Candy Ever After (Hot Candy Book 2)

by Jo Raven

  I give her a moment to get used to Joel’s big cock, to lower herself, take him all in, before I brush her back opening again.

  “Oh please…” She tries to see what I’m doing, twisting her body, but she’s impaled on Joel’s dick and his hands keep her still, even as he sucks in a sharp breath.

  “Steady,” he rasps, his voice gone so deep with arousal it vibrates in my bones and raises the hairs on my arms. “Hell, girl.”

  I circle her hole with my fingertip, push inside. She whines, held still by Joel’s hands, or maybe it’s the shock of being filled simultaneously by Joel and me. I stroke her inside, biting back a gasp when her heat sucks me in, then add a second finger.

  “Okay, Sugar Pop?” I keep stroking, slow, measured movements against her smooth inner walls. “Want me to stop?”

  “No. No, don’t…” She breathes out. “Don’t stop.”

  Not sure I could. “Tell me if it hurts.”

  At her nod, I scissor my fingers, opening her up, and she gasps. She’s holding on to Joel’s arms for dear life, bent slightly forward, giving me access.

  I may be in love with this girl.

  Frowning, I focus on her, adding a third finger inside her. She’s struggling to accept those fingers inside her, her breathing coming in short gasps—but she’s doing it. I’m filled with a strange pride for her, and something else, something that logs in my chest, hot and burning bright.

  “Fucking do it,” Joel whispers and looking up I find his eyes boring into mine, the deepest blue. “Now, Jet.”

  I draw out my fingers, slowly, then I grip my cock and push into her.

  My vision blurs at the pressure surrounding my hard-on, the velvet heat of her body as it closes around me. I grip her hips, pushing deeper, and ah fuck, I can feel Joel’s cock lodged inside her pussy.

  “Oh God!” Candy writhes in our twin hold. She moans, low and long, the sound a sparkling pressure behind my balls, making my dick swell more.

  Dizzy with pleasure, I push until I’m all the way in and then I close my eyes, shuddering. This is fucking crazy. Nuts. Insane.

  Joel is saying something, but it’s hard to think past the white noise filling my head, the fire boiling my blood. “Wha?”

  Instead of replying, he lifts Candy up, making all three of us groan, then lowers her back down on our dicks.

  And it all goes haywire.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  CANDY

  Title: Own Me

  From Candy Boys (Blog serial)

  “We own you,” he tells me as they both slide home, filling me up. “Every part of you.”

  “This isn’t the frigging Middle Ages,” I inform them, moaning at the double intrusion, welcoming it. “You can’t own people. I’d come willingly with you two, though.”

  Oh yeah, I’ll come. I’m coming. My kitty clenches hard, and my body shudders. Oh my God…

  “Well, there’s at least one part of her we don’t own,” J-Two mutters. “That mouth.”

  “Told you that you should have stuffed it with something,” J-One replies.

  They’re inside me. Both of them.

  My thoughts are frozen, stuck on this little fact, even as my body is moving, stretching, struggling to accommodate their thick cocks.

  And then they start moving. Thrusting into me. Holding me still as they slide in and out of me. It’s uncomfortable at first. I’m too full. Too stretched. Despite all the lube they’ve used, despite being so wet for them, it’s still not easy, taking them both at the same time.

  Heck, taking one of them at a time was already pushing it. They’re not small, these boys.

  But as they find a rhythm, driving into me at the same time, their cocks sparking off every single erogenous spot, the discomfort fades and blinding pleasure hits.

  I claw at Joel’s biceps, my mouth opening in a wordless cry, as my body clenches so hard I see stars. I’m not coming yet, but suddenly I’m right there, balancing on a razor-sharp edge, heat racing up and down my spine, my breasts tingling, my pussy pulsing.

  “Oh yeah,” Joel breathes, pounding faster, deeper into me. “Fuck, Jet, I can feel you—”

  “Feel you, too,” Jet bites out, his grip bruising on my hips as he rocks into me in hard, short thrusts. “Goddammit.”

