by Elle Kennedy
Dylan wasn’t gentle as he drove his dick all the way to the back of Aidan’s throat, fucking him with fast, deep strokes. He gripped the man’s dark hair and pumped his hips, thrusting harder, deeper, and when he felt Aidan’s teeth scrape the underside of his shaft, he swore loudly and shuddered with pleasure that bordered on pain.
And the entire time, he kept his gaze locked with Claire’s, knowing from her glazed brown eyes and strained breathing that she was close.
“She’s gonna come soon,” he told Aidan. “You’re gonna feel her cunt squeezing your cock soon as she milks you dry.”
With his mouth otherwise occupied, Aidan could only respond with a muffled groan. His dark eyes peered up at Dylan, blazing with such all-consuming desire it took Dylan’s breath away.
“C’mon, Claire, I wanna see you lose control.” He focused his gaze on the junction of her thighs, on the swollen clit she was rubbing with two fingers as she moved up and down Aidan’s erection. “That’s it, keep touching yourself, honey. Make yourself come and show us how much you like riding Aidan’s big cock—”
Claire released a blissful cry as she climaxed.
The moment he glimpsed the ecstasy surging through her eyes, Dylan let himself go. He exploded inside Aidan’s mouth in long, hot pulses that racked his body, groaning as he watched the other man’s throat working hard to swallow his seed.
But then the exquisite suction was suddenly gone.
“Coming,” Aidan grunted, and his long fingers dug into Claire’s slender hips as he thrust upward and shuddered with release.
When Dylan glimpsed the shiny come leaking from the corner of Aidan’s mouth, he was hit with another spontaneous orgasm, more hot jets shooting out of his cock and spraying Aidan’s muscular chest.
Holy shit. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t talk. Couldn’t see anything but the black dots dancing in front of his eyes.
He didn’t think he’d ever come that hard in his life.
When Claire began to laugh, the wheezy sounds brought an exhausted grin to Dylan’s lips.
“What’s so funny?”
“I was just thinking—” she continued to shake with laughter, “—how dumb I was for not wanting to be the kind of woman—” another giggle, “—who did stuff like this. Because seriously? I’ve never had this much fun in my life.”
They wound up spending the rest of the afternoon lounging on the couch, which was officially Dylan’s new favorite piece of furniture in the condo. He and Aidan were in their boxers, Claire in nothing but Dylan’s wifebeater, and they were lying in the position that had become their trademark—Aidan on his back, Claire curled up beside him, and Dylan nestled behind her.
Only this time, Aidan had surprised him by reaching for his hand, and Dylan’s gaze kept flitting toward the intertwined fingers resting on Claire’s hip.
A strange undercurrent traveled between them as Aidan shifted his head to meet Dylan’s eyes.
His breath caught, because Aidan was looking at him in a way he’d never done before. Almost like…fuck, Dylan refused to let his mind even go there. The other man had been holding a part of himself back the entire time they’d been together. It had really bothered him at first, but Dylan had eventually recognized the futility in wishing Aidan would be more vocal about his feelings.
Except now, in this moment, there was no mistaking the tenderness in Aidan’s eyes.
As their gazes locked, something hot and unfamiliar coursed between them, but the odd intimacy dissolved when Aidan broke the eye contact to answer Claire, who’d been talking about her latest job for the past ten minutes.
“Sounds like there’s a reason this place is losing money,” Aidan remarked.
“Yeah, no kidding. They literally have four people doing the job of one person,” she said in disbelief. “And don’t even get me started on one of their software designers. When I was there yesterday, he spent the entire day tinkering with his fantasy football lineup. He kept minimizing the window whenever I walked by, but one time he wasn’t fast enough and I totally recognized the site he was on—it’s the same one my dad’s fantasy league uses.”
Dylan laughed. “Well, at least he’s doing something somewhat productive and not just fucking around on solitaire.”
