No Broken Bond

by Angel Payne

  “Do it,” I mouthed it to Drake. “She wants it.”

  His cobalt eyes were an abyss of pain, rage…arousal. But, as he’d clearly warned me, he wouldn’t deny our girl pleasure. Ever.

  He let out a coarse growl—right before covering her areola with his full mouth.

  “Yes!” Talia cried.

  He sucked on her with force. She’d have a bruise in the morning.

  “Ohhhhh. Yessss. God, yes!” She threaded her fingers through his thick hair to hold him in place, but Drake didn’t need encouragement. Once begun, he was a ravenous beast. A depleted battery. A dry drunk with a fresh bottle in sight. The need was palpable, an electricity in the air crackling with intensity.

  He pushed up, gaining himself better access to her tits. Her tank top was a quick casualty of his pursuit, thrown over his shoulder and landing on the floor.

  “My God, you’re beautiful.” He followed the declaration with a trail of kisses along the side of her breast, over her chest and neck, ending in a deep, smoldering conquest upon her lips. He smashed his way into her mouth, becoming her breath and giving her no quarter, while I watched in enraptured silence.

  Tingling sensations lit up my flesh as the scent of her arousal filled the air. It swirled with her natural wildflower mystery to create heady magic.

  I wanted to feel her.

  And like the asshole I still was, I went in for what I wanted.

  I readjusted my weight, turning fully toward her. I was on my side like Drake, so our bodies bracketed her stunning beauty. My blood pumped faster, creating a dull ache in the base of my skull. A momentary flash of concern washed in. Was I overdoing it?

  Talia’s high-pitched yelp brought me back to the moment. Drake had returned his mouth to her nipple. I guessed he’d just sunk his teeth into the tender bud. His grin was obscured by the swell of her breast, but he loved to bite as much as he loved to lick and kiss.

  Maybe…I could do this. Participate…at least a little. If I stuck to simply feeling her skin…

  And if I kept up with lies like that, my nose would grow like a little wooden boy’s.

  At least something would be growing.

  I ejected the thought from my head by violently shaking it. I refocused on Talia’s skin—one of my favorite things about our beautiful goddess. It was silken tan perfection. Fuck, yes…

  I glided my hand to the flat plane of her belly, causing a slight tremor of her muscles there. Her eyes popped open wide. My touch had no doubt stunned her, since I’d been the observer up to that point. After her surprise, the woman appeared more than fine with the twist. A sweet smile spread across her graceful lips. She closed her eyes again, sinking deeper into her lusty haze.

  “Thank you, Fletcher.” Her voice was low and husky, sending shivers through my nervous system.

  “No, baby, I should be thanking you.” My murmur was reverent. “For your perfection.”

  I skated my hand from her belly to her strong thigh, reveling in the smoothness of her flesh. As my fingers neared their juncture, she instinctively spread them. So needy. So brave. Sexy as hell.

  “Do you need something, baby?” I couldn’t help but encourage her. I couldn’t risk Drake bailing out at this point.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

  “I am touching you. And you’re the heaven for my tortured soul, Tolly. My personal savior.” But when I got to the edge of her damp curls, I strayed. Directed my fingers back to her thigh, down to behind her knee, even around the sensitive top of her kneecap.

  “Fletcher!”

  “Hmmm?”

  She arched up again. “Please!”

  “So pretty when you beg.” And my worthless cock just lay there. Slack and uninterested, though every other part of my body screamed to pay attention and give our girl what she needed.

  I was losing hope.

  Drake studiously ignored me. It was a full departure from his usual approach. He was normally like a hawk, noticing every muscle twitch and facial expression from us both, but now he only focused on Talia, as if I wasn’t in the same bed with them.

  It stabbed a new hole in my heart. That poor organ was Swiss cheese at this point, but this puncture hurt the worst. He’d move on without me if I couldn’t get my shit back in the game—and I wouldn’t blame him.