  I’m gasping for breath, can’t get enough air, this is too much, so frigging good, and…

  “God, oh God,” I chant as I come, white-hot pleasure unfurling in my belly. My pussy tightens so hard around Joel’s cock I groan, riding him, riding them both hard.

  I think I may be dying of pleasure. Dark spots are swimming in my eyes. I clench again, and again, distantly aware that Joel is swearing, his cock jerking inside me, and that Jet…

  Jet is still thrusting, but then he’s coming, too, moaning my name, his cock pulsing inside my ass. Triggering another series of mini-shocks that shoot straight to my pussy, where I tighten around Joel…

  Who rocks inside me again, still half-hard, gasping, his mouth open, his eyes wide.

  “Holy fuck,” he manages, and his dick pulses again, and I tighten, and we all moan. “This is cracked.”

  Yeah, pretty cracked. Incredible. The world shatters into a million bright pieces, and I fall among them, light as a feather. Heavy as a stone.

  They both cradle me in their arms as I come down from the high, shaky and limp and so frigging emotional my eyes are filling up with tears, and I cling to them, my heart close to bursting.

  Not even in my wildest fantasies had I imagined it would feel like this. How does one go back to writing a story when reality is so much better?

  ***

  Somehow we find ourselves on the living room sofa, eating waffles with chocolate syrup and—you guessed it—bananas. Looks like Joel has been putting that cookbook to good use.

  His banana, too. Oh God…

  I’m exhausted. It’s all the super badass sex. How’s a girl to think straight after that? DP, baby. Double penetration.

  Badass.

  God, my life is turning into a serial. Into the serial. Only on steroids.

  Sandwiched between my super boys who are watching a wrestling match on TV, I feel warm and drowsy and comfortable and…cherished. I have my head on Joel’s lap and my feet on Jethro’s, and I listen to them talk.

  They’re still naked. Joel’s muscular thigh is dusted with fine hairs. I trail my hand to his knee, and he twitches.

  I grin.

  My boys have been devouring stacks of waffles and commenting on the match with their mouths full. Is it weird that I find that cute?

  It is weird. God.

  And I can’t keep from stroking Joel’s knee, the muscles shifting under my hand. My eyes are closing. Figures that I’d fall asleep with my fantasy boyfriends, while they’re wide awake and could probably go for round two… or is it three?

  Could my ass get any more pounding? Will I be able to walk tomorrow? Should I buy a butt plug? Should I wander around wearing it, is that a thing when you have two boyfriends?

  Damn, I hate how philosophical I get when I’m tired.

  And should I ask them if they are my boyfriends now? Does taking it in the ass constitute the foundation of a steady relationship? Should I wait until Joel also taps my ass before I ask? Should we do everything twice, in reversed positions?

  God, I’m wiped out. But I like Joel’s hand rubbing my back, and Jethro massaging my ankles and feet. Mmmm…

  “Love that,” I mumble. “Love you, guys. What we did earlier… oh man.”

  Jethro chuckles. “She’s fucking out of it.”

  “We fucked you senseless, didn’t we, girl?” Joel runs his fingers through my hair and I purr. “You liked it, though.”

  I nod, although it wasn’t a question. I thought it was obvious. Weren’t my invocations of God, Joel and Jet clear hints? Or the way I gripped their cocks inside me, almost crushing them to pulp as I came?

  Come on.

  “I didn’t hurt you?” Jethro asks, and warmt
h seeps into my face—and my heart.

  “You’d never hurt me,” I tell him and twist around, trying to see his face. His eyes are stormy as he hauls me up until I’m seated between them, and I plop my heavy head on his shoulder. “Neither of you would, or could. I wanted this, with both of you. Have wanted you for so long.”

  “You’ve said that before.” Joel twines a lock of my hair around his fist, and sniffs it. “How long, then? You make it sound like a long time.”

  He just sniffed my hair. He’s so cute…

  “Years,” I whisper. “Many years. Too damn long. I…”

  A hush falls on the room. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. The noise from the TV is suddenly too loud.

  What have I said?

  Oh holy shit. What have I done? Shitshitshit.

  I scramble off the sofa, dodging their hands reaching for me, knowing that if they catch me, I’ll have to stay and explain. Tell them about my years-long crush on them. My fantasies with them.

