rushed out as Rafe began stroking him again, fingers making a perfect ring of tension over the latex barrier. “And I want to see both of you explode.”

  His hand still moving, Rafe prodded Mikey toward Krissy until the tip of his dick eased into her pussy. Barely half an inch of him was enveloped, and his eyes snapped shut, jaw tight as he groaned and fought to hold on. It was too much. The sensation of hot and tight, of Rafe’s short, quick strokes as he jerked Mikey off. Jerked him off into Krissy. She whimpered, the tease of him barely inside obviously not enough, but Mikey was too far gone to help her.

  “Not gonna last like this,” he managed through gritted teeth.

  Rafe nipped his earlobe. “That’s the idea.”

  He urged Mikey another inch inside her, and Mikey nearly collapsed, hands dropping to grip Krissy’s hips. A useless moan of protest rumbled from him when Rafe stopped stroking. He reached past Mikey, wrapped his hands around Krissy’s thighs and pulled, drawing her slowly backward until she sheathed him entirely.

  Mikey trembled—the wet clasp of her pussy was better than anything he’d ever imagined. As was the feeling of Rafe’s erection, insistent against his ass. When he was fully seated, Krissy’s head dropped on a quiet yes. She dug her hands into the blanket, and the picture o
f her pleasure was as hot as the snug warmth surrounding him.

  Rafe started a slow rhythm, deliberately driving Krissy forward before pushing Mikey’s hips to meet hers again. Sensation raced from Mikey’s cock to his toes, his fingertips, his teeth. Trapped between their bodies, he watched Krissy move, fucking her at the pace Rafe set for them. When Rafe sped things up, Mikey knew he had seconds left. One more thrust, and he was lost.

  His orgasm nearly ripped him in half. Mikey cried out, reaching blindly to grasp at them both. Rafe chuckled and bit down on his neck, a pinch of pain to balance out the insane pleasure. Mikey bent over, shoulders heaving with the force of his release. His head was still swimming when he pulled out, his vision clear enough to toss the condom in the trash and sink onto the bed. Krissy shifted around to face them, her hair a mess, eyes hooded and needy.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Rafe said lowly. “I haven’t forgotten you.”

  A shiver went through Mikey’s exhausted body as Rafe stripped, tattoo leaping across his muscles, fearsome and beautiful. He crawled onto the bed and whispered something to Krissy. She nodded, her hunger and affection for him written all over her face. He kissed her tenderly, then more aggressively, one hand around her neck cleaving her to him, the other making teasing swirls over her hip.

  Rafe ended the kiss with a nip to her lower lip. Lying down on his back, he manipulated her over him until his head was between her thighs. Her eyes drifted shut as Rafe’s tongue drove into where Mikey’s cock had just been. It was waking up already when she bent her head to take Rafe in her mouth.

  Mikey watched them move, taking in every hitched breath, every pleasure-riddled grip of their hands, every roll of their hips.

  They were gorgeous. Both of them.

  Sitting up, Mikey dragged his fingertips over one of Rafe’s thighs, the smattering of hair on his skin, then danced them along the curve of Krissy’s back. Her body surged beneath his touch. Feeling a tiny bit of power course through him, he experimentally slid back until he grazed her wet flesh. Rafe shifted slightly, following Mikey’s lead and giving him room. He could tell the exact second Rafe’s lips closed over Krissy’s clit by her muffled gasp.

  That was a cue if he’d ever heard one. Mikey plunged his fingers inside her.

  A whine came out around the sound of soft suction. The vibrations must’ve hit Rafe hard, because his hips lifted on a grunt. Fascinated, Mikey repeated the motion, and it caused another chain reaction—Krissy moaning, Rafe’s body jolting in response. It was a potent thing, to control their pleasure like this, and Mikey kept up his tempo, working Krissy in tandem with Rafe until she shattered. Her head lifted with a sharp snap as she came, hard.

  She slumped forward and rolled to the side with a satisfied smile. Licking her lips, she jutted her chin at Mikey, then nodded at Rafe.

  Finish the job, her look said.

  It was Mikey’s last opportunity to back out, the final moment to reach for an escape hatch, mumble an apology, and back off.

  He didn’t want his demons haunting him anymore.

  He lunged hungrily for Rafe, unsure of himself but driven by instinct as he gripped the other man’s cock. Rafe was still slick from Krissy’s mouth, and the feeling of the familiar shape in his palm, handling a dick that wasn’t his own, was so taboo and hot that Mikey was rock hard all over again.

  Rafe’s hips rose into Mikey’s fist, but he seemed more focused on Mikey’s face than his hand—eyes soft, his mouth slightly agape as he gazed upward, the craftiness Mikey had so often seen in Rafe’s expression replaced with something akin to…wonder?

  He couldn’t be sure, but a quick, shared glance between Rafe and Krissy had Rafe pushing Mikey’s hand away and going up on his knees.

  “Come here,” he whispered roughly.

  Mikey mirrored Rafe’s position. One hand on the back of Mikey’s neck, Rafe wrapped the other around both of them. The feeling of Rafe’s cock against his, of flesh on flesh and Rafe’s purposeful stroking, was driving him out of his mind. It was a damn good thing he’d come once already, because fuck. Mikey bowed his head to rest his forehead on Rafe’s shoulder. Closing his eyes, he gave in, rocking into the other man’s grip until Rafe’s shudder and the hot spill of come propelled Mikey into a second orgasm, so intense his voice cracked when he moaned Rafe’s name.

