by E M Lindsey
Jonas blinked at Parker who clenched his jaw and stuck out his chin. “Babe…”
“Don’t you judge me, Sparky. I was trying to defend my man.”
“By raccooning your way into the fucking vents,” Fitz said. “He was in pain and wouldn’t let Birdie touch him, so he got a hold of me and Ronan, but showing up together made it worse. Then he…”
“Threw up,” Parker bit out, switching to Ronan’s other leg, squeezing when Ronan started wheeze-laughing into Jonas’ shirt. “I threw up on Birdie’s shoes because I had a lungful of dust and a belly full of wine, and I was broken-hearted that my husband left me.”
Fitz shook his head. “He was wine-drunk and injured and he’d hit his head on the kitchen sink. Which he broke, by the way.”
“I paid for it,” Parker grumbled.
“He learned his lesson,” Ronan said, glancing back at Parker with a fond look. “He wasn’t that’s stupid ever again.”
“He was banned from the station, though. Especially when he’s been drinking,” Fitz said.
“For the sink?” Jonas asked.
Fitz smiled. “For the throw up. Birdie still hasn’t entirely forgiven him. Especially not after he snuck in the next day and glued his old arm to the pole with the middle finger standing up.”
Jonas buried his fingers in Ronan’s hair and brushed through his soft locks with one hand, stretching the other over for Parker who leaned his stump into it. Jonas ran his thumb along the rougher edge, then around the side and he loved the way it made Parker shudder. “So, when they call you trash panda…”
“It’s not the same fucking thing,” Parker grumbled. He let go of Ronan’s leg long enough to reach for Jonas’ fingers and squeeze them. “I’m glad the one today wasn’t rabid. Or if it is, I’m glad it didn’t bite you. Either of you,” he added, looking at Fitz.
Fitz laid a hand on his heart and patted it. “I love you too, buddy. Anyway, I’m going to take off. Antoine said he’s pulling up and we have a date.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Parker’s forehead, then gave Ronan and Jonas both a pat on the shoulder. “Be good, you three.”
The room went quiet after he was gone, then Parker cleared his throat. “You think I’m a total idiot, don’t you?”
Jonas blinked. “Me?”
Parker shrugged and looked oddly self-conscious. “I know I can be…a lot. And Ronan was pissed for weeks after that.”
Ronan pushed himself up and twisted to face his husband. “I was pissed that you hurt yourself, and that somewhere deep down you thought I could ever—ever—want to leave you for someone else.”
For a hot, almost violent second, Jonas felt like an outsider. Then Ronan’s hand found his and his thumb pressed into the center of Jonas’ palm.
“There is nothing like this out there in the world. Nothing like what we have,” Ronan said. “I knew it back then—even when I didn’t know about Sparky. But nothing could ever change how I feel about you and it hurt that you’d worry.”
“Like I said. Idiot,” Parker muttered.
Jonas released Ronan and gave him a push toward his husband, this time the fire in him was easy, and warm, and perfect as he watched Ronan take Parker’s face between both hands and kiss him. It was soft at first, meant to be a comfort, but it didn’t take long before the moment heated. Parker opened up, and Ronan pushed his tongue in, and Jonas felt himself stiffen behind his zipper as he watched the way they moved into each other.
He wondered at first, if he’d ever get tired of it—if the sight of them would ever fail to send desire and need racing through him, but after a year, it was still like their first time. He could watch it all night, his cock in his hand as Parker made Ronan’s body sing, as Ronan flipped Parker over and ate him until he begged, and then fucked him with a dildo, or his hand, or his own cock.
“Sparky,” Ronan breathed, holding out a hand. “Please.”
Jonas didn’t need telling twice. He knew what Ronan was asking, and he stood to help him to his feet, planted himself firmly to be the ballast his lover needed as the three of them made their way into the bedroom. Ronan pulled Jonas onto the bed with him as Parker dug around in their drawer—lube almost always now, and no condoms since all three of their results had been negative.
Not that Jonas minded either way, but he liked when one of them sank in bare, filled him, while the other sucked him dry. He liked it when he laid there, and Ronan brought him to tears with his fingers while Parker jacked him with an impossibly slow, tight fist dripping with lube.
And he liked it like this, with Ronan’s fingers teasing his dry hole, with Parker kneeling on the bed and kissing up his spine all the way to his neck where he bit down and breathed out heavy along his jaw.
“Do you want these?” Parker asked when he tore his mouth away. He held a bottle of pills in his hand for Ronan who shook his head.
“Won’t work today. Want to hold Sparky while you fuck him,” Ronan said.
Jonas groaned, but he let Ronan shift him so he was lying on his front, and his eyes fluttered closed as he felt Parker’s hand spread his cheeks. “Kiss me,” Jonas begged, and Ronan did.
His tongue was wet, hot, heavy as it fucked his mouth, as it filled him in ways achingly different and achingly similar to the way Parker filled his ass. He had skinny fingers, but they were clever, and they were long, and they strummed his prostate until he was leaking a steady stream and ready to shoot his load all over Ronan’s stomach.
“Now,” he breathed out.
“Ronan,” Parker ordered, and Ronan’s long arms reached down and spread Jonas wide for him so Parker could press in. He never gave him time to adjust, either. He just slipped in with firm, throbbing strokes until he passed the rings of muscle and bottomed out. Jonas writhed in Ronan’s arms, pushing back, thrusting forward, the friction of his lover’s body under him nearly enough to send him shooting too fast. Ronan held him by the hips, his grip weaker than it might have been on a day he wasn’t flaring so hard, but Jonas loved this too. He loved that they could have this moment between them no matter what—and it was never better or worse than any other time.