“He may as well be,” she huffed. “This company is going to run itself into the ground. The management has no idea what the employees are doing, their computer system is archaic, and when I went over their expense reports, I found that one designer is invoicing the company for her salon appointments.”
Aidan tweaked the end of her ponytail. “I bet you can’t wait to sit down with the CEO and use that haughty voice of yours to tell him everything he’s doing wrong.”
“Damn right I can’t wait. I swear, I don’t know how half the businesses in this country haven’t gone bankrupt yet.”
She babbled on for several more minutes about the software company’s inefficient management and internal operations, until Dylan finally cut her off and said, “Wow. You really love what you do, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I really do. I just wish…” She halted abruptly.
“You wish what?” he pressed.
“Nothing. Forget it. It’s silly.”
Aidan tugged on her ponytail again. “Oh, just spit it out, sweetheart.”
“Fine. Well, it’s just…sometimes I wish I could pick and choose the assignments I take. There are certain organizations that are a pain in the ass to deal with, particularly the huge conglomerates. I prefer working with small businesses because I know the owners actually value the advice I’m giving them. The big corporations pay us a ton of money and then brush off everything we say because they think they know better.”
“Have you ever thought about going into business for yourself?” Aidan asked curiously. “Starting your own consulting firm?”
“I have, but it’s such a scary idea, you know? Besides, I love working for Barb. She pays me well, values my opinions.” Claire shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll try it on my own, but for now I’m happy right where I am.”
Dylan snuggled closer to her, then stroked Aidan’s knuckles with his thumb. “I’m also happy right where I am.”
Comfortable silence settled over them, during which Dylan experienced a feeling of pure tranquility he’d never felt before. Screw Seth’s warning about this blowing up in their faces. This felt right. This was right.
The second the thought entered his head, there was a knock on the door.
Since the building had strict security measures in place, nobody was allowed up without being buzzed in and approved by the lobby guard, which meant their bad-timing knocker was either a neighbor or a member of the condo board.
“Not it.” Aidan and Claire blurted out the same two syllables half a second apart.
“You guys are jerks,” Dylan said with a disgruntled groan.
“Not our fault you didn’t say it in time,” Claire answered cheerfully.
Sighing, he climbed off the couch and strode toward the front hall. Rather than open the door, he peered into the peephole first—and his heart promptly stopped beating. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit.
Just as he was debating whether to pretend nobody was home, another sharp knock sounded on the door.
“Dylan, I know you’re in there,” Chris called angrily. “Your doorman told me you’re home, so open the goddamn door.”
Fuck, he didn’t even have time to go and throw some clothes on. Judging by the seething look on Chris’s face, Dylan was scared that if he didn’t answer now, his brother might actually break down the door.
He took a breath. Dragged a hand over his hair, which was messy from both Claire and Aidan running their fingers through it.
And then he opened the door.
Chris took one look at Dylan’s attire—or lack thereof—and muscled his way inside. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“Chris—” Dylan stepped into his brother’s path.
“Where the hell
is she?” Chris gave him a hard shove and bulldozed past him, his expensive wingtips slapping the hardwood as he stormed off.
Racing after his brother, Dylan tried to intercept him before he could reach the living room, but it was too late.
Chris froze in his tracks when he spotted Claire and Aidan on the couch. His green eyes narrowed, absorbed the couple’s half-naked state, then traveled from the couch to the doorway, where Dylan stood in resigned silence.
Sucking in an angry breath, Chris swung his head back in Claire’s direction. “You whore,” he spat out. “You dirty fucking whore.”
Chapter Fifteen
Claire felt like someone had yanked the rug out from under her. She jumped off the couch like her ass was on fire and scrambled around for her clothes, then remembered that Aidan had stripped her out of them in the kitchen, where they’d fooled around before moving to the couch.
Her arms dangled at her sides in defeat, but she lifted her chin in defiance as she met her ex-fiancé’s horrified eyes. “Hi, Chris,” she said coolly. “You look tanned.”
