Chapter 62 #2
At the house, he parks not in the garage but out front, in the same parking spot Asher used when he came over all those weeks ago. “Stay there.”
Asher gets out from the back and Brayden comes around the side. They unlatch my door like they planned for this. Brayden reaches for me, picking me up, casually, cradling me in his arms.
“I’m—” Too heavy. A reflex. One that pushes its way upward against my will.
Brayden hears it anyway. “You are the exact right size for my hands, Sav.” He leans and kisses me, deep. “I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I fell for you the second I met you on the porch, but I’ll tell you every damn day for the rest of your life if that's what it takes.”
He carries me up the walkway to the house, and it’s not until I’m at the door that I realize what they’re doing. Lifting me bridal style across the threshold.
Asher opens the door—he has the spare keys Brayden demanded back from his parents—then Brayden carries me through the entrance into the front hall. “We’re home,” he says.
Home. The word burrows its way into my chest. Home.
Not this house, exactly, but the people in it.
Home. Something that emerges from the three of us together, something we make with one another.
When my father lost everything, I’d thought I lost that too, but now I know love isn’t a state of being. It’s a thing we create together.
Brayden sets me down by the now-shut front door but doesn’t move back. “Asher told me he promised you something he never came through on.”
“Oh yeah,” I ask, “what’s that?”
Asher steps forward, braces his hands on either side of my shoulders, backs me up until I’m pressed against the front door. “What’d I say about worrying you’re too much for us?” he asks.
I think back to that first time we were together, him putting my leg over his shoulder and growling at the idea he couldn’t handle my size. “That you were going to fuck me against the front door to prove a point.”
“A vow’s a vow,” Brayden says.
Asher skims one hand up my thigh, under the hem of my skirt, to where I’m not just wet—I’m already soaking.
“First, these have to come off.” He peels down my panties, then hitches my legs around his waist, fingers already undoing the button and zipper of his pants.
He shoves them down just enough until his cock is notched against my entrance. “Does it feel like I can’t handle you?”
I shake my head. “No.” Though it comes out breathy.
“It sounds like she might need some more convincing,” Brayden says. He’s next to us, watching, close enough I can lean to kiss him, so I do.
Midway through the kiss, Asher adjusts me, pushing inside, his cock buried deep. I’m held up by his strength and the solidity of our front door. He fucks me hard, until I can feel him everywhere, in my pussy, in the back of my throat. Underneath my sternum, right next to my heart.
“You are not too much,” he says. “It’s just you’ve been with weak men before.”
Men whose faces all smudge together in memory, blur away, erased, driven out by Asher’s cock inside me and Brayden’s hands caressing my face, the two of them taking up my entire field of view.
Tears start to gather in the corners of my eyes—not ones of desperation or overwhelm.
Happiness, like I have so much inside me it needs to flow out. “I’m close,” I say.
Then Asher stops. Pins me with a look. “You don’t get to come until you promise us.” He thrusts once, hard, enough to draw a whine.
“Promise what?” I gasp.
“That you won’t talk about our wife that way.”
“Will it get me fucked like this?” I tease.
“Sav.” Brayden says it seriously. “I love you—we love you. But we can’t love you more than you love yourself.”
My heart doesn’t just pulse; my entire body does, enough that Asher growls, drives into me deeper, kisses me and whispers the words on my lips. “We love you,” he says, like he doesn’t think I believe him.
“That’s the first time you’ve said it.”
Brayden shakes his head. “That’s the first time we’ve said it out loud.” Because he’s right—we’ve said it to each other in a hundred different ways. But hearing those words matters, the way Asher is holding me up matters. The way they’re looking at each other matters.
“I love you too,” I say, because it’s true, because the words have been inside me for so long it feels wrong to keep holding them in. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
I lean down, press my mouth to Asher’s neck, the curling black line of his tattoo, the scarring underneath. “You don’t have to—” he begins.
“I love you,” I say. “All of you, including the parts of yourself you think are unlovable.”
Asher comes, then, swiftly, franticly, fucking me against the door, filling me, leaving my pussy soaking. He sets me back down and I only have a moment of my feet touching the floor before Brayden lifts me, peels down his underwear and shoves into me with one beautiful brutal stroke.
He cups a hand on my low belly, bears down as he fucks his way inside me, lighting up every nerve. “Bray—” I gasp, the words just beyond me.
He grins and hitches me up higher, body strong against mine.
“I love the way you look when I’m inside you,” he says.
“I love all the noises you make. I love how you lose control. I love your pretty little pussy all filled with his come. I love how much you make me want to be better so I can love you that much more.”
My legs start to shake, my orgasm overwhelming me, a sea that rises and crests and threatens to pull me under. Brayden’s hips convulse and as he comes, he thrusts hard enough that I’m going to feel it tomorrow, that I’ll wake up in the morning and know that he and Asher were mine and I was theirs.
He puts me down on shaky legs, and doesn't wait. Spins me around and drops to his knees, face pressed to my ass and pussy, licking me clean, two fingers hooked inside me coaxing another impossible climax from me.
After, we all stand there for a moment, our breathing filling the front hallway. My legs are still shaking. Before I can sink down, Asher catches me, arms around me. We stumble over to the couch, Asher setting me gently down, the two of them on either side of me, holding me up.
“I think I got the message,” I say once I catch my breath.
“Think?” Asher says, and he leans to press a gentle kiss to my lips and another to Brayden’s.
“We’ll have to do that all again tomorrow,” I say. “Just to be sure.”
“And the day after that,” Brayden says. “and the day after that.”
I think back to Grace’s question of how this thing between us works.
It just does, I want to say, though that’s not true.
It takes work, not the way that business takes work but how art takes work.
Something where the pleasure is in the creation.
Something to be done again and again and never quite perfected, but that just makes me want to keep trying. “And every other day?” I ask.
“Yes.” Brayden pulls us both close, like we’re his, like he’s ours. “Yes, let’s start with that.”