Sinfully Theirs: Naughty Nookie Part I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  It’s only as he snaps on the bedside light that I realize how dark it is and how much time must have passed as I slept away the late afternoon and early evening.

  I dash into Jake’s bathroom, the only place that is in anyway modern in his part of the house, from the white mosaic-tiled walls, to the slate floor and the black toilet, sink and bath. Never mind the glass monument to showers all over the world. I’ve never seen as many spinning, swiveling and pulsating heads.

  Well, that is until I get to use Zane’s. His is probably as techno as Jake’s.

  And the one in the guest bath I’m using isn’t to be sniffed at, either. Although it’s more feminine. A nice tub with bronzed lion paws, terracotta tiles and creamy-lemon walls, towels with frills… I can’t imagine either man selecting any of the stuff in there.

  As I try and figure out how to switch the damn shower on, I manage to get the one head in the very center of the stall working. It hits me at my navel so isn’t the most practical ways of getting washed, but it’ll do.

  I clean myself up, pondering if the old theory that in a gay relationship, one man is more female and the other more male… I’m not sure if that’s a stereotype and if I’m honest, I’ve never had any gay friends, so I haven’t been able to observe. Marina would probably know. She knows everything —she’s like the oracle of Delphi. But I’d say that neither Jake nor Zane were in anyway effeminate.

  Both hardened and tough, the idea of one of them going gaga over soft furnishings is, well, I’d say the moon was made of cheese before I could imagine either of them in a linen store, selecting colors and what not. They’re rich enough, I guess, to hire a decorator. Oh, how the other half live.

  I might be living it a little, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever really get used to it. I’d sure as hell like the chance, though.

  Grinning at the idea, I step out and dry myself off. Using the towel to wrap around my body and hug under my arms, I retreat from Jake’s bathroom and head to the center of the house, where my quarters are.

  There are three sets of staircases, one in each wing and one central, arterial staircase near the front door.

  Jake’s, Zane’s and my bedroom are interlinked by one long hallway, but there are many rooms between them and I have to turn to the left to reach my space.

  As soon as I’m inside, I rifle through my drawers and quickly get changed into a sleep-shirt. Once dressed, I head out and turn toward Zane’s part of the house.

  Christ, I could easily walk ten thousand steps by moving around this place. It’s huge.

  Eventually making it to Zane’s bedroom, passing a poolroom, an upstairs lounge as well as another study, I knock quietly. I know it’s late, I only realized how late when I saw the clock on my bedside table. Nearing eleven, a part of me questions if Zane’s asleep and then, he calls out and I open the door.

  He’s in bed. There’s a lowlight that runs around the room, just above the baseboard, but otherwise he’s in the dark. The lowlight makes me feel like I’m in a spaceship, but it means I can maneuver about the place without knocking into anything. As it is, I save my knees and shins from a sideboard, the sleigh bed, and a bedside table.

  I can also see that Zane isn’t a happy bunny.

  Without asking, I walk to the opposite side of the bed and climb under the covers. Snuggling down, I push myself against him so that he has no choice but to lift his arm and let me curl into his side.

  I don’t know whether he would have pushed me away or not, but he’s definitely in a mood.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were with Jake in Paris, Mona?” he asks, after a long silent break. “You could have told me that time on the phone or you could have sent me a message. You knew I was worried about him.”

  I knew it.

  I knew this was on his mind and I’ve tried to broach the subject a couple of times, but so far, he’s refused to discuss it.

  I can’t help but wonder why his catching Jake and me together is the catalyst to this conversation.

  “Because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was attracted to Jake, Zane. And at the time, with the way I felt about you, I felt so disloyal to you and like such a slut. But I couldn’t help it. I knew that Jake wouldn’t let you go, at least not easily and then, my attraction seemed to be for the good. What if I could get all three of us together, then no one lost out. Because I knew, I would. You’d have no choice and you’re not perfect, Zane, anything but, but you’re honorable and I know you love Jake.” I wait a beat, hoping it’s the right time to tell him this: “The way I love you.”

