Lovely Wicked

by Kari Gregg

  "Or a lot." Liv's brows beetled.

  Mitch shrugged. "Or a lot. But it's worth it in the end." Sam chuckled, transferring lasagna to Liv's plate, then his own. "How would you know? None of your marriages lasted longer than three years." Mitch shoved down his temper. "None of my wives knew me the way both of you do. Artie blames them for running around on me, but the truth is they turned to other men because I held back, kept them at a distance. So they wouldn't know what a freak I was." Mitch snatched a fat slice of garlic bread from the basket and tossed it to Liv, the next to Sam. "It took three failed marriages, but I finally learned my lesson. I'm holding nothing back from the two of you."

  "They didn't know you're a depraved pervert?" Sam snickered. "It's so obvious, Mitch."

  Liv deposited neat piles of salad on both she and Sam's plates. "Let's say we make these compromises. How do we know it'll be worth it? In the end?" Mitch grabbed two slices of bread for himself. "Last weekend was worth it." Liv's mouth thinned. "Last weekend was just sex."

  "Dirty, awesome, magnificent sex," Sam said.

  Mitch picked up his fork and pointed it at Liv. "See how it works? Compromise. You're out-voted."

  Sam laughed.

  "I don't want to live with you," she said.

  Mitch sliced his fork through the lasagna, carving away a generous bite. Melted cheese pulled away in strings. "Too bad. We voted. You lost." She squared her shoulders, glowered at him. "We did not vote." Mitch twined the threads of melted cheese around his fork. "I vote you should move in. Sammy?"

  He flashed a grin between the two of them. "Aye."

  Mitch nodded. "Out-voted." He ate the lasagna.

  Holy God.

  Mitch didn't mind the scalding heat that burned his mouth. The explosion of flavor, the tomatoes and cheese—maybe some of Sam's precious basil, who the fuck knew—was that good. He closed his eyes and moaned in ecstasy.

  "Where I live is not up for vote."

  "If you make him choose between us, he'll choose you. He wants me, too. Cares about me, too. It'd hurt him, but he'd still choose you," Sam said. "And what about me?

  Where does that leave me, Liv?"

  Sam had taken Liv's hand in his when Mitch's eyes opened.

  "I never said he had to choose. He can have us both," Liv said. Mitch chewed, his gaze shifting back and forth between them.

  Sam's lips curled to a sneer. "As long as I'm not living with him. As long as I can only have him when you say, under your direct supervision." She glared at him. "I didn't throw a fit when you took it upon yourself to give him a blowjob while I was in the shower last weekend. Direct supervision, my ass." Sam snorted. "You supervised all right. I couldn't even suck his dick without you giving me pointers."

  "You liked choking and gagging on his cock then?" Liv said, a mean glitter sparkling in her dark eyes. "I didn't realize you were such a fan of puking."

  "Stop it," Mitch said once he'd swallowed the lasagna.

  "You—"

  "Cut it out," he shouted, glaring at Sammy, who shot a resentful glare at a gloating Liv. "That means you, too," he told her. Instead of working it out, they were tearing at each other and fighting over his dick. Frustration and disgust gnawed at his gut, burrowed into his spine. "Didn't you talk while you cooked?"

  "I want him out. When he's in his own place, we can have weekends with him, like we agreed."

  "I haven't found another apartment yet. I don't have anywhere to go." Sam rubbed at his temple, sighed. "You can have nights with him all to yourself. I'll get out of your way whenever you want." His blue eyes softened. "Why can't you give me that, too? I swear I won't ask for much. He's yours. He loves you and wants you most, anyway." Sam ripped his pleading gaze away, red creeping into his cheeks. "I just don't want you watching the first time he and I—that he—"

  The first time Mitch fucked him.

  And Mitch couldn't blame him.

  There were times a man deserved and needed privacy. Losing his virginity was definitely one of those times. That should be a special moment, just for him and Sam. It should and would be.

  "What can you live with?" Mitch asked Liv.

  She shifted her glare from Sam to gape at Mitch. "What?"

  "I want him, Livvy." Mitch had been prepared to give Sam up. If that's what she needed from him, Mitch would've kissed Sam goodbye. Without hesitation. But he was no longer sure Liv genuinely needed that. "I'd regret him. Always."

  "I don't want to go yet," Sam said on a low murmur. "But you'll make him kick me out. He'll send me away."

