Always Theirs: A Male/Male/Male Menage Rockstar Romance (The Always Series Book 6)

by J. P. James

  “You’re a master,” Jameson says reverently.

  “You’re making me blush,” I admit.

  Maybe it’s the energy from the show, or maybe it’s the pair of handsome brothers at my side, but I drop my guard and allow myself to blush, open and proud. They complimented me, after all, and I don’t want to hide it right now. I want to learn to take compliments better, and I should start by letting people see how their words affect me.

  I nod, stepping forward as Jameson’s hand comes to the small of my back. Jordan steps ahead of me. His hands might be at his sides, but I feel his body like a physical shield in front of me. I am surrounded in the best way. It sets my heart at ease.

  “You should eat something,” Jameson says into my ear.

  I want to close my eyes and savor the sound of his voice, but we’re still walking. I don’t think running into Jordan’s back would be a good first impression. Then again, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea either. I could press up against both of them, and not feel an ounce of regret.

  “Craving a cheesesteak?” Jordan calls over his shoulder.

  A pile of greasy meat, onions, and soggy white bread?

  “I’ll puke if I have one now.” Just imagining the taste leaves an awful, heavy sensation in my gut.

  Still, the second we round the corner into the green room, my stomach howls like a pack of wolves.

  “You need to eat something,” Jordan laughs.

  Fine, he’s right. I’m starving, and I can’t go to sleep on an empty stomach.

  “Room service again,” I huff.

  Hotel food is always so bland, and at this point, I want a home-cooked meal.

  Jameson and Jordan pause at the door as I walk in and grab a handful of sour candy from the coffee table. It takes me a second, but I realize they’re staring at me as I chomp down.

  Talk about sexy, I chastise myself. I gulp the rest of the sweets before I clear my throat.

  “What’s up? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Jordan and Jameson both pocket their hands and look at the floor. They really are twins.

  “We want to take you somewhere,” Jordan explains, bringing his head up.

  “If it’s alright with you,” Jameson continues. “It’s a surprise.”

  “A surprise?” I can’t hide the glee in my voice, even if it’s cracked and spent from a night of singing.

  What do these guys have planned? Better question--why are they planning anything at all? I’m just their boss, and a temporary one at that. My heart stutters, and I want to grab at it to calm the rush of blood. I pay them to watch me, but there’s no need to impress me. There’s no need to make me feel things for them. More than I already do.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I say. These guys are so nice and polite.

  It’s just how they are and not because I’m special. Maybe they need an out, so I don’t burden their evening.

  “Seriously, I’ll just go back to the hotel and pass out. You guys don’t need to stick around more than you have to.”

  The words taste like lead on my tongue, but I need to say them. As much as these guys are here to protect me, I have to protect myself. That includes my heart.

  “We know we don’t have to. We want to,” Jordan insists.

  Jameson looks at his watch. “We should leave now. We don’t want to miss them.”

  “Miss who?” I wonder out loud, searching their faces for answers.

  Jordan steps forward, this time the one to place a hand at the small of my back as Jameson leads us out.

  “You don’t like surprises, do you?” he teases.

  “What gave you that idea?” I tell him. If I let myself lean back into his palm, I’ll never admit it.

  “Welcome to Penn Treaty Park,” Jameson says before he points in the distance. “I think I see a bench over there.”

  He jogs off, and the night envelops him in darkness as he crosses the grass. There are lights now and then that show me where he’s running. Eventually he settles in the dark, but it isn’t until Jordan and I walk closer that we see the outline of a wood bench.

  Jordy and I walk slowly, carrying our haul from the town car towards Jamie.

  “I can’t believe we’re eating gas station food in a deserted park,” I tell Jordan.

  He still has his hand on my back, but he’s closer to my side than usual. I should chalk it up to the uneven ground at our feet, but my heart doesn’t seem to understand that.

  “Wawa is a Pennsylvania staple,” he chuckles. “It’s as important as trying a cheesesteak or a pork roll.”