  I slipped my hand back to her hip. Drawing figure eights with the tips of my fingers, I moved toward her center. Her breathing came in sexy-as-fuck little pants. As I roamed my fingers near her pussy, her fire heated me more…pulled me closer. If I swept over her clit, she’d likely go off at once. It had been too damn long for her. For all of us.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Please don’t make me wait any longer. I’m burning up.” She undulated her hips, battling to coax my fingers closer to her heat.

  “Baby, ssshhhhh. Let us make you feel good.”

  “I do. I feel sooooo good already. Please, just—” She choked and bit her lower lip, as if editing her next words. Finally, she just huffed and went for it. “I need someone to fuck me. Please!”

  Something in Drake snapped. He pushed my hand off Talia, replacing it with the entire length of his body. He wouldn’t be denied any longer. Her begging, her actually uttering the words, had pushed him past his breaking point.

  He hooked an arm under one of her legs, hiked it up so her thigh smashed her breast. In one fluid motion, he was inside her. Her quiet moan signaled he’d hit the right spot on the first stroke.

  I watched in rapt wonder. Their passion was mesmerizing. Desire painted her face with shades of pink and rose, his in brown and black. Their bodies surged into each other, their rhythm a flawless sync. I would never tire of watching Tolly claim her pleasure—and fuck it, I was even happy for my brother, who took his satisfaction with bold, thrusting, angry abandon.

  “Drake. Oh, my God. Yes. So good. Don’t stop. Harder. Harder.”

  He said nothing in answer. A slick sheen of sweat glistened across his body. He buried his face into her neck, pumping with greater fury. His hips bucked and pushed and conquered and stabbed, setting a punishing pace. His cock sank deeper and deeper into her. Their thighs made sharp smacks. They were so crazy with pent-up need and emotion it was like watching animals in the wild.

  The room started spinning. The air was hot and stuffy, perfumed with Talia’s feminine arousal and Drake’s masculine sweat. I closed my eyes, trying to rein myself in. Get your shit together.

  But they were like savages beside me, now tearing through the jungle together…leaving me in the dust. I could’ve been in the living room watching reruns of Bones for all they noticed.

  This joining would scar us all.

  And it had been my dumb-shit idea in the first place.

  I’d let my selfishness wound us. Again.

  Just like the perfect Ford I’d become.

  “Natalia.” Drake’s voice was nothing but a raw rasp. “Come for me.”

  She tossed back her hair, dewy with her sweat, it snaked against the pillow. “I’m trying,” she panted. “I’m trying!”

  “Now, Natalia.” He wasn’t even a savage anymore. He was a madman, pounding into her so fiercely the entire bed slammed against the wall. “Come. Come. Come!”

  “I’m…I’m almost—”

  But then he roared, throwing his head back. Then growled, sliding his glistening cock out from her. He fisted the thing, pumping twice before emptying his load across her thighs and pussy.

  I blinked. Stared at him for long moments, wondering what creature had really taken over the person I called my best friend.

  I hadn’t seen Drake take his own pleasure first since we pledged ourselves to Talia. No—longer.

  And I thought I’d fucked shit up.

  This was the most insane stuff I’d witnessed from him since our try-everything-once phase, picking up random females from an assortment of clubs and bars. He’d liked doing that barbaric marking thing back then, too. He always said it was a turn-on, but I’d known better
. When Drake spent himself inside a woman, part of his spirit went with it. Underneath the Captain Bad-Ass cape was a man looking for his someone, just like the rest of us. Climaxing like that turned the act into nothing but an act for him.

  The asshole had just turned our woman into an act.

  His head fell forward as he held himself above her. His face was still contorted. His neck muscles were tight. A tic throbbed in his jaw. He was already beating himself up and I wasn’t about to stop him.

  He pushed up from the mattress. Left the bed in one ruthless sweep of motion. Strode into the bathroom, where he slammed the door with a loud bang. The lock was engaged— the click seemed deafening.

  I prayed he’d turn on the shower. As soon as he did, I reached for the softly sobbing woman beside me.