  She glanced down. "It wouldn't be like that."

  But it would be.

  And she knew it.

  "What if you spent more nights here?" Mitch suggested, taking her hand in his.

  "According to you, I'll be here on Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. That's half the week already." Her lips quirked. "It's not just the time."

  "I know." Mitch squeezed her fingers. "Keep your apartment on Euclid if you need it so much, but bring some of your things over. A few clothes. Your fruity shampoo."

  The corners of her mouth tipped up. "My fruity shampoo?" Mitch smiled in return. "Stay whenever you want, go back to your apartment whenever you need to. Give us a chance, Liv. I know we can make this work. Try. Please."

  * * * * *

  She didn't move her things in that night, but after all three of them had cleaned up dinner, when Sam moved to the door to leave, she'd stopped him with a hand at his shoulder. "Stay," she'd said.

  Mitch had never been more happy—and proud—when Liv had reached for his hand, for Sam's with her other and together, they'd walked to the bedroom. All three of them.

  She loved him.

  She truly loved him.

  They kissed, undressed. Sometimes, the mouth under his was Liv's—soft, warm, giving. Sometimes, it was Sammy's. Hard. Eager. Desperately horny. And sometimes, Liv and Sam kissed each other.

  Mitch's heart felt so full, it would surely burst. He had everything. He had it all. Liv hadn't moved in with him yet, but she would. He'd have them, both of them, all to himself.

  His.

  Mitch and Sam stripped Liv—Liv, and each other. Mitch's pulse raced when Liv's lips skimmed over his chest. She sighed as Sam pushed Mitch's blue jeans down his hips.

  Naked, they touched. And kissed. Fondled and caressed. Where the weekend had been pure fire and heat, this was softer. A gentle building of their arousal, the slip of want into need, a slow, easy glide. Sam crouched to lick her pussy. Mitch bent to suck her excellent tits, and when someone's fingers wrapped over his cock to stroke it, Mitch didn't care whose hand pumped him. He knew only fierce pleasure, the giving and receiving of it. His focus narrowed to pleasing his lovers and reveling in the mindobliterating delight they stirred in him. After Liv gasped and shuddered and shook through her first orgasm, Sam boosted her to the top of the dresser and spread her legs wide. "Fuck her," he told Mitch and stepped aside.

  Cock in hand, Mitch approached her and with her arms around him, he shoved into her cunt.

  Behind him, Sam slid fingers slick and slippery with lube down the crack of Mitch's ass. Liv's eyes flashed open as Sammy made a sandwich of Mitch. Sam pressed Mitch's body into Liv's so Mitch was squeezed between the two of them. Sam speared two fingers inside Mitch's asshole in time with Mitch's next thrust. Mitch panted into her mouth. "Please," he whispered against her lips, begging her to accept Sammy at his back, to allow what Sam was about to do to him. "Please." She moaned, tilting her hips up to take him deeper. And reached around Mitch's ass to stroke encouraging fingers down Sam's hip.

  Mitch's mind spun.

  Glorious.

  The hot clamp of Liv's pussy.

  The burning stretch of his ass taking Sam's fingers deep.

  He closed his eyes, grinding his cock into Livvy as those fingers withdrew and the rigid tip of Sam's dick pushed at his hole instead. He groaned, wanting it so much, Sam's cock in his ass as he plowed his own into Liv's needy cunt.
Mitch's chest heaved, the increasing pump of his hips stilling—just a moment—

  when Sam drove his dick into him. Mitch cried out, dazzled all over again by the awesome fullness of his over-stuffed ass. His world reduced to the scorching heat of Liv's wet pussy and the crippling pleasure of Sam's dick shoved deep. The sensations were so intense and intoxicating, Mitch's brain short-circuited, then snapped. All that remained of him was instinct—the jerk of his hips to bury himself into Liv, the echoing thrust of Sam's cock into his butt hole.

  He groaned. He snarled. The orgasm nipped at him with razor-sharp teeth. He couldn't hold back, didn't even want to. When Liv's cunt bore down around him and her gasping mouth widened to a shocked O, Mitch's body stiffened and his dick pumped hot semen into her. The perfection, the rightness of his growling pleasure, of hers, rocked his senses. Destroyed him.

