A Valentine for Two

by Lia Davis

  Jace had never been good with words. He allowed his actions to speak for him. And in this case, he was doubly fucked because he’d never felt he was in the wrong or wanted to make

  amends for anything he’d done.

  He didn’t know how to do either of those things.

  So he slid from the bed and crossed to Vance. He searched the Brat Prince’s eyes for one long, silent moment before he fell to his knees. Jace had never done this before either, but he felt he owed Vance.

  And he found he wanted to do it. Jace wanted to give him pleasure.

  When he took the other man’s cock in his mouth, his own cock hardened in response. He licked down the thick shaft and then back up again to tease the swollen head with the back of his tongue.

  Vance tasted of salt and Charlotte.

  Jace gripped Vance’s hips and anchored him in place. Vance stroked the corner of Jace’s mouth in an intimate gesture before threading his hand through the Jace’s hair and urging him on.

  Jace took his cock deeper into his throat and he was so focused on what he was doing, he

  didn’t hear Charlotte’s small gasp of surprise when she saw what they were doing. Nor did he hear her move from the bed to join them.

  Charlotte knelt, her nipples hard and pink—her breasts bobbing with her movement. She was so close to him, he could touch her. But he didn’t touch, it was Charlotte who touched him. She took his cock in hand and slowly stroked him in time with his descent down Vance’s cock.

  He should have been ashamed for her to see him like this, but with her wicked little hands moving over his cock, all he could do was thrust up into her touch.

  Until she licked at the corner of his lip. He froze and shuddered, Vance’s hips pistoning forward to fuck his mouth.

  Jace wrapped his hand around Vance’s shaft then and pushed the head of the cock between them. Charlotte licked at the engorged flesh just as she’d swiped her tongue at his mouth. He bent his head and their tongues met over his cock. Just as Vance had offered to do to him.

  Vance moaned aloud as they both licked and sucked up and down his prick, their mouths fusing when they worked their way back up to the head. Charlotte continued to stroke him, keeping time with her own ministrations now. She was the one who broke their kiss to take Vance’s cock fully into her mouth.

  Jace moved behind him and braced his hands on Vance’s hard glutes and eased them apart. He dipped his head and traced his tongue over the entry.

  “Oh fuck!” Vance’s response was somewhere between a whisper and a moan.

  Even trying to pleasure him, Jace still couldn’t submit. He had to be the one driving the action.

  He thrust his tongue inside of him and Jace had to hold him steady as he cried out again. He fucked him with his tongue as he had with his cock.

  “Come for me,” he heard Charlotte whisper. A repeat of the words he’d said to her. By hell, his cock was so hard. He wanted to be in her palm again, wanted to be the one looking

  down at her face as she sucked him.

  Vance obliged her, his body stiffened and his hips jerked forward, pushing himself deeper into Charlotte’s mouth as he came.

  When Vance collapsed on the bed, Jace could see the pearly evidence of Vance’s jism on her mouth and chin. She licked her lips slowly and pushed her fingers down to her pussy.

  But Vance wasn’t out of the game yet.

  He motioned for Jace to join him and spoke softly. “Do you trust me?”

  Did he? No. He didn’t trust anyone. But he owed him whatever pleasure he wanted. So, he waited for the Brat Prince’s direction.

  Vance drew Charlotte up onto the bed and positioned her on all fours and he slid beneath her to lap at her mound. She shuddered and closed her eyes, but only for a moment. Charlotte reached for him and he could do nothing but comply.

  He climbed on the bed and she moved him to that she had access to his cock.

  Charlotte, the innocent girl whose head had once been filled with dreams of heroes and honor, was bent between his thighs like a whore while another man suckled her.

  The rage began to build again, until she looked up at him. She smiled playfully. And the look in her eyes... it diffused him easily. She wanted this. She wanted him.

  She accepted him.

