CRAVE: A Small Town Menage Romance (Reckless Falls Book 4) Page 11

  Jackson leaned over and brushed his lips across my forehead, still so gentle, still so caring. My eyelids fluttered a little, and I opened them wide before I fell asleep with them still standing there.

  "Okay?" Finn said softly, perching at the side of my bed.

  I nodded.

  He leaned in, reaching to press his lips to mine.

  And it was at that moment, the most tender, most caring moment in my life thus far, that Mitzie Jenkins decided to begin her nightly performance.

  "Oh my God what the fuck is that?" Jackson cried, running to the window.

  I clapped my hands to my face and started laughing. What else could I do?

  "There's some lady in the middle of your street playing the bugle," Finn observed dryly as he looked out of my window. "Wait a minute, isn't the same woman from the store?"

  I nodded behind my hands. "The very same.”

  "Does she do this every night?" Jackson asked, completely bewildered.

  "Every Tuesday night. I think. I'm not always here at this time."

  "Oh my God. She's terrible," Finn observed.

  "She's good at Taps," I said, feeling the perverse need to defend my neighbor.

  I pushed back the covers and slid to the floor, padding over to join them at the window. "She doesn't have talent, but you gotta give it to her, she certainly has style," Jackson said, watching my caftan-clad neighbor, today dressed head to toe in shimmering emerald green, sway her hips to the beat.

  Hysterical laughter bubbled up on my lips, pouring out of me like a waterfall, and suddenly I couldn't stop. All the attention, all the weirdness, all of the feelings I'd been trying to keep inside of me bubbled up to the surface, and suddenly, without even really meaning to, I was kissing them.

  Both of them.

  Jackson's lips curled against mine, the shape of his smile burning into my skin as he pried my mouth open to twine our tongues together. I tangled my hands in his hair, wondering how it was that I'd ever thought his hair was too long. It was the perfect length, just right for raking through my fingers as I kissed him, the strands more silky than they had any business being. I felt Finn's lips trailing upward against my neck, and suddenly I needed him too. Whirling around, I found his lips, and his hard, insistent, possessive kiss laying claim to my mouth. I loved how differently they both kissed me. I loved their differences, how they played off each other, parts of a whole.

  They completed me.

  Finn backed up, guiding us towards my tiny twin bed. I wrapped my legs around him, still kissing him, as Jackson lifted my shirt from my head. "I don't need any direction," Jackson growled to Finn, as he kissed a trail down my spine, making me shiver against Finn's lips. "I know exactly what I want to do to her, and I'm doing it right now."

  "Not if I get there first," Finn snarled, and I yelped in surprise, as he whirled me around and laid me flat on my back. "It's going to be a shame not watching your face while I make you come with my mouth," Finn growled sending a shiver through my body. "But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make in order to taste that sweet pussy."

  He yanked down my jeans, sending them flying, I gathered a fistful of my bedspread, certain that if I didn't hold onto something tightly, I'd fly away. Jackson knelt up on the bed, cradling my head in his lap, and I could feel his growing bulge, pressing against my cheek as he watched what his friend was doing to me. We both looked down, and the sight of Finn kissing a trail up my thighs, his blond head gleaming in the late evening sun that spilled from my window had me so worked up with desire for him, for both of them, that when his tongue found my center, I fucking exploded.

  "Oh my God!" I gasped, arching up, already right there, right where he'd had me ever since I first saw him — needing him, wanting him. It was so much, so much more than I ever dared to hope for, to dream of, and when I looked up and saw Jackson looking down at me, his face rapt with attention as he stared in wonder, it was so fucking perfect it made my head swim. I snaked my hand upward, grabbing ahold of him like a drowning man grabs a life vest, and pulled him down to kiss him as my world exploded.

  No sooner had my cries subsided than I heard the jingle of Finn's belt buckle. Jackson growled against my mouth, and he pulled back up. "Yes," I told him. "Please. You too." I was almost begging.

