The Gift of Three

by Kaitlin Maitland, Allie Quinn,

  “Yes! I’m coming!” Austin cried out, shoving his cock inside her in a bulleted succession. Her pussy clenched around the feeling of his hot cum shooting inside her, and even though he was lost in the throes of his orgasm, he somehow had the brainpower to press down, ever so slightly, on her clit, driving her over that cliff edge into her own powerful orgasm.

  “Christ,” Dylan yelled, pulling her in tight as the orgasm roared through his body. She felt him shaking against her back. Or was that her? She felt as though she was in free fall. The power and ferocity of the pleasure she felt rocketed from her core throughout her entire being. Eventually, after eons, she could breathe again, and all that was left of her were the aftershocks and the glorious sensation of their softening cocks inside her.

  Mercy was wrecked. Austin and Dylan had torn her soul open and used their physical prowess and emotional impact to sew her right back up again. She was twisted and confused, not knowing which way to turn or what to do next. She wanted to shore up her emotional walls and get away from them, but at the same time she wanted to burrow deeper into the heat of their skin and the goodness in their souls. Knowing this was just supposed to be a one-night stand, and realistically couldn’t be anything else, she needed to leave, but she wanted to stay.

  “Hey,” Austin said, caressing her hips. Mercy could hear his heart pounding, the rhythmic beat of his pulse beginning to slow as he calmed. Dylan’s chest was also heaving against her back. His breath heated the skin on her neck, making her sweatier. She was the connection between the two men. Their hearts beat in a harmonious tune with hers, and for one strange and wondrous moment toward the end of their lovemaking—because really, she couldn’t call it anything other than what it was at that point—she’d felt their bodies fall into sync and create their own unique love song. That was the second she’d been torn open.

  Mercy thought she knew love. She thought she’d had her time, and the good parts had been more than she could ever ask for. But to have this new and abnormal experience destroy that assumption, the one thought that had gotten her through her husband’s betrayal, the divorce, and the solitude after years of marriage, was akin to being told that Santa Claus was real and her luck in love had been the adult equivalent of coal in her stocking.

  “Hey,” Austin said again, pinching her hips this time. “You okay? You’re shaking. Dylan, get off her.”

  “I’m fine.” She could hardly hear herself speak, so she cleared her throat and repeated, “I’m fine.”

  “Yes, you are,” Dylan groaned, finally waking from his postsex coma. He nipped her shoulder a little too hard for her sensitive skin but quickly kissed the sting away, radiating warmth and caring. Not love. It couldn’t be. Love was impossible due to the amount of time they’d known each other. But she had loved Lucas for years, and this felt stronger than anything they had ever shared.

  Dylan pulled his flaccid cock from her hole, slowly and gently, taking care not to jar her. He smoothed a couple of fingertips over the hole, helping the muscles ease back into their normal state. She shivered and couldn’t stop a moan from escaping in result of the odd sensation. Austin kissed her forehead, comforting her. It made her heart hurt thinking the time was coming when she had to leave.

  She imagined what a relationship with them might be like, and then she thought of her family and all her brothers and the many ChristmaHanuKwanzikah Extravaganzas they would have to face. A gay couple was one thing; a ménage was a whole ’nother ball of sins to be picked on. She wouldn’t make their lives harder.

  “Be right back,” Dylan said before walking into the bathroom. He returned with a warm, damp washcloth. After lying down next to Austin he took care of her sore bottom while she remained resting atop Austin’s toned body. “Feel all right?”

  She nodded, not trusting herself to vocalize anything without breaking down in tears from the odd emotional upheaval she was experiencing.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Austin asked. “Or are you rendered speechless by our astounding sexing abilities?”

  “I think I’ve been blown away by your massive…ego.”

  They chuckled and settled into a comfortable silence, just enjoying one another’s company for the time being.

  “Huh,” Austin said, drawing Mercy’s attention from drawing circles on his chest to where his eyes were gazing. A digital clock, resting on the wooden bedside table.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Merry Christmas, loves.”

