Sharing Silence (The Flynn Brothers #3)

Silence

“Three brothers are better than one.”

My laugh becomes a gasp as I arch my back, seeking more friction from my brother-in-law’s tongue between my legs. In response, he nips my inner thigh, and I groan.

“Impatience gets you nowhere,” he growls, and my other brother-in-law chuckles softly in my ear.

Patient. How can I be patient when I’ve wanted this for so long? It’s a myriad of wants and desires and God, a strange undercurrent of guilt. This is so wrong.

Perfect, delicious, incredible … but wrong.

My attention shifts to the third man in the room. Even while seated casually in an easy chair, elbow rested on the arm, thumb running across his bottom lip, he emits a kind of power that intensifies the situation. He’s nowhere near me, nowhere near us, but he’s in total, unwavering control.

Zayden Silver.

My husband.

The desire in his gaze is a match to this gasoline-soaked fantasy, and I feed off it. His focus. His presence.

His permission.

“Do as you’re told, Silence,” he says, his voice as deep as his brothers’, his command one I’ll always follow. “Come on my brother’s—”

“Silence, baby. Time to wake up.”

Blinking myself back into reality is like missing a step. Except it isn’t a step; it’s the best sex dream I’ve ever had, and my stomach doesn’t flip, my pussy throbs.

For fuck’s sake.

Of all the things my brain could conjure up, that’s what it gives me? Sex with my brothers-in-law?

What is wrong with me?

Turning on my side, I watch Zayden slip his watch onto his thick wrist, securing the clasp. He’s already in suit pants and a shirt, and I can smell his cologne, a delicious, intoxicating scent I’ve inhaled on my pillows for nine years now.

“You look nice,” I say, my voice doused in sleep.

“So do you.”

I snort and roll onto my back. “Liar. My pillow is drool city.”

“My sexy, drooly wife.”

My smile widens, and I rest my hand on my stomach as I stare at the ceiling. Guilt lodges in my throat, and I cover my eyes with my forearm in an attempt to block out the wickedness of my imagination. It’s one thing to have a sex dream, but to have one about my husband’s brothers?

“What were you dreaming about?”

Sitting bolt upright, I blink at Zayden. He’s pulling on his tie, a small smirk on his face. “Nothing? Nothing. Why?” I clear my throat in an attempt to bring it down an octave.

“You were moaning.”

“Was I?”

His tied neatly fixed, he approaches the bed.

My gaze travels up his broad, firm body as he stands beside me, gently taking my chin in his hand.

“Yes, baby, you were.” He runs his thumb across my bottom lip, his voice sending me into an almost trance-like state.

“What were you dreaming about? Other men?” My nod is slow, and the responding heat in his gaze has me squeezing my thighs together.

If I were to drop my attention to his crotch, I know he’d be hard. “Who?”

My heart gallops away from me, and the heat erupting across my skin is close to dizzying. I’m back in that dream, floating between fantasy and reality. “I can’t say.”

It’s a lie. I can tell Zayden anything. He knows almost everything there is to know about me, a promise we made to each other after I discovered a truth that rocked our world four years ago.

On a trip up north to celebrate our anniversary, he received a phone call that had us veering off track to help his friend.

That tense journey forced a confession out of my seemingly perfect husband.

His job isn’t in tech—he’s a contract killer, and so are his brothers.

The information had knocked the wind out of me, and our marriage, for a while, but we worked through it. Somehow.

He runs his large, calloused hand up my thigh, squeezing once he reaches the seam of my underwear. He rubs his thumb over my crotch and hisses through his teeth. “You’re soaked. Tell me.”

“I already said … I can’t.”

“Are you being a brat, baby?”

I grin. “Maybe.”

He straightens, his hand no longer making pleasant circles over my panties. “Tell me, or you don’t get your birthday present.”

Now, I frown. “We’re not gonna have sex?”

“You have work.”

“A quickie?”

He arches a brow. “When have we ever had a quickie?”

True. The man doesn’t know the meaning of the word. We once spent a weekend away and he was inside me for most of it.

“Does Xavier know you stole his jersey?” he asks, his gaze dropping to my sleeping attire before he moves back to the bureau to slide his wedding ring on.

“No.” I wish I could see his face when he realizes, though. “He doesn’t deserve to own something this comfortable.”

“You and your silent wars.”

“Silent?” I remark, and he huffs a laugh as I climb out of bed and slink my way over to him. I wrap my arms around his waist, resting my cheek to his back. “Can I tell you what I really want for my birthday?”