  When he could breathe again, Sam's cock fucked in and out of him. His asshole was an inferno, the rim tingling with each thrust. Sam's ragged moans and the slap of his groin against Mitch's cheeks sang a primitive concerto to Mitch, told him how good it was for Sammy. Liv's arms tightened around Mitch from the front, holding him close, her mouth opening for his. Sam pounded into Mitch, his hands squeezing Mitch's hips to lock Mitch's butt in place for each grunting thrust.

  Mitch's tongue tangled with Liv's, danced in and out of her mouth in erotic parody of the dick, hard as flint, pummeling his fiery asshole. Finally, Sam's entire body lurched forward, pitching Mitch into Liv. Sam moaned, his cock thickening, then spraying thick cum inside him. Mitch bit out a hoarse groan. Sam rode out the orgasm and Mitch with him, until Sam collapsed against Mitch's back, the hot breath of his pants fanning Mitch's neck. Mitch eased his mouth from Liv's and drew his head back to smile down at her.

  Eyes closed, her lips curved in exhaustion.

  Content.

  He'd never felt so utterly, perfectly content, every part of him thoroughly fucked, used up and sated. Satisfaction seeped through Mitch. His love for Liv, his affection for Sam, they stole into him and saturated his body to the marrow of his bones. Sam's kiss brushed his nape. "I love you," he whispered into Mitch's hair, so soft, his voice hushed, for Mitch's ears only. "I love you and I'm yours." His lips skimmed his shoulder and Sam shifted away.

  Mitch shivered at the loss of Sam's warmth at his back, but ferocious gratification spiked through him.

  Sammy loved him.

  If only Liv would confess her love as simply.

  Mitch eased his flaccid dick out her and winced.

  Liv's eyes flashed wide at his gasp, then glimmered with alarm. "Are you okay?

  Did he hurt you?" she asked.

  Mitch grinned. "I'm fine." With his dick sticky from the cum he'd shot into Liv and Sam's semen already dripping from his still-tingling asshole, Mitch felt absofucking-lutely magnificent. He swiveled to thread his fingers into Sammy's hair and pulled Sam's mouth to his. The sweet lick of Sam's tongue and the yielding give of his lips under Mitch's made his heart swell. When he lifted his head, he stared into Sammy's blue eyes. "Everything's wonderful."

  Liv climbed down from the dresser. Her hand tracing the cheek of Mitch's wellused ass. "Sam didn't wear a rubber," she said, her voice clipped and tight. Mitch glanced over his shoulder. "He showed me copies of lab tests and they're current. No STDs."

  "If you still want me to wear a condom with you, I understand. It's your choice," Sam said.

  She ignored him and focused a glare at Mitch instead. "We should've discussed this."

  "We just did." He arched an eyebrow. "Sammy's clean and I like him coming inside me. No condom." Grinning, he tugged her against his side. "C'mon. Work tomorrow. Time for bed."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Liv stayed until late the following Saturday night. She went to her apartment to pick up clothes and her mail. She kept her makeup and girlie crap in a cosmetics bag in the bathroom instead of leaving it scattered over the vanity like he wanted, but his bathroom smelled of her now. Vanilla and Raspberry. Mitch could eat her right up and often did.

  All three of them went to work. Mitch worked dawn to dusk in the warmer months; and after thirteen years in construction, he'd lost the ability to sleep past sunrise so he was the first in the shower. He emerged, wet and hard. He liked fucking Livvy awake, his cock her alarm clock, but Saturday morning, when she'd opened her eyes, Sammy had been sucking him instead. Mitch had nearly lost his mind when Liv had crawled between Sam's legs and swallowed him whole as well. Mitch was a happy man.

  Their only awkward moment so far had been Friday evening. Sam didn't know—

  couldn't know—that he and Liv had a regular Friday appointment in hell with their asshole fathers. Sammy had been hurt when they'd slipped away with vague explanations about business that needed taken care of.

  That'd been awful.

  To add insult to injury, Liv made Mitch drop her off outside the trailer park, on one of the side streets, so her dad and sister would believe she'd parked her own car and walked in, like usual. She didn't want her family to see her climbing from Mitch's truck.

  Didn't want them to know she was with him.

  Every foul, evil act Gary and Rita had ever done to Mitch crashed over him in the span of a heartbeat. The humiliation. The gut-wrenching shame.

  He felt like nothing.

  Less than nothing.

  He listened to her nervous chatter about avoiding awkward questions and really, this wasn't any different from meeting at his truck every other Friday night. Or so she told him. She said she needed more time.

  Mitch pulled over and Liv had hopped from the truck.

