Dirty Princes: A Standalone MMF Romantic Comedy

by Jo Raven

  I’m thrown by that, but only for a few seconds. “Well, I have real men trouble. You know, the people normally attached to penises?”

  “I’ve met a few of those over the years.”

  “Simone…”

  A sigh. “What happened now?”

  I tell her. I tell her everything I can remember, and that’s a lot, every detail branded in my memory. “I don’t know what to do,” I end my tale. “And I’m miserable.”

  “Wait…you netted this Riddick, who by the way is gorgeous and kind and all sorts of sexy, but you’re moaning because you can’t net one more gorgeous and sexy guy? That’s your story?”

  Well, put like that… “I can’t choose between them.”

  “Lucky for you, it seems Ryan chose for both of you.”

  He did, didn’t he? “There’s something weird going on. He’s all hot and cold, nice and interested one minute, short and distant the next. What does it mean?”

  “That he’s not really interested.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  Another sigh. “See, this is why I stick to vibrators. See you in class, Bry. And you’d better start studying, or you’ll never pass the exam.”

  Trust Simone to put my feet back on the ground. And darn, I had forgotten all about the lit class I’m taking, with all the hot sex and the boy trouble.

  Poor me…

  ***

  Riddick limps into my apartment slowly, gaze wide as he looks around. “This is a very nice place,” he says, his voice hushed. “You sure you want me staying here?”

  Okay, between him and Ryan, they’ve set out to break my heart. “You kidding me? I want you to stay here. With me.” I slip my arms around his slim hips and kiss his mouth, a quick brush of lips. “It’s your home, too, if you want it.”

  “I want you,” he says, smiling, flashing those deep dimples. “That’s all I want. That’s…”

  He falls silent, pain flashing through his eyes, and we press our foreheads together. Avoiding any mention of him. Of Ryan.

  I lead him to the sofa, get him settled down. He’s better, but he still has some trouble walking and needs to stretch out a lot. He has an appointment with the doctor in two days, to see the progress he’s making, see if he needs to take the anti-inflammatories for longer.

  “It’s all so tidy,” he says, lying down with a sigh, folding a muscular arm under his head. “And clean.”

  “Well,” I sit down beside him, “I don’t want to brag, but I took out the trash AND did the dishes in preparation for your arrival.”

  He laughs, tugs on my arm until I half-lie on top of him. “You don’t need to make any special effort to convince me to come over, you know.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. To be honest, I miss your cookies.”

  Um. “You do?”

  “Yeah. The cookies I bought are too sweet and fluffy.”

  “And not salty and hard like rocks, huh?”

  He laughs harder, the muscles in his stomach jumping. “Ow. This hurts, you know.”

  Alarmed, I start getting up, but he tugs me down again. “Is your back okay?”

  “It’s fine.” His mouth, his eyes are smiling. “I don’t care about the coffee and cookies. I don’t care about anything but being with you.”

  Aww.

  “I don’t care about your cooking skills,” he says, his eyes turning serious.

  “But… but…”

  “I don’t care about that at all. Or your cleaning skills. I love you, Bry.”

  Hearing those words from him never gets old.

  We’re kissing, and it’s hot and sweet and images and sensations from last weekend keep flashing behind my eyes. I’m throbbing madly between my legs, and deeper inside. “Please…”

  His hands travel down my body, under my skirt. He kisses me as he touches me, his fingers slipping under my panties, finding my opening, dipping inside me.

  “So hot,” he whispers against my lips. “So wet. You’re so damn sexy, girl.”

  His fingers are magic. Stroking me inside, outside, moving in and out of me until I’m rocking on his hand, moaning, coming apart.

  “Rid…” I lift my head, pleasure still rippling through my body.

  “What does my girl want?” His grin is crooked, warm, his cock hard underneath me.

  “Make love to me.”

  “Your wish is my command,” he says hoarsely, and again the weekend flashes through my mind.

  I refuse to let sadness drag me down. “I could suck you off,” I say, remembering his bad back. “We could—”

  “Ride me,” he says, his gaze dark with arousal. “I want to be inside you, Princess. I fucking need it.”

