Silence
The last twenty-four hours has been hell. Of course, I don’t let Xavier or Yale know that inside I’m a slow, crumbling mess of horniness, and they’ll never find out, so help me God.
But I’m fairly certain my vagina is crying.
I’m not even sure how this happened. I went from being around them with no issues, to watching their every move.
Xavier is an inked god, and when the fire in the living room takes a while to heat the place up and he puts on a sweater, he has this whole “taking the bad boy home to meet your parents” vibe.
And Yale? What the fuck. I’ve slept on this man in two entirely different ways. I’ve always known he was handsome, but sexy? His forearms are enticing enough to have me hold my breath, and I keep getting lost in the fantasy of tracing the veins with my tongue.
Sleeping next to them was a nightmare. Xavier was on my left, Yale on my right, and when we woke up tangled together, I almost cried from the sheer frustration of it all. Xavier was spooning me from behind, his face buried in my hair, and Yale had his head on my chest, my leg thrown over his hip.
It’s so damn unfair.
Now, I’m watching Yale cook, and I wish being a naked chef was a fucking requirement.
“He should be home by now, right?” I ask, eager to think about anything other than Yale wearing nothing but a “Kiss the Chief” apron.
He checks his watch. “Not if there’s a delay picking up the car. He’ll be fine, Q, don’t worry.”
“Wow, I’m cured!”
He gives me a pointed look. “Sarcasm isn’t sexy.”
No, but you are.
For fuck’s sake.
The sound of the front door closing echoes, followed by footsteps, and Yale looks up. I wave my hand dismissively. “That’s Xavier.”
“How can you tell?”
I shrug. “I know his footsteps.”
“Hello, brother,” Xavier announces as he strides into the room. He lingers by me as he passes and whispers, “Lover.” I throw my elbow out but miss him. “Zayden not back yet?”
Yale shakes his head, but he’s still watching me. “Silence says she knows our footsteps.”
“Bullshit.”
I sit up straight. “I do. I can always tell who’s who.”
Ten years means it’s hard not to see, hear, or even feel the distinct differences between them. If I had to explain those differences, I’d probably struggle, but they’re enough that I know who’s about to walk through a door before they do.
“I still call bullshit,” Xavier says as he takes the last bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet, along with a glass.
“Hey!” I snap. “Don’t drink that. It’s mine.”
He unscrews the top, his expression one of mock innocence. “What’s yours?”
“The whiskey,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m serious, Xavier. That’s the last bottle.” He swirls the remaining liquid and pours it into the glass, admiring it against the light. “Don’t fucking do it. I will fight you.”
“Do what?” he asks, brows raised as he approaches me. “This?”
He tips the drink against his lips and, in one mouthful, empties the glass.
Frustration bubbles up, and I’m about to cuss him out, but he grips my chin, pressing his thumb to my bottom lip.
The moment I realize what he’s doing, my toes clench, my body tenses, and heat gathers between my legs.
My resolve over the last day crumbles totally, and I’m suddenly greedy for whatever he’ll give me.
I part my lips.
He angles my head up, leans down—and trickles the whiskey from his mouth to mine.
I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body as he stands between my knees. The alcohol leaves a trail of heat down my throat, and once there’s none left, I open my eyes.
Just when I think I can’t get any wetter, Xavier leans down and runs the tip of his tongue across my bottom lip.
I’m a speechless mess, and he whispers, “You missed a drop.” I swallow, and he runs his knuckles down my throat, following the warmth of the whiskey.
“See the rewards you get when you’re good, little Q?
” I’m floating, delirious, too aroused to do anything other than nod.
“You were so patient, weren’t you?” I nod again, and he leans closer, our lips almost brushing, the smell of whiskey strong between us. “Do you want a real reward?”
I glance at Yale, who watches the interaction with a small smirk, but before I can respond, the front door opens again.
Xavier remains between my knees but releases my jaw.
Zayden enters, looking tired and grumpy, but my heart feels instantly lighter now he’s home.
“Salesmen are why stealing cars is easier.” He places his bag by the door and comes to me, dropping a kiss to my lips.
He doesn’t seem at all bothered by his brother’s closeness.
Instead, he licks my bottom lip, too. “Whiskey.”
I smile, my chest warm. “The last of it. Xavier was greedy.”
“I shared,” he says, grinning wickedly at me. “How did it go? What was the big emergency?”