  Charlotte shivered as another wave of bliss stole over her, but she braced herself on his thighs and with her gaze never leaving his eyes, her hot little tongue darted over the head of his cock.

  She dipped down, working her mouth over the thickness of him.

  Her mouth was slick and hot. She bobbed faster and increased the pressure, attempting to take all of him and when she couldn’t, she leaned more of her slight weight on him so she could wrap her fingers around his shaft and stroke him with her hand as well her tongue and lips.

  It was only moments before he’d fisted the sheets in his hands and he struggled to keep his culmination at bay. He didn’t want it to be over. His cock surged and rather than swallow it as she had Vance’s, she pulled his cock from her mouth so he sprayed her chin and tits.

  As much as he loved the sight of his jizz on her breasts, for all of her want of him, why hadn’t she...

  She dug her nails into his thighs suddenly, but still she didn’t look away. Charlotte held his gaze as her orgasm rocked her. She rode Vance’s face until there was no more sensation to be wrought from him and then she crawled up Jace’s legs, his spent cock soft against her sodden cleft.

  “Taste us.” Charlotte bent and kissed him and he didn’t pull away.

  He tasted Vance on her, tasted himself, and the sweetness that was wholly Charlotte. “I wanted your mark on me,” she whispered against his ear, answering his earlier question even though it had gone unasked. “Am I dirty enough now that we can be yours?”

  His cock thickened at her words. He hadn’t had this kind of stamina since he’d been a teenager with his cock in his fist for hours at a time.

  She winced as she took him deep.

  He looked at her askance, knowing she had to be sore, but she was determined.

  “Fuck me, Jace.”

  He bucked inside her and she clenched hard to meet his thrust. Jace kissed her again, tasted her, tasted the three of them together again. Her breasts bounced against his cheek as they fucked and he filled his hands with them as he drilled into her.

  Neither of them noticed when Vance left.

  Chapter Twelve

  Charlotte

  Charlotte couldn’t help the hot blush that stole over her face when she lay spent against Jace’s shoulder.

  She didn’t want to look up at his face, not because he was scarred and ugly, every mark on his face was sacred to her. Charlotte didn’t think she could bear to look at him and still see the rage in his eyes, or the disdain.

  She was afraid that maybe all Jace had wanted from her was her innocence.

  She knew that if that’s all he wanted of her, then she was better off without him anyway, but she didn’t want to be better off. She just wanted Jace and Vance.

  And she wanted him to love her the way she loved him. She knew that love, with Vance, would come.

  His broad fingers stroked her hair softly, making long sweeps down her tresses to ghost over her spine down to her hip and back up again—almost as if he were petting her like some spoiled house cat.

  Her heart swelled with everything felt for him, but it was peppered with fear. Fear that after all she’d done, that he didn’t feel the same.

  “Wait, where’s Vance?” she asked.

  “I thought he went to clean up. Is he gone?” Jace asked.

  “Yeah. He left.”

  “That’s my fault. I...” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

  “You could start by not hating him.”

  “I don’t. I never did. I hated myself.”

  “And now?”

  “I still kind of hate myself, but I’m not angry. For the first time in years, I’m not angry.”<
br />
  “We can’t let him go,” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t want to, but I don’t know how this works. I’ve never done this.”

  “First, you love me, right?”

  He looked like a small mammal caught in the oncoming lights of a semi. Eyes large, heart racing, she could see his pulse in his throat.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “Jesus, woman. Yes. I fucking love you,” he snarled.

  “I thought you said you weren’t mad.”

  “I wasn’t ready for that.”

  “No one ever is. I love you. Good, that’s settled. Now we can focus on Vance. I think it’s too soon to call it love, but he fits. He’s good for us. And I know one day, it will be love.”

  “He may be good for us.” Jace leaned back. “But maybe we’re not good for him.”

  “No, we just worked through a bunch of this crap. Vance can decide for himself where he wants to be and what’s good for him. He’s a grown man. We have to tell him that we want him. That he wasn’t just a buffer. That he wasn’t an experiment.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I know I am. Let’s go get our man.”