  I snort, and he doesn’t miss the noise. His head turns to me as we close in on the bench. There’s enough light from the lamps and buildings nearby to see the blue flames of his eyes. They’re striking, as always, but there’s something mellow and inviting about them tonight.

  I sit next to Jameson and Jordan takes the opposite arm of the bench. We rummage through the plastic bag, fighting over which of us gets what. In the frenzy over the mac and cheese, we almost drop everything on the damp earth at our feet.

  “I didn’t know you were a mac and cheese fiend,” Jameson laughs. “But you eat like a teenager, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Hey!” I hear myself whine, but there’s a broad smile on my face. “Don’t you dare knock mac and cheese! It’s my comfort food.”

  We settle down as the wind picks up. It isn’t cold out, but the subtle breeze licking over the river comes in waves. Like the water, ebbing and flowing as it splashes the shore.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” I think out loud. “Thank you for the surprise.”

  “What makes you think this is the surprise?” Jordan teases, before biting into his hoagie.

  I whip my head between them. They’re wonderful, and full of secrets. I can’t read their faces, any better than I can read their minds.

  “There’s more?”

  Like magic, the surprise reveals itself one by one.

  For a second I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, or maybe the exhaustion finally rears its head. Now that we’re sitting still, it’s impossible to miss the small beads of light floating around us. They look like their dancing. The wind picks the lights up now and then, but each ball has a destination.

  “It’s firefly season,” says Jordan smoothly.

  He leans ever so slightly closer to me. It’s not much, but I can feel his warmth travel up my arm.

  “It’s only fitting that Fyre meets all of his fireflies,” Jameson jokes.

  Two pass right in front of us, one following the other, and then both glide off into the distance. Now that my eyes know what to look for, I can find them everywhere. I look around the bench, towards the trees behind us and the grass that spans the length of the park. Fireflies dance all around us, keeping their distance, but also making their presence known.

  “Wow. They’re magical.”

  Jameson follows my gaze, watching the bugs behind us, while Jordan keeps his eyes on the river before us.

  “Do you like it?” Jameson asks.

  I turn to him and watch his expression morph before my eyes. The shadows can’t hide the openness on his face. His nose crinkles, and his lips curl. His eyes don’t leave mine, but his body tells me he’s unsure of something. My reaction, maybe?

  “I love it.”

  I feel Jordan turn at that. I pivot towards him, and I have to fight a gasp when I see his face. His eyes are just as tender as his brother’s.

  “You do?” he asks, his hands gripping the material at his knees.

  I can feel my eyes watering, so I wipe at them to keep tears at bay. Still, emotions flood my heart. Hope, confidence, mixed up with excitement and passion.

  “Of course I love it,” I tell them. “I can’t remember the last time someone did something so nice for me. Jordy, Jamie, I don’t know what to say.”

  They settle harder, firmer against my arms. The long lines of their bodies are flesh against mine, and my mind reels
from the contact. We sit silently, so I focus on the heat.

  It sends sparks through me, whether I want it to or not. But I definitely want it. My sides are glorified jelly as I relax. Besides Damon, I haven’t let anyone get this close. Not Rusty, not Eddie, not Joan. No one.

  Even then, Damon has never had this effect on me. He looks out for me the best he can, but to feel so utterly guarded like this?

  These are my bodyguards. Why can’t I let the fact rest?

  Probably because, with every nerve alight in my body, I want to believe that Jameson and Jordan aren’t just my bodyguards. They do their jobs and more. They aren’t just looking out for me physically. They make sure I eat, rest, and enjoy myself. They care about me.

  It’s too late when I realize the heat is spreading everywhere through my body. I wish I could stop it, but hey. I’m human, and I have simple needs. The hotness caresses my chest, my abs, and my hips. My nipples are hard, the nubs grazing my shirt with fervor. At least I’m wearing a jacket to hide the fact.

  My thighs burn along with every inch of the skin on my legs. Yet, flames of desire wind their ways farther down. I cross my legs, and it’s both torture and pleasure. I savor the feel my legs pressed against my dick, but also hiss as my thighs hold it in place, trying to stifle the blood racing towards it. What’s easier to hide, and yet harder to ignore, is the fever pitch at my hole.

