[Found in Oblivion 01.0 - 02.0] Bedded Trouble

by Cari Quinn

  So damn hot.

  But she fucking followed them. Because she wanted the high as much as they both did. The pleasure that spiked so hard and so deep that it seemed to go on without end. There was no quick pop of release between the three of them.

  There was only this.

  Helpless to stop the freight train of satisfaction, he followed instincts that bloomed bigger and brighter every time he touched her.

  Tristan dragged his thumb through her endless wetness and up to her rosette. He circled his thumb there. She moaned louder, but she didn’t stop.

  Randy reached above his head for the headboard and bowed up. Tristan fed the chain. From his mouth to Juliet’s pussy, and her mouth to Rand’s surging cock. They were in a tandem fall off a cliff. Her rosette flexed and pulsed under his touch. His thumb passed through the tight ring of muscles as his other hand worked her clit.

  She dripped over his palm, onto his tongue, and infused him with her unique flavor. Flooding his taste buds and slickening his skin with every pass.

  Tristan couldn’t take it anymore.

  Not without blowing his load into the damn sheets.

  He didn’t want it there.

  He would rather paint her gorgeous ass than to use the bedding. But even more, he wanted that heavenly heat clasped around his dick.

  Tristan managed to tear his mouth away from her. He kept her primed. The tips of his fingers cramped, but he didn’t stop. She was so close.

  He hauled her back until his cock bumped against her pussy.

  Just another inch and he could dive in.

  Tristan threw back his head, clamping his fingers around the base of his dick to give himself a modicum of restraint.

  Rand chased her into the center of the bed where Tris had dragged her. His buddy was on his knees, his cock bobbing in front of her face.

  Juliet’s chin dropped onto her chest, her body trembling as Tris held her there on the edge of orgasm.

  Tristan pulsed his thumb into her ass, the urge to get inside her briefly assuaged by her heat clasping him. So goddamn tight. Every part of her sweet body was taut and perfect for him—for them.

  Maintaining their link, he reached toward the bedside stand for the box of condoms. Luckily, they were in easy reach. She watched him take the condom, helpless to keep from moaning.

  “Rand, help her.”

  Randy’s eyes were unfocused, his chest rising and falling as he sucked in air.

  Tristan tore the wrapper with his teeth and rolled the condom on one-handed, then wrapped her hair around his palm to ease her higher. He pulled his thumb from her, tempted to say sorry for the momentary loss, but she would feel so much better when they were done.

  When he and Rand filled her up so damn good.

  Randy sifted his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her head. He eased her back to his cock as they both watched her take inch after inch into her mouth. So deep that Tristan couldn’t help but groan with Randy.

  Once she found her rhythm again, Tristan waited for her to flow back toward him so he could line up his dick with her pussy. He followed her easy rocking back and forward, coasting his palms over her ass to her hips to hold onto her.

  Part of him wanted to ease in.

  That slice of him was getting overruled each time he witnessed her tongue cup the underside of his best friend’s cock and take him so fucking deep.

  He had to follow.

  Had to know.

  Had to remember just how she felt.

  She rolled forward on her knees to take Randy’s shaft deep and Tris pushed inside. She moaned around Randy and clenched around Tristan in the same instant.

  “Jules. Ah, God, so fucking good.”

  Randy flung back his head, both hands tangled in her hair. She didn’t let up. She reached back to Tristan and he held onto her arm to stabilize her. She brought her other hand up to shuttle down Randy’s cock, making sure every inch of him was covered that her mouth couldn’t handle.

  Tristan used her backward momentum to drive himself inside of her. Each of them using her, owning her, completing her in a way that Tristan had never witnessed before this.

  Before them.

  Randy’s tendons in his neck swelled and his chest flushed red. Juliet made a slight choking sound, but then she was gulping.

  Sweet fuck.

  Gulping him down like Randy was her favorite flavor.

