Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
BEAU
I awaken, disoriented and unsure where I am. For a moment, I wonder if today was all just a dream.
But it wasn’t. I’m really here, in another man’s bed, lying between him and my wife.
“Come to bed,” Malcolm said earlier as Jessamy and I arranged pillows and blankets by the fireplace.
That was it. No arguments, no hesitation. Just Jessamy’s serene smile as we nodded and followed him into the loft, our bellies warm with stew, our bodies still buzzing from everything that came before.
She fell asleep almost immediately, my arm curled around her. Behind me, Malcolm had skimmed a few chapters of a novel, his deep voice humming over an occasional line he found amusing, before stashing the book in his bedside drawer and flicking off the lamp.
That was hours ago. Or it feels like it. Time has warped, stretching taut like a cord. Deep sleep hasn’t come, not with him lying so close to me.
I fight the urge to turn, to look. But memories play on an endless loop. The way he moved with Jessamy, his hands gripping her hips. The way she gasped his name, a sound raw enough to tear me apart. And that kiss. That goddamned kiss. I don’t know which of them I envy more, whose lips I crave most.
Malcolm shifts behind me, and every nerve in my body snaps to attention. It’s just a slight movement—an unconscious adjustment, maybe—but I feel it like a ripple through my skin. Is he awake? Or dreaming?
I have to know.
Careful not to wake Jessamy, I ease my arm back and roll over.
Malcolm is on his side, facing me, his eyes shut. His breaths come slow and steady, a soft rhythm in the quiet cabin. It’s too dark to see him, but my heart kicks hard in my chest. Even in shadow, he’s beautiful. Handsome in a way that unsettles me. A way that tempts me.
Before I can look away, his eyelids flutter open.
I freeze, whipping my head to the side like that was my plan all along. But when I glance back, I catch the curve of his mouth, that sly, knowing smile he wears so effortlessly. Even the dark can’t hide it.
“Hey,” he whispers, low and quiet. “You good?”
“Yes,” I reply, my voice catching. “I just, uh…”
I stop myself. There’s no point in lying.
I can’t sleep. I’m caught between the memories of him taking Jessamy and the feel of his hands on me, rough and sure, pinning me against the wall like I was his. He knows it.
Propping myself up on my elbow, I meet his eyes. Malcolm does the same, mirroring me, his gaze steady and unhurried, like he’s waiting for me to make a choice.
I reach for him before I can think better of it. My fingers find the edge of his jaw, brushing the dark scruff of his beard. His skin is warm beneath my touch, softer than I expect. My thumb traces his lips—full and inviting.
I lean in, just a fraction. Just one kiss, I tell myself. A kiss of gratitude, not lust. Not desire.
But the moment our mouths meet, I feel the lie in that thought. It’s everything—hot and magnetic—and I tear myself away, recoiling as shame floods in.
My father’s voice echoes in my mind, sharp and cold. No son of mine. My mother’s silence weighs heavier, her disappointment crushing me.
“Sorry,” I whisper. I don’t know who I’m apologizing to. Them. Him. Myself, maybe, for thinking I could ever be someone other than who they want me to be.
Malcolm doesn’t let me go. His hand moves with purpose, brushing my wrist, steadying me. And then he pulls me back, his mouth claiming mine with a fierce, unrelenting need that silences every ghost in my head.
I don’t resist. Every bone in my body tells me to fight this, to push him away, but every other part of me—every secret, starved part—urges me closer. I give in, our bodies colliding until I feel his erection grinding against mine, the slow roll of his hips sparking tremors through me. I shudder, overwhelmed by the forbidden pleasure and the anger it drags behind it. Years of deprivation. Years of denial. A man’s hard body against mine, his raw scent, the deep, guttural groans of his pleasure. It’s everything I never let myself want. Until now.
Malcolm doesn’t hesitate. He rolls me onto my back with a controlled strength that sends my pulse into overdrive. Before I can even react, his hands clamp my wrists, pinning them high above my head. His grip is unyielding, almost brutal—so different from the man I watched with Jessamy. With her, he was tender, following her lead. But with me, he’s something else entirely. Dominant. Demanding. His tongue invades my mouth with rough precision, his kiss claiming me as if I’m already his. And maybe I am.