  Jackson rumbled something very profane, the kind of talk that would have made me blush before, but now only made me feel cherished. And as Finn slid his impossibly hard cock inside of me, I opened my mouth to fit my lips around Jackson's cock.

  "Oh shit," Finn growled as he started to move in slow, delicious strokes. He circled his hips, touching each one of my secret places. "Oh shit. Fuck. If I'd known you felt this good Bee, I would never have let Jackson be the first one to fuck you."

  "If I'd known how good her mouth felt," Jackson retorted, in a snarl, "I would've never let you fuck her mouth first."

  I mumbled something, but my words were stifled when Jackson slid his hand in my hair. I moaned my approval as he began to move my head, testing, sliding himself further and further down my throat. I pushed myself, wanting to take him all in, and when my nose jutted up against his base, I inhaled sharply, filling my lungs with the scent of him, that herby, clean fragrance that clung to him. "Holy shit. Girl your mouth is amazing," he growled, pulling back.

  I gasped, looking up at him, eyes stinging, and he kissed my swollen lips. "Again," I gasped.

  "Shit," Finn growled. "You should see her face right now."

  "I do," Jackson rasped. I could feel him thickening in my mouth. I had no idea how it was that he could get so hard, but it felt so good against my tongue that I became a wild woman.

  "Goddamn, Bee. You're amazing," Finn declared, and at that, he reached down, pressing his thumb to my clit as he pumped himself inside of me. I shrieked around the shape of Jackson's cock, feeling that white-hot coil gathering in my core again. "That's right, moan with his cock in your mouth. Holy shit, this is the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen." Finn's voice was tight, and as he pumped himself against me, I could feel him getting harder and harder inside of my pussy, and what was left of my inhibitions fell away. I grabbed ahold of Jackson's cock, propping myself up, so I could suck him more deeply, pumping my hand down the slippery length of him. "Shit Bee, I'm going to..." Jackson's voice hitched.

  I looked up at him, feeling his hips draw back. "No," I growled against his cock.

  His eyes widened, and his lips parted in almost religious awe when he saw I wasn't going to let him go. He let out a low, animal rumble, and suddenly a roar tore up from his throat. He braced himself against my wall, his hips quivering, and I felt him explode in my mouth.

  I licked and sucked greedily, swallowing down every last bit of him, even as I remembered that I never liked doing this before, but suddenly I couldn't get enough.

  "Holy..." Finn didn't even finish his sentence. He growled low, rocking forward so that his hands were braced on either side of my chest, and he drove himself high and hard inside of me. Deep inside, I could feel his cock twitch and all at once he buried his face against my neck, a wordless gasp on his lips as he pumped his hips furiously.

  Jackson slid down against the wall, pulling me flush against him so that every inch of our bodies were touching. Finn lay down facing me, and swung his arm over my head. I was completely sandwiched in between them as the final strains of Taps died away outside of my window.

  After that, there was only the sound of our heartbeats. I looked up, and kissed Finn's beautiful face and his crooked nose. He smiled sleepily, and brushed my hair back from my face before kissing me in return. Then I twisted around, seeking and then finding Jackson's lips, kissing him as Finn pressed his lips to my shoulder. I knew there was no way I was going to fall asleep cramped between their huge bulks.

  And that was the last thought I had before I felt completely asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bee

  When the alarm on my phone went off, I had no idea where I was.

 
The surroundings looked the same. My tiny bedroom in my tiny, rented house, with the weak, pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains on the two windows that faced the street in the Ass End of Reckless Falls.

  But there was someone in my bed. Someone warm and heavy and snoring gently.

  And there was also someone in my kitchen, opening cabinets, and running water.

  I lived alone. How were there so many sounds?

  The memory of last night swam up as if it were a dream, half remembered, and half drifting away. But all the evidence I needed to know that it was real lay in the face of the man sleeping next to me. And the sounds of the man moving downstairs.

  Them.

  Finn and Jackson.

  The two guys who had completely upended my world.