  “I... how do we even? What kind of grand gesture do you make to the man who has everything?”

  “He has everything except us.” She grabbed her phone.

  Where are you?

  I went up to bed. You guys needed to work some things out.

  Out they have been worked. No one wanted you to leave.

  Third wheel.

  Three are better than two.

  He didn’t reply.

  Can we come up?

  Not tonight.

  Too late. We’re already in the elevator, she lied.

  “Get dressed. Hurry up.”

  “Damn, nagging.” Jace double-timed it and they rode the elevator up to the penthouse where he buzzed them in.

  “You were not already in the elevator,” Vance accused.

  “No, we weren’t.” Jace stepped forward. “Here’s the thing. I’m better with showing someone something than speaking about it. I don’t have anything to give you, but me. I know that’s not much. I’m poor white trash that’s sick in the head. But I need you. We need you.”

  “Don’t say that about yourself,” was all Vance said.

  “It’s the truth. Hiding from it doesn’t change it. I’m so goddamn sorry for what I did. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want...”

  Charlotte’s heart was full. Jace didn’t speak about feelings. He never said he was sorry. These were all firsts and they were all for Vance.

  “You’re so angry, Jace.”

  “Not anymore and not at you. I know it’ll take time to build trust, but I’m just asking you for that time. No promises.”

  “You know, Vance, you’re not the Brat Prince at all,” Charlotte said.

  “I used to be.”

  “None of us are who we used to be. This triad makes us all better. Don’t you think?”

  “I think we all need therapy,” Vance said.

  “Okay. That’s fair. As long as we go together,” Jace said.

  “You crazy bastard,” Vance sighed, but held out his arms. “My bed is lonelier without you two than I could’ve imagined.”

  “Then let’s warm it up. Permanently,” Charlotte said.

  “Is that really what you want?” he said as they embraced him.

  “What do you want?” Jace asked.

  “For this to be real.”

  “More real than anything I’ve ever known,” Jace said. “You came to the dark with me. Help me stand up in the light.”

  “So I decree by order of the Brat Prince.”

  As far as fairytales went, there’d been a beast, a prince, and a lady fair. Only the lady had been rescued long before the boy had become a beast and the prince had taught them to save themselves in the end.

  She didn’t know what the future was going to bring them, but she wondered if any of these stories ever ended with happily for now? If living in the moment could be enough? Because maybe, maybe it was about the journey and not the destination.

  At the moment, the destination was Vance’s bed. It was warm, it was safe, it was perfect, the three of them in each other’s arms.

  The journey to get there had been a wild ride, but she wouldn’t change a thing. It was what they’d each needed so the three lost puzzle pieces fit together to make a whole new, unexpected, but beautiful picture all on their own.

  About the Author

  Sara Wylde is the crackfic! contemporary pen name for PNR/UF author Saranna DeWylde. She rather imagines that all the pen names live in the same dorm in her head and frequently have discussions that look and sound something like an episode of Herman's Head.

  Social Media links

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theoriginalsarawylde/

  Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/KFQBH

  A Valentine’s Deal

  TL Reeve

  Chapter One

  “Jorge no. I’m not doing this story. I already put in for the day off on Valentine’s. You’ll have to find someone else.” Sierra Hanover refused to look up from her computer. “If you give me ’til this afternoon, I will gladly find you a few replacements who would be amazing for this story.”

  The man had been persistent. No matter how many times she said no, he continued to ask. Was it so bad for her to want one day off after ten years of doing the same kind of story over and over again?

  “We’ve been over this.” He turned off her monitor, drawing her attention. “You’re the one who does these. People look forward to your reporting on Valentine’s Day. You can’t back out.”

  No, people didn’t look forward to her reporting. They tuned in for the mushy shit she peddled on that particular day. Of course, she had received her fair share of proposals as well, but they were from stalkers—the losers who couldn’t take no for an answer. The types normal people didn’t bring home to meet the family.