  Throughout my short speech, he’s grown gradually stiffer. The tension is literally gushing out of his pores and at the end, it’s like he has rigor mortis. Not exactly what I’d hoped for when making my declaration of love.

  “And what do you feel for Jake? Or are you just using him to get to me?”

  Stung, I sit up, dislodging myself out of his hold. “That’s the second time this evening I’ve been asked that question. Look, my feelings for Jake are complicated. I’m not using him. At the start, he was using me. But I want him and if we get the chance, then I know I could love him. It just depends if this all works out.

  “I take it you didn’t like seeing Jake and me together. Although I wouldn’t have known considering you had your fist around your dick.” Pulling myself out from under the bedcovers, I spit, “You need to get your head around this, Zane. You’ve got everything you ever wanted. You’ve got Jake and you’ve got a woman that you wanted under the same roof. Unless that’s what’s changed? You don’t want me anymore?”

  When his hand closes around my wrist, the death grip makes me flinch. “What I don’t want is Jake hurt.”

  “And what about me? I can be hurt but not your precious husband? Is that it?”

  He tugs me down onto the bed and at that moment, I resolve to make use of the basement gym the guys have. There’s no way I’m being pushed around simply because Jake and Zane are stronger than me.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “No? Well, you did a pretty good job of making me think that’s what you meant.”

  Zane sucks in a breath and tugs me further down so that I’m forced to either lay out flat on the bed or lose my wrist. He leans over me. His hand nestles beside my ear and I’m surrounded by him.

  “Of course, I want you, Mona. That hasn’t changed. You’re my breath of fresh air. I thought I was suffocating without you. But this new relationship…” He shakes his head. “How’s it supposed to work? What are we supposed to do? Just share you? Do you know how wrong that is?”

  I try not to cry at his words. His breath of fresh air? God, I love this man. That love has lead me down a pretty sticky path, but talk about worth it. “It isn’t wrong, if the three people involved want it. And it’s more than just sharing me. We share each other.”

  “You’d be okay with me fucking Jake and him fucking me?”

  He sounds skeptical and it’s hard to contain my chuckle, because Christ, that’s one of my major motivations. “Yes. I would be.” He’s obviously taken aback by that, so I continue, “What did you think I expected out of this relationship? For the pair of you to never touch? Get real, Zane. I know that you love Jake and that you want me. I figured that this way, you get the best of both worlds and Jake and I don’t lose you.

  “This was a huge leap for me. I told you before I’ve had very few sexual relationships, but you said yourself, if something’s worth fighting for, then you need to throw all the weapons you can toward the battle. I did that. For you, for us.” I release a shaky breath.

  “And don’t think that this was all my doing, either. Jake wants this as much as I do. In fact, I think he planned it from the very start.”

  “When did it all start?” Zane asks, his curiosity evident in the frown puckering his brow.

  “Do we really have to talk about this?"

  “Please, Mona. I
’d like to understand.” He bends down and uses my weakness, him, against me. Nuzzling my cheek with his nose, he further surrounds me so that all of my senses are focused on him.

  Not like there’s anything new there, though.

  I sigh and turn my head to the side, rubbing my lips against his jaw and whispering, “It was about two weeks after the article hit the stands. I just came home one day and he was there, in the apartment.” I hesitate and murmur, “Are you sure you want to know, Zane?”

  In the dim glow emitted from those under lights beaming along the walls, I can see his frown. But he nods and my eyes dart away from him, even though the light isn’t strong enough for him to even notice.

  “He wanted me to go to Paris with him. If I didn’t, he said he’d divorce you.” With him directly above me, I can sense him stiffening. And not in a good way, either. He’s physically rejecting my words and I quickly say, “He had the papers all prepared. They were just waiting for your signature and I couldn’t let it happen. I agreed and as far as I know, he’s thrown the papers away.”