  “Ha.” Dylan chuckled, then kissed her shoulder. Her reached over her waist to rub Austin’s side up and down, keeping them all connected. “Merry Christmas, dear,” he said sarcastically but not unkindly. It sounded like an inside joke, the inflection in his voice and the expression on his face something Austin had probably enjoyed a hundred times.

  But this was her first time. Austin and Dylan had a whole history together, been through tough times together. She was the newbie. The freshman. She never liked being the new girl, and as much as it hurt in a weird and new way, she knew it was time to make her excuses and head back home.

  “Well, gents, the night has been full of adventure.” She reached up to kiss Austin. “And passion.” She turned, getting up on all fours to lean over Dylan and leave him with a sweet kiss. “But now it must end. I’m off to get at least a few hours of sleep before the requisite Christmas-morning fawning over the kids as they open their presents.”

  “What?” Dylan asked, holding on to her shoulders so she couldn’t get out of bed. “Why don’t you stay the night?”

  “Well…you guys, I need some rest. If I stay, I’ll need a wheelchair to get into my folks’ house tomorrow.”

  “And that’s a bad thing? We’ll carry you in.” Austin grinned, breaking her heart from wanting.

  “Yeah.” Mercy shrugged out of Dylan’s hold and found a towel discarded on the floor. She quickly wrapped it around herself, needing a barrier between her body and their heated gazes. “That would go over well with my eight older brothers. Eight. There are eight of them, remember?”

  “They’re all softies,” Austin said, waving her warning away.

  “Yup, whipped by their spouses, or soon-to-be spouses,” Dylan agreed, turning to sit up and rest his feet on the hardwood floor.

  “That’s…actually a good observation. However, I don’t want to give them the wrong idea about the three of us.”

  Austin sat up next to Dylan, perplexed. “And what idea would that be?”

  “That this is more serious than a one-night stand?”

  “It’s not?” Dylan asked, standing in all his naked glory with his arms crossed, a somewhat stubborn frown on his face. “So, what is this, then?” Dylan swept his hand out to encompass the room, his voice rising in agitation.

  “This was me, in your bed, for one night. That’s what you wanted. That’s what we agreed on.” She turned away from them, heading toward the door. Austin ran in front of her and barred the exit.

  “Originally, yes, before we knew you.” He cupped her face with both his hands and kissed her forehead, calling forth all the beautiful moments they’d shared throughout the evening. It almost made her forget how overbearing they were being…almost.

  “Why does that make a difference?” she asked, pulling his hands off her face. “We all got what we wanted.”

  “Oh, so you feel satisfied?” Austin asked, stepping back toward Dylan. “Think one night with us is enough?”

  Mercy didn’t want to listen to this, hating the censure in his tone. She ran out the door and then down the stairs. Her clothes lay discarded at the base of the steps.

  But the men apparently weren’t finished as they followed her to the entryway. “Had your fill of the homos?” Austin asked cynically.

  “That’s not what I think of you, and you know that,” she yelled fiercely, outraged they would think her capable of such intolerance. “We said one night. That’s all we said we wanted, the three of us.” She pulled her dress on ove
r her head and then began the search for her shoes, more frantic to get out of their house.

  “I don’t remember agreeing on a single night,” Dylan said, his voice softer than Austin’s but equally angry. “And anyway, who cares what we said in the beginning? You can’t deny this connection we have together. That was fucking magic there.” He gestured wildly up toward the bedroom. “And on the stairs and even just being together. Being in the same room with the two of you together is electric. You don’t feel that?”

  “What you’re feeling is lust, passion.” She sighed, pushing her tangled hair off her face, trying to make him understand. “It’s not emotional.”