  “Baby,” I crooned. “Oh, baby…please don’t cry. He’s not mad at you. This is shit between him and me.” I forced enough strength into my weak arm to fold her close. It was a paltry stand-in for the way I used to crush her close, but I did it. I was holding her. I was here for her. As she snuggled closer, I murmured into her hair, “It’s okay, love. It’s going to be okay.”

  But it was another lie.

  This wasn’t okay.

  We weren’t okay.

  I’d just used both of them for my own disgusting needs. Forced him to fuck her, though he’d begged me not to, to further my selfish quest for my missing manhood. What the fuck did that even mean anymore?

  I’m not a worthy man for either of them.

  Shitty thing was, I’d heard that refrain before. The night I’d downed a bottle of scotch and glared drunkenly at the skyline from the patio. The next morning, instead of facing them, I’d run from them.

  I couldn’t run this time.

  Not from the mess my damn ego had created.

  Not from the man I’d become—more worthless than my limp body portrayed.

  I thought our love would lift me up from my hell. Instead I’d lassoed it and trapped it. Dragged the most beautiful thing in my life down into the darkness with me.

  Chapter Ten

  Drake

  Fuck him.

  Fuck me.

  Actually, fuck everyone. And everything that went along with this fucked-up shit.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  What had I just done? Because of him. For him. For that messed-up, screwed-up, jacked-up excuse of a brain beneath his god damn thick skull.

  “Talia.” Her name burned my throat, like a demon in hell praying to a saint. I had no right even pleading for her. The most innocent, perfect treasure I’d ever had the honor of loving and I’d just treated her as though she was a random hook-up. Not even that. I at least made sure the hook-ups got theirs eventually.

  I pounded a fist into the shower wall. Longed to bellow Fletch’s name as I did—but that would be too easy. He was the easy blame, but not the true one.

  The true asshole here?

  Me.

  He hadn’t cocked a gun to my head and forced me into the bedroom. I’d gone willingly, even after declaring I was fully onto his shit. I could’ve said no.

  I should’ve said no.

  I should’ve been stronger. Gotten out when I still could. From the moment he’d demanded I kiss her gorgeous breasts, I should’ve rolled the other way—and done exactly this. What would’ve been the difference?

  The pelting ice on my back helped with that answer.

  Twenty minutes.

  Twenty stupid minutes.

  At minute one, I’d still been completely clear. One of us still had to be strong, carrying the weight for all three of us. I’d been the obvious choice for the job. I’d gladly taken on the job.

  At minute twenty, I had been a failure at the job.

  The weak asshole who’d given in to the siren song of her body. Her urgent, erotic need. Her glorious, giving arousal.

  She was my cocaine. I was her addict. I never once denied it. Would be happy to shout it from the top of the god damned Willis Tower.

  Like an addict, I’d thrown everything away for my high.

  I’d treated her as though she was a valueless stranger—and now would have to live with looking into her eyes, knowing I’d let her down. Knowing I’d taken her gift and nailed it to the wall like any other notch on my bedpost.

  I cranked the shower from the extreme C to the extreme H.

  I forced myself to take the liquid fire scalding over my back, but even that pain didn’t erase the memory of what I’d done—the last sight I’d dared to take of her, with my load all over her thighs. I’d marked her pussy like a half-wild Neanderthal. Not that Fletch and I had never considered it—but we’d wanted it to be an orchestrated scene, planned well in advance with her ultimate pleasure in mind. That would’ve been hot as hell. Hotter, actually. What guy didn’t savor the idea of seeing his seed as a visual imprint of his ownership on his woman?

  That—out there—had not been planned.

  I’d been furious with Fletcher, and the revenge was as easy as openly staking my claim on my woman.

  Our woman.

  Not mine.

  A fact I’d easily tossed out of the window, along with all the respect I carried for my best friend…my brother. God damn it, I’d never meant for any of it to happen like that—but he’d kept egging me on, tormenting me with her flesh. Offering her to me. I groaned, just remembering how he’d squeezed her nipple as if it had been a succulent fruit. I’d pleaded for release, knowing I’d be weak, but he’d bulldozed past my walls. Torn down any semblance of control I’d been clinging to.