  She reached back again and Tristan used her arms to help her finish him off. Gripping them tight, he worked her hard.

  Her walls fluttered around his cock. He knew she was close.

  Getting off on getting them off.

  Rand sagged back against the headboard, his breathing ragged, his eyes unfocused as he watched them.

  Juliet’s nails bit into Tristan’s forearms as she held onto him. The slap of his thighs against the backs of hers, her pussy clasping his cock, her husky groans—all of it had him racing to come.

  He was fairly sure that madness would come first.

  Her thigh shook and she screamed a name. A deity’s, his own, Randy’s—it didn’t matter. He was lost down his own dark tunnel where pleasure crossed into bliss and past the edge of pain.

  She let go of one of his arms and sagged onto the bed.

  Randy was there to support her. He eased closer and put her palms on his knees. She stared up into Rand’s eyes as his hand encircled her neck. Slowly, his grip slid forward, and he caught her delicate throat in a firm hold.

  Tristan was too far gone to appreciate it all. Until suddenly, her body shook and he had to thrust through the vise grip of her pussy. It pitched him past the threshold. He came so hard, his own thighs burned and trembled. He drove into her one last time, shaking above her as he clamped his arm around her waist to drag her up against his chest.

  He spread her wide, rubbing her engorged clit as he flooded the condom. She scratched his forearm, bucking up under his hand. Tristan leaned down to take her mouth, to make sure she knew it was him for this one instant.

  Her hitching breath crashed into his own, their mutual pleasure humming between them until she let out a dazed laugh.

  That Juliet laugh that could probably harden him again in maybe three to seven minutes. But for now, he was too weak to do anything but crash them both onto their sides.

  She kicked out her foot to urge Randy down with them. He resisted for a moment, then crawled into her. His head cradled against her chest as they all twined together with Juliet as their center.

  She always was.

  Tristan shoved back his hair. “I’m pretty sure you killed Randy.”

  “Speak for yourself, pal,” Randy muttered.

  Juliet elbowed Tristan. “Now, now, you’re both pretty.”

  “Nah, I’m the pretty one.” Tristan ran a lazy hand down her arm to her hip.

  “That makes me the smart one. I’m all right with that.” Randy rolled over onto his back and stretched. “I’m friggin’ famished.”

  Tristan snorted. “I’m the one who worked up an appetite. You just got to lay back and get off.”

  Rand’s mouth curved up into a rare dimpled smile. “Yeah. I can’t say I minded.” He reached out and grazed his knuckle down Jules’s cheek to her lips. “That mouth. Goddamn.”

  Juliet trailed her nails over Randy’s belly. “I like watching you go over. The only time I ever see you really relax.”

  Randy draped his arm over his eyes. “Yeah, well, my brain was definitely not engaged this morning.”

  Tristan eased out from under Juliet. He didn’t really want to pick apart who had the better orgasm. Not when he’d filled up the condom he needed to dispose of.

  “Where are you going?” Jules rolled onto her side, dragging a pillow in front of her.

  Randy came up beside her, resting his chin on her hip. “Food?”

  The two of them were so easy together. As if it was just like any other morning. It wasn’t like that for him. Sex was great, but when it was over, he was ready to
get going on something else. The fact that he wanted to slide back into his bed and get another taste of her, to see those hungry eyes as she took his cock in her mouth…

  Yeah, it was time to get up.

  “I’m going to grab a shower.”

  “Then food?” Rand asked hopefully.

  “Yeah. There’s not much in the fridge, but I can probably whip up a frittata.”

  “Whip up.” Rand sat up. “Whipping up something is fried eggs or a bagel. His frittatas are ridiculous, seriously.”

  Juliet’s phone blared out Pat Benatar’s “We Belong” then also started buzzing across the nightstand.

  She smushed her face into the pillow. “Dammit.”

  “What? Let it go to voicemail.”

  “No,” she said into the pillow. She huffed, then lifted her head. “That’s Elle’s ringtone. She never calls me unless something is going on.”

