Dirty Princes: A Standalone MMF Romantic Comedy

by Jo Raven

  He clamps a hand on my shoulder and grunts something against my neck, his dick rock-hard in my hold. It’s slick, slippery, and I tug on it even as I’m coming, with just enough presence of mind to make sure he’ll join me.

  He does with a hoarse cry, spilling over my hand, sending a second coat of cum between us. “Christ,” he chokes out, his dick still jerking.

  Brylee is sprawled back on the covers, still panting, her hands over her breasts. I wink at her, pretty winded myself.

  “Holy crap,” she whispers. “This is better than my dreams.”

  I have to agree.

  And it gets even better when Ryan untangles himself from me just enough to grab his discarded shirt and does his best to wipe our chests clean, while asking, “Do we get to choose how the next round goes down? Because I really want to eat you up, woman.”

  And Brylee says breathlessly, “Oh God, yes.”

  ***

  It’s kind of hypnotizing, watching them. I can see why Brylee enjoyed it. Ryan is a golden flame, bending over her, and she’s the fire, white and red, embracing him. He kisses her long and deep, his powerful body moving on top of hers. He’s semi-hard, his flushed dick dragging on her pale belly, leaving shimmery snail-trails of cum.

  He pins her wrists down on the mattress as he fucks her mouth with his tongue, and her hips lift restlessly, helplessly.

  I’m getting hard again. Never gotten hard so fast after an orgasm since I was a randy teenager. This is nuts.

  But not a dream. Definitely not a dream. My belly is tight with coiled excitement, my shoulder throbs where Ryan left a bruise—or a hickey? did he bite me?—while my balls ache pleasurably, letting me know they’ve almost emptied their quota for the day.

  I don’t touch my cock. I let it fill out as I look at their rocking bodies, listen to their muffled moans, and wait to see how this will play out.

  I don’t count on a hand snaking out of the tangle to snag my arm.

  “Fuck.” I almost topple over when Ryan hauls me closer. “What…?”

  He sits up, and we both look down on Brylee who’s squirming and breathing hard, her heavy tits rising and falling, her mouth red from Ryan’s kiss.

  Prettiest girl ever.

  “Kiss her,” he says simply, and drags her panties down her long legs. “Don’t be jealous now.”

  I chuckle as he dives between her legs, spreading them wider, dragging his tongue between her folds, making her groan.

  Leaning over her, I silence her, tasting Ryan’s spice on her tongue, mingled with her sweetness. She gasps and arches under me, and I wonder if Ryan is fingerfucking her, too, or only using his tongue, and how good he is at this.

  He sure sucked me like a pro the other day.

  The memory of that, coupled with Brylee’s needy sounds and urgent kissing is enough to get me hard and raring to go again.

  Her back lifts off the bed, her eyes widening, her nails leaving furrows in my arms where she’s gripping me. “Oh crap,” she gasps. “Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod.”

  She’s close.

  And I want to hear her get really loud. So instead of kissing her more, I lower my head to her tits. I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw them, back at my apartment. So lush, begging to be licked and kneaded, her nipples a perfect fit for my mouth.

  As I fasten my lips over one diamond-hard nub, using my fingers to tug on the tip of the other breast, she cries out my name.

  And then Ryan’s name.

  Her head tosses right and left, and her hands jerk up to my head, her fingers twisting in my short hair. Her cries fill the room.

  She’s losing it. Losing control, losing the battle as we both work her over. I suck hard on her nipple, flicking the other one with my fingers, twisting it a little, and she’s gone.

  My cock jerks at the keening sound of her release, tiny pinpricks of pain along my scalp as her fingers jerk in my hair.

  Shit, I… I’m about to…

  Sitting back, I grab my dick, pull one, two, three times, and I’m coming, striping her body with long ropes of cum.

  A hand lands on my shoulder, and I find Ryan doing the same, his hand moving fast over his cock. I watch his face, those pale-lashed eyes, that soft mouth, that square jaw, see the moment he comes undone. He grimaces as if in pain and hunches over, his stomach clenching into a six-pack as he shoots his load over Brylee’s legs and belly and tits, crosshatching with mine.

