Chapter 48 #2
A bite on my breast. Your body is our paradise.
A pinch to my clit. I love you.
I moan in ecstasy when Tristan’s tongue invades my pussy, fucking me relentlessly, while Hendrix’s wicked mouth does delicious things to my nipples, and Constantine steals my breath and my moans with a kiss that has me free-falling.
Everything they do is too much and not enough. I’m edged over and over again, my release at their mercy as they torture me with the promise of an orgasm that has the power to rip me apart until there is nothing left.
I want it so badly. Them. Him. Us.
“I need to see everything,” Aleksander says, his voice laced with barely contained hunger.
My vision returns when Constantine pulls off my sleep shirt and tosses it to the side. There’s a swift swoop in my stomach when I’m lifted. My bare feet touch the blankets, and I gasp when I’m roughly pulled back against the hard plains of Constantine’s chest.
“Do you remember that night on the back patio?” Tristan asks.
At first, I think he’s talking to me, but Aleksander replies, “I remember everything.”
Constantine’s lips meet the nape of my neck, and my eyes briefly close at the contact as that memory comes flooding back. The night I wrote about in my journal and called it the beginning of us.
I rip my shirt over my head and shed my shorts until I’m in nothing but my white cotton bra and pale pink panties.
Under a half-moon and starlit sky, I let the three of them get a good long look at the horrific parts of me that I try to hide.
The parts that separate me from everyone else. Ugly. Damaged. Unworthy. Freakish.
“Fuck me,” Hendrix breathes out.
“You want to know who I am?” I raise my arms over my head and turn to show the large, Frankensteined area of my side and hip that doesn’t look any better, even after three skin grafts.
“This is me.” I touch each line where the knife slid in.
“I’m the girl with no past because she doesn’t want to remember it.
I’m the girl no one wants. The broken, pathetic, stupid girl who looks like a monster. ”
All the air gets knocked out of me when Constantine pushes me up against the side of the house, cutting off my emotional tirade and anything else I was going to say.
He slams his body into mine, his hands holding my face. “You’re so fucking wrong. You’re the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen.”
Before I know what’s happening, he kisses me in front of his two best friends.
Two best friends who I have also kissed.
So many lines get blurred in that moment.
I had daydreamed more times than I can count about being kissed by Constantine, but nothing could have prepared me for this.
This isn’t just a kiss. This is life-altering.
His tongue strokes between my lips, demanding entrance, and a low moan breaks free when he slips inside, tasting, taking, devouring me. Desire mainlines into my bloodstream, sending me on a high I never want to come down from.
The brick of the house radiates the sun’s heat it soaked in during the day and abrades the skin along my back. I hardly notice, too consumed by Constantine to care. Whatever has been building between us breaks free from its cage, snarling, rabid, and ravenous.
He takes and takes, and I’m left clinging to him as my entire world flies apart.
Something soft brushes against my side, like a phantom tingle. Nerve endings that shouldn’t work, spark to life, intense and overpowering.
“I’m sorry,” I hear Tristan whisper, but I’m not quite sure why he’s apologizing. For what he said or what was done to me?
I feel the sensation again.
And again. The same tingle, this time stronger. I breathlessly look down. Tristan kneels next to us, his lips on my mutilated skin.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
He presses plush kisses over the scars melted into my curves. With each touch of his mouth, he whispers how beautiful I am. My wounds. My body.
My emotions skitter all over the place. Where there was anger and hurt from minutes ago is replaced with need. So much fucking need. I need this. Their praise and their hands on my body. I’m starving for it after being denied it my whole life.
Tristan’s hand runs up the length of my leg. “Our girl is so beautiful, isn’t she, Con?”
Our girl.
Holy shit.
Constantine growls deep in his throat, turning my face to claim my lips once again, possessing me completely with every thrust of his tongue.
Is this really happening? Do I want this to happen?
I’m being kissed by two men. Touched by two men.
The tiny voice inside my head that tells me this is so wrong gets shoved out of the way when Constantine shifts his stance and spins me in his arms. Tristan cradles my hips in his hands.
His lips paint brushstrokes around the diamond stud at my belly button, and my abdominals quiver.
“I’m scared.” My fear is spoken as just a trembled whisper in the breeze.
My two sexual experiences have been with Tristan and Hendrix, and that’s not saying much since we didn’t really do anything.
I’m practically naked, standing out on their back patio.
Exposed and vulnerable. Terrified out of my mind that I’m not emotionally ready for what my heart wants more than anything.
“I never got to kiss you here last night.”
