Dirty Princes: A Standalone MMF Romantic Comedy

by Jo Raven

  Brylee is chewing on her lip like she’s out to draw blood, and I pull her to me, stroke her face, her mouth.

  “You can say stop at any time,” I tell her. “Okay?”

  She gives me a quick smile, nods. A quick smile, a quick kiss, and then she draws back and pulls off her top. She puts her hands on her tits, cupping them, lifting them, her eyes half-closing.

  Holy shit, this girl. I love how she’s so determined to go after what she wants, to learn about sex and pleasure, to get over her hang-ups and old-fashioned ideas.

  How determined she is to have me.

  Us.

  It’s damn sexy.

  I push her down on her back and put my mouth on her nipples, finally exploring their shape, their taste, finding out how the soft mounds of her tits fit under my hands. I lick and suck until she puts her hands in my hair, until she pushes my head lower.

  Grinning against her soft skin, I move my lips lower, trailing my tongue over her belly, dipping into her cute bellybutton. Man, she smells of flowers everywhere, and tastes like sunlight, and when I reach the tiny curls between her legs, there’s light musk and sweet arousal.

  I take a long lick that has her gasping and trembling, and part her folds with my thumb to get her ready. My dick is on the big side, and I’m making sure she’s wet and open for me.

  Speaking of which, what is Riddick—?

  “Oh shit.” Something warm and firm is pressing into my ass, pressing inside me until my body bows. “Rid.”

  “Relax,” he whispers, softly. “Just my finger.”

  Jesus Christ. That’s just his finger?

  My heart skips, then beats a triple beat. I tell it to shut up, to man up and take it.

  Take it, Ryan. You want it. Let it happen.

  “That’s it,” Riddick says. “Relax.”

  To distract myself, I bury my face between Brylee’s legs, dragging my tongue along her seam, teasing her clit. Her legs fall open wider, her hands clench in my hair.

  Oh yeah, she’s damn wet. My thumb pushes into her pussy, massaging, pressing deeper. There is no resistance, and when I lick her clit again and suck on it, she moans my name.

  She’s close. I’m going to—

  The pressure in my ass increases, and something inside me sparks, sending bolts of nearly unbearable pleasure up my spine.

  “Fuck!” I push back against the intrusion, needing more. “Do that again.”

  He laughs quietly, and does it again, making me groan. “I’m gonna put my dick there, R. Imagine how much better it will feel inside you.”

  I groan again, unable to speak. I push back harder, lifting my face, my dick so fucking swollen and wet, I grip the base to stop from coming. “Do it.”

  Without waiting for his reaction, I grab a condom, rip it and roll it on, gritting my teeth as it sheaths my hard cock. Then I press between Brylee’s legs, rubbing my hard-on in her slickness, spreading her wide.

  Her eyes meet mine, the pupils dilated with desire, black swallowing the gold. “Yes,” she whispers, dropping her hands to my shoulders, nails digging into my flesh. “I want it. Now.”

  I guide my cock inside her, pushing slowly, as slowly as I can manage when I’m dipping into her tight heat, with Riddick rubbing his dick along the crack of my ass, waiting for me to settle.

  Taking a breath, I push deeper, grunting at the pleasure of it. Her eyes are closed, her head thrown back. Bending over her, bracing my hands on either side of her head, I kiss her arched throat, tracing her pulse with my tongue.

  “Okay?” I whisper.

  She nods, a tiny dip of her chin. “More.”

  Hell, yeah. Another push and I’m seated inside her all the way, snug, no, damn tight, and perfect.

  “Oh, baby…” I moan, unable to keep from thrusting. So good.

  She clenches around my dick, her hips lifting. I worm a hand between our bodies, find her clit and play with it.

  Her breath catches on a sob.

  Yeah. This is it.

  Then Riddick’s cock pushes into me, and I choke on a cry. It’s not pain, just… an overwhelming sensation of fullness.

  “What you got there, man?” I wheeze after a moment of shocked silence. “A nuclear weapon?”

  He chuckles breathlessly, and I groan because I feel it deep inside me. I feel his dick throbbing in my ass.

  Holy shit.

