Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
KIT
W hen Grant and Rafe come to bed, I’m awake. I tried to sleep but it was impossible, even after I snuck a few shots of Rafe’s godawful whiskey. I know it’s the good stuff from the fancy labels and the way that it comes delivered in a silver case. The heavy green glass bottle looks like it's straight out of an art museum.
I’m more of a wine girly, maybe a double vodka cranberry when I’m feeling reckless and in the mood to break into Grant’s vodka. Whiskey of any kind is hard for me to do straight. I only do it because it works to slow down my panic enough for me to emerge from my anxiety to try and think clearly about my situation.
My situation being that I lost my goddamn mind and nearly cut Jasmine’s head off today. Yes, she earned it but what the hell was I thinking? Then there’s the fact that I’m pretty sure a photographer got photos of Rafe going down on me tonight.
Grant went after him but I didn’t miss the tense way he looked when he came back and tried to play it off like everything was just fine. I know him well enough to know when he’s lying to me.
Things are not fine.
I swallow hard and turn on my side to look out the window. It’s around two in the morning but Seattle is still shining brightly outside. The sheer curtains that I picked for our apartment dulls the light enough that it’s more ambient than anything but I can see Grant’s profile in the light. His full lips and aquiline nose are every bit as perfect and pretty as I know them to be and all it takes is for me to move an inch before he shifts and makes room for me to curl in closer to him.
“Sweetheart, you should be sleeping,” he murmurs against my temple when I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.
“I can’t sleep,” I whisper, even though I know Rafe is awake. He’s always the last of us to fall asleep and even without looking at him, I know he’s wide awake. Most likely watching me with a frown.
“You need to rest. We have to be on set early tomorrow,” Rafe grumbles. I smile because he sounds as annoyed as I knew he would be.
“Today was a lot. I can’t stop my mind enough to rest,” I tell him and he moves in close behind me. The big man wraps an arm around me and Grant and hugs us both close.
“I know dinner was a lot. Grant took care of it.”
“Is that what you were both talking about before bed?”
I know they weren’t talking. I heard them or at least enough to know that very little talking happened between my men in the past hour, which thank god. It’s always nerve-racking when you aren’t sure if you’ll come home to your boyfriends stabbing each other.
Again.
Grant swore he wouldn’t do it again when I burst into tears but I don’t know. I don’t trust them with each other. It’s a relief they’ve begun to spend time together without me.
“Some,” Grant says and rolls onto his side to look at me. The light behind him makes it impossible to see his face. There’s nothing but darkness there. I hope he can’t see my face either because I still haven’t told them what I did with Jasmine. If I did, I’m not sure what they would do.
I’ll tell them…eventually. Just not now.
“Why are you so worried?” he asks and Rafe hums.
“You’re usually calmer after you drink.”
I blush. Of course he knew I drank his fancy whiskey. “It’s nothing. I just, well, I thought we were safe tonight and then we weren’t.”
Grant growls low, the sound of it rumbling against me as Rafe grips my hip. “You were. You are. You know that we’ll always keep you safe.”
“I know. It’s just that…” I swallow hard and let my voice trail off but Grant doesn’t let it go. “It’s just that what?”
“Things have been weird lately. It feels like everything we do is being watched, like there’s no escape.”
“That’s the way life is when you’re us. You know that, sweetheart.”
I lean my forehead against Grant’s chest and nod. “I know,” I whisper.
“We’re going to stop it. Stop them ,” Rafe says. I still at the way he says ‘them’.
“Stop who?” I ask.
“The cunt that’s been sneaking photos of you,” Grant answers and I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if he’s talking about the photos the paparazzi has been sneaking when we’re out or the weird grainy cell phone photos someone is taking of me on the production lot–-or if he means the ones from my past. Those are the photos that I’m frightened of. Whoever has access to my past can ruin me.
“They wanna watch you? I’m going to rip their fucking eyeballs out and fuck the sockets,” Grant growls and I pat his cheek. He is being sweet in the only way he knows how. I’m not going to let my past near Grant or Rafe. Whoever is haunting me from my past is evil and the closer they get to what I have with my men, the closer I am to having it all ripped away from me.
“It’s fine,” I whisper into the dark and pretend that I don’t think Grant is referring to anyone but the person leaking photos of me now. “If I want to be with you both, I know how it’ll be. They’ll lose interest eventually,” I lie.
Grant Stone and Rafe Burdock are two of Hollywood’s brightest lights. Even if they drop off the face of the planet for a decade, people will still be hungry for news of them, probably even more so. Hiding away isn’t going to solve the issue. I know that.
Rafe drops a kiss against the side of my neck and brushes my hair away from my shoulder. “They won’t,” he says, calling me out on my bullshit just like he always does.
“They could,” I counter.
He snorts and continues to kiss me. I shiver at the brush of his lips and remember just how good it felt when he had me laid out on our dinner table that night. It had been bliss before we were interrupted, but now?