  He tears at my clothes, and I tear at his. We’re kissing, not stopping as we unbutton shirts and unzip pants, as we drag down underwear and skirts and tights.

  It’s a fight, a frantic battle to get naked, and then I can finally run my hands over his body, his ink, his muscles, his thick, pierced cock.

  His hands are meanwhile mapping my curves, lingering on my breasts, making me moan when he plays with my nipples, then they slide down, to tease my clit, stroke me again inside.

  “Now,” I plead. “Now, Rid.”

  Blindly he reaches for his pants, draped over the back of the sofa, and fishes out his wallet. From inside he takes out a condom.

  I scoot back, watching as he tears the foil and tugs the condom on his cock. It’s so sexy, seeing him do it, touching himself, seeing the focused look on his face, hearing the tiny sounds of pleasure and need he produces until his cock is fully sheathed.

  And then he reaches for me. “Put your hands on my chest. Lift up.”

  I plant my palms on his firm pecs, and he lifts me up, his cock nudging at my entrance. Slowly he slips inside, inch by exquisite inch, and I’m moaning, stretched more than ever, his cock slipping into me deeper than the first time with Ryan.

  Ryan again, Ryan…

  He pushes deeper, and deeper, and his head tosses back, his stomach clenched tight. “This is it,” he grunts. “Take me in. Fuck, girl. So tight.”

  I can’t speak. It’s so intense, riding him like this, feeling so full of him. He pulls my hips up, and then pushes down, and I start rocking on top of him, because it feels amazing. He’s stroking me in places I never imagined, and the pleasure is sharp, overwhelming.

  “Oh crap.” I rock harder, needy sounds leaving my mouth, leaning over him, my boobs grazing his chest. “Rid.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” His neck is tense, tendons standing out like ropes. “Come on my dick. I wanna feel you. Come on, Princess.”

  “God, I need…” I can’t. My clit is rubbing on his pelvis, and I’m about to come.

  “What do you need? Tell me.”

  “Touch me… behind. I want to feel it.” I bite my lip to stop a moan. “I thought… I thought when you and Ryan would fuck me, together, I…”

  My voice breaks.

  His eyes shine bright as he reaches behind me, grabbing my ass, then pushes a big finger into my asshole, stroking me inside. “Like this?”

  I moan his name as I start to come, great pulses gripping my core, my pussy clenching around his cock, rippling around its girth.

  “That’s it,” he groans. “Yeah, fuck yeah. Come on our cocks, girl. We love you…”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Rock Salt Sticks

  Riddick

  “So you’re doing okay?” I ask, and rub my fist up and down my thigh, waiting for my brother to reply.

  “Yeah. Better every day,” he says. “And the food’s good.”

  I smile, my heart hammering. “Never said I was much of a cook. Why…?” I swallow, struggle to mild down my tone. “I was looking for you everywhere. Why didn’t you call, X?”

  The pause that follows is so long I’m afraid the connection was cut, or that he hung up on me.

  Then, “I was angry.”

  I nod, although he can’t see it. Yeah, he wa
s. With me. “I’m sorry, X. I’ve been a lousy brother.”

  He gives a sharp bark of laughter. “No, you weren’t, you dipshit. It wasn’t you.”

  “It wasn’t me, what?” I can barely hold on to my calm. Hearing his voice after all this time doesn’t fucking feel real.

  “The problem. You weren’t the problem,” he says patiently.

  He has to be patient. I’ve waited to hear news of his death all this time. Still trying to wrap my head around the fact he’s alive and well and cracking fucking jokes.

  Jesus.

  “You stayed with friends, I heard? A girl.”

  “Ryan talked to you about that, huh?”

  Ryan. My heart gives a painful lurch. “He did.”

  “Ameera only wanted to help me. I thought if I holed up someplace and went cold turkey, I’d get off the shit.” He’s silent for a few beats. “I did meth. Lots of it. Getting off it wasn’t easy. Couldn’t do it. She talked me into going into rehab.”