  “That is mostly true. That is what we felt when we first saw you,” Austin said, walking the final steps to stand toe to toe with her, an almost pleading look on his face. “But we know you better than we did at the beginning. We want to know you even more. We want to spend time with you and develop whatever this is between us.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you need to know why?” Austin cupped her shoulders as Dylan came down to stand at her side, stroking her hair. They were quite the tag team. “Why can’t you trust the two men you’ve spent the night with? We’ve talked, we’ve made love, and it was amazing. Life altering. Don’t you want more of that?”

  Of course she wanted more. She wanted many more hours and days and maybe years if she got to know them well enough. But how could this weird and wonderful thing work? Short answer, it couldn’t. To stay and allow them all to grow fonder of one another was cruel, when in the end only Dylan and Austin could end up together.

  “We fucked,” Mercy said, hardening her voice and forcing her tears back. It was better this way. Really. “That’s it.”

  “Why are you brushing this off?” Dylan asked, his brows furrowed and mouth tight. “I know you felt it.”

  “What do you know?” She shrugged off his hold, backing up toward the door. “You know I moan when you fuck me or lick me. That’s all you know. That’s all this was, Dylan. I’m sorry if I gave you the impression it was more.”

  “We got the impression because it is more,” Austin insisted, taking Dylan’s hand in his, presenting a united front. She was fully dressed now—shoes, dress, outerwear—and she still felt completely naked when facing off against them.

  “No, it’s not. I’m leaving.” She moved toward the door. Her hand rested on the doorknob, tears about ready to pour out. “Good night.”

  “You’re just gonna walk away from this—from this amazing thing the three of us can have?” Austin asked quietly.

  She turned back, not taking her hand off the knob, squeezing the life out of it to control her expression.

  “You already have something amazing with just the two of you—”

  “Is that what this is about?” Dylan asked, stepping toward her with a look of hope on his face that almost crushed her. “Mercy, we both want you. We both think you enhance and make the love we already have even better. You being here with us is what we both want.”

  “It’s not what I want. It’s not what I signed up for. I’m sorry.”

  “What did you sign up for?” Austin asked, wrapping Dylan in his arms.

  She laughed harshly, hammering the last nail in the coffin of any relationship she could have had with them. “You helped me release some pent-up tension. Sorry you’re touchy about it.”

  “It’s easy to be a bitch, Mercy,” Austin said softly with a shake of his head. “Why don’t you try bravery and be honest with yourself? I bet it would be the first time in years.”

  She deserved that, but the next words escaping her mouth came from a place stoked by years of bitterness and anger.

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Austin’s words were cold, so opposite the man she knew him to be, when he said, “You already did that enough for the night, but thanks.”

  She opened the door and then walked off into the frigid darkness, slamming it shut behind her. The cold was a balm, a tool to aid the ice as it froze what remained of her virulent heart. She didn’t allow her tears to fall until she was in her car and back on the road.

  Chapter Nine

  “Hey. Mercy. Wake up, kid.”

  Mercy’s eyes attempted to flutter open, but she could feel the icky crustiness and dryness keeping them sealed from all the crying she’d done the night before.

  The night before. Christmas Eve with Austin and Dylan.

  Her body was sore in places she thought had dried up from lack of use over the years, including those last couple years with Lucas, unsatisfying years she’d been in serious denial of. The thought alone of nights with Lucas compared to a single encounter with the two men was laughable. She could still feel the heat from their bodies on her skin, the sheer magnitude of their presence and how they drew her, comforted her. They held her yet let her fly, let her be who she needed to be. Mercy would never forget the ecstasy of not only the sex, but the alignment she’d been searching for. They filled the pieces of her life she’d been missing, and she ran away from them, too wrapped up in her own shit to give them a chance. It was over as fast as it had begun.

  She moaned into her pillow, regretting her behavior after everything they’d done for her. The things she’d said. The looks on their faces. She was ashamed. And that right there was the worst part, knowing that she hurt them.

  “C’mon, let’s get you some coffee.”

  That voice. Who was talking to her? She finally forced one eye open to see two angelic faces smiling kindly at her. “Kiddo.”