  Brylee blinks, delicate copper brows lifting. She glances down at her cum-striped body, then up to us.

  Will she freak out? We’ve already done a lot tonight she probably hasn’t done before, let alone with two guys.

  She frowns and lifts her hands in question.

  My grin is sheepish. I shrug.

  Ryan grins.

  Then she lets her head fall back with a soft snort. “Boys…”

  A weight lifts off my chest, and I laugh as I look around for something to clean her up, and I sure wish that this would last. This blissful lightness and happiness when everything is exactly as it should be. When I’m with the two people I wanna be, and everything’s fucking right with the world.

  I wish tonight could last forever.

  ***

  We shower together in Ryan’s big-ass shower, and then lie back to sleep on his big-ass bed, after stripping the dirty sheets. Making the bed in fresh gray linen, naked and grinning as we glance at each other, is… fun.

  Ryan seems easy in his skin, and with that strong body he has every right. I’m pretty comfortable, too. With my job and working out regularly, I guess I look okay.

  But Brylee is blushing non-stop and folding her arms over her tits to cover them. God, she’s so cute. Doesn’t she know how sexy she is? She’s a goddamn goddess. I can’t wait for the day she’ll let us fuck her properly, make her scream our names.

  And fuck, now I’m thinking in plural. As if this is normal. As if it will last.

  As if she’ll let either of us fuck her, when she’s waiting for the right guy to give up her virginity to.

  Unless she changed her mind, like she hinted at the other day. Would she? Because man, that would be… so fucking awesome. To show her how good it can be.

  And if I got to share it with Ryan… even better.

  Why do I want them both so much, goddammit? Why does the idea of having sex with both of them at the same time turn me on so fucking much?

  Jesus.

  We roll under the covers, and at first we lie apart. Not for long, though. Brylee is in the middle, and we turn toward her, toward each other. She draws us in like our magnetic core, like gravity, and we rotate around her.

  We’re a constellation. A universe.

  Tangled up with her, legs and arms and torsos twisted together, we fall asleep in the dark.

  ***

  “Come with me,” Ryan says the next day as we slide around his kitchen table, sipping strong coffee.

  He’s dressed in soft drawstring pants that hang low on his narrow hips, his perfect chest bare and gleaming in the morning light.

  Brylee is wrapped up in his shirt from yesterday, the classic formality of it over her naked curves making my mouth run dry and my cock hard.

  I reach down to adjust my hard-on in my borrowed sweats, and both their gazes dip between my legs.

  Shit. “Come?” I whisper.

  Ryan’s eyes turn dark as he looks up at my face. “I could make you come.”

  I bet he could. Easily. Repeatedly.

  Like last night.

  “Come where?” Brylee asks, swallowing hard, her nipples poking through the thin shirt.

  Fuck… Yeah, I could come right now, buried inside her.

  “To the lake house,” Ryan says. “We could leave Friday night, or Saturday morning and stay the weekend.”

  My brain’s kinda stuck on the fact he’s saying he owns a lake house—a house, that’s already much, although it has to be a family property—and doesn’t pick up the rest until a long moment passes.


  By then, Brylee is turning to me, her eyes bright. “I’m not sure...Maybe? Rid, would you go?”

  “It’s a quiet place, with woods and nobody around for miles,” Ryan says excitedly. “Less than two hours drive from here. There’s a hot tub outside on the terrace. We can light up the fireplace and drink booze, watch TV and laze around all day.”

  And fuck.

  Probably.

  Sounds like heaven. So I don’t know why my throat is dry with something like uncertainty, or maybe panic. “No way man, I have to work Saturday. Can’t afford to lose a single day of pay. But you two go, have fun. Bry called it last night. You’re beat, you need some vacation.”

  And it’s true. I agree with her. He fucking scared me, passing out like that yesterday, and he does look tired—sexy but tired, something I’d noticed the last few times I saw him already.

