Chapter 30
Freya
Balancing a paper bag filled with groceries, I walk through the doors of the apartment, greeting the doorman as I head toward the elevator. Before I hit the button to head up to Julian’s floor, I hear a grunting and pounding sound coming from the basement.
Ignoring the elevator as it beeps, I turn the opposite way and take the single flight of stairs into the building’s basement where a small gym is set up.
Reaching the bottom floor, I smile at the sight of Archer throwing punches at the large red bag hung from the ceiling. Placing the paper bag on a nearby bench, I tiptoe toward him. When I set my hand on the skin of his sweaty back, he jolts and turns toward me with surprise.
Yanking out his earbuds with a smile, he engulfs me in a sweaty hug. I squeal from the grossness, but it only makes him squeeze harder.
“What are you up to, Chef?” he asks.
I point toward the bag of groceries. “About to go make dinner.”
“You spoil us.”
“I know,” I reply with a shrug. “But I like spoiling you.”
He tears off his boxing gloves and tosses them on the floor. Then with his warm eyes on mine, he slides a hand along my jaw to the nape of my neck. Gently, he pulls me in for a soft kiss.
I adore my alone time with each of them, but sometimes I worry that I’m not reaching for Archer as much as I reach for Julian. Why is that? Do I feel the need to prove my adoration for Julian more? Or is it because I trust Archer will always come to me when Julian might not?
As Archer slips his tongue between my lips and kisses me softly, I wind my arms around his neck and press my body against his. I don’t care that he’s sweaty or has that musky scent of exertion. I want Archer in all the messy, beautiful pieces.
I think he intended for it to be a quick kiss, but I don’t let go and he growls into my mouth as if pleased to feel me kissing him back so passionately. His palm glides down my spine, and he cups my ass in his large hand, giving it a ravenous squeeze.
“See,” he whispers as his lips find the soft spot under my ear. “You spoil us.”
When Archer hugs me tight in his arms, I feel the gratitude.
I’ve never felt so special and loved in my life, and when the doubts creep in, the ones that make me wonder what it is about me they treasure so much, I do my best to shove them away.
Archer, Julian, and I complement each other in a way I didn’t even know was possible.
Before the kiss can get too heated, he releases my body and pulls away. Then he picks up the red pads on the bench and slides them on his hands. “Throw a few punches while you’re down here,” he says playfully. “Let me see what you’ve got, Chef.”
I roll my eyes with a sigh. “I’ll be terrible at this.”
“No, you won’t.” He smacks the pads together and holds them each in front of his chest. “Give it to me.”
I chuckle lightly as I throw a weak swing to the right one.
Archer smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead before giving me tips. “Feet apart, baby. One foot back, like you’re ready to run.”
I do as he said and swing again, this time a little harder.
“That’s my girl. Now turn your whole body into it. Power from your hips and shoulders, not your arms. Imagine you’re punching every bigoted boss you’ve ever worked for.”
I smile up at him, seeing him so brilliantly in his element. The more I swing using his advice, the better I get. And I must admit, it does feel good. It gives me a sense of power and strength that I like.
Before long, I’m punching faster and harder with grunts and even a small bead of sweat on my brow. By the time I’m exhausted, Archer is grinning widely. He pulls me into his arms again and kisses me hard on the cheek.
“I fucking love you.”
With a proud feeling, I hug him back. Then he pulls me over to the bench and forces me to drink from his water bottle.
“What’s for dinner?” he asks.
“Pasta,” I reply, slightly out of breath.
“Julian’s still upstairs?”
I nod, taking another drink. A thought courses through my mind as I stare at Archer.
With a hint of discomfort under my skin, I glance down as I say, “I feel like he’s holding back with me.”
Archer tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“I gave him blanket consent, but I don’t think he’s ready to accept it yet.”
Archer nods his head before looking away, so I know he knows it’s true.
With every sexual interaction between us, there is a moment of honest conversation, and I adore them both for that.
