13. Keri
13
KERI
I land at LAX and click the little airplane icon on my phone to turn on the Wi-Fi and cellular network. Less than three seconds pass and I have a slew of text notifications.
Paul
Don’t get on the plane.
Victor
We’re on our way.
Henry
Heads up, your stalkers are boarding the next flight to Los Angeles.
Also, congratulations on Baker!
I check the location tags I put in Paul’s bag and Victor’s jacket he left unattended at the concert. Sure enough, their last location was SFO. I had a feeling they’d find their way back to me as soon as I didn’t show for string rehearsal and can’t help my smile. I type out a quick reply, asking when they’re landing, but it’s unlikely they’ll text me back if they’re mid-flight.
I make my way to baggage claim to retrieve my suitcase and cello, then order a rideshare. I chuckle to myself—time to see exactly how well these men work together. It’s tempting to remove the location tag from my cello case that Paul thought I didn’t see placed in there at the concert. I pull it out of my case and stuff it in my back pocket.
As I get in the rideshare, I commit to chaos and drop the round metal tag under the seat of the car. I doubt the boys put the work in to rent a car, and they’ll be sending a rideshare driver on a wild goose chase. I smile at the thought.
I arrive at the hotel and check in. There’s still no word from Victor or Paul, and after two hours in my hotel room, I’m getting restless. I begin pacing and jump at the sound of someone knocking. There’s no way they found me. I check the peephole, and gasp, flinging the door open.
“How? How did you find me?”
A sly smirk tugs at Victor’s lips. “I’ll always find you.”
“So… Can we come in?” Paul asks with an undeniable twinkle in his eyes.
Any sane woman would turn them away, but I open the door wider. The click of the door makes my breath hitch; this has to be the stupidest idea I’ve ever come up with. I swallow thickly and ask, “What? No pie to celebrate?”
Paul briefly draws his lips into his mouth to stifle a laugh. “No. No pie. If you want my cum, you’re going to take it with my cock buried inside you.”
Victor smacks Paul’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Really? You’re just going to jump in with that?”
“What? She asked about celebratory pie!” Paul exclaims with a shrug. “What time do they expect you tomorrow?”
“Eight, but I want to be there early.” My eyes narrow. “How do you know I have rehearsal tomorrow?”
Paul rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I hacked your phone. Obviously . How else do you think we found you when you ditched the location tag I stuffed in your cello case?” Victor smothers his growl by clearing his throat. Paul continues, “All right, well, I’m going to come right out and say it. I don’t want a girlfriend, and I definitely don’t want to move to LA, and the only way I’ll ever get to touch you is if Victor is here. I’ve never had a threesome. When you mentioned it, my curiosity was piqued. You said Vicky-boy needed pointers, so for one night, we get it out of our system, and tomorrow we go back to being friends. What do you think?”
“I, uh, what’s happening? Victor isn’t my boyfriend, so if you wanted to touch me, you could. He doesn’t own me—no one does.”
“Oh, we know.” Victor chuckles. “Paul is the reason I was able to find you. When he suggested it, I was ready to punch his stupidly pretty face again. He’s not competition. I basically consider him a human version of one of your vibrators. I want a second chance to show I can take care of you. If that means Paul touches you, then so be it.”
I’m speechless. Are we doing this? Really doing this? Fuck, I’m going to need a drink—or five—to get through it.
“Victor’s got that covered,” Paul replies to what were supposed to be inside thoughts. “Since you lie to us about what you actually like, we have vodka, gin, tequila, and whiskey. We’ll order room service or run down to the bar for mixers.”
“Um, maybe a gin and tonic with extra lime?” I wince. “No, sorry, that’s not it.” Noah told me it’s his mom’s favorite, but as good as it sounds, I don’t think it’s mine. “Maybe a whiskey neat?” Victor makes a move for the lowball glasses next to the small ice bucket. “Stop. No. That’s just a Hozier song that’s been stuck in my head.”
“Fuck, Keri, what do you actually enjoy drinking?” Paul laughs, and I can’t help the nervous chuckle escaping me.
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I’ve spent the past year trying to mess with Victor, I don’t know what I like anymore.”
Fuck, that’s depressing.
“Then, let’s figure it out together,” Victor offers, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I dig deep to find the part of myself I lost trying to be something I’m not. When he wrapped his hand around my throat and I told him harder, it was real. I don’t want sweet praise or to be treated as if I’m fragile. Maybe that’s why I was so intrigued by these two—neither of them will treat me like porcelain.
“We can figure out favorite cocktails later,” I grumble. “What will get me drunk the fastest?”
Victor closes the distance, taking my face in his hands. I can’t help leaning into his touch. “I don’t want you drunk; tomorrow is your first rehearsal.”
I nod and cover his hands with mine. “You’re right, but a few shots of vodka should take the edge off. What’s your plan? Are you going to tag-team me? An Eiffel Tower situation? Or are we going to attempt some crazy DVP?”
“What the fuck is DVP?” Paul chuckles. “Is it like an STD?”
“No!” I bark out a laugh and step out of Victor’s hold to demonstrate two fingers through a circle I’ve made with my other hand. “Two cocks inside me.”
His eyes blow wide. “I was thinking more of a mess of tangled limbs and taking turns.”
“Same,” Victor agrees. “He doesn’t get anywhere near my cock.”
“Fine,” I groan and open the vodka, drinking straight from the bottle. It’s nowhere near the quality I had at Henry’s, but it doesn’t burn like a five dollar fifth.