It was always as it should be.
He gasped out as Parker pulled back, bracing himself on the small of Jonas’ back. And he knew what was coming.
“Oh, fuck, oh god,” Jonas babbled as Parker slammed home. He had the angle right—he always had the angle right, because for all that he was kind of a disaster, he was built like he was made for them both.
“Is he hard,” Parker asked, his voice strained with effort. “Ronan, is he hard? Is he leaking? You feel that dick on you?”
“Yes,” Ronan breathed out. His big hand clutched Jonas’ chin and held it up to keep his gaze locked on his. “You feel so good, Sparky. I hate that we had to live without you for so long.”
“You’re,” Jonas said, but gasped because Parker began to thrust hard and fast, and his head spun as his orgasm burned just at the edges of his consciousness. “You’re making up for it…now.”
Ronan took his hips and began to rock him in time with Parker, and it was too much, and it was just enough, and he buried his face in Ronan’s neck as his hips moved and he came. He thrust his cock in the short, coarse hairs of Ronan’s belly as he shook from his orgasm, and behind him, he felt Parker grab his hip and stutter up into him, spilling a few breaths later.
He collapsed forward with the weight of Parker resting on him, and he felt surrounded and loved and buried in all the right ways. Ronan trailed kisses from his temple to his lips, taking his mouth, sweet and heavy, tasting somehow like home.
“God, I,” Parker started, but the doorbell rang, and Jonas startled. “Fuck, the pizza.”
Parker pulled out of him with a wet squelch and started for the door, but Ronan held on to Jonas and sat halfway up. “Babe. Pants.”
Parker huffed and grumbled, but Jonas heard him hopping into his shorts and then hurrying down the hall to harass the poor delivery man who probably knew what he
was getting into. Jonas nuzzled in closer, not wanting to be anywhere else but in the warm circle of arms that held him.
“Promise me forever,” Jonas muttered. It was unrealistic, it was unreasonable, but Ronan just laughed and dragged a hand up his naked spine.
“I promise you forever, and then longer than that.”
Jonas lifted to kiss him, then eased to the side and fished around for their wet wipes before he cleaned up his belly, then Ronan’s. He swiped between his legs as Parker’s seed trickled out of him, then tossed them into the bin before finding their sweats and helping Ronan into his.
By the time Parker returned with pizza, plates, and a bottle of soda clutched under his arm, Ronan and Jonas were sitting on the top of the duvet, ready for their little picnic. Parker squished into the middle, then leaned into Ronan. “Feed me.”
Ronan rolled his eyes, but offered the edge of his piece to Parker who bit some off and chewed as he spoke. “Sex pizza is the best.”
“Do you have to call it sex pizza?” Jonas asked with a grimace.
Parker nodded and opened his mouth at Jonas who fed him some. “I love you.”
The words were so simple—and sometimes they felt lighter than air, and sometimes they felt like they held the weight of the universe. Sometimes both, and right now Jonas wanted to be overwhelmed by the idea that he still had this—that it wasn’t going away. That they both still wanted him just as much as when he left Cherry Creek to end the bits of his life that existed outside of it.
“I love you too.”
Ronan smiled mostly with his eyes, but he laid a hand on Jonas’ thigh as he fed more pizza to Parker. Neither of them said much, just happy to exist in their tiny little solar system in their tiny little galaxy, in their small-town universe.
The End
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Coming Soon
Coming
August 2020
Wilder Torres has finally settled in Cherry Creek, accepted by the town as one of their own rather than the stranger who took over Bette’s bakery. And his life is good. He’s made friends, and successfully moved on from his dark past.
But all of that changes when a rogue, rich, handsome stranger rolls into town with a very familiar last name.
Lorenzo Moretti has spent most of his adult life without much purpose. But when his baby brother, Rocco, comes home from Cherry Creek wildly in love and ready to marry, Lorenzo starts to wonder if there’s more to life. He decides to seek it where Rocco found his own peace, but it’s not until he’s nursing and injury and fending off town hatred that he realizes it might not be that simple. Part of him wants to flee, but another part of him is captivated by the Deaf baker who begs him to give Cherry Creek a chance.
Acknowledgments
For more by E.M. Lindsey, find her on Patreon for sneak peeks, cover reveals, early chapters, ARCs and more. Subscribe to BookBub for new release alerts, and join E.M. Lindsey’s Facebook reader group, Lindsey’s Liaison for teaser Tuesdays, WIP Wednesdays, and all of the up to date information on upcoming releases.
Also by E.M. Lindsey
Baum’s Boxing:
Book One: Below the Belt
Book Two: Fortune and Fate
Book Three: Fringe Contender
Breaking the Rules:
Book One: Renegades
Book Two: Temptation
Book Three: Forsaken
Irons and Works:
Book One: Free Hand
Book Two: Blank Canvas
Book Three: American Traditional
Book Four: Bio-Mechanical
Book Five: Stick-and-Poke
Book Six: Scarification
Book Seven: To Touch the Light- An Irons and Works Holiday novel
Magnum Opus Series:
Verismo
Coming Soon: Staccato
On The Market Series:
Book One: Love Him Free
Book Two: Love Him Breathless
Stand-Alone Novels:
Like Water Catching Fire
Forget-Me-Not
With Kate Hawthorne and EM Denning:
Cloudy With A Chance of Love
About the Author
E.M. Lindsey currently lives in the United States.
To support people like the characters in these books, please consider donating to the following charities:
US:
National Association for the Deaf
ChildHelp
PTSD USA
PreventChildAbuse
National Multiple Sclerosis Society
UK:
British Deaf Association
NAPAC
PTSD UK