  She frowned. “Don’t you understand how much I loathe these types of stories?”

  He sighed. “What happened to make you to hate Valentine’s so much?” He took a seat beside her. His brown-eyed gaze bore into her.

  “Nothing.” She couldn’t handle the way he watched her. It was too personal. Too ... intimate. Not in a sexual way, but more like a let-me-help-you kind of way. “It’s not about love.” Exasperation laced her words. “It’s about how much money people can spend on each other. It’s about unrealistic ideals we place on each other.”

  “For some, sure.”

  “For all. Six million people will either be proposed to or get married. Men and women will spend approximately twenty billion dollars, and for what? To be told no? To be stood up? Dumped? I say screw it.”

  “I’m sure if you had a supportive significant other, you’d feel differently,” he stated with a shrug.

  “I am going to pretend you didn’t say something so fucking stupid.” Disgust filled her. “I don’t need anyone.”

  “Look, I’m denying your request for the day off,” he replied. “I need you to do this story. You’re the best person I have for this project. Besides, it’s at Wolfsbane. You know, the premier night club for the supernatural.”

  Sierra sighed. She honestly didn’t want to, even if it was at Wolfsbane. Staying in for the night, curled up on her couch with a good book, sounded more appealing than being in some club, watching people grind up against each other because of some stupid fascination with “love.” Yet, she also realized in those few scant minutes with her boss, he wouldn’t let it go. He’d hound her, because he was right. She was one of his best reporters, and no, she wasn’t patting herself on the back. She had the awards and accolades to prove it. “You’re a ball buster, Jorge.”

  “It’s why I call all the shots around here.” He tapped the folder resting in her “in” box that she’d dreaded opening. “You’re going to have fun. Supposedly, the owners throw a find your soulmate soirée.”
r />   A question remained. “Who names their club after a poisonous flower?”

  “They did. You have a meeting with them tomorrow morning to go over some pre-celebration questions and get a feel for the club. Then you’ll do the live podcast interview to build up the huge blow out Valentine’s party.”

  “But I—”

  “Thanks, Sierra. You’re a lifesaver. I promise I will make this up to you.” He squeezed her shoulder, then exited the cubicle.

  Yeah, she’d heard that several times over the last ten years. She glanced at the dossier. Okay, so, gut check time. The name did intrigue her. How much, she couldn’t say. Still, if she gave in and did the write-up, Jorge would continue to walk all over her, and she couldn’t have that happen.

  Pushing her chair back, she stood. He had to understand, she didn’t take well to anyone trying to strong-arm her. She made her way through the cubical maze and headed for his office. She didn’t need a pep talk. She knew exactly what she’d say. No. Stepping into his office, she closed the door behind her.

  “We have to talk about this.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I don’t think you heard me back there. I am taking the day off. I am not doing another frilly holiday piece.”

  He sat back in his chair and sighed. “Sierra, as much as I like you, I also have to remind you, you don’t get to dictate what we do here. I am your boss and you are my reporter.”

  “I put in for the day off,” she replied.

  “You took the day off to get out of working.” He folded his hands on his desk. “If it wasn’t for the holiday, you’d be here, which means you really don’t need the day off.”

  How the hell did he know? She could have an OBG-YN appointment and it could be near Tujunga Canyon. “I have never taken a day off. I have done all these stupid stories to help you out.”

  “And I need you one more time. You’re our best reporter. I don’t care if you take two weeks off after this. Hell, I’ll pay for your vacation if you want.”

  “Anywhere I want?”

  “Within reason.” He pinned her with a glare.

  “Fine. My vacation for two weeks will begin on the fifteenth and will last until the twenty-fifth. You’ll be sending me to Oahu.” Not waiting for him to answer, Sierra pivoted and sauntered back through the cubicle maze to her desk.