Dirty Princes: A Standalone MMF Romantic Comedy

by Jo Raven

  Like his hand. Or his body, that’s pressing into mine. It all feels good.

  I swallow the rest of the brandy and place my glass on the rim of the tub. “By the way, you never said.”

  “Never said what?”

  Why you kept running. Why you acted like an ass to us both.

  But I change my question. “How you learned to cook like that.”

  He smiles, brushes soft hair from his forehead. “I begged my father’s cook to teach me.”

  “Not your mother?”

  “Oh no. Mom wasn’t a good cook.” His smile grows faint. “Not that my father and I minded. She was fun. Kind. She was…”

  He doesn’t say what else she was. He swallows his brandy, and pours himself some more, not looking at us.

  Brylee puts her glass on the rim, next to mine, and gazes at Ryan, her eyes sad.

  I clench my jaw. This is my fault, for bringing his mother up, knowing how he feels about her death.

  “Hey. Sorry.” I lift my hand and ruffle his short hair. Then I lean in and kiss him.

  His lips part, letting me in. He tastes of brandy and sorrow, hot, and sweet, and bitter. Maybe I taste the same way. I sure feel that way.

  His glass falls into the water, and it rolls to the bottom, spilling yellow booze, as he lifts both hands to my face, kissing me back hard.

  Brylee lifts the glass from the water as we break apart, breathing harshly. She sucks her lower lip between her teeth. “That’s why you were so distant, isn’t it? Because of your mom dying.”

  And here I thought I’d managed to make Ryan forget about his mom.

  He scrubs a hand over his face, brows drawing together, and mutters something that sounds like a curse. Then, “Maybe we should head inside before the storm hits.”

  Before I can think of anything else to say, Brylee gets in his way.

  “Not yet.” And she pushes him to sit back down and straddles him, winding her arms around his neck. “It’s okay.”

  So many undercurrents. Things left unsaid, ambiguous replies to dangerous questions. His distress only makes me want to get closer, smooth out the pain I sense. I can’t fucking help myself when it comes to these two.

  They’re under my skin…

  Chapter Thirty

  Cherry Pop with Chocolate Sprinkle

  Ryan

  My first instinct is to lash out and turn my back, walk away. Put some distance between myself and the questions, the reminders of the risks I’m taking.

  But she’s on my lap, her gaze on my face, her arms around me, her lush tits pressed to my chest. Surrounding me with softness, blunting the sharp edges of my panic. Soothing and arousing at the same time. Sweet and spicy and I find myself clinging to her as I slowly get my face under control.

  Riddick puts an arm around me, not letting me hide, but I can’t work up any anger over that. He deserves better. They both do.

  “Come here,” he says, tugging me toward him.

  “Rid…”

  Guy is strong. Using the buoyancy of the water he lifts me up and slides underneath me, hauling my back to his chest.

  “What are you doing?” I wriggle in his lap, gasping when his hard-on slides between my ass cheeks. “Fuck.”

  “We could,” he says agreeably.

  It feels damn awesome, his cock pressing into the cleft of my ass. Distracting. Makes me want more.

  Brylee is already on my lap, and I pull her closer, letting my dick slide between her legs, over her pussy, along the seam of her ass.

  “Ryan?” she whispers uncertainly, then moans when I slide my cock back and forth. “Jesus.”

  I know. The pleasure of my dick rubbing so deliciously against her, together with Riddick’s hard cock doing the same along my ass, rubbing that sensitive spot behind my balls, is driving me crazy.

  “How does it feel?” Riddick whispers in my ear, and I’m panting loudly, caught between the two of them, wishing I could sink inside Brylee. Wishing Riddick would sink inside me. “This good?”

  I grunt in reply, shifting against him, and he tightens his arms around me, his cock an insistent pressure, the head pushing against the base of my own dick.

  How can this send me to the brink of release so quickly? Normally it takes me a while to work up a good erection, and quite a bit of a work-out to come. Now it seems like it only takes her or him undressing, looking at me, touching me and I lose grip.

  Brylee rolls her hips, her bare pussy sliding over my cock, and we both groan. I reach down between us, finding her clit and pressing on it.

