47 Francesca
“I’m gonna take the car to go get some more boxes,” Jamie says, poking his head in the front door of my side of the duplex.
Christian, Jamie and I have been packing all week. Ryan apologized for not helping more, but he has to work. Besides, I figured the three of us could knock this out fast.
I was, in a word, wrong.
Turns out even a tiny duplex can hold an absolutely unreasonable amount of crap, even when you haven’t really lived there in years.
“Get more packing tape too,” Christian says, tossing his wallet towards Jamie without looking.
“I don’t need your money,” Jamie shoots back immediately, knocking the wallet to the floor.
We are all silent for an awkward moment.
“I know you don’t,” Christian replies evenly. Money has been… weird between them ever since we all realized Christian isn’t exactly broke. “I’m just offering.”
“Well, I’m declining,” Jamie says. The door shuts behind him a little harder than necessary. Then it opens again, wide enough for his head to poke though. “I love you both. Frankie- you’re amazing. Christian- fuck off.”
Then the door shuts again.
Christian exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “He used to let me pay. Now it’s a whole thing. He even thinks I’m overpaying him at work.”
“Are you?” I ask, glancing over at him.
He shrugs, easy but thoughtful. “Probably. But he’s also really good at what he does. I’m honestly dreading the day he realizes he could go do something bigger and quits.”
“You really believe in him, huh?”
He looks at me and gives a small, almost sad smile. “Yeah. I do. I just wish he did.”
God- the love he has for Jamie is written all over him. Not for the first time, I wonder how I didn’t see it years ago. Then I remember, I was gone for years.
That thought, the regret it immediately brings, hits me frequently. It’s getting less painful, but I’m not sure it will ever go away.
Christian and I fall into a rhythm, moving through the house, packing things into boxes, taping them shut, stacking them by the door.
There’s something about the way he moves- deliberate, controlled. Even something as simple as lifting a box becomes unintentionally sexy.
At some point, I realize I’m watching him more than I’m working. His t-shirt pulls tight across his shoulders and arms when he moves, the fabric stretching just enough to make my mouth water.
When I was younger, Christian always felt larger than life. I mean, he was larger than the other guys. Older. More put together. Like he existed on a level the rest of us hadn’t quite reached yet.
And now… now that I know what he looks like under those clothes- now that I’ve seen what happens when that control slips, just enough to let something deeper take over-
It’s addictive.
My attention lingers a little too long as he sets another box down, and I feel heat creep up my neck when he turns toward me.
“What?” he asks, a hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, dropping my gaze back to the box on the table in front of me.
“Francesca,” he says, his voice low, rough in a way that makes my stomach tighten as he crosses the room toward me.
“What?” I ask, quieter than I mean to.
For a second, he just studies me, then lifts his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair back from my face. The touch is light- barely there- but it sends a sharp spark down my spine.
“We’re supposed to be working,” he says.
“I am- we are,” I manage, my voice catching just slightly as I gaze up at him.
He huffs out a quiet breath, something almost amused in it. “You make it difficult to focus when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
His gaze drops to my mouth for half a second before coming back up to meet my eyes.
“Like you’re thinking about things that have nothing to do with packing boxes.”
He steps closer- close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him.
“Are you, Francesca?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “Are you thinking about the things I can do to your body? Thinking about the way I make you feel?”
An embarrassing sound slips out of me as a slow, warm pulse thrums through my body. “No?” I whisper.
His hand settles lightly at my waist, his thumb brushing once. “Liar.”
His hands tighten, and suddenly I’m moving- spun around fast enough that a startled sound escapes me.
One arm bands across my middle, pulling me flush against him, his hand spread wide, covering my entire stomach.
The other slides up, over my ribs, my chest, until his hand settles at my throat.
Not squeezing.
Holding.
“Christian,” I breathe out.
“Yes, Francesca?” his lips are at my ear, the warmth of his breath heating my skin. “Is there something you want? You know I’ll give it to you- I’ll give you anything. All you have to do is ask.”
“I-I want you,” I manage to get out.
His tongue traces a slow path along my neck, down to my shoulder and I pretty much melt into a boneless puddle.
The front door opens.
“Well, what did I miss?” Jamie says.
Christian starts to press short kisses to my neck and jaw. “Nothing. We just got started.”
Jamie crosses the room with a look on his face I can only describe as hungry. He closes the distance and steps into me until I’m pressed between them.