Zayden exhales deeply. “Let’s talk about it after dinner. I’ve been running it over in my head since I left, and I need a fucking break. Food almost ready?” Yale nods. “Good. Before we eat, I think we all need to talk.”
Xavier finally moves from between my legs but makes a point of pinching my cheek before he does. I slap his hand away, and he grins, winking at me.
And fuck it, I blush.
Zayden stands behind me. “It’s pretty obvious that what we talked about before I left is going to happen.” My skin tingles, and I avoid everyone’s eye. “So I think we need to lay out some ground rules. Are we all prepared for this talk? If not, we can table it.”
We all nod, and Zayden wraps an arm around my chest, holding me to him.
“It’s a given that whatever Silence says goes. She’s the center of all this, so she decides what happens. If at any point any of us feel uncomfortable, we stop.”
I knew that already, but there’s something comforting about hearing it out loud. Tilting my head back, I give him a quick smile.
“Do you have a safe word, Q?” Xavier asks, picking up a slice of pepper from the chopping board and putting it in his mouth. “Because if we’re fucking, you’re gonna need one.”
Yale rolls his eyes. “And it starts.”
“What?” Xavier says, chewing. “I’m not gonna go easy on her. She can take it. Can’t you?”
Zayden leans close to my ear. “You sure you wanna do this? They’re probably gonna argue mid-fuck, too.”
I laugh. “Pause is my safe word.”
“You don’t wanna try the traffic-light system?” Xavier suggests. “Red means stop. Yellow means pull back. Green means keep going. And then there’s the fourth color if you’re feeling it.”
“What fourth color?”
“Blue, for example,” he says, eyes locked on mine. “That could mean push harder.”
Excitement simmers in my chest—that and the urge to find out what he could do to me that would I’d want so much more of.
I look up at Zayden. “I like that idea. Do you?”
“It’s whatever you want, baby.”
All eyes are on me, and I bite my lip, flooded with images of me screaming the word blue.
“Condoms?” Yale says, smirking knowingly at me.
“I’m on birth control.”
Zayden says, “And we’re all checked regularly for insurance.”
I bark out a laugh. “Assassins have insurance?”
Yale starts spooning out food. “Yep. It’s a lucrative business, too.” I bet. “Anything else we need to cover?”
“I think we should set a timer for ten minutes,” Zayden adds, turning the stool so I’m facing him. “No matter what we’re doing, we stop, and I check in with you.”
I like that idea. A moment of quiet could help me digest everything and see if I want to continue. “Is that everything?” I ask.
Zayden brushes my hair back, his thumb running along my jaw. “No matter what happens, nothing changes. We’re still a family, even if we do this once and never again.” I smile, closing my eyes briefly as he kisses me. “And the first time, I’m only watching.”
I open my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. If that changes, I’ll be the first to speak up.” He grins. “But I know how much you want this, and I don’t want to miss a single second of you enjoying yourself.”
Xavier picks up two plates and heads toward the kitchen table. “Good. More for me. Did you pick it up?”
Zayden nods, and I look between them. “Pick what up?”
“Just a gift,” Zayden says. Xavier and Yale move dishes into the small dining room off the kitchen, and once we’re alone, Zayden asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yep. Things have been fine. I’ve been more worried about you. What happened in Seattle?”
The soft lines beside his eyes deepen as he frowns. “Too much. Let’s just enjoy tonight. If you still want it to go ahead?”
“Yes,” I say, maybe too quickly, but Zayden smiles. “I thought it would be weird, but … it’s not. It’s really not.”
“Good. Still, we can stop whenever. This is your show, baby. You run it.”
I grip his tie gently and pull his lips closer. “Don’t say that. The power might go to my head.” He laughs against my mouth and kisses me. I wrap my legs around him and pull him closer, and he deepens the kiss, his hands framing my face as his tongue massages mine.
“Ready?” he murmurs, and I nod breathlessly.
He helps me off the stool, and, hand in hand, we go to the dining room. It’s a small table, more for breakfast than dinner, but the actual dining table is enormous and impersonal.
Xavier and Yale are already seated across from each other, and as I pull out my chair, I pause. Blinking, I look between the three of them as Zayden takes his.
“What’s this?”
“Your seat,” Xavier says smugly.
I glance back down at the chair, where a thick, fleshy dildo is suctioned to the seat.
“Seriously? You want me to have that inside me for the whole meal?”
Yale picks up his knife and fork. “Yep.”