  She dips her mouth to mine, and I lick at her lips, suck on her tongue, and things quickly spiral out of control.

  Riddick is biting my shoulder, his dick burning where it rubs against my balls, and Brylee is moaning in my mouth, rocking on top of my hard-on. I’m rushing headlong into an orgasm, and there’s no way I can stop it, the pressure building and building, my cock swelling more, my hips jerking.

  The pressure breaks, and I rip my mouth free to cry out, spilling into the water.

  She buries her face in my neck, moaning and shaking, and behind me Riddick swears out loud, drawing back and coming against my back in great shudders.

  Whoa.

  Crushed between them, I ride out the last ripples of pleasure, dazed.

  Her cat steps outside into the terrace, probably wondering what all the howling is about, and stands there, staring at us like we’re escapees from a madhouse.

  Then she retreats inside.

  And the storm hits.

  ***

  Good neighbor Harold knocks on the door to let me know he’s going back to the city, and by the way check who I’m here with.

  I try to block his view of the living room, but he manages to catch a glimpse of my guests and he arches his brows.

  “Finally decided to start living again?” he booms, grinning.

  “Depends,” I grit out. “Will you start minding your own fucking business?”

  I close the door to his face.

  I curse.

  I lock the door for good measure.

  “I do live my life,” I mutter as I return to the cozy fireplace. “Fuck you, Harold.”

  My irritability fades away as we finally get around to drinking hot chocolate and roasting marshmallows on the fire, while thunder booms overhead, and the rain lashes at the windows. Lying down on the huge cushions, warmed by the dancing flames, our legs tangled, we’re quiet.

  I’m drowsy, and all the sugar in the world won’t stop me from falling asleep soon.

  I smirk as I sift through the memories of today. It feels like years since we arrived at the lake house this morning.

  I sit up to stir the fire, and Riddick scoots closer, sipping his hot chocolate, leaning into my side and giving me a faint smile.

  Brylee shifts, laying her head in my lap and I stroke her soft hair absently. Contentedly. A bit in awe that I’m allowed this, even just for today.

  For this weekend.

  Her curls are like warm silk. She sighs as I caress a stray curl off her forehead and smiles up at me. Trusting. Happy.

  It’d be so damn easy to get used to this.

  I wish I could. If things were different…

  “I’m loving this resort,” Riddick drawls lazily, “but where’s the mini golf course? The valet parking? And what about room service?”

  “I’ll give you room service,” I growl, glad to be drawn away from my thoughts again. “And mini golf.”

  He chuckles, props his elbow on my shoulder and props his chin on his hand. “I never doubted you for a moment.”

  But he did. With good reason.

  He shouldn’t trust me.

  “Can we sleep here?” Brylee asks around a yawn. She even yawns cutely. How is that possible? “The beds are faaaaaar away…”

  “That room service would come in handy now,” Riddick mutters, his eyes closing.

  It’s tempting to stay here, stretch out on the cushions, but it won’t be very comfo
rtable, and Riddick’s back won’t thank him in the morning.

  So I get up, lifting Brylee to her feet, ignoring her sleepy protests. I put the grid in front of the fire, have a quick look around to make sure all doors and windows are closed, then sweep her off her feet and into my arms.

  I like doing this. She doesn’t even squeal this time. She just laughs, a soft sound, and holds on to me.

  “Right this way to your lodgings, sir,” I tell Riddick, who’s stood up and has been observing all this with his arms folded over his chest and that faint smile lingering. “Anything else you might need?”

  “At last,” he says, falling in step with me, his smile turning wicked. “I thought you’d never ask. As a matter of fact, I do have one or two requests.”

  “Your wish is my command,” I tell him and suppress a shiver, aware of how close that is to the truth I’m trying to hide.

  ***

  My bed is pretty big, but not made for three people to lie on it comfortably. Despite the lack of space, I sleep surprisingly well, waking up only twice, once to push Riddick’s arm out of my face, and the second because Brylee was lying fully on top of me, and I couldn’t breathe.