  Brylee rotates her hips, tightening around me like a vise, and Riddick thrusts inside me, and my chest is so tight I can’t breathe. My heartbeat is hammering against my ribs and tripping all over the place, but who the hell cares?

  This is huge. Epic. The way my body is struggling with the pressure, with the pleasure inside and out, it’s burning out my thoughts, shutting off my conscious brain.

  I’m racing toward my release like a train coming off the rails, and nothing can stop it now.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Threesome Sugar Roll

  Brylee

  Ryan’s cock is buried deep inside me, and it feels enormous. It’s too big, too much, too deep…and perfect. Too good. The fullness is flipping on every pleasure center in my body, until I’m writhing on the bed, everything fading but the sensation of his cock inside me.

  I claw at Ryan’s broad shoulders, fingertips digging into the meaty muscle there, as I start to lose control. My body bows off the bed. My hips jerk. My breathing is booming in my ears, my boobs bounce with his thrusts, and the orgasm starts so deep inside me it’s scary. It’s as if I’m about to explode, shatter into pieces.

  “Hold me,” I whisper and moan as I come, rocking against him, then crying out as the pleasure bursts inside me. It’s a molten wave, racing through my body, taking my breath away. “God…”

  “Damn,” Ryan gasps, hunching over me, pounding into me, his cock jerking. I can feel the heat of his release through the condom as he comes, see his eyes go wide, his mouth go slack.

  He’s beautiful, more than ever.

  Riddick slams into him again and again, his mouth fastening to the back of Ryan’s neck, his gray eyes on me, dark lashes lowering as he curses and stills.

  We’re suspended in quiet, in pleasure, our ragged breaths the only sound in the room, still connected together, still pulsing.

  Never thought it could be so amazing. Can’t remember why I wanted to wait. I’m so happy, so touched right now my heart could burst for joy.

  “All good?” Riddick manages, grinning down at me, brushing his mouth over Ryan’s shoulder. “Both of you?”

  I smile back at him.

  “Yeah,” Ryan says, voice like grit, and closes his eyes, golden strands of hair stuck to his forehead and temples with sweat. He’s gleaming in the morning light, his strong body unreal.

  Everything’s perfect. My first time having real sex, and it’s so much better than I ever imagined, with these two beautiful guys.

  The first sign that something isn’t right comes when Ryan suddenly winces, mouth tightening, then pulls out of me so fast he barely avoids headbutting Riddick.

  “Whoa, dude, careful—”

  “Fuck.” Ryan tears himself away from Riddick, wrenching a pained grunt from his throat. “Get off me.”

  He scrambles off the bed and staggers upright, then out of the room.

  A door slams down the hallway.

  “Well, shit.” Riddick stares at the door, as if the power of his gaze will bring Ryan kicking and screaming back into the room. “What was that about?”

  I sit up, closing my legs and putting my hands over my boobs. A bit too late to feel self-conscious, but I’d been hoping to lie down with the boys, under the covers, until I process what just happened between us.

  Instead, I’m worried about Ryan.

  “Maybe he’s sick,” I say. “Or he got hurt somehow?”

  “The fuck,” Riddick says viciously, and gets up, every bit of his beautiful anatomy on full display. He pulls the condom off his cock and ties it off. “I’m gonna go find him. Don’t you worry, Princes
s. Everything’s okay.”

  I’m not so sure about that.

  I pull up the covers, feeling cold. I watch him leave the room, then climb off the bed to find my clothes, drag them on, and go after them.

  ***

  I almost trip over Fluff who was lurking outside the bedroom. She meows accusingly, as in, “you forgot all about my existence and left me out here alone for two thousand years to drift without hope.”

  Lifting her and cradling her warm little body to my now lace-clad boobs, I resume my quest for R&R.

  God, this house is huge.

  And my pussy is sore. It’s a weird sensation, one I’ve never felt before, and I wish I weren’t walking around just yet. My mind hasn’t caught up with everything that’s happened.

  It’s surreal.

  I walk along the hallway, passing doors opening into another bedroom and what looks like a study, and spot Riddick leaning against a closed door.

  My stomach drops. “Hey.”