“Just getting started, huh?” he says, lowering his face to kiss me. He runs his hands into my hair, his fingers getting caught in the curls a bit. He tugs them and there is a little bite of pain that I don’t entirely hate.
My hands come up automatically, catching in his shirt as I make a small, startled sound against his mouth.
Behind me, Christian doesn’t move away.
If anything, he moves closer, his hands still holding me exactly where he wants me.
Jamie pulls back just enough to look at me, his breathing uneven, the pupils in his green eyes blown. Then his attention shifts and he leans toward Christian.
They’re both so much taller than me that I have to tilt my head back to watch them.
They collide and I press my thighs together instantly, needing friction.
Needing more.
Needing them.
“Bedroom,” Jamie mutters against Christian’s mouth. “We need to get to the fucking bedroom.”
His hand finds mine and he pulls me away from Christian, not waiting to see if I follow.
“Jamie- ” I start, laughing as I half stumble after him.
He pushes into my bedroom, takes one look around, and stops short.
“Nope.”
I blink. “What?”
“Bed’s too small- ”
He’s already turning, still holding onto me as he heads back out into the hall.
“Jamie- ” I laugh again as he pulls me past Christian, whose watching us with open amusement now.
Jamie doesn’t slow, doesn’t explain- just keeps going, pulling me with him as we cross into the other side of the duplex, the space half-empty, boxes stacked everywhere.
He heads straight for the first bedroom and pushes the door open.
His room.
It’s mostly packed up, stripped to the essentials- but the bed is still there.
Jamie finally stops, turning back to me, his hand still wrapped around mine.
“Better,” he says, pulling me forward and I crash into him laughing. But the laughter quickly ends as he kisses me again. He wraps his arms around me and his hands move down, cupping my ass at the same time Christian steps up behind me, reaching around and taking my breasts into his hands.
I don’t remember who pulled what clothing off of whom, but we all wind up on the bed, naked, a writhing mess of arms, lips, hands and fingers.
“Shit, Frankie,” Jamie says when I scoot down on all fours down the bed a bit to take his cock into my mouth.
With every bob of my head, the cool press of that metal barbell sends a jolt through me. Like a reminder of exactly who he is. It’s addictive. A little dangerous. Completely him.
“Oh shit,” I say pulling off his dick when I feel Christian’s tongue start to explore my pussy.
“Keep going, Francesca. Take care of my boy, and I’ll take care of you.”
“Fuck you- I’m not your b-” Jamie stops mid word and groans as I take him back in my mouth.
Christian is torturing me in the best way possible when I feel his finger graze my back entrance. I jerk at the foreign feeling, then moan as he does it again, a delicious sensation filling my body.
I moan, which makes Jamie moan, as Jamie and I Christian continues to play with my ass. It almost burns but also feels like an itch I didn’t know I had, one deep within me, getting scratched.
I hear him spit, feel wetness and the continued of his fingers. The burn goes away, the stretch eases.
A part of me feels like I should hate this, think it’s filthy or something.
Instead, heat unfurls low in my belly. Something about surrendering to him, about trusting him with this, steals the breath from my lungs. The intimacy of it melts me.
“Do you think some day, she’ll let us take her here, Jamie?” he says as his finger goes deeper and deeper. Then I gasp as I feel another join it.
“Do you think she’ll let us take her at the same time? You fill her pussy while I fuck her ass?”
“Yes,” I say, throwing my head back, the mixture of his words and his fingers making it impossible to focus on sucking Jamie off.
Christian chuckles and keeps fingering me. “You think you’d like that? Like to be filled up in both your holes?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding. “I want it. Now. Do it now,” I pant out.
My eyes are closed so I don’t see their reaction, but I feel them both pause.
“Frankie, we don’t have to-” Jamie starts, but I open my eyes and the look I give him shuts him up.
“I said, I want it now.”
Jamie gives me a half grin, then raises an eyebrow and looks over me at Christian. “She’s a demanding little thing, isn’t she?”
Christian blows out a breath. ‘Fuck Francesca.”
Then he slaps my ass. “I need some lube.”
Jamie reaches over and grabs a bottle from the nightstand drawer, then hands it to Christian before looking at me again.
“Okay, Frankie girl. I need you to get up here and ride my face.”
My shock must be obvious, cause Jamie actually laughs a little. “You heard me, babe. I need you nice and relaxed and fucking soaking wet, so get up here.”