“Whoa, baby, be careful,” Paul warns, snatching the bottle from me. A small drop slips down my chin, and before I can wipe it away, he licks it off me, then takes a swig from the bottle. In an instant, Paul’s lips crash into mine and the spicy liquid passes between us, giving me an extra shot. I can’t help the whimper that escapes me.
As I continue kissing Paul, Victor presses behind me, trailing his lips from my ear down my neck. He murmurs against my skin, “After tonight, I’m not sharing you.” His voice is firm and controlled, even if it’s muffled by my neck.
Heat pools in my belly and it isn’t from the vodka. The mere idea of being shared by two men has me so damn wet I may as well ditch my panties altogether. Sandwiched between them, they’re both hard and ready to play. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity and I’m not about to squander it.
I reach between Paul and me to palm his cock through his jeans. He hisses against my lips and a dark chuckle rumbles in the chest behind me, vibrating against my back. Paul grips my thighs and pulls my legs around his waist, carrying me over to the bed, then sits with me straddling his lap. All levity ceases from Victor as he growls, “I’m not going to sit back and let you fuck her.”
While Paul was explicit about what he wanted, Victor wasn’t. He only mentioned not wanting to share me again. I can’t help asking, “What happens after tonight?”
Victor tugs my shirt off me and insists, “You’re mine. Paul and I have to fly back in the morning for string rehearsal, but I’ll be putting in my notice. Wherever you are, I’ll be.”
While it’s hot in books, logistically this is a nightmare. Victor is going to give up his seat in the symphony orchestra for me? He doesn’t have a job set up in LA, there’s only one reason for him to be here—me. And I’m not enough.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Paul tells me softly and I’m beginning to think I said all of that out loud. “Don’t overthink this. I’m here for a good time, but to be honest, Victor is likely here to wife you up. Henry just got word that he’ll be brought on as a drummer for a band he refuses to disclose the name of. If Vicky needs a job, I’m sure Henry could connect him with someone here. If he becomes a freeloader, I’ll fly down here myself and put him in his place. Maybe make him watch as I fuck you again.”
“The fuck you will,” Victor huffs. “If you touch her after today, I’ll swap your milk at your apartment and let you shit your brains out again. And stop calling me Vicky!”
“Will you two stop fighting and, I don’t know, make me come? Paul’s right, I’m just in my head.” At my admission, he licks from between my breasts up my chest until he nips at my jaw. My panting is unavoidable as I whimper, “Naked, right now.”
I scramble off Paul and shimmy out of my clothes. The boys do the same and it’s now abundantly clear Paul has every reason in the world to have a big ego. While Victor’s cock is thick and long, Paul is only half-hard and the same size as Victor who is ready to go… and he’s pierced. It’s like a soda can with jewelry, ready to rearrange my organs.
“Absolutely not,” I insist.
Victor finally gets a look at his competition and gasps, “Oh, come on!”
“You’re not fucking me with that.”
Paul lazily strokes his cock, and a devilish grin tilts his lips. “What, this ol’ thing?”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me but Victor isn’t amused as he asks, “How did you make it through airport security with that thing?”
“Piercings rarely trigger the machines. They see on the little x-ray monitor that it’s my piercings and never stop me. Do you want to touch it?”
“No!” Victor growls.
At the same time, I breathe, “Yes.”
I reach for him, stroking from the base, fascinated by the feel of the metal against my palm. Victor slips his hand around my waist, his fingers traveling lower until he’s teasing my clit. My knees buckle at the contact but Victor helps keep me upright.
“Sit on the bed,” Paul commands Victor. “Put her on your lap and spread her thighs for me.” He does as asked and sets me on his lap, sliding his hands up my legs, then roughly opens them wide for Paul. “Just like that.”
Paul drops to his knees, and without warning, licks up my pussy and flicks his tongue against my clit. My head falls back as I moan, gliding my hands into his hair. As my eyes flutter shut, Victor’s hands travel up to my breasts, tweaking and teasing my nipples. The sensation is too much and I’m coming in a matter of minutes. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
Victor slips his cock inside me, then grips my hips to rock me deeper onto him. He doesn’t thrust, grinding me back and forth, and slides a hand lower to circle my clit. “She’s doing so well,” Paul praises. “So are you.”
“Fuck off,” Victor laughs and kisses my neck. He then whispers, “Show us how you like it, baby.”
I pick up the pace and lean forward to stroke Paul’s monster dick. Braving the impossible, I lower my mouth and lick away his precum before sliding my lips down his shaft. I gag but can’t help moaning around him as Victor picks up his pace. “That’s it, just like that,” Paul grits out, gripping a fistful of my hair and fucking my mouth. I hollow my cheeks and steady my breath through my nose, hoping it’ll help. Spoiler: it doesn’t. He hits the back of my throat and my eyes begin watering. Both of their cocks thicken and I reach between my legs to grip Victor’s balls, then do the same to Paul. They let out a string of swears, and when I lightly tug, Paul spills down my throat as Victor fills me. I never considered myself a “cum slut” but that’s exactly what I am right now, loving being used by both of them. They’re my own personal vending machines.
We get cleaned up, taking a shower together. They take their time washing me and no words pass between us. Once dried off, Paul suggests he get his own room. As fun as it was to play with two men, part of me is grateful he’s not staying in LA—he’s not relationship material. I’m certain in the next month he’ll set his eyes on a cute flautist and plant a location tag in her purse. My stalking days may be over but I’m sure his aren’t. The thought brings a smile to my face.