Julian respects my boundaries and my perspective.
But most days, while I’m sitting around him, I wish he’d just fuck me without any warning, and part of me thinks he wants that too, but he won’t do it.
“I know what he wants, and I’ve told him I want it too, but for some reason, he won’t take it. Do you think he’s not ready, or does he think I’m not ready?”
“Knowing Julian…” Archer replies. “I bet he thinks you’re not ready.”
“Then how do I express this to him? I’ve tried to make him understand that I don’t need him to coddle me with this. I’m ready.” Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the punching, but I am feeling powered up.
“I think it’s coming from a place of love and maybe a little shame,” he says with a wince. “He doesn’t want to hurt you, Freya. Julian isn’t used to relationships, and I think deep down he’s afraid if he lets his true desires out too soon, he’ll scare you away.”
“That’s sweet, but I’m not some delicate rose.”
Archer leans forward, pressing his lips to mine.
“To us, you are. Freya, we are just a couple rich guys who had the world handed to us, and it doesn’t seem fair.
Then we got you, and I know I speak for him when I say out of everything we have to lose, this relationship is the most important to us.
I never had to work for my inheritance, but I will work for this. ”
“Okay, well, part of that work is listening to me when I say what I want. Not overprotecting me and treating me like I don’t have a voice.”
“You’re right,” he replies with a nod. Touching the side of my face, he adds, “You’re so right. Be patient with us, Chef. We’re trying.”
With a loving smirk, I lean into him. “He let you pee on him, but I can’t seem to even get fucked in the kitchen.”
Archer laughs loudly. “Let’s go upstairs. I will gladly fuck you in the kitchen.”
“No,” I say as I pull away. “I have to go make dinner.”
“Make it clear to him you want to be fucked while making dinner,” he says, standing up from the bench.
“I’ll try,” I reply as I stand up and place a quick kiss on his cheek. As Archer picks up his gloves and starts swinging at the bag again, I take the groceries in my arms and turn back to watch him a moment. “Hey, Arch.”
He turns and looks at me expectantly.
“I liked you teaching me. Will you do it again sometime?”
His face stretches in a crooked grin as he nods. “Yes, Chef.”
I’m filled with warmth and a hint of excitement as I finish my trek to the penthouse. I unlock the door to Julian’s apartment, pausing when I hear the soft sound of him playing the piano. Smiling to myself, I open the door and walk inside.
“It’s just me,” I call to him, and the music stops.
Carrying the bag of groceries to the counter, I see him sitting on the piano bench with his fingers on the keys.
“Don’t stop,” I complain.
While I unpack the ingredients I picked up for dinner, he continues playing. It’s something I’ve never heard before. Not like anything classical or familiar.
“Did you write that?” I ask as I place the butter and cream in the fridge.
“My mom did,” he replies.
“It’s beautiful.”
For the past few months, I’ve been at Julian’s more than my own apartment. So has Archer, although his place is just a couple of floors down. We’ve grown comfortable with this life. Even I’ve learned to accept it as the norm, although I haven’t had to actually put that to the test yet.
My mom has been dropping requests to come visit for the restaurant opening, but I always manage to talk her out of it. I tell her I just need time. Or that it would be better to come when I’m not so stressed and busy. It fills me with guilt every time.
I’ll get there. I will.
Setting the pot on the range and turning on the heat, I walk out of the kitchen and over to the piano.
Julian is still playing mindlessly, and I take a moment to admire how perfect he is.
He’s still the same steely-cold man I first met, but now I see so much more.
There are dimensions and layers to Julian. Far more than what’s on the outside.
While he plays, I climb onto his lap, putting myself between his body and the piano. It makes him chuckle to himself before he moves his delicate fingers from the keys to my body.
As I lean back, my elbows rest on the ivories, playing an unnatural sound. Julian drags his fingers up the length of my body and over my breasts.
Since having sex with them the first time, I feel almost feral for more. I can’t seem to get enough. I want sex all the time. In the morning, in the middle of the day, at night.