His breathing came out in uneven pants as he advanced on her, but he stopped when Aidan took an aggressive step forward and protectively moved Claire out of the way.
“How fucking sweet,” Chris said in disgust. “Look at your lover, playing the hero.” His furious gaze shifted to Dylan. “I can’t believe you did this! You steal my fiancée and bring her back to your perverted lair for some disgusting orgy with your roommate?”
Dylan’s voice was cold enough to freeze an ocean. “I didn’t steal anything, Chris. You walked out on Claire, which means you have no right to pass judgment on what she does or who she does it with.”
Chris made a sound that was a cross between a growl and a squawk. “I knew you were a horny fucker, Dylan, but this? This? Screwing the woman I was going to marry? Next thing you’ll tell me, you’re screwing him too.”
Claire saw Dylan’s strong jaw harden, saw his hands tighten into fists, but rather than voice a denial or ignore the accusation, he surprised everyone in the room by saying, “Actually, I am.”
Deafening silence.
Claire almost laughed at Chris’s expression. Shock mingled with revulsion, mixed in with a splash of horror. His face had gone devoid of color, and his mouth hung open as he stared at his brother.
Dylan crossed his arms over his bare chest and slanted his head. “What, no response? No insightful commentary?”
Chris shook his head, once, twice, half a dozen times, as if he couldn’t fathom what he’d just heard. Then his ashen face turned beet red, and he looked like he was about to vomit.
“You sick fuck,” he hissed out. “Jesus Christ, Dylan, you’re in the military and you’re telling me you’re…that you’re…a fucking faggot?”
Dylan flinched.
Claire gasped.
The breathy sound seemed to remind Chris of her presence because he was spinning around again, looking at her with such malevolence she started to feel queasy.
“I am so happy I didn’t marry you.” His voice was low, ominous and dripping with hatred.
She gave him a tired look. “Right back atcha, Chris. In fact, I’m convinced now more than ever that I dodged a bullet.”
Rage erupted in his eyes. “You have the nerve to tell me I wasn’t good enough for you? You stupid little bitch—”
In the blink of an eye, Chris was on the floor.
Claire hadn’t even seen Dylan strike, he moved so fast, and now he was straddling Chris’s torso and jamming his elbow into his brother’s windpipe. “Don’t you ever talk to her like that,” Dylan said in a soft but deadly voice. “Say whatever the hell you want about me, or about Aidan, but you speak to Claire with respect.”
Chris sputtered, tried to shove Dylan off, but the SEAL’s body was inflexible, a rock-hard wall of muscle that refused to budge.
Wide-eyed and a little bit frightened, Claire watched as Dylan dug his forearm deeper into Chris’s throat, nowhere near done raking his brother over the coals.
“And you know what? I’ve had it up to here with your homophobic bullshit. Jesus Christ, so one of your buddies made a pass at you in high school. Big fucking deal. Get over it already.”
The revelation left Claire dumbfounded. Chris had never shared that piece of information with her, but the moment she heard it, so many things clicked into place. Like why Chris had always been so rude to Natasha, or why he’d cringed every time a gay couple passed them on the street.
Unwelcome sympathy washed over her, which only pissed her off even more, because why the hell was she feeling sorry for this man? He wasn’t worth the energy it took to pity him.
Dylan must have agreed, because he abruptly released his brother and stood up. In nothing but those boxers, he made a formidable picture, gleaming muscles and sleek sinew and raw power.
The moment Dylan stepped away, Chris bolted to his feet, his eyes blazing with indignation. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again, little brother. If Mom ever found out you did that—”
“You really want to have a conversation about Mom right now? Because I’d be fucking happy to do that, man. I’d love to know why you chose to lie to me about her gambling problem and the fact that we almost lost our fucking house!”
Chris didn’t even have the decency to apologize. “I’m the man of the house, Dylan. I take care of Mom, not you.”
