Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Santos
The vibration of my phone breaks the silence, jolting me from the half-asleep state I’ve been in for the past hour. I grab it off the nightstand, squinting at the screen. Dustin. Of course, it’s him calling at this hour. I swipe to answer, pressing the phone to my ear.
“I almost fucked her.” Dustin’s voice comes through the line, low and thick with something I can’t quite place—regret? Longing? Maybe both.
I stay quiet for a second, my brain struggling to catch up with his words.
Almost fucked her? Seriously? I was feeling bad enough for kissing her, for almost making out without talking to him, and now he tells me he almost went all the way?
I should be saying something right now, but what the hell am I supposed to say to that?
I fucking hate you? Why didn’t you wait for me? Or maybe just, What the fuck happened?
“What do you want me to say?” I finally mutter, my voice rougher than I meant. The words hang between us, heavy, like they’re supposed to mean something more.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, leaning back against the pillow, trying to wrap my head around it. Why didn’t he just do it? What made him stop?
“Should I be upset, give you a medal . . . What do you want from me?” I ask, unsure how I’m supposed to react here.
He sighs, the sound filled with frustration and something I can’t quite place. “I couldn’t do it, man. I—I wanted to. Fuck, you know I wanted to. But I stopped because . . . because I know where this is heading, and it’s a slippery slope.”
I grip the phone tighter, waiting for him to explain because I’m still not getting it. It’s not like we’ve got any clear rules about what we are. What the fuck are we, anyway? Are the three of us really back together? Were Dustin and I ever anything at all? But then it hits me: This is Halsey.
“Slippery slope?” I ask, pushing down the rising tension in my chest. “With her?”
“Yeah,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he’s thinking it through.
“It’s what happened to us, Santos. We got lost in it—just sex, nothing else—and it didn’t fix anything.
It didn’t fix us. I didn’t want it to be the same with her.
I don’t want us to lose her like that. Sure, we’re drowning in desire, but we can’t give in, not until we’ve got something solid. ”
I run a hand through my hair, letting his words sink in.
It’s strange hearing this from him, but damn, it makes sense.
I can hear the regret in his voice, and I feel it too.
I know exactly what he means—how we used sex as a distraction, thinking it would fix things when it never really did. And it messed us up more than once.
“So, you think stopping is going to fix everything?” I ask, half curious, half annoyed. We’ve spent years in this cycle, and now he’s trying to break it—with her, of all people.
“No,” he admits, “but it’s a start. We’re not ready for that, not yet. We’ve got to fix more than just what’s between the sheets. I want her—fuck, I need her—but I want it to be real. Not just a temporary fix. Plus, I need you to be there when it happens. We both do.”
I huff out a breath, a smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth despite myself. “You two can make love when I’m not around, you know. I’m expecting some one-on-one time, too. This isn’t just about the three of us. It’s whatever we want.”
He chuckles softly. “Maybe the first time, when we’re really together. Or . . .” He pauses, his voice softer. “I just want my heart to be in the right place before we get there.”
There’s a beat of silence, his words settling in, and for the first time in a long time, I get it. He’s trying to protect something more important than just the physical connection, and maybe—just maybe—I should be thinking the same way.
“So . . . where are you right now?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation, but curiosity gnaws at me.
“At your place,” he replies, and I can hear the tension in his voice easing a little. “I came over to mess around with my guitar, clear my head. It’s all too convoluted, you know? I was thinking a glass of bourbon would fix this, but then I went for the next best thing—music.”
I smirk, leaning back. “What’s the first best thing?” I ask, half-expecting the answer to be something darker, like cocaine or some other escape.
“Sex, of course,” he says, almost matter-of-factly.
“But I can’t have it right now, so here I am, at your place.
But instead of getting lost in music, I ended up in your room, jerking off, thinking about the things I did to Halsey .
. . and all the things I still want to do to her—while you watch.
Thinking that I might not let you have her pussy. ”
My breath catches in my throat, my body reacting instantly. “You did?” I ask, my voice a little too eager.
I can already feel myself growing hard, my hand brushing over the scratchy hospital sheet as I begin to touch myself.
I ignore the part where he doesn’t let me have her pussy.
It’s hard to imagine Halsey letting anyone decide what we do or don’t do with her.
She’d have Dustin’s balls twisted before he ever tried pulling something like that . . . wouldn’t she?
“So you jerked yourself off in my bed or in the shower?” I ask, hoping to sound casual, though my voice comes out uneven.
“You want to know where I did it?” he teases, the smile in his voice unmistakable. “You want to know if I was in the shower, jerking off, thinking about all the things I did to her?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, my voice trembling with need.
His chuckle vibrates through the line, deep and knowing, the kind of sound that makes my skin tingle.
“I did it first in the shower,” he says, his voice taking on that familiar, sensual edge.
“Thinking about her, the way she feels, the way she sounds when I touch her . . .” He trails off, like he’s savoring the memory.
“Her little moans, San. You’d lose it hearing her.
She’s soft at first, but the more you give her, the louder she gets. It’s like she can’t hold it in.”
My grip tightens around myself, heat spreading through my chest as I picture it—Halsey, her body trembling, the soft gasps turning into desperate, breathy moans. My heart pounds faster, and I can feel my hips shift as I stroke myself, caught up in the way Dustin describes her.