  Riddick doesn’t turn. “Open the door, Ryan,” he’s saying, his fist pressed to the dark wood. “Come on, man. Tell me what’s wrong. Did I hurt you? What the hell happened?”

  “Ryan.” I splay a hand on the door, while Fluff decides the lace is a fun new toy and starts pulling at my top. “Are you all right? Ow.” I drag Fluff off my boob. She pulls the lace with her, snagged in her claws. “Fluff, stop.”

  Riddick’s shoulders shake, and I don’t know if he’s laughing or crying. “Ryan. Open this door. Goddammit.”

  Maybe it’s anger?

  He turns toward me, and when I see his eyes I know it’s just concern and fear.

  I open my mouth to yell at Ryan to open the door, when the lock clicks and it swings open.

  “I’m okay,” Ryan says, his voice a bit hoarse, his face pale.

  “What the fuck…You’re okay?” Riddick’s face is going red. “You scared the shit out of me, and that’s all you got to say?”

  “Rid.” I put a hand on his arm, stepping in front of him, and Fluff sees this as a chance to jump on him. “No, Fluff.”

  But it’s too late. Riddick curses as her sharp claws dig into his arm, and she climbs up his shoulder. “Jesus Fuck.”

  Reluctantly I look away. “Ryan, what happened?”

  “Nothing happened.” But there’s a haunted look in his eyes as he turns around and starts walking back toward the bedroom, his shoulders stiff.

  “Wait.” I help Riddick pry the cat off him and make a beeline for the room, too. “Wait!”

  Riddick follows me, bare feet slapping on polished wood, and we enter the room together to find Ryan getting dressed in a faded T-shirt and sweats.

  “What’s with the silence?” Riddick demands, the flush spreading down his chest. “Did I hurt you? Why won’t you say?”

  “You didn’t hurt me,” Ryan says, his voice cool and quiet. He grabs a hoodie from a chair and pulls it on, zips it up. “I’m fine.”

  “The hell you are. What is your deal?” He jabs a finger at Ryan, his eyes glittering. “Something happened. Fess up.”

  “Ryan, why won’t you tell us?” I plead, shocked to find myself close to tears.

  His closed-off expression is like a knife stab to my chest. I felt we’d torn down our walls yesterday and this morning, and in the space of a minute, he built his right back up, leaving us outside.

  It hurts.

  He heads back out. “Breakfast,” he says.

  Riddick grunts, grabbing his clothes and starting to get dressed. “Who the hell cares about breakfast?”

  Fluff jumps out of my arms and trots after Ryan.

  Well, one of us apparently does.

  ***

  Ryan looks slightly more relaxed when I enter the kitchen a few minutes later. I’ve put on more clothes and feel stronger.

  Though, stronger might not be the right word. Less defenseless, I guess. More protected.

  As if clothes can keep me safe from what I feel.

  “Hey.” He’s pouring coffee into tall mugs. “Want some?”

  I nod. Fluff is drinking milk from a bowl in the corner, and it brings a smile to my lips, the fact that he thought of her.

  Maybe this isn’t as bad as I feared.

  Pale sunlight shines outside the big windows, sparkling on the lake. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

  He opens the fridge and takes out the carton of milk. “It’s always beautiful after the storm,” he says.

  Maybe so. But as I look at him, I realize that sometimes the storm is more beautiful still. “Ryan…”

  “Toast? Eggs? Bacon?”

  I shake my head. Not sure I can stomach anything yet. Not before we talk, really talk. We need to address the twin pink elephants in the room.

  The fact I had sex with him, with them, for the first time.

  And that he ran out as if the Devil was riding him, and won’t say why.

  “I’ll make omelets,” Ryan says, and I lean against the wall, pretending to be gazing outside while observing him as he whisks the eggs in a bowl, his hoodie sleeves turned up to reveal his corded forearms, as he sets the pan to heat up and pours the eggs inside.

  As he makes perfect, golden omelets, his hands only shaking a little.

  Why are they shaking?

  I open my mouth to ask again what went on earlier, when Riddick makes his appearance and leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest. His dark hair is wet, and his T-shirt sticks to his chest. He looks like he just took a shower.

  “Omelet?” Ryan asks, glancing at him over his shoulder.