  God, the blog. No, I’m never telling them about that.

  Muttering a lame excuse about having to check on my roommate, I grab my clothes, jump into them and run out of their apartment.

  As I climb into an Uber and head home, I bury my face in my hands and blink back tears. Maybe I shouldn’t have run. I mean, what’s wrong with a crush, huh?

  I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to stop this… whatever it is we’re having together. The sex. The hugs. The banana dinners. The sweet smiles on Jethro’s face, the sexy grins on Joel’s.

  I want these boys. I care for them. I miss them already, and I’ve only been away from them ten minutes.

  Jeez, I don’t know what to do next. I feel like my heart is breaking. Someone please shoot me?

  ***

  When I arrive home, Brylee isn’t there. It annoys me, because I wanted to pour my heart out to her. What sort of friend is she, not to wait for me alone every night in case I decide to abandon my boys and come sobbing at her feet, huh?

  Some people…

  Should I call my boys? Explain? Apologize, blame everything on a misunderstanding? Sex intoxication? I bet that exists.

  There’s only one problem with this plan: it looks like I forgot my cell phone at their place, and I don’t know their phone numbers by heart.

  I know, right? When it rains, it pours.

  But maybe it’s for the best? Note the question mark. Like, I should calm down and think what to do before I rush into any panicky actions?

  God knows. I curl up on the sofa instead and reluctantly turn on my laptop. Strange how something that used to define my life, to take up most of my free time, doesn’t feel normal anymore. Doesn’t feel real.

  I log in and check my blog, planning to upload first my reviews of a load of amazing gay romances I gorged on recently—books by Harper Fox, Josh Lanyon, Santino Hassel and Andrea Speed—and I freeze.

  Holy guacamole! My blog has exploded.

  Well, not literally, but the sheer amount of comments people have left when I wasn’t looking is staggering. Open-mouthed, momentarily distracted from my doubts and panic, I scroll through them, trying to figure out what happened here.

  “Please don’t stop the serial!” many comments read. “Bring back J&J. You stopped at the best part.”

  Others are asking if I’m okay, if something happened to me.

  They’re right. I haven’t missed an installment of my serial in years. Guess I really don’t have a life, huh. Not outside of my blog, that is.

  Damn.

  Connie’s name pops up on chat. “You okay, Candix? You were gone for a while there.”

  “I’m fine,” I type back, add a smiley. “Just busy.”

  “Busy writing the next chapter of the J&J story, I hope!” Dancing emojis. “Can’t wait to see if J-Two will top J-One after all.”

  Say what? I stare at her words. Had I left the story at such a point? J-Two is Jethro, and Jethro was about to fuck Joel? Really?

  In the serial, Jethro is aggressive. Loud. Touchy-feely.

  And J-One, that is, Joel, is more reserved, quieter, but he’s also the one who keeps pushing Jethro to sleep with him, and me, to try new things, new positions.

  But… that’s not how they are.

  I mean, sure Jethro likes to throw his arm over Joel’s shoulders, especially when someone is taking a photo, grinning like a maniac—but in real life, he’s the quiet one. He’s the artist who draws comics and struggles with reading. The one who holds my hand when we walk in the street.

  And Joel likes to be in control. He also likes books. And history. And taking care of Jethro. Of both of us.

  “You’re gone again?” Fist-shaking emoji. “Candy?”

  “Here.” After a moment, I add a tongue-sticking emoji. “Thinking.”

  “That why you vanished? What happened with the fantasy boyfriends?”

  That’s the thing, though, isn’t it? They aren’t a fantasy anymore.

  They also aren’t my boyfriends. Are they?

  “They’re well.” Evasive maneuvers in process. “Awesome.”

  “What did you do?”

  Uh oh. Failure in my evasive maneuvers. “Nothing.”

  “You had sex with them.”

  Did I mention before that Connie knows me better than I know myself? Well, I lied. She has taken over my brain and is apparently conducting experiments. She can read my thoughts and rewind my memories for better viewing.

  What I did with the boys tonight… their cocks pounding into me… their hands all over me… holy shit. My pussy—and my ass—twinge both in pain and pleasure, and heat spreads in my belly.