  “Rhys!” She sniffed, overcome with joy, and shamelessly flung herself off the couch and into his arms. Rhys and his fiancé were the missing pieces of the Johnson puzzle. It was hard to have them live across an ocean, but it had been even more difficult to get Mac, Rhys’ fiancé, a green card. Mac was a burly, stereotypical redheaded Scotsman. The family had instantaneously fallen in love with him after hearing a few short, indecipherable Scottish sentences. It was no surprise that Rhys had done the same.

  “Hey, there.” Rhys laughed, holding her tight. She’d missed him terribly and never wanted to let him go.

  “Mercy?” Rhys asked after she held on to him a bit longer than she normally would have. “Mercy, are you crying?” he asked, trying to pry her away from his shoulder.

  She was crying, and it was awful and embarrassing, so she latched on and refused to let go, not wanting him to see her tears even though he could no doubt feel them on his neck.

  “You all right, Mercy?” Mac’s deep baritone whispered from behind her. His hand rubbed her back up and down in a soothing rhythm. “What’s wrong, lass?”

  Her heart hurt so much at that point she was having trouble keeping the volume of her sobs to a minimum. But she couldn’t control it; seeing her kind big brother opened the floodgates. She’d kept an array of emotions buried deep for years, and the torrential roller coaster of the previous evening just tipped the scales.

  “Let it out, Mercy,” Mac crooned, massaging her shoulders and petting her hair. “Jesus, you feel like you’re twisted tighter than my gran’s knickers.”

  “I…I’m sorry.” She hiccuped after a few moments, struggling to keep quiet. “I’m just happy to see you both.” Mercy pushed out of Rhys’s arms before he could get a good look at what was probably a blotchy and snot-smeared face. “Let me go wash up, and I’ll make us some coffee.”

  It was still dark out, maybe a little after five in the morning. Mercy had probably gotten less than an hour of rest since she’d collapsed on the couch, staring at the lights on the Christmas tree. However, there was no way Mercy was getting back to sleep.

  She’d gone home after the fight with Austin and Dylan, but the cold and empty house was too lonesome for Mercy’s brittle emotions. She’d needed her family, even if it was just being in proximity to them. So after a few sleepless hours, she’d dressed and driven back to her parents’ place.

  “Oh no, Mercy, girl. Don’t think you can get away from us that eas
y after all that, ya right numpty.” Mac pulled her down into his lap. She loved Mac as much as she loved her brothers. There was a genuine kindness about the Scot…and nobody could resist the handsome devil when he went full Scottish as he was doing then. “Tell boyo here what’s wrong, now.”

  She sniffled through a laugh and rested her head against his shoulder, curling her arms into her body like a child. “It’s not important.”

  He snorted in disbelief. “The only time I ever saw you fall apart like this was…”

  “Never,” Rhys interrupted. “I’ve known this girl since she was born, and I’ve never seen her cry like this. Not even after Lucas.”

  “Tha’ bawbag was nae worth our Mercy girl’s tears.” That, right there. That was why she loved Mac. He just got it, and he knew exactly what to say to express it, even if she had trouble understanding most of the words.

  “I cried like this once,” Rhys said, sitting alongside Mac and kissing his fiancé’s cheek. “When Mac wasn’t approved for his green card, I thought I was never going to see him again.” Rhys lifted Mercy’s chin so he could look into her blotchy eyes. “Are you crying over a guy, Mercy? You know you can tell us, kid.”

  She groaned, burrowing her head into Mac’s chest and avoiding the question entirely. Unfortunately, that tactic only confirmed Rhys’s astute assumption.

  “A guy?” Mac laughed incredulously as she hid in his chest. “You in love?”

  “No.” She lifted her head and rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. “I don’t know. It’s not possible.”

  “You falling in love with anyone other than Lucas is impossible?” Rhys asked like the skeptic she knew he could be.

  “No…”

  “Hey.” Rhys cupped her face to wipe away a few stray tears. “Since when have you kept secrets from me? Nothing you can say will ever shock me.”