Maybe I was the second I let this happen.
I glance at Jessamy. She’s still sound asleep beside us, her breathing even and undisturbed despite the subtle tremor of the bed. Guilt flickers, but it’s swallowed whole by the weight of Malcolm’s body, the feel of him pressing me into the mattress.
I stop fighting. I let my head fall back as his lips leave mine, traveling down my jaw and grazing my neck with searing heat. A ragged gasp escapes me, and I buck against him, desperate for more friction, more of anything. He pushes back with a strength that makes my heart hammer even harder. His body fits between my legs, pinning me in place, a living cage.
Hovering above me, Malcolm studies me, his gaze piercing through the shadows. His eyes shine with something primal, something that pulls every nerve in my body taut. My wrists ache under his grip, but I don’t care. I’m lost in the intensity of his stare, in the unbearable stretch of time between his next move. My chest heaves, my lips burn for his, my skin cries out for his touch, but he just watches, controlling every second of my torment.
Then, with a swift, decisive motion, Malcolm releases my hands. He sits up, his palms brushing over my thighs, a silent command to stay where I am. I do. I can’t move even if I wanted to.
He peels his shirt off in one smooth motion; the fabric ruffling his already disheveled black hair. The sight leaves me breathless. Rugged. Unapologetically male. The soft glow from the embers in the fireplace below highlights the broad cut of his shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat along his chest. Every muscle looks like it was carved just for this moment, for me to witness.
And I can’t look away.
With his eyes on me, he pushes his pants down. Only a little bit. Just enough to free his cock.
He strokes it, his other hand gripping the elastic band of my pants. I take the hint, following him into the dark. I undress, pulling my shirt off. I push my pants down, letting my cock stand free.
Together, we stare into each other’s eyes. Far away from the world, from everything I thought was important, I stroke myself, growing as hard as he is.
Malcolm dips forward until his face hovers an inch away from mine. Opening his hand, he curls his long fingers around my cock, too. He strokes us both, making me buck in surprise. His powerful grip. His shaft, hard and hot. Our balls rub together; an ecstasy I can’t even begin to describe. I release a tender sound, lurching upward to steal a kiss. He gladly receives it, his teeth catching my bottom lip.
“You can stop me, if you want,” he says, sending a warm chill of anticipation down my spine. “Understand?”
“Yes,” I breathe, willing and begging, my cock ready to burst in his grip.
“Good.” He kisses me, his lips enveloping my mouth. “This will hurt. At first.”
I tremble, his words a wonderful warning, but I do nothing as he shifts upward. He positions himself, positions me, forcing my knees up to tilt my lower body for the taking.
This is too fast. Too much. I’m ready, but not yet. Not ready. Wanting. But not wanting. Needing but…
My heart pounds a steady drum as I watch, unable to do a goddamn thing. Malcolm spits into his hand. He angles his cock, pushing the tip against my entrance. I tighten up. He grazes it against the hole, the promise of pleasure whispering through my core. I relax.
This will hurt.
I brace myself for it. For him.
He pushes through. I let him. I feel every inch he gives me and it hurts. Just as he said it would.
At first.
Malcolm soothes me again with a touch, with a whisper. I feel his hands on me, this time gentle, leaving soft waves of goosebumps on my chest.
“Good boy,” he says, the words scratching an itch I didn’t know I had. “You can take it.”
One moment, I’m breathing through it. The next, I’m biting my lip to smother the moan begging to come out.
“Do you want me to stop?” Malcolm whispers, his thrusts slow. So deliberately slow.
“No,” I answer.
He chuckles. “I wasn’t asking you.”
Jessamy.
My head swivels. On the other side of the bed, my wife rests on her side. She’s watching us, her little eyes open wide, traveling the length of my naked body and his… the two of us locked together.
“Jess,” I gasp, the name wracked with pleasure despite getting caught. It renders me silent, unable to explain. Even I wonder for a second how we ended up like this, wondering which of my memories were fantasy and lies.