  Pleasure seeps through my dream. It’s a nice dream where I’m lying in bed, and a young pretty doctor with copper curls is smiling at me, telling me I’ll be just fine. The male gray-eyed nurse at her side nods encouragingly, and puts his hand on my dick.

  “Relax,” he says, “and let us take care of you.”

  The pleasure ratchets up, and I arch up, my hands clenching in the covers, trying to hold on to something.

  “Easy now,” he says, and I blink my eyes open to pale morning light.

  “What the fuck?” It’s my dream, but twisted, the gray-eyed nurse leaning over me, the pretty doctor grinning from my other side. Sick dread unfurls in my stomach.

  A relapse. I throw an arm over my eyes, not ready to face whatever is going on. Surgery? Am I in hospital? The good news was a fucking dream, now I woke up, and—

  “Ryan?”

  I lift my arm just enough to see, memory flooding back. Dammit, it’s Riddick, not a nurse. And the doctor is Brylee.

  We’re at the lake house. We came here for the weekend. We fell asleep together.

  And they’re giving me worried looks.

  “Are you in pain?” she asks, frowning. “You were calling out our names.”

  I was?

  She’s leaning over me, and just now I realize she’s wearing a tiny lacy top that barely covers her tits and matching panties in white and pink. Her ginger curls spill over her shoulders like metal. Her mouth is still soft from sleep.

  She looks…edible. Lickable. Like Christmas candy.

  “Hey, man.” Riddick leans over me, dark brows knit. “Say something. You scared us.”

  “I’m fine. What happened?”

  He shakes his head. “What happened,” he says gravely, “is that you have a bad case of morning wood.”

  Laughter bubbles up my throat. I stop it before it spills out and turns crazed. “I see.”

  Brylee smooths her hand over my hard-on, making me gasp.

  “It looks like a torpedo,” she says.

  My shoulders are shaking. Man, I really hope it is an attack of laughter. “Want to play with my torpedo?”

  “I want to go down on you,” she says seriously, her eyes golden in the gray light.

  Wait… am I still dreaming?

  A damn good dream, though, I think dazedly as she bows over me and puts that pouty mouth around my cock. Really fucking good.

  At first she licks and tastes softly, too softly, building up the pressure slowly. I lift my hips restlessly, torn between grabbing a handful of hair and guiding her, and leaving her to her own rhythm.

  “Yeah, like that,” Riddick mutters, his hand moving inside his boxer briefs, licking his lips. “Suck him, Princess. Harder. Don’t be scared to give it to him hard. He likes it.”

  And his little student obeys, sucking harder, short-circuiting my brain.

  “Use your hand, too,” Riddick pants, pulling his dick out and jacking off, his eyes gone dark with arousal. “And massage his balls, too. He’ll love it.”

  I am loving it. And I think of telling Riddick to come closer so that I can blow him, but the pressure is already too much, especially when her clever little hand closes around my balls, squeezing. She does something with her tongue around the head of my dick, flicks it over the small slit at the top, and I cry out, lifting my hips, trying to fuck her mouth.

  I’m coming before I find the words to warn her, a hot rush bursting from my dick, and I feel it all the way to the top of my head and down to my toes.

  The pleasure rolls over me, lasting longer than I’m used to, my heart tripping once, then twice. I manage to pry my eyes open to see that she’s swallowed every last drop of my release, and her hand is still wrapped around my softening cock.

  She smiles at me.

  Fucking hell. My dick twitches.

  Down, boy. Enough.

  And dammit, I’m not even fully awake yet. In fact, after coming so hard, I’m ready to roll over and go back to sleep, my body lax and heavy, my heart slowly settling back into a steady rhythm.

  Her grip on my cock tightens, and I hiss. “Wake up. It’s late.”

  So? It’s a goddamn Sunday, and she just sucked my balls dry, or so it feels.

  Then again…This is the one weekend I’ve allowed myself. Time is limited. I’m here, with them, and she’s holding my dick in her hand, looking sexy and aroused.

  “What do you want, kitten?” I mutter, rubbing at my eyes. “Just say the word.”

  “More room service?” Riddick’s grin makes my heart stop for a second. So wide and charming and…and bright.