  The silence is deafening. I’ve never really understood that particular cliché, but now I do. He isn’t speaking, not even one word, not even a grunt. But that silence seems to echo around the room until my ears start to ring.

  That he’s thinking is a given. But I want to know what he’s thinking.

  Is he blaming me? Is he furious at Jake? What?

  Eventually, after what feels like a small lifetime, his arms tense and he lifts himself away from me. Wondering if that’s a rejection, my fears are soon discounted when he turns on his side, drags his leg over mine and curls one arm over my waist. With his face now buried in my throat, he whispers, “He did plan this, this...” He shakes his head almost as though he can’t even say the words. He’s shaken, hurt, and I can hear dismay in his voice.

  I’m instantly on the alert.

  His stubble is rough and bristly against the sensitive flesh of my throat, but the connection is wonderful. Wrapped up in one-hundred percent Zane, I feel nothing but relief to be within his embrace. And it’s telling that when I’m with Jake, I don’t miss Zane and feel exactly the same way within Jake’s arms. Replete. Comforted. Horny.

  I’m gradually coming to realize that what I feel for Jake can’t be compared to what I feel for Zane. It’s different, but then, Jake’s different and I’m a hop, skip and a jump from plunging into the deep end over him.

  It would seem my heart has no sense. That it is fearless, where I am very fearful. It’s in my best interests to make Zane accept this threesome, because that way, I can have my cake and eat it too. I’m learning my nature is greedy. Although two is quite definitely my limit. And it has to be these two or none at all.

  With that admission rolling through my mind, I buss Zane’s temple and take the first step down the path into manipulation. I can only hope watching Jake as I have done, is enough for me to have honed my skills.

  “Yes, I think so too. He’s trying to complete you, Zane. Not many people would be so selfless as to do what he’s done. I mean, let’s face it, he might not have found me attractive.”

  A part of me could worry that Jake didn’t really find me attractive and that he fucked me on sufferance. But he’s too attentive and takes too much time to have sex with me, for him to be doing it because he has to. To save face or to smooth things along.

  It’s no wham, bam, thank you, Mona.

  If anything, it’s slow torture as he awakens every single nerve ending of mine and like a firework, ignites them. Usually, at once.

  No, call me cocky, but I don’t think I have any fears on that score.

  “But now, we can all be together and you don’t have to go out looking for something that’s at home.” I freeze as a thought comes to me and I stammer out, “Unless you want to, that is. Although, I don’t think that’s why Jake’s done this.”

  My stuttered and flustered words are brought to a premature halt, when Zane leans up and brushes his lips against mine.

  “If you and Jake are okay with this, then you’re all I need. Christ, I’m greedy enough as it is without needing to go out and look for more.”

  My voice lowers as I whisper, “No. I want you both too.”

  He lifts his head and stares down at me, although I can’t make out his expression perfectly. “You really do want him, don’t you?”

  I nod and bury my face in his hair. He chuckles but lets me hide.

  Then in a tone that reminds me of a man rubbing his hands together in satisfaction, he says, “Well, then, laissez les bon temps rouler.”

  Let the good times roll.

  I, for one, am up for that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  There was a dramatic change in the dynamics of our relationship after that night.

  And when I say our relationship, I mean the three of us, not just the two.

  If I happened to fancy reading a book and was sitting smooshed into Jake’s side, his arm curled about my shoulders as he read the paper, both our feet propped on a footstool, then it wasn’t unusual for Zane to come in, a book of his own in his hand as he stretched out on the sofa.

  If I watched a show on Zane’s big screen, my head on his lap, neither of us found it odd if Jake appeared, tugged my feet onto his knees and rubbed them.

  Ease.

  It was starting to make an appearance in our lives. We were all comfortable in each other’s company and considering Jake and I haven’t known each other all that long, it was like we’d been friends for a lifetime.

  I think none of us wanted to force anything, to make it feel unnatural. We were all willing to just take our time and to relax into the relationship. That evening with Jake was the first and last ‘sex’ to happen between us for a good three weeks.