Jessamy takes a breath, then answers, “No.”
Malcolm pulls out, then in, making me realize he paused. I shudder in surprise, a moan coming out, my erection pulsing against my navel.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Jessamy slinks closer. I look at her, her soft smile a tender omen. She caresses my face, drawing my mouth toward hers. A kiss. Loving and familiar. I kiss her back, sharing every moan with her as Malcolm resumes his slow thrusts, fucking me.
It doesn’t hurt anymore. Now it’s nothing but hot, searing pleasure. My balls boil, something deep within me begging to be unleashed. I take it out on Jessamy, our kisses becoming harder, almost violent. She responds by grabbing my cock with one hand. I whimper, her grip rivaling Malcolm’s. She strokes me. She kisses me. And he fucks me, holding my legs until they burn. And I moan for it. I welcome it with aching gasps; the pleasures mounting to impossible peaks.
Cum spills out of me. It splatters my chest, covering Jessamy’s stroking hand. She licks drops of it off my abs, then opens her mouth to catch another burst. I fill her mouth, groaning in ecstatic bliss, feeling everything and nothing at all.
Malcolm takes me faster, his quickening breaths turning into groans. When he pulls out, he lets his cock rest on mine. I feel the twitch of his shaft as he comes, his seed mixing with mine. Jessamy leans over to lick the white beads off my skin again, gentle moans of delight echoing in her throat.
I lie still, trembling. Barely breathing.
Malcolm touches my legs, guiding them down, letting me rest. “Are you okay?” he asks, his gentleness returning.
I chuckle, still shaking. “Yes.”
He climbs off the bed, his naked body catching my eye in the dark before he disappears downstairs.
“Jess,” I say, reaching for my wife by my side. “I’m sorry,” is all I can think to say. “I didn’t?—”
She kisses me hard, silencing me. “Shut up,” she demands.
Another deep kiss and I’m home again. Safe and warm in my wife’s embrace. She moans against my lips and I notice she’s touching herself; one hand shoved into the front of her pants. Based on the state of her, she’s close. So close.
I love her even more. What she just saw, what I just did, didn’t disgust her. It didn’t make her hate me as I always feared it would.
I push her onto her back, crushing her with another long kiss. “I love you,” I say.
She smiles. “I love you,” she replies, gasping with desire.
Wanting to make her feel as good as I do, I descend her. I pull her pants down to her knees, not bothering to shed them before knocking her hand away and latching my mouth onto her clit.
She cries out, her body jerking in surprise beneath me, but she settles with a breath. Her nails dig into my scalp as I suck and flick and nip at her swollen flesh.
My tongue is barely coated with her when she comes, her moans reaching the ceiling, silencing the storm winds outside. I continue to taste her, licking her until she’s squirming in frustration.
“Stop,” she says, laughing, pushing against my forehead. “Stop, stop!”
I obey, climbing up her body to kiss her again. Her skin is soft under my lips, her breath warm against my face. I kiss her everywhere, my heart swelling with thankfulness, with gratitude so profound it aches. And Jessamy—my sweet Jess—kisses me back, her fingers threading through my hair as if anchoring me to this moment, to her.
The creak of the stairs pulls my focus. Malcolm ascends with steady, deliberate steps, his feet thudding against the wood. When he reaches the landing, he stops, his gaze sweeping over us. Jessamy’s pants tugged down to her knees, her red hair spilling wildly across the pillow. I wonder if he’ll say something, if he’ll pull away from this fragile intimacy we’ve woven tonight.
For a heartbeat, his eyes dip, a shadow of something flickering across his face. Then he looks up again, and his smile is soft, almost tender.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he says, his voice low and soothing.
None of us speak. Words feel unnecessary, even intrusive. Instead, Malcolm moves to the bed, slipping in beside us. The three of us settle close, a tangle of limbs and shared warmth. Outside, the wind howls, battering the cabin, but in here, the icy grasp of the storm can’t touch us.
I fall asleep with Jessamy in my arms and Malcolm pressed close at my back, at home in their embrace.