  Sated, Mikey found his shirt to clean up with, then lay back against the pillows. Rafe followed suit, and a calm drowsiness pulled Mikey under until the sound of a soft moan had him dragging his eyes open. Krissy was smiling at him from her spot on the bed, one hand between her thighs.

  “Is she touching herself?” Rafe asked, his eyes closed.

  “Yup.”

  She bit her lip and smiled even wider, no shame at all in being caught.

  “Krissy, you little brat!” Rafe shouted, but he was laughing. Mikey laughed too, until they were all clutching their stomachs in ecstatic, blissed-out hysterics.

  She crawled in between them, that mischievous grin plastered on her face as her fingers dipped and swirled. It didn’t matter if she needed to come again. She could need a thousand more orgasms, and it still wouldn’t matter. He’d never felt so good, so happy and right, and Mikey wanted her pleasure. Wanted Rafe’s. Wanted to exist in a place where all that mattered was taking what he needed and giving it back to them. If this was the happiness that could be found in deviance, Mikey didn’t know how he’d lived so long without it.

  And God help him, he was going to enjoy the hell out of it now.

  Chapter Nine

  Krissy couldn’t sleep, too wired hours after Mikey and Rafe had passed out on either side of her.

  That was fine, though. She didn’t need sleep. Sleep was for people who hadn’t had the most incredible, sexually intense night of their lives. Who hadn’t just rocked it on a stage full of strangers. She could’ve tried to go through her shavasana again since her meditation earlier had been a total bust, but she had no interest in attempting to quiet her mind right now. It was a risky mood to be in, but the feeling of swinging on that trapeze again was a high she wanted to ride on a little while longer.

  She didn’t want to risk waking Rafe and Mikey, though. Her boys needed rest if they were going to ravage her again in the morning.

  Turning toward Mikey, she reached up and brushed a few strands of unruly hair off his forehead. He looked calm, so at ease, his sleeping countenance so different from the pain that had marred his features the day before in the church. Whatever amount Krissy’s heart had ached when she’d learned about Rafe’s past, it hurt twice as much now that she knew Mikey’s. The fears he had about God and Hell, the burden his parents were putting on him—it wasn’t fair. He was too sweet to carry that kind of weight. But here, now, he seemed free of all that.

  She liked that she’d made that possible for him, even if she didn’t know what came next.

  Climbing silently out from between them, she groped around in the dark for her sweatshirt and panties, then found her cell and checked the time. A quarter to four, and she’d been staring at the ceiling since they turned out the light, cooking up more kinky scenarios for them to act out. She hadn’t looked at her phone since they came back from the theater, and a bit of remorse stabbed when she saw her missed notifications.

  You haven’t logged your mood yet. How are you feeling right now?

  Two of the same reminders read out on her screen, along with another, less benevolent notification: Missed call from Mom and Dad.

  Shit. Not good.

  She typed out a quick message to both their emails, scrounging up a lie about her phone going dead and it being too late to call them by the time she got a chance to charge it. She didn’t like lying but it was the best she could do. At least she’d remembered to take her meds tonight.

  No, wait, that was last night.

  She cc’d her sister on the email before sending it out
into cyberspace. After digging into her bag and finding her pills, she downed one with a swig of water from the bathroom sink and padded into the living room.

  The piercing howl of wind dragged her attention to the windows. Outside, snow billowed toward the ground. A storm must’ve moved in during the last few hours. It was coming down heavily, sticking to the pavement in a way it rarely could on New York City’s heated streets.

  Krissy hauled up one of the windows, wanting to breathe in the cold, crisp air. Snowflakes painted her face, and when she braced her hands on the sill, her palm covered something small and square-shaped.

  A matchbook, the words Portland Repertory Theater stamped on the side of it.

  Krissy frowned. She’d been pissed at Rafe for bringing those joints from Merrick here, but being her sole support network had to be exhausting for him. If he kept up like this, hardly ever having any fun, he’d crack. It was like those masks on an airplane: you had to put one on yourself before helping others. Rafe needed to breathe.

  So she’d sucked it up about the pot. She wasn’t about to hold him back, or Mikey for that matter, which was why she’d insisted he smoke too. It was another thing she wanted to give him—a little break from how tightly wound he kept himself. She didn’t feel bad about being left out, as long as she was a part of them enjoying themselves after.

  And enjoy themselves they had. Twice—the second time with her riding Mikey while Rafe knelt behind her, one hand on her clit as the other did things to Mikey she couldn’t see but made him curse and squirm and beg for more.

  Pure sexual deviance. She would’ve felt guilty if it had been any other guys, but fuck that. This was Rafe and Mikey, the only people who’d seen all of her warts and still wanted her.

  She couldn’t believe how perfectly the three of them were coming together.

  She’d traveled here terrified Mikey would see her as a freak. But he’d taken everything in stride the last three days, and not only had he understood, he’d wanted more. He’d wanted her and Rafe, which seemed like the solution to all their problems.