Love Him Wild

by E M Lindsey

  It was familiar, and it was perfect. It was his husband, Ronan, who had always given every ounce of himself to Parker. And he was right. He was gorgeous, and he was faultless, and he was fucking right. They would love Jonas in their own way—separate and together. But none of this had changed.

  “My love,” Parker murmured. His hand drifted to Ronan’s cheek as the sucking turned almost gentle, almost soothing. His thumb traced around Ronan’s stretched lips. “Please don’t hurt yourself for me.”

  Ronan didn’t pull away, but the look in his eyes told Parker everything. He wasn’t hurting, but if he was, that moment was worth it. Parker was worth it.

  It was so easy to forget sometimes, when he let himself get caught up in series of moments which meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Ronan had hurt him once, but he had spent the rest of his life trying to make up for it, and Parker holding that pain so closely to his chest did nothing but undermine what Ronan was able and willing to give.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his moan just shy of a sob.

  Ronan merely hummed and used his hand to cup Parker’s balls as his lips and teeth worked him up, higher and higher until he couldn’t hold on. He spilled, pulsing into Ronan’s mouth, feeling his tongue and throat work to swallow it all down.

  When he pulled away, Parker’s dick landed half-hard and spit-slick against the waist of his scrubs which was tucked under his balls. Ronan pushed upward, his movements strong, though he trembled some from having been on the floor. It wasn’t just the MS, either. It was that they were older and a little more tired. They were heading straight on into their forties with eyes wide open and just as in love as the first time Parker pushed Ronan against the band classroom wall and kissed him.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.

  To his credit, Ronan didn’t try to take away the apology or assign it so little meaning that Parker felt foolish for giving it. He merely cradled his husband’s face between both hands and nuzzled their noses together. “Forgiven. It’s going to be okay.”

  Parker’s breath was shaky, but for the first time since Jonas left, Parker believed those words.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jonas had avoided his childhood home from the moment he’d left it. At nineteen, his mother presented him with a set of keys. One for a deadbolt, one for a doorknob, and one for a car. He wasn’t sure what she had to do to get his father to agree to a gift like that, but he’d taken it with a mumbled thanks and left. He wasn’t grateful for them, because it was just one more thing for Peter to lord over him when he felt like it, but he was grateful for a sanctuary that allowed him to be anywhere else but behind the walls of a cold, heartless place that had caused him nothing but pain.

  Even his earliest memories were tainted with the knowledge that his father had only loved him until he found out the truth. Jonas had been nothing more to him than strands of DNA. Jonas had never been worth anything except as the product of his mother’s betrayal.

  Sitting in Peter’s office now felt wrong. Everything was as it had been the night Jonas had come to tell him he was leaving, and he felt cheated and furious at being robbed of that moment now. He was stronger—he was wanted, and he was falling in love, and he could have finally done it, but Peter was nothing more than a shell of himself and took that last thing with him.

  “Do you want something to drink?” his mother asked.

  Jonas shook his head. “No. When is Shephard getting here?” Their father’s lawyer was a grizzly old man with beady eyes and no sense of humor. He had never liked the idea of the business going to Jonas, and every time Peter changed his will, Jonas swore the old man’s eyes lit up when he saw bits and pieces of his trust filter into his brother’s accounts instead of his own.

  But he didn’t care. He had enough savings to get by, and he wasn’t going to keep this company.

  “Soon, I think. We’re just waiting on Logan and Chris…”

  Jonas let out a groan before he could stop himself. He winced, an automatic reaction until he realized the man spitting poison at him for disrespecting his flesh and blood was no longer in the house to punish him for it. His transgressions were no longer sins at all. They were simply words and emotions. He could express them now, and there was no fear of consequence. That alone was enough to overwhelm him, and he pulled out his phone to stare at the last text message thread there.

  Jonas: I’m taking care of the will today. Then I have a meeting with the board tomorrow. I miss you.