“The only person you take care of is yourself,” Dylan retorted. “And now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave. Maybe one of these days we can sit down and have a mature conversation about all this, but right now, I can’t stand the sight of you.”
“Believe me, little brother, I feel exactly the same way.” Chris spared one last look in Claire and Aidan’s direction, then spun on his heel and marched out.
A few seconds later, the front door slammed with so much force the living room walls shook.
Aidan, who hadn’t uttered a single word during the exchange, gingerly touched Claire’s shoulder. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Letting out a shaky breath, she met his worried brown eyes and managed a nod. “Yeah, I think so.”
They both turned to Dylan, whose face had a vacant look to it.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Aidan said roughly. “That was…brutal.”
Dylan didn’t respond.
As concern tugged at her heart, Claire hurried over to him and grasped his chin with both hands. His five o’clock shadow scraped her skin, and she rubbed her palms over those bristly dark-blond hairs in a soothing motion.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured. “You know everything he said was out of anger, right? A knee-jerk reaction to seeing…what he saw.”
“I’m not upset about what he said,” Dylan muttered. “I’m upset about who he is.”
The pain in his eyes made her chest ache. “He’s not a bad person, Dylan. He’s just…ignorant. And selfish. But he is capable of love—I know he loves your mom, and I know he loves you. He’ll come around eventually.”
Claire couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. After everything that just happened, she shouldn’t be defending Chris or rationalizing his behavior. She should be suggesting they throw a party to celebrate his departure, maybe pop open a bottle of champagne and propose a freaking toast.
Still, no matter how hurt and angry she was, Chris was still Dylan’s brother. He was family. And if she and Dylan and Aidan were ever to have a real future, she knew they’d have to mend fences with Chris sooner or later.
But it wasn’t going to happen overnight, so when Dylan brushed off her words with an unintelligible mumble, she didn’t push him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight.
And kept holding on until, finally, he lifted his arms and hugged her back.
Claire couldn’t believe how fast the next two weeks flew by. Terrifyingly fast. Heartbreakingly fast. As she parked her rented Toyota in the visitor’s parking lot behind the Savvy Tech buildin
g in Oceanside, she couldn’t help but bite her lip in dismay. The only thought that had been running through her mind all day was, now what?
What happened now that the assignment was wrapping up? What happened to her relationship with Dylan and Aidan when she returned to San Francisco?
And it was a relationship. She was no longer fooling herself into believing this was nothing more than a brief fling between three people in lust with each other. She cared deeply for both men, and the mere thought of leaving them made her feel like someone was scraping a dull blade inside her chest and slicing her heart to jagged ribbons.
The last two weeks had been the happiest of her life, filled with endless laughter and lively conversation and wild, passionate sex that left her breathless.
Aidan’s intensity thrilled her; Dylan’s lust for life inspired her.
Aidan’s serious, closed-off nature brought out a nurturing, sensitive side she hadn’t known she’d possessed, while Dylan’s openness and unceasing optimism gave her a sense of soothing comfort she’d never felt before.
How could she ever say goodbye to either one of them?
The sound of a car door slamming jerked her from her thoughts. She glanced over and noticed that a silver Lexus had just parked in the space beside hers. When the driver stepped out, Claire blinked in shock.
She hastily grabbed her laptop case and leather portfolio from the passenger seat and slid out of the car just as her boss approached.
“Barb,” she said uneasily. “What are you doing here?”
Barbara Valentine looked as elegant as always in her tailored black pantsuit and dove-gray Louboutin pumps. Her black hair was twisted in a neat bun, and the string of pearls around her slender neck sparkled in the morning sunshine.
“I thought I’d sit in on your meeting with Sanders,” Barb answered smoothly.
Although unexpected, Barb’s being here was not unusual—Claire’s boss often sat in when her consultants presented their findings to a client. Nevertheless, Claire felt apprehensive about Barb showing up out of the blue.