His hot breath fans over my mons, and those mischievous whiskey eyes smirk his intent.
“Tristan.”
He’s not really going to— “Oh my god.”
Tristan’s tongue flattens over the thin cotton of my panties, and he hums. The vibrations stimulate my clit, and I can feel my underwear soak through. Pleasure pulses a drumbeat that matches the pounding of my heart.
“So wet for us. Aren’t you, Red?”
He licks me, and I moan. Loudly.
My head drops onto Constantine’s shoulder, and I fall into the fathomless black of his heated gaze.
He teases his hand down my chest to the front clasp of my bra, giving me time to say no, to stop.
When I say nothing, he flicks the clasp.
My bra falls open, and cool night air beads my nipples into hard peaks.
Goose bumps scatter like falling stars across my chest and up my arms to my neck.
The rough calluses of his fingers scrape along the exposed swell of my breasts, and he traces the outline of where Hendrix marked me.
His eyes raise and lock with mine, a silent question being asked.
We have an entire conversation without speaking a word.
If I say yes, it will change everything. It will fundamentally change me.
Hendrix appears in front of us. I had been so caught up in the moment that I forgot he was there, quietly watching. He doesn’t try to touch me or join his friends in what’s about to clearly happen. I may loathe him, but I’m not entirely sure I’d stop him if he tried. I really am screwed up.
“You ready for this, Firefly?”
Constantine takes my mouth in a delicious kiss just as Tristan tears my underwear off my body like tissue paper. My entire being lights up like a thundercloud discharging bolts of lightning. Every nerve synapse fires, delivering jolts of need straight to my pussy.
Tristan gathers the wetness that drips down the inside of my thigh with a finger and coats my clit with it. I’m so close to coming, it’s embarrassing.
He kisses my most intimate place and breathes in the scent of my heat. “So pretty,” he says and focuses on rubbing small circles over my swollen nub that makes my toes curl, and my eyes roll back.
My back arches when Constantine cups my breasts and pinches my sensitive nipples. Pleasure and pain. Complete opposites that send me soaring.
Tristan impales my slick, tight channel with one finger, then adds another. My pussy clamps down, and he groans his approval.
“That’s it, baby. We’re going to make you feel so fucking good. Don’t fight it.”
Constantine swallows every obscene moan I make as Tristan finger-fucks me slowly, keeping me right on the edge but not letting me tip over.
“Songbird.” My eyes fly open when Aleksander says my nickname. As if my orgasm was waiting for him to say something, my climax is an explosion of release that shakes me to my core with violent, euphoric shudders.
Not once do I look away as he watches me fly apart under the skill of my husbands’ touch.
Not until reality comes barging into the quiet that follows.
Without a word, I calmly walk out and up the stairs.
“Syn,” Constantine calls after me.
I don’t turn around. Going into the bedroom, I close the door, sink to the floor, and let the tears come.
“Sweet girl, let me in,” Tristan says from the other side of the door.
I can’t. Not right now when my emotions are nothing but an exposed raw nerve of love and heartache.
“Please let me in so I can hold you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what, baby?”
Teardrops drip down my cheeks. “For falling in love with him.”
Tristan’s shadow moves under the gap between the door and the floor when he sits down in the hallway. “Put your hand to the door. Mine is right here on the other side.”
I press my palm flat against the pressed wood and am surprised by how warm it is.
“I’m right here with you until the end of time. You are my best friend, Aoife. My wife and the love of my life. Nothing will change that. Just like I know nothing will change your love for me. Not even if you love him.”
“It’s wrong.”
“Our love and the way we choose to love one another is not wrong. The Society and our parents tried to take that away from us, but they never could. Our love is so fucking strong, it survived death. Our son exists because of that love. Your love saved me and Con and Hen and Dierdre. Your love gave me a family. It gave me my brother. The way you love, Red, is your greatest strength. You, me, Con, Hen, and Aleks. We made a family together against all odds, and it’s all because of you. You’re our miracle.”
Constantine may see all my broken pieces, but Tristan knows how to put them back together.
Standing up, I wipe the wetness from my face and open the door. “I love you.”
Tristan takes my ravaged face and tenderly kisses me.
“I love you more.” Taking me in his arms, he carries me to the bed and slips us under the covers, never once letting me go.
“I’m going to hold you all night and keep the nightmares away.
” He tucks his face in the crook of my shoulder and nuzzles my cheek.
“We can figure out what comes next in the morning.”
“Okay.”
But when we wake up six hours later, Aleksander is gone.