  They should go, have fun. Not like this thing between the three of us could last. Brylee is the one he really wants. That much was clear from the start. Same with her. He’s the one she’s been lusting over.

  But Ryan frowns. “No way. Come on, dude, take the day off. You deserve some down time, too.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I deserve. I…” I snap off whatever else I was going to say, because Ryan stalks up to me and puts a big hand on my face, tilting it up.

  “Of course it fucking matters.” His thumb strokes my cheekbone, hijacking my thoughts. “You don’t want to come with us?”

  My turn to frown—in part because his thumb stops that hypnotic stroking. “You don’t need me. You have each other, and that’s—”

  “But we do,” Brylee says, getting up and coming up to me. She slides onto my lap and suddenly I have my arms full of soft, sexy girl. “We do need you.”

  “Look,” I mutter, for some reason my throat clogging up, “you don’t have to say this to make me feel good. I know—”

  “Make you feel good? I know ways to make you feel good,” Ryan growls, his thumb brushing again over my cheek, moving over my lips. The soft touch winds up the need in my gut, turning my hard dick harder. “But this isn’t about that. Can’t you see?”

  I shake my head, lost. See what?

  “I’m not going without you,” Brylee says, laying her head on my shoulder, staring up at me with those soft, hazel eyes. “And neither is Ryan.”

  I glance up at him, startled, and he nods gravely.

  Why? What am I missing?

  Silence spreads in the small kitchen with its marble countertops and gleaming chrome gadgets. Outside the window, rain is falling, or maybe it’s snow.

  Swirling and dancing, like my confused thoughts.

  “I’ll take the time off,” I hear myself say, as if from a distance.

  Yeah, I know, I’m going nuts.

  Bring on the straitjacket.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Man on the Rocks

  Ryan

  I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  Spending the night with Brylee and Riddick, begging them to stay, giving and receiving pleasure as if nothing’s the matter, as if I had no reason to avoid giving into my desires all this time.

  And then inviting them to the lake house for the weekend. A place I’ve never taken anyone before, where I’ve spent my time with my fishing rod and my self-imposed loneliness.

  From zero lovers to two—simultaneously.

  Can my heart take it? I’m asking in all fucking seriousness.

  I guess we’ll find out—if they don’t change their minds by Saturday. Riddick didn’t look convinced. Okay, so I kind of sprang this on them.

  Not like I planned it or anything.

  Not sure what I expect to happen at the lake house, either. What I hope will take place. Just the thought of spending more time with the two of them makes me grin.

  What are you doing? I ask my reflection in the mirror in the men’s bathrooms at the office the next day. What are you grinning about?

  This is too damn complicated, and complicated things often fall apart from the start. She sees you as a game of hide and seek. He sees you as an opponent for her affections.

  She wants to be a princess. He wants to save the world. His world, at least. And that’s fine. Why not? This may be complicated, but sex is simple.

  This is just about sex. If they join me, sure we’ll soak in the hot tub and watch movies and drink booze in front of the fire, but I doubt we’ll sit around and just talk, not after last night.

  I sure hope not, anyway. A sexual encounter, nothing less, and nothing more. As it should be. After all, that’s all I can allow it to be.

  When that familiar little voice in the back of my mind pipes up, I hang my head.

  Suck it up, Ryan. How dare you want more, imagine there can be more? Didn’t you put that behind you long ago? Didn’t you shut everyone out for years, to protect them from yourself?

  A sexual encounter is all you get. Frankly, it’s all you deserve in this life.

  So let me ask you…at this point, what do you have to lose?

  ***

  The day passes too damn slowly, and the one after lasts a lifetime. Focusing on work is a lost cause.

  The bandage on my palm and the pull and itch of the healing cut underneath is a constant reminder. My mind keeps drifting to that night, to every little detail—Brylee’s desperate moans, Riddick’s sexy grunts, their gleaming bodies, their warm skin, their hot mouths and hands and...

  Damn, I really should concentrate. These financial statements won’t prepare themselves.