  My ass feels like it’s begging for the brothers at my sides. My rim twitches and tingles. It’s making it difficult to think, let alone eat and watch the dancing insects.

  “You seem tense, Fyre,” Jameson says.

  Crap.

  “It’s nothing.” I turn my head away, feeling the flames gather in my cheeks.

  Suddenly Jordan’s phone rings. He grumbles, but when he checks the screen, he answers immediately.

  “What’s up, Rusty?” he asks. He leans on his knees, listening intently while a firefly bobs near his face.

  Jameson and I try to listen in at first, but after a moment Jordan stands and starts pacing the grass. Jordan and Rusty must be discussing something heated, because Jordan’s hands move wildly through the air. There’s more gravel to his voice too, which I’ve noticed happens when he’s worried. He hangs up quickly and shakes his head before he looks at either of us.

  “There’s a little hiccup with the sleeping arrangements.”

  My room at the Lokal Hotel feels like your posh parent’s home office. Jordan opens the door first, inspecting it before he calls for Jameson and me to enter.

  The second I step inside, the décor takes my breath away. There’s an enormous leather couch in the middle of the living room, surrounded by other modern pieces of furniture. The walls are pristine white except for one accent wall, colored in a rich, denim blue tone.

  I don’t usually like this style, but there’s a sense of masculine polish that I rarely see.

  “I don’t see the problem,” I tell Jordan.

  Jameson clears his throat behind me. I watch as he points around the corner, where I assume the bedrooms are located.

  However, once my head ducks around the wall, the hiccup comes into full view.

  “Rusty said Damon forgot about Jameson and me, and the crew is doubled-up in the other rooms as it is,” Jordan explains.

  Three people. One bed.

  “I see,” I say absently.

  My brain fuzzes over. These kinds of odds are equal parts terrifying and enticing. Of course, I would gladly share a bed with Jordan and Jameson. It sounds like a fantasy, but that’s the problem. It is a fantasy.

  The reality of the situation is completely different. I have two of the nicest, kindest guys I’ve ever met, subjected to sharing a loft with their boss. Its borderline aggressive, and I’m the aggressor.

  “Take the bed,” I insist.

  I grab my bag and try to make my way to the couch, but Jordan and Jameson grab the rest of my things and carry them to the bed.

  “That’s nonsense,” Jameson retorts. “You’re the talent, and you need your sleep.”

  “Jameson and I have slept on the dining table at the station,” Jordan reminisces. “We can handle the couch or the floor. It’s not a big deal.”

  We level each other, like a duel fought entirely with eye contact and bravado. Sure, the guys are bigger and stronger than I am, and their job is to look intimidating.

  But the heat that consumed me on the bench returns full force. I can feel it thrumming under my skin, from my arms to my legs, and it’s giving me courage.

  “It’s not fair. You guys take care of me, so let me take care of you.”

  They falter, just like I hoped they would. Their chests heave, both taking in labored breaths. Their hands fidget with their cuffs, but they don’t argue with me.

  They stay rooted in place as I walk to the phone and dial the front desk.

  “There’s been a mistake. I need a room for my bodyguards,” my voice pierces through the landline.

  I feel bad. The receptionist is apologetic, friendly even, but when she tells me all the rooms are booked, I can’t pretend it’s all right. I feel this inexplicable need to make Jordan and Jameson as comfortable as possible. Clearly, staying with me won’t do that.

  “Fine!” I yell into the phone and slam the handset down.

  I feel Jordan’s hands on my shoulders before I realize he crossed the room, but it doesn’t startle me. Instead, I lean into the touch, pressing myself harder against his strong grip.

  “We aren’t sleeping anywhere else, Fyre,” Jordan rasps.

  His voice is low, coming from deep down in my diaphragm.

  “We won’t sleep apart from you,” Jameson says.