  Like I tried to convince you a thousand times? I wanna yell into the phone. Like I tried to help you, only to be called a selfish asshole and a dick?

  Why couldn’t you fucking come to me for help?

  I sigh, shifting on the sofa, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt too much. “I’m glad you did, man. Glad she talked you into it. What do the docs there say? When will you be out?”

  “It takes a few weeks. It’s a set program. I’ve met some people, made friends.”

  My hackles rise, and I tell myself to cool down. Yeah, the people he’s met there are addicts. Like he is. They’re trying to shake off the habit. Like he is.

  No, it doesn’t mean they’ll drag each other back down into the mud, but hell if I’m not ready to head over right now and haul Xavier home with me, kicking and screaming.

  I want to protect him.

  Yeah, and look how well that has worked out so far.

  “How’s Mom?” he asks, and I rub at my leg harder. Time for more painkillers.

  “She’s fine.” I think about this. “Said she’ll file for a divorce.”

  “She did?”

  His obvious surprise matches what I feel. That was the first shock of the day, talking to her on the phone. But something inside me has relaxed, hearing it.

  “I think it’s for the best. Dad loves her, but—”

  “Hell yeah, it’s for the best.”

  The vehemence in his voice is unexpected. “Yeah.”

  “Sometimes…things don’t work out. Between people, I mean. You have to follow your instincts. Your heart, you know?”

  I lean my head back. I don’t know, no. My heart tells me Ryan should be with Brylee and me, closing the circle. That I need him as much as I need her, and that he needs us, too. I thought he did.

  But I was wrong.

  “X, I’m sorr—”

  “Shut up, Rid,” he says gruffly. “I told you, it wasn’t your fault. I was angry. Didn’t know how to fix Mom and Dad, how to fix myself.” He seems to chew on his words. “I didn’t want you to see me the way I was. Weak. So fucking weak, Rid. I had to get out of that hole on my own.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. Except… “I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

  He grunts. “I’m gonna get my life back on track.”

  “You do that,” I whisper, not trusting my voice. “Can’t wait to see you again, man.”

  “Soon,” he says. “Hey, are you at work? Should you be on the phone with all those cranes and forklifts and swinging weights?”

  “Ooh, worried about me?” I tease him, grinning widely.

  “Fuck you.” He snorts. “Yeah, I’m worried about you, douchecanoe. You’re my brother.”

  I shut up, then, my throat closing up.

  After a few moments of awkward silence, he says, “We’ll talk soon.”

  I guess we will.

  I’m still grinning as he disconnects, my eyes smarting and my heart thumping.

  I will have Xavier back. No idea whether Mom will overdose again, whether she will live or die, but he made the choice she never did: he’s in rehab. He’s getting himself fixed, getting his life under control.

  Again my thoughts turn to Ryan. I owe this to him. He did this for me.

  And the familiar worry squeezes my chest, the certainty that something’s wrong with him, something he’s hiding from me and Brylee.

  But I’m probably paranoid. I thought the same of Xavier, and look, he’s fine. Ryan doesn’t need us. He’ll be fine without us.

  ***

  My back feels better, but working is still out of the question. Even walking to the bathroom is hard. My supervisor at the warehouse isn’t happy with my absence. He wants to know when I’m going back.

  If I’m going back.

  Yeah, well, the doctor said I shouldn’t lift weights anymore, so what am I gonna do now?

  Find another job, sure. One that doesn’t involve heavy lifting. But what? Working at Fritters won’t give me enough money for the rent and bills, even if I got a full-time job there.

  Which isn’t happening. In fact, the radio silence from that side tells me they’ve probably already found someone else, someone more reliable, to fill in the part-time position.

  Brylee tells me everything will turn out okay.

  “What do you think?” I ask Fluff who’s washing her small face on the armrest of the sofa. “Your opinion counts.”

  “Meow,” she tells me calmly, bright eyes tracking my hand movement as I try to pet her. She licks my fingers.

  She’s right.

  I should calm down. I take a deep breath and let it go.

  Xavier returned.

  Brylee loves me.

  My back is getting better.