  A phone call shatters my eggshell concentration just as I head back from my super quick lunch break—consisting basically of grabbing a sandwich at the company cafeteria and heading back up to eat it at my desk while working.

  I almost drop the sandwich when I fish the cell out of my pocket and see the caller.

  My father.

  A vise wraps around my chest. My father never calls randomly during the week. He only calls if he has to cancel our weekly lunch, and never when I’m at work. He never breaks the pattern.

  “Sir?” I lean against the wall, pressing the phone to my ear, listening to my heart tripping and banging in my chest. “Hello?”

  The line chirps and twists—or maybe that’s the noise inside my head. Last time he called me out of the blue, it was…

  “Sir…” What the hell’s going on? Sweat is trickling down my back, down my face. I think I dropped the sandwich somewhere down the hallway. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Ryan!” His voice comes through loud and clear, so strong that a wave of relief swamps me. “The line went dead for a moment there.”

  “Yeah,” I croak. “I’m here.”

  “Good. I just wanted to check if we’re still on for Tuesday. After last time, I wasn’t sure you were up for it.”

  I blink. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m up for it. Didn’t you get my text?”

  “Yes. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  I tense again. Another deviation from the norm. “You never call.”

  “Maybe it’s time I changed that.” He doesn’t offer anything more, and I’m reluctant to push. He doesn’t like me interrogating him.

  “Good, then… See you Tuesday night.” Another thought strikes me. “Sir, I’m thinking of heading over to the lake house over the weekend, if that’s okay.”

  “It’s all yours,” he says, and I swallow hard, relieved.

  Nothing like your father showing up at the lake house and finding you in bed with a guy and a girl.

  Yeah.

  “Ryan…” Father pauses. “Is everything okay?”

  His quiet question catches me off guard—as many things do lately. I’m used to him telling me what to do, what to eat, how to exercise, how often to get checkups, but not…asking.

  Like he’s concerned.

  I mean, I know he is. Generally and vaguely concerned. He’s my father. Still…

  “Everything’s fine,” I tell him, not sure if I’m trying to reass
ure him or myself. “Really.”

  “You’d tell me if anything was wrong?”

  “Of course.”

  I think. Probably. If I didn’t think it would make him fret and hover. There’s enough of that as it is.

  Okay, I’ll say it. The truth is, I’m not really close to anyone anymore, not even to my father, and that’s for the best. It’s in everyone’s interest that I keep some distance.

  Doesn’t explain why I’m still shaking, though, and I struggle not to think about it as I return to my office.

  ***

  The PI I set on the case of Riddick’s brother calls me as I leave work, late in the evening. He informs me that he has a new lead he will follow up on, and I grin as I disconnect, glad to have some hint of good news to give to Riddick.

  I shouldn’t care.

  I really fucking shouldn’t. Whether I can make him smile, or make Brylee laugh. None of my business. Nothing to do with me.

  But I’m still grinning as I climb into my car and head to the gym.

  What does it hurt, right? To do something nice for them, if it is looking for his brother, or taking them to the lake house. Making it up to them for having been a jerk all this time.

  No text message from Brylee or Riddick. No sign of them in the gym, either, as I go through my routine.

  Someone else approaches me, though. Dylan Hayes, one of Rafe’s gang, comes to talk to me, a tall, blond guy with tattoos on his arms. A silver ring glints in his lip.

  “What’s up, man?” He sits on the leg press next to mine, stretching his arms over his head, his white T-shirt riding up, baring more ink on his stomach. “Haven’t seen you around much lately.”

  I squint at him, blinking sweat out of my eyes. “Work.”

  I haven’t talked to Dylan more than a handful of times over the years. It’s usually Rafe who comes around to discuss exercises and machines with me, and to invite me to join their self-defense group.

  Being such a moody asshole, it’s a miracle that these guys are still trying to have conversations with me. I’d have given up by now.

  “I was just wondering,” he says.

  “About what?”

  “Why you keep yourself so distant.”

  I open my mouth to tell him it’s none of his fucking business, and who does he think he is anyway, but I can’t speak past the knot forming in my throat.