  And he spent most of the evening reminding himself that Liv loved him, no matter that she still hadn't said the words. He wasn't just a piece of meat, not to her. They'd met on the same side street a couple hours later. Turned out Liv had worried—and skewered his heart—for nothing. Bert Winslow was in county lock-up for breaking some guy's jaw in a bar fight and Cheryl was too high to be much trouble, so Liv's visit was relatively peaceful.

  "Gary slept most of the time. The night nurse said his oncologist upped the dosage of his morphine," Mitch said, driving back to Sam. "He can't last much longer." Of course, his father's doctors had been saying that for over a year. When they returned, the apartment was empty. Sam was gone. No note, but his stuff was still there and damn it, they didn't have a leash on him. If Sam wanted to go out, that was his business, wasn't it?

  Mitch had taken advantage of the privacy to make love to Liv, but he hadn't truly breathed again until Sammy had stumbled home, drunk, at two in the morning. Mitch had slipped from their bedroom after he'd heard Sam come in and found the younger man sprawled on the couch, glaring at him with glassy eyes.

  "You need help getting to bed?" Mitch had whispered, leaning down in case Sam needed steadying when he got up.

  Sam had stared at him, his bleary eyes never once leaving Mitch's face. He'd slowly unzipped his pants and drawn out his partially erect cock. Amazing that he'd been able to get it up, at all, considering how much he stank of liquor. "Suck it," Sam said.

  Mitch had gotten down on his knees and sucked.

  Mitch sucked him, even though it'd taken painfully long minutes and all of Mitch's considerable skill to make Sam's dick hard. He'd licked and laved him, trilling his tongue along the bulbous head. He'd worked his lips up and down the length of him, no matter that Sam grabbed him by the hair and forced his head down farther, deeper, shoving Mitch down on him until Sam's cock drummed against his tonsils. It wasn't important.

  Mitch hadn't puked.

  And Sam had finally come.

  Mitch left him snoring softly on the couch. Mitch had hurt him. Mitch and Liv both had hurt him. By not telling him where they'd gone, what they'd been doing or why it was important, they'd shut Sam out. They'd kept secrets from him, locked away the private things he and Liv only shared with each other. It'd hurt Sam badly. So he'd gotten drunk and when Sam had choked Mitch by fucking his dick down Mitch
's throat, Mitch hadn't fought him. Mitch was sorry, hellaciously sorry, and if gagging on Sam's cum made it right, made Sam feel better, so be it.

  But he wouldn't haul Sam back to their bed. No way. Not near Livvy, not when Sammy was drunk and mean with it. If Sam needed to punish somebody, Mitch would take it. But Liv'd had too much of drunk and mean in her life already. Sammy had spent most of the next morning with his head in the toilet and Liv coddling him. When she wasn't fucking and sucking Mitch's brains out, that is.

  "I'll be back tomorrow morning," she said and kissed both of them goodbye. Apparently, she'd decided Mitch's dick was too worn out and Sam was too sick to be interested in extracurricular fucking.

  She was wrong.

  Liv could've fucked and sucked him one hundred times and it wouldn't change what Sammy had whispered to Mitch after coming in his ass Wednesday night. Sam loved him.

  And Sam Lawson was his.

  Sam darted glances at him from the couch when Mitch returned from the parking lot. With Sam feeling so horrible, they'd invested most of that day snuggled on the couch, watching movies from Mitch's DVD collection. The Force definitely hadn't been with Sam at the beginning of the intergalactic movie marathon, but by the time infant Luke had been handed over to his foster parents, Sam had looked considerably less green. Now that Leia was adding to every boy's spank bank in the gold and red harem costume, Sam looked healthy as an ox.

  Mitch stretched out with Sam on the couch. Sam was naked—all three of them were nearly always naked—but Mitch had pulled sweatpants and a t-shirt on to walk Liv to her car. Mitch tucked his clothed ass into Sam's crotch. He laid his cheek on Sam's arm, stretched over the couch cushion, and exhaled a long, satisfied breath when Sam curled the other around his belly.

  "How're you feeling?" Mitch asked.

  "I'm all right."

  Mitch laced his legs with Sam's. "No more headache? Your stomach's okay?"

  "I said, I'm fine."

  They'd spooned like this, already what felt like countless times to Mitch, with Liv and with just each other, too. Sam had always accepted him—his body warm and inviting.