He turns to face me. “Yes.”

I gaze up at him. “I want you to make all my decisions for me all weekend. My outfit, my food, what I drink, what I do … give my brain a total rest.”

Zayden angles my head up before leaning down and kissing me. “What I say goes? Sounds more like a gift to me.”

He loves the control, especially over me, and even more so because he knows how much I sometimes need it.

Being a nurse is stressful, especially in the ER, and there are times I need to come home and not be presented with choices.

After my shift today, I have two glorious weeks off over Christmas, and I can’t think of a better way to start that time than with my brain snoozing for most of the weekend.

“Then get in the shower. Don’t wash your hair; you can wash it tonight. Use the apricot body wash. I’ll lay out your scrubs.”

Ease washes over me, and I head to the en suite. After twisting my hair into a bun, I step under the warm spray, and I’m already soaped up when Zayden returns.

“So? Are you going to tell me about the dream or not?”

I groan. “It’s weird. Really weird. I don’t even know why my brain went there.” He says nothing, and I face him. “It was Yale and Xavier.”

For a moment, he remains expressionless. I wonder if maybe this is finally the piece of truth that drives a wedge between us, and panic spills through my blood.

Shit. Maybe there are some things you don’t say out loud, especially to your husband.

Until he smirks, quickly trying to hide it with his hand.

I flick water at him. “It’s not funny! Isn’t that totally weird? They’re your brothers.”

“My identical brothers. If anything, I’m flattered that of all the guys your mind could come up with to fuck, it was essentially just three of me.”

“Asshole.” I rinse off the foam, and he watches, a small smile on his face as his gaze travels down my body. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, baby.”

“Have you all ever … y’know—”

He raises his brows. “Have we ever shared a woman?” I nod. “No. We’ve had offers, but we’ve never done it.”

My scowl could burn through brick. “Offers? From whom?”

“I had a life before I married you in Vegas.”

“Really? I thought yours only began when you met me.”

“When you proposed to me,” he corrects, and I roll my eyes. That night was a blur of cocktails, kisses, and Elvis. At this point I can’t remember who proposed to whom.

“Either way, your life began with Silence.”

He smiles. “My Silence in a loud world.”

Kiss-ass. But I’m still grinning like a teenager in love as I run him through the rest of my dream.

As always, he stays with me while I get ready. Not saying much, just watching everything I do. From brushing my hair and applying lotion, to forgoing the makeup that I’ll sweat off during my shift, Zayden Silver watches me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

This has always been our routine. Since the morning after we married, he would sit and watch me get ready. At first, it was just dressing, then it was showering, applying mascara … when I asked him why, he said, “I just like watching you.”

It’s the same for me. When we’re out in the world, Zayden is a pillar of strength, silence, power.

He commands rooms in the way someone would command an army, and he does it with simply a look.

So, when we’re alone, I feed off the moments that are just for me.

Watching him shave, brush his teeth, even iron his shirts.

He’s meticulous, and I devour every drop of him.

“I’m going to make a coffee. Do you want one?

” he asks, standing from the bed and coming to the vanity table.

I nod, and he leans down and sweeps my hair aside, kissing my neck.

I angle my head to give him more access, and he kisses behind my ear.

“I liked your dream, Silence.” His voice is its own aphrodisiac, and I close my eyes as he dips his hand into my robe, skimming his fingertips over my nipples.

“Do you think you’re ready for that? To have someone fuck you while I watch? ”

We’ve been married nine years, but it’s only been in the last two that we’ve explored this side of ourselves.

We stumbled upon it, really. Zayden had booked us a hotel in the city for our anniversary, and he was running late.

While I waited at the bar, a man flirted with me.

I was polite, answered a few innocent questions, and had texted Zayden, teasing him that I’d replaced him.

His returning text had surprised me.

ZAYDEN: Make him think you want him.

Excitement had shot through me. I’ve always been faithful to Zayden, and him to me, and although I can appreciate an attractive man, I’d never even thought about being intimate with anyone but my husband since the night I married him.

But this … this was exciting, and new, and scary.

So, I did as Zayden asked. I flirted. Bit my lip. Leaned suggestively closer.

I drank up every drop of attention and tried not to feel too bad when Zayden arrived and smugly took me away from my new suitor.

We hadn’t bothered with our dinner reservation. Didn’t even make it to our room.

Zayden had fucked me in the elevator as I told him every detail, and I’d never come harder in my life.