  Riddick gives him a flat look. The scent of soap wafts in the air as he walks to the table and takes a seat. “Sure. Why not? We fucked, and we won’t talk about it, but let’s have an omelet.”

  “What do you want me to say? We fucked. It was good.” Ryan slides a plate with a golden omelet in front of Riddick, then another in front of an empty seat. He nods at me. “For you.”

  Silently, I sit down.

  He’s acting cool, way too cool.

  Cold.

  It’s not that I thought losing my virginity would be a history altering event or anything, but it was an important moment for me.

  It is an important moment. It’s only been maybe half an hour, tops, since we were joined together on the bed, and now it’s as if it never happened. I didn’t expect him to be concerned about me, hug me and say he loves me—but at least I thought he’d ask me how I’m feeling.

  Yeah, it hurts. Deep in my chest.

  I have to ask myself again what I’m doing. Why I didn’t see this coming.

  “So I will ask again,” Riddick says, not making any move to eat his omelet. “What happened?”

  Ryan’s face twists. “Indigestion,” he says.

  I swallow hard.

  “Did you know that a heart attack sometimes feels like indigestion?” Riddick says darkly.

  Ryan goes white.

  “He’s only pissed off at you,” I say, and why do I still feel the need to protect him after his strange, cold behavior?

  I’m slowly getting pissed off, too.

  About time. Anger is part of putting up my defenses, before he hurts me too badly.

  “Come on, R, stop.” Riddick presses his thumbs into his forehead. “Indigestion. That’s bullshit. Tell us the truth.” He leans forward, gaze intense. “You owe us that much.”

  For a moment, Ryan’s face twists as if in pain or sadness.

  Then he turns away, rubs a hand over his chest. “We can go as soon as you finish eating. I have a lot of work to catch up with at home.”

  Riddick pushes his chair back and walks out of the kitchen.

  I stay, because I don’t know what to do. Not hungry, I don’t touch the omelet, or the rolls of bread Ryan set out on the table. I look at the rigid, uncompromising line of his back and think…

  When did this weekend go so wrong?

  ***

  “You seriously not talking to us now?” I mutter as we drive back t
o Madison. “Ryan.”

  “I am talking to you.” Impassionate. Empty. His hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel the only sign of emotion. Or maybe he’s just unhappy about this conversation. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “For chrissakes.” Riddick who’s riding shotgun again slams his fist lightly into the window. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Ryan says nothing, his jaw tight. A vein leaps in his neck.

  “Talk to us about today. This morning.” Already it feels like a thousand years have passed. Ryan sure looks like a different person. Like the person he was before. “About why you shut us out again.”

  He huffs, frowns. “We already talked about that. Nothing happened.”

  Except I entrusted him with something so important to me, and he’s acting like it was nothing.

  “You fucked her,” Riddick says, speaking out my thoughts. “You don’t think that counts as something?”

  My gaze meets Ryan’s in the rearview mirror, and for a moment he looks stricken. “It does,” he whispers.

  I’m caught in the web of pain in his eyes.

  “But that’s right. We don’t talk about the rest,” Riddick rants, breaking the spell. He’s on a roll. “About whatever freaked you out. What was it, did we get too close? Did you think we’d ask you for something you couldn’t give? Affection, maybe? Or did you think we’re after, I dunno, your money? The house?”

  I like that he’s saying “we.”

  “Fuck you,” Ryan says, his voice very low. His throat works. “Fuck you, Riddick.”

  A cold mask slips over Riddick’s features, replacing the heat of his anger.

  “As I recall, it was the other way around,” he says and leans his head back, closes his eyes. “Wake me up when we arrive.”

  I slump back, too, in the backseat, and gaze outside. I feel like I’m bleeding inside my chest, that my trust is torn to shreds. I knew from the start this was a bad idea. That Ryan was a bad deal. Why couldn’t I let him go? Why did he have to show up at the hospital the other day and make me believe he’d changed?

  I’m so frigging stupid. Nobody to blame but myself, and the fact I managed to convince Riddick to give Ryan a chance, the fact he was taken in, too, that he was duped like me, doesn’t comfort me at all.