I wave my finger between them. “And you’ve all discussed this?”
“You’re the one who suggested a group chat,” Xavier reminds me.
I can’t even remember the last time I used a dildo—I’m more of a vibrator girl—but I’ve also never wanted to be fucked by my husband’s brothers before, either. Might as well dive into the experience.
Unbuttoning my jeans, I push them down, along with my panties. When I take my T-shirt off, Yale speaks. “You don’t have to be completely naked.”
I make a point of dropping my panties onto the center of the table. “If you’re teasing me, then I’m teasing you.”
Once my bra is off and all eyes are on me, I step in front of the chair and position the dildo at my pussy.
I’m already wet from the whiskey and Zayden’s kiss, so I easily slide down onto it.
I close my eyes, relishing the stretch, and moan through gritted teeth as I’m fully seated.
It’s long. Not as long as Zayden, but not far off.
My nipples harden, and a shiver works its way down my spine as pleasure throbs gently at my core.
I ease the chair forward, trying to ignore the chill on my ass from the wood.
Three pairs of green eyes watch me, and I feel very much like a deer that’s wandered into a pack of wolves, but damn, I want them to eat me.
“Shall we?”
We begin our meal, and I’m almost trembling with every move.
“Silence said something interesting before,” Yale says, cutting into his meat. “She said she can tell us apart from our footsteps.”
“Really?” Zayden meets my eye.
“Yep, I—” I shift in place and moan, gripping the arms of the chair. Arousal drips onto the seat, and I swallow. “Yeah, I know you apart from little things.”
“That’s interesting,” Zayden says, watching me.
I squeeze my thighs together and keep eating.
“Without mentioning actual work, how’s Envy?” Xavier asks.
“Who’s Envy?”
“She runs the Agency with us,” Yale explains, his gaze travelling down my throat. “You’d like her.”
This is strange, knowing that they have an entire life alongside ours. They have friends, colleagues, experiences—and I know nothing about it because I refused to accept that it was real.
“I did have an idea while I was there. Silence, how would you feel about having a bodyguard?”
I blanch a little at that. Sometimes, the brothers will drop by the hospital individually under the guise of saying hello, but it’s usually because there’s been some kind of threat and they’re looking out for me. I never dreamed I’d need one-on-one protection.
“Why does she need that? She has us,” Xavier says.
His sudden warmth towards me is taking some getting used to, so I decide to lean into familiarity and tease him. “Maybe he’ll be hot. We could use a fifth, right?”
“No,” they all say, and I chuckle wickedly into my wineglass.
I swallow my drink and lick my lips. “But sure, if you think I need someone.”
“Good. I met a woman called Mercy. I think you’d like her.”
Xavier’s laugh is low and deadly. “You want to bring Mercy here?”
“Yes. I read over her file. She’s impressive, maybe one of the best recruits we’ve had in years. She almost beat your bone-saw time,” Zayden says.
Xavier scowls. “Emphasis on the word ‘almost.’”
“I like Mercy,” Yale says. “She sent me some emails about some weapons she was inventing. They’re good.”
“Weapons?” I ask. “Like … guns and stuff?”
Yale chews his food thoughtfully. “More like silent killers.”
And she might be my bodyguard? I’m unsure if I should be reassured or scared stiff.
“Don’t worry, Q,” Xavier says. “She’s tough. The first time I met her, she made Lil’Bob cry.”
A small laugh escapes me. “Who is Lil’Bob?”
“One of the security guards on the grounds. He’s almost seven feet, hence the nickname. He left his post for one second, and Mercy climbed over the fence and back again. She yelled at him for six straight minutes about taking his job seriously.”
“Then she’ll look after our wife,” Zayden says, and my heart nearly leaps from my chest. I pause my fork at my lips, and the table falls silent, but Zayden keeps eating. When he realizes we’re all staring, he frowns. “What?”
“You said our wife,” Yale points out, the corners of his lips twitching.
Zayden’s scowl deepens. “No I didn’t.”
“You did,” I say. “Does that mean—” I moan involuntarily when I move and the dildo somehow slides deeper. “This is very distracting.”
“Kind of the point, Q,” Xavier says.
I narrow my eyes at him, and Zayden speaks.
“You’d better hurry up and eat. I’ve just thought of something fun we can play for dessert.”
He locks eyes with me, and I wonder if the longing in his gaze excites or terrifies me.
Maybe both.