  Leading us right back here.

  In the land of the impossible.

  Without a god damned road map.

  I washed my hair and face then scrubbed at my skin with the puffy loofah thingy Talia kept hanging in the shower. The scratchy sensation felt good. I could do this a while and be set.

  Maybe if I stayed in the bathroom long enough, they’d both be fast asleep when I emerged. Fletcher’s pain medication usually took a half-hour to start working, so at least he’d be out.

  But he wasn’t the one I dreaded seeing the most.

  I dried myself with the clean white towel on the rack, using a corner to swipe at my hair before wrapping the towel around my waist. For a second, I stood and just stared at my reflection in the full mirror above the sinks. Where was the gaping hole in my chest? The one where my heart had once been? The rip marks from where it had been seized from my body?

  “Wuss,” I muttered. “Get your shit together. Pick up the pieces later.”

  Talia and Fletcher had to remain my first priority, even if I had just become the douche of our triad. Didn’t change a thing. Last year, I’d sworn I’d never abandon them again. I’d meant it then and I meant it now.

  Quietly, I unlocked the door. Slowly, I pulled it open.

  They were both asleep.

  And had never taken my breath away more.

  Talia lay against Fletcher’s chest, her cheek nestled over his heart. Both his arms—even the weaker one—were wrapped solidly around her. They breathed in tandem, their shoulders rising and falling in the rhythm of deep slumber. They clung to each another as if their lives depended on it.

  In so many ways, they did.

  We all did.

  Like it or loathe it—and there had been so many days filled with both lately—we had become a unit. To be a cohesive one, all of the component parts were needed. Talia and I had been so adrift when Fletcher hadn’t been here, trudging through our daily routines with little mattering but his recovery. It had been the prime focus. It still was. Talia had taken an extended leave from her duties at Stone Global, and I was leaning so heavily on my office’s team I expected them to stage a mutiny any day.

  But where was the end?

  When would we get back to normal life?

  What if this is our new normal?

  I had to let that thought drift away with the midnight clouds, skidding across the sky beyond the dark living room windows as
I left the bedroom. If I started down that dismal road next to Fletcher, the three of us would never survive.

  Not. Acceptable.

  I had to be the strong one. The one to save us all. Dramatic? Definitely. But the truth? Probably more than anyone wanted to admit. And despite what I’d just done in there—maybe because of it—I was ready for the mantle now. Last year, I was the ass who’d torn us apart. This time, I’d be the force to piece us back together.

  While my body was exhausted, my mind raced. I plodded into the kitchen to look for something to eat. Marcus was spoiling us with his amazing cooking. The big guy was more domestic than a lot of women I knew. My family would love him.

  Thoughts of Wyoming opened up the hole in my chest again. I couldn’t believe our trip back to the ranch had only been a couple of months ago. I touched base with someone there almost every day. Mom, Dad and Lizzy had been nonstop supportive and worried as hell about Fletcher. He was like a son and brother to them. I ached for them like I had during the first week of Marine Boot Camp. I wished they were closer.

  In the refrigerator, I found some enchiladas left over from last night’s dinner. As I stuffed the plastic container into the microwave, Talia’s birdsong voice came from behind me.

  “Don’t put that in there, silly. It’ll melt.”

  I swung around. Instantly grinned at the sight of her angelic face glowing in the light from the open microwave. I pulled the container out. She was right about it, of course. My head was so not in the game, especially since she’d come in. She was still talking to me, thank fuck.

  I set the food aside. Opened my arms for her. Immediately, she flung herself against my chest. And started trembling.

  I held her, mute but not still, as she wept into my worn T-shirt. I gently stroked along her spine and tangled my fingers into her hair, the contact becoming the instruments of my comfort. I didn’t blame her for a single shed tear. If I hadn’t been programmed my entire life that men didn’t cry, I’d be joining her in the weep-fest. The whole situation sucked and we were all standing right in the middle of the shit pile wondering where to go from here.