There’s no one to interrupt us now.
Whoever is watching us can’t get in here. Not our home. It’s the safest place in the world that I have ever known, even more so than my cottage in Connecticut but even there every once and while I would get scared or nervous, the sharp howl of the wind or ominous rattle of the window panes in the middle of the middle of the night was enough to have me laying in my bed alert. That isn’t the way of it now.
Not with Rafe and Grant sharing this space with me.
Anyone who walks in that door is a dead man, we all know it. No, in this home the locks on the doors are to keep Grant and Rafe away from everyone else. It keeps them where they ought to be, which isn’t roaming the streets looking for a kill. I shiver when the heavy weight of Rafe’s hand on my hip brings me back to reality.
The men that I love are killers. I know they’re dangerous. I also know that they haven’t killed since they’ve been with me because I don’t like it. I know that I’m the only reason they haven’t killed. Rafe presses himself flush up against my back and I can feel the hard line of his dick against my ass. Grant shoves the oversized sleep shirt I’m wearing, one of Grant’s, up my hips and waist until their hands are able to touch my bare skin.
I moan when Rafe presses a knee between my legs and lifts it so that my legs are open for Grant, who immediately slides down my body to my aching pussy. He circles my clit and licks into me, the slide of his tongue against my sensitive flesh makes my back arch and I grab onto his shoulders.
Rafe and Grant are killers, their hands bring nothing but violence and death. At least where everyone else is concerned. For me, though? For me, their hands are a different story—ecstasy, pleasure, their hands are the ones that make me cry and leave me weak and begging.
Grant crooks his fingers and strokes into me while he kisses my clit. It’s the hands of killers that make me come. As fucked up as it is, I think that’s why I come apart so easily for them. Rafe strokes his hands up my sides before he cups my breasts and pulls on my nipples. He kneads my breasts while he whispers in my ear, “so fucking perfect, you were made for us.” Rafe shifts the leg he has hooked with mine and opens me wider for Grant, who moans his approval against my cunt.
“That’s it. Fucking keep her just like that,” he tells Rafe before he’s back between my thighs and catches my clit between his teeth.
I scream and buck my hips. I grind my pussy against his face and Grant loves it. He grabs my ass with his free hand and squeezes it before he spits on his fingers and I feel him press against my ass.
“Grant, oh fuck,” I groan when he pushes against the bud of my ass. He eases his finger inside of me and adds another finger to the two already buried in my pussy with a satisfied moan.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Take me.” He sucks on my clit and I rock my hips in time with his tongue. The flick of his tongue narrows my world down to nothing but Grant. He sinks further into my ass and I cum on his face with a sob. I feel so full with him in my ass and cunt, his mouth working my clit in time with my hips. I want to wrap my legs around his head but I can’t, not with the way that Rafe is holding me. I can’t move. I’m trapped between the two men no matter how hard I try to move, and it adds to the pleasure humming through my body like fire.
I’m powerless against them and god, how I fucking crave that. Everything that happens right now is entirely up to them. The only thing I have to do is enjoy while they take from me.
“That’s it, shy girl. Let us hear how good he’s making you feel,” Rafe encourages me, continuing to squeeze my breasts. I gasp when he bites down on my shoulder and I know he drew blood from the sting of it. He sucks hard on my shoulder and that sends me falling through my aftershocks into another orgasm.
“Yes, oh fuck- please, ” I beg. My voice is broken and hoarse and I don’t know what I’m begging for. Grant must, though. He always knows what I need. He gives my clit one last stroke of his tongue and then he’s up and moving. Rafe moves with him and lets my legs go but it’s only to haul me up against him so that he supports my head and neck against his chest.
“Grant,” I whisper when my lover pushes my legs wide and lifts my hips to meet him. The light that filters into our bedroom shows me the perfection of his body. The hard lines of his muscles fit against my curves as he fucks into me. He sets a steady rhythm, the thrust of his hips and stretch of his cock inside of me is exactly what I need and I can feel another orgasm building. My belly clenches from the exhilaration of it and it's with a smile on my face that I sob his name.
“Oh, Grant, yes.”
I can’t touch him because Rafe has my hands in one of his. He cups my cheek with his free hand and kisses me softly. “That’s it, shy girl. Fuck him. I know you love it when he fucks you like this, don’t you?”
Grant rocks forward, the snap of his hips against me adds more punch to my answer when I gasp out a strangled, “ Yes .”
“Yes, what?” Rafe growls and the hand on my cheek moves to cut off my air. Rafe’s hand tightens on my neck. “Answer me, princess.”
“Yes, Daddy,” I sob and I see his smile flash before he leans down and kisses me hungrily. Desire and need spike hot and heavy in me and I open my mouth to him and hook my legs around Grant’s waist. There’s nothing else to do but surrender to my men while they take what they want from me.