  Parker: We miss you too. Don’t forget Skype tonight. I have plans. Wear cute underwear.

  It had made him laugh—something he hadn’t expected to do in a while. He didn’t know what those two were going through while he was gone. Maybe they were fine. They had each other after all, and they barely knew him. But in their last conversation, they hadn’t just said it—he could see on their faces that they felt it, the same way he did.

  It was what helped him keep his strength, his courage to end all of this.

  “Who’s the executor of Peter’s estate?” Jonas asked, standing up to rummage through the mini-fridge near his father’s desk. It was nearly empty, but a few bottles of water remained tucked in the back, and he cracked the top, taking a long drink. “I can’t imagine it was me.”

  She gave him a careful look, then his mother sat on the edge of a chair and crossed her arms. “How old were you when he told you, Jonas?”

  Jonas blinked at her. “About the company?”

  “About you,” she said. “You never did tell me when he finally confessed.”

  His throat felt tight, a strange sort of ache like he wanted to cry, but he had no tears for that man, and he was long-since cried out for a life that was never going to be his. “I was eighteen. I came in here to tell him I was going to school in Washington, and he was drunk.”

  His mother sighed. “I see. And he told you…”

  “Everything. He told me about the blood transfusion,” Jonas told her, crossing the room to resume his seat. “He told me about the affair, and that he didn’t want to leave any of this to me, but Chris and Logan were fucking useless back then, and he was right that they wouldn’t be any better now.”

  She bowed her head. “I let him get away with too much.”

  “Was it guilt? Why you never stopped him from hating me the way he did?”

  He half-expected to see some kind of emotion in her eyes, but she just looked worn out. “It was self-preservation, I think. It was easier. I was never much of a fighter, Jonas.”

  “No,” he mused, and he thought maybe he should feel some sort of anger toward her—and maybe he would, in the future. But right now, he had two men waiting for him on Skype, and he had a future ahead of him that didn’t involve any of these people. “I guess you weren’t.”

  “Are you asking for an apology?”

  At that, he laughed. “God, no. I don’t have unrealistic expectations from anyone in this family.”

  She bit her lip, then smoothed her skirt down before standing. She looked every bit the regal, aloof woman who had raised him. The one who never had a tender touch or tender word. She had never protected him. She’d thrown him to the wolf in the house and turned a blind eye to every bite mark. It was what it was, and he didn’t hate her, he just wanted better.

  And he’d have it. Soon enough.

  “I’m the executor. In the event of his death or incapacitation, he left you the company, and he left you the house, and the car.”

  Jonas sighed. “I’m going to sell it.”

  “The house?” she asked.

  He couldn’t stop his laugh. “All of it. The company, the house, my car. I’m through with this whole thing, and there are people out there better suited to run a business like that. This isn’t what I wanted to do with my life.”

  His mother turned her head just a fraction, not looking at him directly, but he knew he was visible in her periphery. “Do you know what you’re doing, Jonas?”

  He smiled cheerfully. �
��No, but my first act is going to be to fire Shepherd. I won’t be keeping the company in the family, but I need to make a few changes first.”

  She let out another, tired sigh, then nodded. “It’s more than we deserve.”

  And well, he couldn’t exactly argue with that.

  By the time Jonas got back to his place, every fiber of his being was exhausted. He trudged through the front door with a bag of fast food in his hand and choked down a couple of cold fries and half a burger before moving to the bathroom.

  Showering was mechanical as he stood under the spray and tried to erase the echo of the meeting from his mind. It all went according to plan as he’d expected. His brothers hadn’t bothered to show up, but the only thing changing about their daily lives was the access to their funds. His mother would control it now, and he knew damn well she had no ability to tell them no just like Peter, but he would be free of it soon enough.

  He thought maybe she’d try and stop him when he told her he planned to sell the company. He thought maybe she’d attempt to undermine him and take away the one thing his father had left him. After all, it was meant as a burden, another means of keeping him trapped under Peter’s heel, but he had no intention of living that way for the rest of his life. The company had shareholders, and all he really had to do was ensure that the Cherry Creek property went back on the market, and then he’d sell. The Woods name would stay on all the plaques and all the office stationery, but Jonas would finally be able to wash the stink of corporate bullshit from his hands.

