51. Frank
FRANK
Zeb and I are at home on one of our days off, and Griffin’s off rehearsing with his band. I’m working on yet another sculpture of Ember; it’s the only way I have of getting my feelings out instead of them eating me up.
My phone pings, and I check it to see a message from the woman in question. I think I left something at your house. Are you guys around?
Come on over , I answer immediately, my mood already improved. Sure, we see her every workday at the shop, but it’s like being a starving man who’s on the other side of a bulletproof glass shield from the food that would save him.
Ember’s not happy. She hides it well, and I doubt any of the clients have noticed anything, but we can tell. And if she’s not happy, we’re not happy. It’s all we can do not to take it out on each other with constant sniping, or beating each other up like we’re in junior high again.
I go inside, wash my hands, and find Zeb in the kitchen. He’s spent most of his time here since Ember left; I guess it’s his coping mechanism, like my art is for me. Griffin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to want to be here at all. He’s out almost every night, jamming with one band or another, and when he’s home he spends a lot of time in his room, noodling on his acoustic guitar.
Without preamble, I say, “Ember’s coming over.”
Zeb’s head snaps up, and the wild hope on his face shreds me. We’re all broken up about her and trying to find ways to hide it.
“She thinks she left something here.”
The light in his eyes dies. “Oh.” He turns his head back to whatever he’s doing at the stove.
“But she’s coming,” I persist, as much for his sake as my own.
A wary look this time. “What do you mean?”
“She could ask us to bring it to the shop. She doesn’t need to come over here to get it, whatever it is. If it were an emergency, she would have asked us about it before now.”
He thinks about this for a moment, then turns down the heat on the stove. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
I do the same, and both of us are scrubbed and ready by the time her ride pulls up, like awkward boys at prom waiting for their queen. I’ve never been like this with a woman before.
None of them mattered like Ember does.
She knocks on the door, the sound tentative, and it pisses me off. She should always feel at home here, and anyway, we knew she was coming. “It’s open,” I call.
When she comes in, Zeb and I are sprawled at opposite ends of the couch, doing our best to seem casual and unconcerned. She stops just inside the door, her eyes going back and forth between us. Maybe we’re not hiding our mood as well as we think.
I smile in what I hope is a friendly, welcoming way and pat the empty cushion between me and Zeb. “Hey, have a seat.”
I’m sure I’m going to behave—I have every intention of it—until the moment she sits next to me. The next second she’s in my lap and my arms are around her, holding her close, my face buried in her hair. “Fuck. Sorry. Fuck. Give me a minute.”
She doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she burrows into me, holding me just as tightly. I keep her in my arms for as long as I dare, and as soon as my grip starts to loosen, Zeb reaches for her. Without a word, I pick her up and transfer her to his arms, where they embrace each other with the same intensity.
But when Zeb tilts her head up and captures her mouth in a kiss, I shift closer to them. No way am I letting him have that goodness all to himself.
Instead of snarling at me when they come up for air, he hands her back over, and I waste no time kissing her like it’s been years. She seems just as hungry, and I never want it to end.
My hand skims up her torso to the side of her breast and I flick a thumb over her nipple. At the same time, nearby sounds tell me that Zeb’s moved close behind her and is touching her, too. Ember moans into my mouth, and I break off and start kissing a line down her throat, closing my teeth gently over the point where her neck and shoulder meet, then using my lips and tongue on her collarbone.
Zeb eases her down to her back on the couch, then pulls her skirt up to her hips. I watch his hand disappear inside her panties, and it feels like my already-hard cock gets three times bigger.
“Em,” he groans, and I know she’s soaking wet. Without hesitation, I yank her panties down and off. Zeb moves his hand, and I bury my face between her legs.
“Frank,” she gasps, and her hands go into my hair, holding me to her. There’s a rustle of clothing, and I hope it means Zeb’s getting her top off and paying some attention to her beautiful breasts.
Sure enough, a few moments later she gasps Zeb’s name, and one of her hands leaves my head, probably to hold onto his. Then I ignore everything except devouring her pussy and savoring the incredible sounds she’s making.
She comes so many times I lose count. I could eat her forever, but I need to be inside her. Lifting my head, I say, “Ember …”
“Don’t stop,” she says before I can ask. “Please.”
I scoop her up, give Zeb a jerk of my head, and carry her to my bedroom. Inside, we get the last bits of clothing off her. We’re ready for round two of foreplay, but Ember has other ideas. “I need you inside me,” she begs. “Now.”
Zeb and I exchange glances. We both want in there like it’s our last day on earth. I run a hand up her thigh and splay it out on her abdomen. “Ember, what do you think about … taking both of us at the same time?”
Her eyes get huge, and then she nods.
“Are you sure?”
“I want to try,” she breathes.
I almost come on the spot.
We find condoms and lube, and when I hand Zeb the tube, he slides down and starts getting her ready. I lie next to her and kiss her, touch her, keep her juices flowing and her blood warm until Zeb lifts his head and nods to me.
I cradle Ember’s face in my hand. “You ready?” She nods. “You’ll tell us if you need to stop.” Another nod, and it’s time.
Lifting her upper leg to drape over my thigh, I slowly fill her. I want to pound into her, claim every inch of her, but she needs me to be gentle for this. When I’m deep inside her, I give Zeb a gesture to go ahead.
“Breathe, Em,” he tells her, and between us, we coach her through it. It’s a fucking miracle I don’t shoot my load twenty times over, just from the look on her face as Zeb eases his cock into her ass.
Then it’s done, and she’s stuffed full of both of us. I didn’t tell Ember that I’ve never done this before, either. It should feel weird, or wrong, but it doesn’t. It feels incredibly right.
“Can we move?” I ask. She nods, and we begin.