  Randy sat up and grabbed her phone, handing it over.

  She picked up on the beginning of the second cycle of the song. “What’s up?” Juliet clutched the pillow tighter with her free arm. “Yeah. Oh, for fuck’s sake—no, yeah…”

  Tristan turned toward the bathroom.

  “I’ll be there in an hour.” Her voice cooled. “Well, too fucking bad. I can’t drop everything because the princess wants to work today. Lila said we had it off.” She rolled off the mattress and tossed the pillow back onto the bed.

  All her gorgeous hair tumbled down her back and teased over her breasts. She wasn’t paying attention to the fact that she had nothing on. Her entire focus was on the phone.

  Tristan’s cock lengthened. It didn’t matter that he’d fucked her to an inch of her life not ten minutes ago, he could go again right here, right now. Watching her cheeks flush with anger was a little too close to how she looked when they pushed her near the edge.

  “Half an hour,” she said.

  Instead of saying goodbye, she threw the phone on the pillow. “Guess I’m going to have to pass on the frittata. Think I could shower first?”

  Tristan shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Rand said. “I have to go over the setlist changes today anyway. Y’all getting creative with the lighting on me.”

  “I have my car.”

  Tristan shrugged. “You can leave it.” Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that. He didn’t want to assume she’d come back again.

  He didn’t even want that, did he?

  She twirled to face him.

  Jesus, yes, he did. He wanted all of that under him again tonight. Hell, on top of him—it didn’t matter.

  She moved to him, splaying her hands over his chest. “You want me to come back tonight?”

  His cock went full-fledged attention whore. “I, uh, yeah, sure.”

  One of her hands drifted down to circle his shaft, her thumb teasing the head. “Good. I’m not nearly done with you.” She glanced over her shoulder to Rand. “With either of you.” She turned back to Tris and went onto her toes. “I’ll try not to use up all the hot water.”

  He watched her through slitted lids, not budging even when she nipped at his chin.

  “C’mon, don’t be mad.”

  “I’m not.”

  She brushed her breasts along his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

  He swallowed hard. He didn’t want her to. Something he hadn’t owned up to in a damn long time. He slid his arm around her, cupping her ass before giving it a good smack. “Guess you’ll have to make it up to me tonight.”

  She tightened her hold on his cock. “Guess I will.”

  Tristan’s gaze tripped over her shoulder to find Rand watching them with a little too much interest in his gaze. If they kept this up, she’d never get out of there within the half hour.

  Tris smiled down at her. “Go on.” She pouted, but slowly let him go. Before she could slip away, he held her tighter to him. “Any food you hate?”

  Her eyebrow speared up. “Not really. Brussels sprouts, maybe?”

  “I can guarantee I’d make you love them.”

  She went onto her toes again and dragged him down to meet her lips. “I doubt it.”

  “That’s it. Challenge accepted. I’m making dinner.” He looked over at Randy. “For both of you.”

  Rand tugged on his jeans. “Sounds good to me. Jules?”

  “You better have other things in that dish. I really hate Brussels sprouts.”

  “We’ll see.” Tris leaned down and gave her a quick, deep kiss. He sucked her tongue then nipped her lower lip. It was still swollen from earlier, but now because of him too.

  Uncomfortable with how possessive he felt, he stepped back. Rand frowned at him, but Tristan didn’t want to talk. A menu was safe. He could handle that.

  He stepped into a pair of workout shorts and escaped to the kitchen.

  Coffee. He needed lots of coffee.

  Maybe that would help him to get his head on straight.

  Fifteen

  Another day, another argument.

  She should be used to band squabbling by now. If anything, that was the one constant that had marked their interactions since the beginning.

  There were moments of relative harmony. Times when their ability to work together and create something magical transcended even the petty disagreements that marred most rehearsals and nearly all practice sessions. Hell, sometimes they even fought while on stage.