  “You did. You let both of them fuck you, didn’t you?”

  See? Told you.

  “At the same time? Candy, answer me.”

  Why? She already knows everything. I push away from the laptop, in case the flames licking my face set it on fire.

  “Candace Riley. Get your fingers on the keyboard and answer me, dammit.” Angry emojis line the screen. “You can’t leave your bestie out of the loop!”

  No. I can’t. Can’t confirm it, in case I jinx it and never see the boys again.

  Who am I kidding? I already jinxed it.

  “I ran away,” I type slowly, and the words I’m typing make no sense to me.

  What have I done?

  “Ran away? Why? From where? When?”

  “From them. Tonight.”

  “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyy?”

  I stare at her question. Because I’m stupid? Because I was spooked—by what I revealed, by the intensity of my feelings, by the amazing sex?

  Because this is so much more than I expected.

  “Candy.” Emojis going crazy, drinking bottles of wine, dancing, weeping. “You there?”

  “I screwed up,” I type, my eyes filling up again. Hot tears slip down my cheeks. “We had sex. Awesome sex. And then I let it slip that I’ve wanted them both for years. And then I ran.”

  Quiet from the other side.

  I wipe at my eyes angrily. Nobody died. Life goes on. Maybe I didn’t screw up that badly. Tomorrow I will drive by, talk to them.

  “Candix, you have to tell them the truth,” Connie writes.

  I shake my head although she can’t see me. “No way.”

  “Are you with them now? As in a relationship?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, if you want to be, be honest, okay? I’m telling you this from experience. Never let lies sit between you. They fester.”

  I sniffle. I can, since nobody is here to hear me. Also, I wipe my nose on the back of my hand.

  Okay, that was gross.

  “What should I do, Connie?”

  “Tell them. Nothing to be ashamed of. They are handsome guys. So what if you’ve wanted them all along? Isn’t that a stroke to their ego? Why should they be upset? The sooner you tell them, the less upset they’re likely to be.”

  God, she’s right. Now I just need to work up the nerve to do
it.

  ***

  I toss and turn all night, unable to sleep. Thinking about them. How I’d rather be in their arms, pressed between their bodies, listening to them breathe.

  It scares me, that I’ve grown so used to them already, so in need of them. They were two-dimensional figures to me before I really knew them. Pretty outlines, empty inside.

  Everything has changed. Nothing’s clear anymore.

  I wonder if it ever was.

  As I stare at the ceiling, I wonder if Jethro is doing the same. Or if he’s drawing, or staring out the window at the lit-up city, thinking.

  If Joel is dreaming of me. If he talked with Jethro, and what they said. What they decided. I hope they’re not too pissed off at me for running away not to talk to me tomorrow.

  I only wish I had the words for what I have to say and knew how to steel my heart in case they decide they can’t trust me anymore.

  But Connie is right. I have to come clean, tell them about my obsession with them.

  Only they can never know about the blog. About the serial. A girl is allowed to have a secret, right? I’d die if they found out about it.

  I’ve never been so stressed about the next morning since my first day in kindergarten, and let me tell you, that was bad.

  So when Brylee finally comes home and sticks her head in my room, I all but jump on her and wrap my legs around her to make her stay and talk.

  About anything. About fairytales and princes, if that’s what she wants. Anything to take my mind off the current situation.

  “You still up? Has hell frozen over?” She sits down on my bed, and I jump on it, making the springs creak. “Wait a sec, aren’t you spending every moment of your waking time with the boys nowadays? What, were they too busy tonight for nookie?”

  Only Brylee would use the word nookie for hot sex. Sometimes I wonder if she’s still a virgin. “Bry, I need your advice.”

  “And… the world is ending.” She looks pleased, though, as she leans back. “Tell Bry everything.”

  I hesitate. Can you blame me, after this intro? “Can’t we just drink hot chocolate and watch videos on YouTube? There’s one of the Supernatural epic funny fails you haven’t seen yet.”

  At some point we were the Supernatural Girls. Then Bry decided to go after real-life men and left me alone with my fantasies.