  I wiggled, trying to extricate myself from Finn's embrace to go downstairs and work on breakfast, but he snuffled something in his sleep, and slid his arm around me tighter.

  "Finn," I whispered.

  "Hmm?" he mumbled sleepily, and rolled over onto his back. His heavy arm flopped over the side of my bed, and his knuckles grazed the floor. At that, his eyelids fluttered open. "Well good morning," he said with a sleepy smile.

  The sight of his smiling face, rested and peaceful, sent all of the apprehension about whether this was really real out of my head. If this really was a dream world, I'd like to stay in it a little bit longer. "Good morning," I whispered back.

  He stretched. "Where's Jacky-boy?" he asked.

  I inhaled sharply. Jackson. The two of them. Both of them. Here.

  Both of them in my house.

  With me.

  "I think he's downstairs," I said, turning to the side to hide my blush. "I should go help him."

  "Don't worry about it. He knows his way around a kitchen," Finn chuckled.

  But I was already climbing out of bed, yanking on my clothes. I padded downstairs and turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped short.

  Jackson was moving through my tiny kitchen, confidently breaking eggs into bowls and sifting flour. His dark hair was flapping into his eyes, and last night's kisses must have bruised his lips because they were the most appealing shade of pink I'd ever seen, full and delicious. I shook my head and looked away. "Good morning," I mumbled.

  "You have a nice kitchen here," he observed, turning around and whisking in the bowl. "I mean it's compact and everything, but everything is within easy reach."

  "Thanks," I said. "But I can make breakfast for you guys."

  Jackson paused, turning to look me in the eye. "I know you can," he said gently. "But let me anyway."

  I swallowed hard. "Okay," I said in a small voice.

  Slowly I padded over to the adjoining living room and flopped on the couch, tucking my feet up under me to make myself as small as possible.

  Finn appeared in the doorway, taking up almost all the space in my tiny living room. "Hey there," he said with an inquisitive smile. "Jacky-boy made coffee. I brought you a cup."

  "That's my favorite mug," I noted nonsensically, pointing at the chipped navy blue mug in his hand. The silver letters had worn completely off, but at one time it had spelled out my hatred of mornings. Which was the wrong thing for a baker to be advertising.

  I cupped the mug in two hands and leaned over to inhale. "Is this my coffee?" I asked.

  "Found it in your cupboard," Jackson called. "You should keep it in the freezer."

  I took a sip of it. He'd brewed it ferociously strong, just the way I liked it. "How did you know I liked my coffee this way?" I called out, bewildered.

  He appeared in the doorway, raising a playful eyebrow. "I just had a feeling," he said, grinning.

  I found myself smiling back. "You know, by the laws of hospitality, I should be serving you," I reminded him.

  He waved his hand. "Fuck the rules. Things don't always work out the way they're supposed to."

  As he said that, he and Finn both fell silent. And I was about to ask if they were okay. After all, us doing... what we did... Well, one time could have been called an accident, but this? Sleeping together and then having breakfast the next morning as a threesome? That was deliberate. All of us sleeping in one bed was definitely on purpose.

  I was about to ask them just how they felt about that when I heard my phone ringing somewhere distant.

  "Oh, here," Finn said, setting his mug down on a coaster. "I've got that." He went rushing up the stairs two at a time, then reappeared at the top holding my phone in his hand, staring down at the display with a quizzical look on his face. "Hey," he said carefully. "So... it says Mom?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Finn

  When she reached for the phone, it was with her head held high, a fierce look on her face. She looked ready for a fight and I was proud of her.

  But the second she pressed it to her ear, and said, "Hello Mom," her face hardened. As Jackson wandered into the living room, slowly turning a whisk in a bowl, we watched the light go out of her eyes, and a hard, pinched expression take over her face, and it was all I could do not to gather her up in my arms.

  "No Mom," she said with a deep, bone-weary sigh. "I know." She paused, and listened, pressing her lips together. "I know," she said again, and the way her voice was so tight and strained broke my heart in half. I had to force myself to keep my hands at my side, and not reach out to snatch the phone away from her and throw it out of reach. Throw it out the window and maybe run it over with her delivery van for good measure.