  He couldn’t undo the messes Peter had created in the past, and he knew there would be more in the future, but he would no longer be attached.

  There would be a long, arduous meeting in the morning, and Jonas had to get up early to put the first part of his plan into motion. If he played his cards right, he could count his return in a matter of months, if not weeks. It felt like forever, but knowing there was an end in sight meant everything.

  Jonas stood in front of his dresser, naked and half hard simply from the memory of Ronan and Parker’s hands on him. He wanted that again. He wanted to be touched, desired, possessed, taken. He wanted to lose himself in the feel of them and never find himself again.

  Parker’s text about cute underwear had been in jest, but Jonas felt a twinge that everything he owned was simple and plain. He wanted to be as adventurous as they were, as playful as they were with him. He wanted to be something more than this shell of a man who gave up everything for a family who couldn’t stand the sight of him.

  Why had he ever let those people take so damn much?

  He was worth so fucking much more, and Parker and Ronan didn’t teach him that, but he held on to their support like a ballast. How cruel it was that two men who barely knew him offered him home and family like his own never would.

  Jonas picked up his laptop and fired up his Skype as he slid under the covers. He pulled the sheets to his waist, then hit Parker’s icon and waited for the call to connect. It rang long enough he nearly panicked, but then the little melody stopped and for a moment, there was static.

  And then he was there—Ronan, with his soft eyes and gentle smile. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself on his elbow before he finally spoke. “How are you?”

  “Ready to get the fuck out of here,” Jonas said.

  “Is that good news?” Ronan tried.

  Jonas closed his eyes, then sighed out a long breath. “Yes and no. My mother isn’t going to fight me on the company sale. At least, I don’t think she is.”

  “And then you can come home?”

  Jonas let those words wash over him—come home, like Cherry Creek truly was that, even though he could count the days he spent there between both hands. But it felt right. It felt like an absolute truth. “It’ll take a while to get everything settled, but I have a plan.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I,” came Parker’s voice, and he slid up behind Ronan, laying his hand on his husband’s hip. They were both dressed down, in t-shirts and boxers, and Jonas let himself fantasize about what it would feel like to be between them. “How was your day?”

  Ronan chuckled. “Less eventful than yours. It doesn’t matter.”

  Jonas scowled. “Yes, it does. Your day always matters.”

  The pair of them were silent a moment, then Parker leaned further over Ronan’s shoulder. “Did you do as I asked?”

  Jonas rolled his eyes, and he felt his cheeks heat up. “No, but it’s not my fault. I don’t actually have any cute underwear. I’m tragically boring.”

  Parker let out a small growling noise. “Don’t. If it’s on you, it’s cute. It counts.”

  Jonas wasn’t quite sure he was entirely prepared to accept the full force of Parker’s love. He’d seen the way he turned it on his husband, and he’d envied it, but he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to withstand the force. He wanted to try, but maybe not while he was this far away from them. “So, should I not be naked, then?”

  Both of their faces darkened, pupils widening. Ronan licked his lips, then said, “Show me.”

  Jonas might have been embarrassed, and if this were anyone else, any other circumstances, he would have been. But it felt easy and safe to draw the sheets down and expose where he was now hard and leaking against the hair on his belly. He lifted his cock, watching a dribble of precome extend like a spider’s web before breaking off.

  “I want to taste you,” Parker murmured. “I want to get on my knees and suck your brains out through your dick.”

  “Soon,” Jonas said. Not soon enough, but not forever, either.

  “What do you want?” Ronan asked.

  Jonas bit his lip, because the list was long, and most of it was impossible. “Reality or fantasy?”

  “Both,” Parker said. “Start with fantasy, and we’ll go from there.”