“She’s so responsive,” he continues, his voice dipping lower. “Every little touch drives her crazy. I had her right there, San, pinned against the wall, one leg over my shoulder, licking her like she was the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
A low groan escapes me, and I can’t stop myself from imagining it—Dustin with her, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth working her over while she arches into him, her moans filling the room. I’m lost in it, every word he says fueling the fire building inside me.
“You would’ve loved it,” Dustin adds, his tone still teasing. “Seeing her come apart like that, her body shaking, begging for more.”
I can barely hold back, the tension inside me growing unbearable. “And after the shower?” I ask, my voice shaky, my body practically humming with need.
“After the shower,” he says, pausing just long enough to drive me mad, “I took it to your bed. I’m laying here right now, thinking about what I’d do to her next, and imagining it was you watching me fuck her. That’s why I decided to call you.”
My breath hitches, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge, desperate for release. But the way Dustin’s talking, the way he’s teasing me—it’s like he’s pulling the strings, making sure I don’t fall over until he’s ready to let me.
“So you touched her?” I ask, my voice trembling as the image of her flashes in my mind, vivid and sharp. “But how did you touch her? I need to know more.”
There’s a beat of silence, and I can almost hear Dustin’s smirk through the phone. “Of course you need to know,” he says, his voice thick with amusement. “You like to watch, don’t you?”
I swallow hard, my breath hitching. “Please,” I whisper, my voice low, almost begging. “Tell me everything. I need to know how.”
Dustin lets out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying this. He always does. “Slowly,” he murmurs, his voice taking on that deliberate, controlled edge. “I took my time with her . . . I wanted to feel everything. Every inch of her.”
As he starts describing what he did to her, I can’t help but let my mind wander.
I imagine it’s me touching her—my hands exploring her soft skin, tracing the curves of her body.
But at the same time, I can see them together, almost as if I’m watching from the corner of the room, a voyeur to their need, their passion. And fuck, it’s hot.
I grip myself through the sheets, my cock hardening at the thought, and I picture it—Dustin’s hands on her, his lips teasing her neck, his fingers sliding under her clothes.
But as much as I imagine him with her, I can’t help but imagine me in his place, feeling her beneath me, the warmth of her skin, the sounds she’d make.
“I kissed her neck first,” Dustin continues, his voice dipping lower, more intense. “Slow, soft, just enough to make her shiver. She smelled like vanilla, like something sweet. And then my hands . . . they slid under her shirt. I felt her breath catch, felt the way her body responded.”
My breath hitches, and I can’t stop myself from touching my cock, palming it harder, my mind racing between being him and watching him.
The way he describes her, the way he paints the scene, I’m there with them, feeling it all.
My heart pounds in my chest, the heat building between us, both in our imaginations and on the line.
“Her skin was so soft,” Dustin says, and I can practically hear the smile in his voice, like he’s reliving it all over again. “I couldn’t stop. My fingers found the lace of her bra, teasing her nipples through it . . . She was already so worked up.”
I squeeze myself tighter, imagining her gasping, arching her back as his hands explored her. My free hand grips the phone like a lifeline, my mind spinning with images of her, of him . . . of me.
“And when I finally pulled her bra off,” Dustin continues, slower now, as if replaying the moment in his head, “I didn’t hold back. I pinched her nipples, hard, and she gasped—her whole body jerked like she didn’t expect it, but fuck, she loved it.”
My breath catches, the vivid image flashing through my mind. “What did she do?” I ask, my voice trembling with need, desperate to know how she reacted.
“She moaned, San. Loud,” Dustin says, his voice lowering to almost a growl.
“Her back arched, and she pressed into me, like she couldn’t get enough.
I could tell she liked it rough, the way her breathing changed, the way her hips moved.
You’d have loved seeing it. Every time I pinched or bit down, she’d cry out, like she wanted more but couldn’t admit it. ”
I groan softly, my body responding instantly, my hand moving lower as I picture Halsey writhing under him, her body reacting to the sharp touch, wanting more, needing more.
“We’ll have to see just how much she can take, won’t we?” Dustin teases, his voice thick with satisfaction. “She begged me to touch her lower, but I didn’t rush. I wanted to make her come undone first, feel every inch of her before I gave her what she wanted.”
Fuck. My hand moves faster now, stroking myself under the sheet, the tension almost unbearable.
I imagine the way she must’ve looked, desperate for more, the sounds she would’ve made.
And there’s that image again—me watching, me taking her place.
It’s like I’m both in control and losing it at the same time.
“Tell me more,” I breathe, my voice hoarse, barely audible. “Tell me everything.”
He’s playing with me, teasing, drawing it out.
I know this game too well. We’ve done it before, imagining she’s with us—what we’d do if she were, how we’d take turns.
Mostly, this happens when he’s away, on tour, needing to fuck someone.
If I’m in the mood, I let him. A willing woman if we crave pussy, or a man if he wants to pretend he’s inside me.
Anything goes, as long as I’m there on a video call telling him exactly what to do, how to touch, and I’m jerking myself.
But tonight is different. Tonight he was with her. He touched her. It wasn’t just a fantasy for him this time—he tasted her, and now I need to know everything. I need to feel it the way he did.