  Sometimes you have to trust that the rollercoaster will slow down, let you see the view from up high, feel the magic. That it will descend without a hitch back to the ground and let you off. I have people with me who care, who have my back.

  Fluff jumps on my aching leg and starts massaging it with her soft paws.

  “Oh yeah,” I tell her, stroking her silky back. “Harder. Right there.”

  See? Girls love me.

  My girls.

  My phone rings, and I stretch to grab it from the low table. Fluff hisses, digging her claws into my thigh.

  “Easy, girl. Easy.” I pet her head as I connect the call. “Hello?”

  “Rid. What’s up, man?” Jet says, his voice broken and tinny. “How’s the back?”

  “Better.”

  “Doctor’s appointment?”

  “This afternoon.”

  “Good. Listen…” He sounds like he’s walking, the line jumping with his every step. “You can’t go back to working at the warehouse.”

  I suppress a sigh. “I know, okay? Doc told me that already. But what am I gonna do? Any bright ideas?”

  “Actually, yeah. How about the bookstore?”

  I blink. “The bookstore. What are you talking about? The shop where you’re working?”

  “No, the other one.” He snorts. “Yeah, the one where I’m working. We’ve been short-handed ever since Candy stopped working full-time, and we need someone who can actually read, unlike me.”

  “Jet…”

  He’d always had trouble reading. As it turns out, he’s dyslexic, so no wonder. The amazing thing is that now he can read, and he works in a bookstore of all places.

  “You were really good in English lit,” he goes on. “You’d be perfect for the job.”

  I was. I loved books. Stories. Poetry.

  I hesitate. “Jet, are you sure? I mean…is there really an opening, and do you think I stand a chance, or are you just kidding about?”

  “I’m sure you stand a good chance,” he says. “I talked to my boss today. She says to send in your resume. The money won’t be as good as you’re used to. But it’s not bad, either.”

  I rub at my eyes. That suspicious burn is back. “Thanks, dude. I owe you.”

  “Nah, y
ou don’t owe me shit. Just get well and send that resume. I’ll give you the email address.” His voice drops. “You’re my family. Before I met Joel, before I met Candy…you and Xavier were there for me. You’re my brothers.”

  I hang up and put my face in my hands, not sure what to do with this happiness.

  Well, fuck. Looks like I’ve got a lifetime of tears to catch up to. Might as well get a head start.

  ***

  “It looks like we’ve avoided surgery,” the doctor says, prodding at my leg, apparently pleased that the numbness has worn off.

  He’s less concerned about the pain. It will go away, he said. And I am to take the anti-inflammatories for a while longer, and do specific exercises.

  Needless to say my mind goes straight into the gutter, as I picture the sort of exercises Brylee could help me with.

  “You got off light, Mr. Connors,” the doctor says, stepping away and stroking his gray goatee. “You were lucky. The back, the spine, they are very sensitive. A problem there and your mobility could get compromised.”

  “Yeah, well, Doc…”

  “You could be paralyzed,” he cuts me off, his dark eyes boring into mine. “No more lifting heavy weights. I hope you’re listening to me, Mr. Connors. People with a problem like yours need to be extra careful. Yes, I am trying to scare you. But this is a serious matter.”

  “Got it,” I mutter, shivering.

  Brylee’s hand slips into mine, and some of the weight lifts off my chest. “He’ll be careful.”

  “He’d better be.”

  ***

  With that fun and light-hearted warning, we walk out of the doctor’s office. Brylee has her arm around me, although I’m walking more easily now, only slightly limping, the pain not quite that bad, considering I’m due for another dose of elephant tranquillizers.

  Er, painkillers.

  It feels good to be walking out of the hospital under my own power for a change, my girl at my side. The world is slowly righting itself, finding its path, things falling into place.

  The nurse at the desk smiles at us as we pass by. “Here to visit your friend?”

  We take a few more steps before we stop. Brylee glances up at me, and I open my mouth, but dunno what to say.

  We turn to face the nurse. Ellen Horton, her name tag says, and it’s the same one who talked to us last time.