The bond between me and each of the guys is strong, but with each other, they can be more uncensored. They’re so busy protecting me half the time that I don’t get that same treatment.
Yes, this is new to me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t consent to what I want. I’m expressing it, and they should trust me when I say I’m ready.
Julian tugs me toward him, and I kiss his lips, slipping my tongue in his mouth to slide delicately against his. He moans softly as I grind against him. The evidence of his arousal is growing harder under my ass.
The oven beeps in the kitchen, meaning it’s preheated, so I pull away from our kiss.
Looking him in the eye, I remember what Archer said downstairs, and I try to convey exactly what I’m offering when I whisper, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
His villainous eyes follow me as I climb off his lap and walk into the kitchen. While I prepare the focaccia, sprinkling rosemary and thyme over the dough, I see Julian rise from the piano bench. There seems to be some sort of intent in his eyes, but I try not to get my hopes up.
Disappointment washes over me as he pulls open the fridge to retrieve a drink. As he cracks it open and takes a sip, I chew on my bottom lip. My fingers poke divots into the dough. Then I reach for the salt dish and start sprinkling the flakes over the wet dough.
After placing the baking dish in the oven, I turn and move to the sink to rinse my hands. Just after I grab the towel to dry them, he pounces. Taking me by surprise, he pins me against the kitchen counter.
Without a word, he unbuttons his pants, and my heart pounds wildly. Adrenaline and arousal flood my system at the sound of his belt coming undone.
Julian puts space between us as he slips his fingers under the elastic band of my pants and yanks them down. I let out a gasping yelp as he jerks my hips back and prods my core with the blunt head of his cock.
Keeping my moans to a minimum, I grip the counter tightly as he thrusts his way in, pounding his hips against my backside. There’s something so primal about it, him taking me whenever he wants.
He’s not slow or sweet about it. Once he’s inside me, he thrusts hard and quick. His grunts are loud, and my moans grow higher pitched with each crash of his body against mine.
As much as I want to tell him not to stop and how good this feels, I keep my voice as silent as possible. This is his moment. I am his, and it’s bizarre to me how much that turns me on.
If I didn’t love it so much, this would be a dry, painful experience, but as it so happens, I’m soaked for him, and he can feel it. Ever since we were tested and I got on birth control, we took that leap into condomless sex. It’s been like a whole new world for all of us. No more barriers. Just us.
Burying his hand in my hair, he forces my head down, nearly bending me in half. I surrender to his force, letting him put me where he wants me. Before long, his thrusts start to speed up the way they do right before he comes. It’s a quickie, hot and dirty, and I love it.
But before Julian has a chance to finish, the front door unlocks, and we both look up to watch Archer walking into the apartment. He’s sweaty and red-faced as he stops in the entryway and stares at us briefly. Then, with a subtle smirk, he nods in appreciation.
Julian doesn’t freeze. His hips keep up their movement. Even when Archer lets the door close behind him and he kicks off his shoes as if he’s just found us playing poker instead of fucking against the countertop.
Without saying a word, he walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge so nonchalantly, it somehow makes this entire thing even hotter. As he snatches out a bottle of water and uncaps the lid, he watches us like this is a spectator sport.
Finally, as he leaves the kitchen, I hear him talking to himself. Heading into Julian’s room, he says, “I fucking love my life.”
The moment Archer disappears around the corner, Julian groans out his release.
His cock twitches inside me moments before he rests his forehead against my back.
Then, as if nothing happened, he pulls out, letting his cum drip down my leg.
After pulling up my pants, he kisses the side of my face and picks up his drink.
Nonchalantly, he leaves the kitchen, heading toward the piano in the corner.
I turn around to find the water boiling, so I quickly get back to work on dinner with a new pleased blush to my cheeks.
He starts playing the piano again, filling the apartment with beautiful sound.
And the next time I turn around to look at Julian, I find him smiling to himself.