  The most ridiculous part was that the arguers changed by the day. Some days, it was West and Ryan sniping over the bridge to the latest song they’d been working on. Other days it was her and Molly, taking little jabs at each other just because somehow that was what seemed to happen when two women were in a band—and in this case, there were three, though Elle never seemed to get involved in any of that. She saved her griping solely for Malachi, who occasionally growled something rude in her direction or worse, actually picked her up and set her out of his way, as if she were merely furniture. She hated that.

  Worst of all, though, were the fights between Mal and Michael. Juliet understood. She and her sister Margo were both in the music scene, so their blowouts tended to be even worse than the average sibling rivalry. But what was going on between those two superseded even that.

  Mal did not want to be in the band, or so he claimed.

  Yet his playing was improving every day and he’d added an unquantifiable element, a kind of magic, to the group that they’d needed. He was the last missing puzzle piece, the key in the right lock. But even though he seemed to enjoy playing once he was into it, he appeared reluctant about everything. He didn’t interact with fans. Never signed pictures or autographs, and rarely even spoke to them, unless he had absolutely no choice. Not that he was a chatterbox to the rest of them either, but the fan thing made him distinctly uncomfortable. His contract was on a six-month basis, because he flat out refused to sign for longer, and even with that, rumor was that he got a bigger cut of the money than some of the others.

  That was only a rumor though, because if Molly honestly believed that to be true, she most likely would’ve started looking at greener pastures where she was more appreciated. She probably wouldn’t have been the only one.

  It wasn’t even about the money, since they were on an upward trajectory. Potential was the word of the day right now. They had the potential to do so many things. To be great. To last way longer than the flavor of the month, and maybe even make it to flavor of the year.

  That wouldn’t happen if everyone was pissing and moaning and acting as if they were in hell rather than being lucky enough to make freaking music for a living. What could be better than that? Absolutely nothing.

  She’d fallen into this opportunity, but she intended to make the most of what she’d been given. In the past, guys and partying and jetsetting across the world to forget what she’d seen within her own four walls had taken the place of any real direction. Then when she’d begun to find something that felt real with a man who mattered, who thought she mattered t
oo, it had all imploded. Literally.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Some people just did better single file. She was one of them. Men were to be enjoyed like chocolate, and she had no problem being viewed the same way. Whether she was with one man or two, when the fun was over, it was over.

  And yeah, leave it to her subconscious to add that word two. She’d never see dating—or sex or any of its variations—the same way again.

  But the fun wasn’t over yet. At least she was pretty sure it wasn’t, judging from the heavy stare she felt on her back whenever she lost herself in whatever song they were working on now.

  It wasn’t a brand new thing anymore, the three of them. They’d had sex together in their own inimitable way a bunch of times now. In fact, since last weekend when Tris had made his remark about her not needing to spend the night, she’d spent the night two other times.

  Yesterday, they’d met for lunch. Except she had been the featured entrée, spread out on Tris’s and Sparks’s granite kitchen counter.

  Afterward, she’d come back to rehearsal at the venue, face flushed, body wrung out, and tried to make sense of the chords and lyrics she knew by heart. Knowing all the while that Sparks would wander by when she least expected it and just watch her play while he made notes on his charts about wire placement and light direction and a million other things she didn’t understand.

  The whole time, she’d have to fight not to tremble, just knowing he was observing her work. Of course, then she’d turn around and watch him as discreetly as possible. Studying the perfect swells of his ass as he crouched to adjust cords or eyeing the flex of his jaw as he spoke to his colleagues made her skin feel too tight and her heart race.

  It was crazy. She’d never reacted that way to him before. For the better part of a year, they’d barely interacted. Once, they’d reached for the same quarter turkey sub during a lunch thing. She hadn’t been struck by lust from touching his fingers. Maybe a little curiosity after he’d shot her one of those sexy, heavy-lidded looks he now threw around like confetti, but not desire.