  “I want one of you inside me,” Jonas admitted. “And I want one of you riding me. I want to feel every inch of the both of you.”

  Parker groaned, biting down on Ronan’s shoulder before he pulled back. “Do you have anything? Plug, dildo, fucking cucumber—whatever. Anything you can stuff yourself with until my dick can get there?”

  Jonas’ entire body shivered, and he rolled over, letting his dick hit the laptop screen as he fumbled in his drawer for his lube and favorite dildo. It was thick and short, a wide flare at the base, and he liked to push it in all the way as he stroked himself. When he’d fantasize before, it was a faceless, nameless man. Someone with warm hands and a quiet mouth. It was nothing like he had now, and he’d never go back.

  “That’s good,” Parker groaned as Jonas displayed what he had. “I want you to use that, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jonas breathed. “Are you going to fuck him, Parker? Are you going to fuck Ronan?”

  “I was thinking he might fuck me tonight,” Parker said. He moved off-screen, but just as Ronan opened his mouth to respond, Parker’s face was back, his tongue sticking out. In the center was a yellow pill, and Jonas heard Ronan give a chest-deep groan.

  With wide eyes, Jonas watched Ronan lean in and take the pill from Parker’s mouth, swallow it down dry, then kiss him until their lips were swollen and wet. Jonas touched his own lips, remembering what it was like, craving it more than words could describe. “I need you,” he said from behind a breath.

  “Soon,” Parker said, his voice a little hoarse. “It’ll take a bit for the pill to kick in, so why don’t you get yourself ready, hmm? Get wet and stretched for us?”

  Jonas had never performed before, not even in person. Even with partners he fucked more than once, it had been perfunctory. They used each other to get off, but there hadn’t been much care involved. Orgasms were incidental, and pleasure happened, but he had never felt truly wanted.

  And he knew, deep down, that he had never really let himself.

  That was going to change now. He deserved this. He deserved them.

  Pouring lube onto his hand, he coated the dildo, then shifted t
he laptop down before turning on his side. From the way they started to pant, and from the sounds of them kissing again, Jonas knew the angle was perfect. He lifted his leg, toying with his cock, then his balls. He dragged the head of the toy between his cheeks, swirling it around his hole before it caught on his rim.

  He heard a rough groan from Ronan. He heard a whispered, “Jesus,” and knew it was Parker.

  He heard a quiet plea, but he couldn’t tell which one of them was desperate enough to beg. Not that it mattered. They both wanted this, and he wanted them.

  “Push it in,” Parker said. “Push it in and fuck that hole, Jonas. Because this is me, okay? This is us, fucking you.”

  Jonas groaned as he pushed the head past his first ring of muscle, and he felt himself clench. He masturbated plenty, but he didn’t do this often, and it was so tight. His breath came out in a rush, and his leg twitched.

  “More,” Parker said, then groaned loud and long. “Come on, Sparky. Ronan already has three fingers…three fingers in my…oh fuck, oh shit,” he gasped.

  Jonas didn’t need to see it to know, to be able to picture Ronan’s thick, clever digits working Parker open, making his face go pink, stealing his coherent words. Parker’s hole would stretch around them, the thick knuckles half-bent as they searched for his prostate.

  Jonas took a breath, then slid the dildo all the way home, the flared base stopping just short of too far. He curled his nails around the plastic and held it just a centimeter out. “It’s in.”

  “We can see. Jesus, we can see you,” Ronan breathed.

  “Fuck yourself,” Parker ordered. His voice was sharp, but Jonas knew it was because he was sitting on the edge of pleasure with Ronan’s fingers in his ass. “Hard. Make yourself feel it.”

  Jonas obeyed, a little mindless now as he gripped the base and did as he was told. He knew himself, knew his angles. He lifted his arm just slightly, and the tip of the toy grazed his prostate. His cock dribbled precome out, twitching against his belly. He wanted to take himself in hand and end the torture, but he wouldn’t do it until Ronan was sliding home.