  Jordan’s hands come up as I turn, and then come back down on my shoulders once I’m facing him. I can see Jameson over his shoulder, leaning against the couch.

  It’s there. I can see it. I could have imagined the heat coming off their bodies in the park, but I can’t imagine the fire burning in their eyes now. The fire I feel behind mine as I gaze back at them.

  “I just want to take care of you, too,” I whisper. “I don’t want to fight what I’m feeling.”

  Jordan groans. His arms flex as he pulls me across the living room, and I let him.

  I go willingly, as if I’d choose anything else. He guides us as a captain navigates his ship in the night. Jameson sits down, and eventually Jordan and I settle in front of the couch. Before I can ask what his plan is, he nudges me backwards.

  My knees catch the corner of the couch and I fall lightly against the cushion. I turn to watch Jameson. His eyes don’t leave me, but he stays still where he is.

  My head whips back when I feel Jordan’s hand on my chest. I look down at his hand. His palm is strong and sure, not holding me in place so much as letting me know he’s here. He leans forward, his forehead brushing up against mine, and his soft black hair feels cool against my hot skin.

  “Let us take care of you, Fyre.”

  I’m at a loss, so I groan. I feel my cock pulse at the sound of his voice, and involuntarily my hips buck into the open air.

  The brothers laugh darkly, teasing me. They stop though, when their eyes find mine.

  “You promise?” I ask quietly, my voice colored with want and affection. There’s hope there too, because I believe them. I believe they can take care of me.

  Jameson hands stay by his sides but he leans closer to me. His face dives to my neck, so I tilt my head up to grant him access. The first feather-light kiss against my neck pulls a moan from my lips sends shivers across my body.

  “We promise,” Jameson whispers.

  “Prove it,” I say to the ceiling, my eyes shut tight.

  There’s no noise, no response, no grunt, nothing, so I tilt my head back down. My eyes find the hunger in Jordan and Jameson’s gazes.

  My senses tingle as Jordan pulls at my shirt. I lean forward, letting him take the top as Jameson’s hands find my bare torso.

  Jameson kisses my chest while Jordan m
akes quick work of my pants. They might be twins, but they have different approaches when it comes to sex.

  Jordan’s passion burns hot with desire. The way he paws at my briefs, I know he wants me naked, no questions asked. It’s hot and rough, but he knows what he wants and how he wants it. It makes me want to please even more.

  The second my clothes are off, Jameson has his lips on me. Unlike Jordan’s fiery burn, Jameson smolders. Every touch feels like an imprint on my skin. It’s dominant yet sensual, revenant, and sure to leave a mark after tonight.

  “What do you want, Fyre?” Jameson asks between nipping kisses along my collarbone, bruising the flesh under his lips and teeth.

  Jordan slips from the couch, landing on his knees before me.

  “I don’t– I can’t–,” I gasp, but the words won’t come.

  Jordan squeezes my thighs, and spreads my legs before him. He growls as he stares at me, bare and open for the taking.

  “What do you need?” Jordan asks, his fingers digging into the skin.

  Jameson lets off my neck. Finally, my brain cells return to me. One though stands out above the others.

  “I want your fingers,” I say, breathless with need. “Both of you. I want to let you in.”

  Jordan smirks as Jameson’s lips return to my neck. Jameson trails farther down my chest as he brings his hand to my lower abdomen. He pushes slightly, and then his hand travels the path towards my cock.

  “Where do you want our fingers?” Jordan needs confirmation, but his hands are already tilting my hips and ass back.

  I lean down and lift my hips, giving both brothers access to anything they could want.

  “I want you everywhere. Now.”

  Jordan and Jameson work in unison. Jordan pushes two fingers into his mouth, and works them around until he pulls his spit-slicked digits out of his throat. Jameson’s hand gently scratches at the base of my cock, stirring it to life.

  I moan, but Jameson claims the last of the noise with his mouth. He goes slowly, his fingers finding my girth and wrapping around it. Each stroke is sure and confident. It makes me feel sure and confident myself, and I can feel the anxiety float away like a feathers on the wind.