  “Depends. What do you have in mind?” I prop myself up on my elbows. “Remember workers’ rights.”

  He snorts. “You’re my slave, dude. You’re allowed no rights.”

  I gasp in mock outrage—and to hide how much my dick likes the idea of being Riddick’s slave.

  “Will you fuck him, Riddick?” Brylee asks, and I gasp again, for a different reason.

  My cock twitches and my ass clenches and fuck, this is nuts.

  “I want to see if Ryan will get hard again,” she says, a wicked gleam in her eye, and I stare at her, torn between laughing and moaning.

  She may look like an innocent, sexy angel but she’s a little devil.

  Riddick groans, slowly jacking off, his cock huge. “Hell. What about you, Princess?”

  “I decided… I want…” Her gaze slides away, her face red.

  “You want, what?”

  “I want this…”

  She can’t be saying what I’m thinking. Riddick glances at me, his brows raised.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she whispers, and my dick is definitely hardening again at the prospect, because another thing I’m apparently torn between is wanting to fuck Brylee and be fucked by Riddick.

  And it looks like I might be getting both, at the same time.

  “What do you think?” I ask Riddick, realizing he could see this as antagonism, as a competition. That maybe he would like to be the first to fuck her, take her virginity. Not sure if it’s important to him or not.

  But he only looks pensive. “That could work. After all…” He licks his lips, like a wolf about to pounce. “It’s her first time. Both of us fucking her at once might be too much.”

  Her eyes widen comically, and my breath catches.

  God, yeah. Even more exciting than the prospect of what we’re about to do is the image of me and Riddick both buried inside her.

  She makes a noise in the back of her throat.

  “Besides,” Riddick goes on, as if thinking out loud. “I can’t wait to do you, R. You’ve taken it up the ass before, right?”

  The crude words hit me right in the gut, where arousal is building rapidly, pressure mounting again.

  And I say nothing, not wanting to admit I h
aven’t done it before. My few sexual encounters with men were pretty chaste. A blowjob. A handjob. Never went further than that. Never felt the need.

  But every time I dream of Riddick, fantasize about Riddick, he’s buried balls-deep inside me.

  Christ.

  “Let’s do this,” I hear myself say, even as a small part of me wonders if I’ll survive this.

  Don’t be stupid, Ryan. You’ll be fine. And you’re thinking too much about yourself, again.

  “Hey.” I take Brylee’s hands and tug her to me, look into her eyes. Even her lashes are copper-colored. “Are you sure about this, girl? We don’t have to do anything. Don’t feel pressured.”

  She smiles. “I want to. Besides.” She bites her lower lip, an unselfconscious, sexy tick she has. “I doubt I’m much of a virgin. I did a lot of ballet as a kid. You know… all those splits.”

  Laughter catches in my throat.

  Riddick snickers, then turns it into a cough. “All right,” he says. “Awesome.”

  Doesn’t change the fact she’s never done it before, and that her hands are cold and clammy in mine, her mouth a bit unsteady.

  And yeah, truth is I’m a little unsteady myself. For so many reasons.

  Her trust in me. The thought of my dick inside her. The trust I’m putting in Riddick. The thought of him fucking me.

  This playing out of a fantasy, this coming together without barriers. Stripping myself bare. The feelings swamping me, even as I try to shut them out.

  The thought of why I never let anything like this happen before.

  And I’m overthinking again…

  Swallowing hard, I restart my brain. “We need condoms.”

  “Here.” Riddick throws condoms and a pack of lube on the bed.

  He came prepared.

  The thought of Riddick going out to buy supplies for the weekend makes my chest tight and my dick hard.

  Harder.

  He wants this. He looked forward to it, no matter how he lost money not working yesterday, or how much he worries about his brother.

  And the look he shoots me shatters my last defenses: dark and hopeful, tough and vulnerable, possessive and needy.

  This is it. We’re doing this, and it’s about time.

  I take a deep breath. “I’m game.”

  ***

  Riddick settles behind me, his hands cool with lube, stroking my ass, making my breath hitch—and we haven’t even started.