  And in a way, that was just what the doctor ordered.

  It was all going well and fine until a call came through from Zane’s family.

  Ever since then, he’s been on edge. And on edge doesn’t describe the level of stress he’s been under. And it’s not like Jake and I can help, because outside of telling us his sister called, he hasn’t brought the subject up again.

  The wind blowing in my hair is refreshing and invigorating and it’s a pleasant change from the somewhat stilted environment at home. The strain that call put Zane under, is permeating the house and affecting both Jake and I. If we could do something then it wouldn’t feel so cloying. As it is, we just have to wait and see what’s going to happen.

  So, it’s with relief to be out and about. The walk from Jake and Zane’s house—I haven’t been there long enough to consider it my home yet—into the cove is something I’ve been doing more and more of late.

  First and foremost, because I enjoy it. Second, because I like the cute little town and third, it gets me out when Zane and Jake are working.

  It’s weird not working myself, not having a job and responsibilities and I can’t deny, while a part of me enjoys it, the other part doesn’t. Okay, call me crazy. How many times, when I had to drag my way out of bed on a cold winter’s morning, would I have loved to have said no? To have stayed and bummed about all day. To slip into the bath and get warm or to write a few dozen poems—not something I can do at the moment, because the muse has most definitely fled the building. Christ, who could blame it when my entire apartment block went up in flames.

  But when Jake and Zane are so productive and I’m just not, it kind of makes me feel like a leech.

  I mean, hell, I do all the housekeeping, I even told their cleaner not to come anymore, so it’s not like I have to feel that way. But for way too long, I’ve taken care of myself. On a morning, a wad of notes is usually slipped under a magnet on the notice board. It’s for me to do whatever I want with it, but mostly, I just buy groceries. Even buying a box of tampons feels like I’m taking advantage.

  When I was with Zane and he bought me stuff, likewise with Jake, it was a novelty. Kind of fun. But now, this could be my life and I don’t like it.
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  That means I’m going to have to get a job. Because I refuse to feel guilty for splashing out on a box of female sanitary products, for Christ’s sake.

  And it’s horrible, because they don’t make me feel like that. The money is there, not to make me feel lowly or beholden, but for the very opposite reason. They don’t want me to feel that way, but contrary pain in the ass that I am, I do.

  I don’t like it.

  And I know for a fact Meg at The Pike is looking for a waitress and in all the years I’ve supported myself, I’ve never actually waited tables. I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea. I’ve nothing against waiters, but aside from feeling guilty for needing to buy stuff—a ridiculous state of affairs considering the unnecessary fortune Jake and Zane have spent on me. Against my wishes, mind. I really like my life.

  I never imagined I’d be content in the homemaker role. I watched mother, saw how unfulfilled she was ironing and cleaning and making my son-of-a-bitch father’s meals and I vowed to be nothing like her. I wanted to go to college, forge a career and never have to depend on any man for anything.

  So what did I go and do?

  The complete opposite. Except I’ve got double the trouble. Two men to handle and care for... and God help me, I love every minute of it.

  The idea that I’m like my mother, a lot, is almost frightening. But the facts don’t lie.

  As it is, I just need this one burst of independence and if things go tits-up between the three of us, then I’ll have a nest egg, a tiny one, to get me back on my feet again. Because aside from the necessities, I don’t really need all that much and the rest, I can save for a rainy day. But it will make me feel better. Until all three of us are fully committed—if that’s even possible, and I really hope it is—I need to take this stand.

  The road from the house to the cove is pretty steep. It’s on top of a grassy cliff, pretty close to an edge with such a drop that it’s borderline terrifying. Even though I’m thirty feet away on the road down to town, I still freak out at the idea of somehow dropping into the water. Huge, craggy rocks have formed at the base of the cliffs. The sea crashes and bursts into all the crevices, over time creating thousands of tiny spikes. Murky gray water, bubbling and hissing with froth adds to the unwelcoming picture. If you happened to fall over the side, it would not be a nice way to die.