  "Yes," she said tightly. I couldn't hear what was being said on the other end, but whatever her mother was saying was cutting Bee right down to the core. "I know," she said, nodding. "I know, but I'm not..." The voice on the other end went up in volume, so now I could hear the tone, if not the words. I reached out, sliding my hand across the couch to touch her, but Bee had completely shut down. "I know," she repeated robotically. "And I feel bad about that," she said, lowering her eyes.

  But at that moment she glanced down to see my fingers. A small little smile played about her lips, and she glanced up at me. She raised her hand as if to stave of my words of encouragement, but also as if she was trying to ward off the flood of abuse that was pouring from the receiver. "Mom," she interrupted. "He cheated on me."

  The voice fell silent and Bee sat up a little straight. "Yes," she hissed. "He cheated on me." The voice started up again but she held up her hand once more. "I don't care how it makes you feel, Mom." She glanced at Jackson and some of the light came back into her eyes. "Well," she said, answering whatever question had just been hurled at her with a smile. "As a matter of fact I have."

  She sat up straighter, and her voice rose a little. "I have found someone to take care of me. So, thanks, but I told you. I can do this."

  With that, she stabbed her finger down and ended the call.

  I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to throw my hands up over my head and do a silly, stupid dance around her living room just to show her how fucking happy she'd just made me. I wanted to roar out how proud I was of her, how awed I was by her stubborn independence.

  But I didn't yet know if she'd like that. So instead I reached out for her, expecting to see her pull away from me, to keep her self-possession a little while longer.

  But instead, she sighed. Then she flopped to the side and rested her head against my shoulder, snuggling up to me with a low, slow, relieved breath.

  "Is it weird?" she started to say. Then she exhaled again, and fell silent for a moment.

  I waited, wanting to know what it was, but knowing better than to interrupt her thought.

  After a moment I felt her shake her head against my shoulder. "No," she answered herself. "It isn't weird."

  I reached out, brushing her hair back away from her temple, and trailing my fingers down her neck to her shoulder. "What isn't weird?" I asked.

  She turned and looked at me, sitting up straighter as her eyes danced between me and Jackson. "That I felt more comfortable with you two in the past twenty-four hou
rs than I have for the past twenty-four years of my life."

  I felt my heart well up into my throat, and looked up to where Jackson stood. He pressed his lips together, and seemed to be thinking for a moment.

  The triumph that I was feeling right now made no sense. She was talking about us, both of us, not me. But this was somehow okay...somehow it was even better than okay. It was good. I felt that more deeply than I thought possible.

  Jackson shifted from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "It doesn't have to be hard," he said. "Perfection doesn't really exist," he mused. It was something I'd heard him say a million times before, but this time it took on a whole different tone. "It's a journey, not an endpoint. You don't ever actually achieve perfection. Not in the kitchen, and not in life either." His eyes twinkled and he leveled a significant glance at me, one heavy enough to make me look down at my hands. "And if you reach what you consider to be perfection, all that means is that you need to move your goalposts, because what you achieved didn't turn out to be perfect after all.”

  "That's... kind of beautiful," Bee breathed.

  Jackson grinned. "I have my moments."

  "So what you're saying is..."

  "It's not weird. It's not wrong, or bad just because it wasn't what you were expecting. Don't let your vision of perfect prevent you from seeing what's actually good."

  Bee grinned down at her hands. "My mother would hate your guts," she observed.

  "Thank you. From what I can tell, that's a compliment."

  "It is," Bee agreed.

  I looked up at him. "Since when did you turn into a philosopher?" I teased.

  His eyes flashed. "Always have been. I've just never been able to get a word in edgewise with you."

  I flipped him the bird and he grinned and looked down. "So I know I just said a lot of pretty words about how perfection doesn't exist, but I lied, it does." He looked up again. "It's not a lie to say that I make absolutely perfect omelettes. Who wants breakfast?"