Honey Red

by Liz Crowe

  “Hannah,” Nick sighed as he climbed up between her legs. “Don’t cry,” he whispered, covering her lips and filling her so completely as she continued to spasm she cried out his name. She had no idea where Ian went and that moment she didn’t care. She gripped Nick’s neck, tasted herself on his lips and tongue and met his every thrust. Their movements seemed slow, easy, but there were only two people in the universe—her and the amazing man above her. He broke the kiss, buried his face in her neck as his hips moved faster. “Don’t ever cry…,” he said, so softly she barely heard him.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, felt him spread her, going deeper with each movement. He stayed close, allowing her constant contact with his pubic bone. She gripped his ass as yet another orgasm hovered. She arched up, letting it take her. “Nick, oh, god yes,” she groaned into the release.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “I can’t…I’m…oh….” He shook all over, his strong arms holding him up over her. She stared at his face, loving the beautiful look there. “Hannah,” Nick said, his voice breaking.

  She pulled him down, trying to stop the stupid girlie tears. But then just let them flow. They felt natural, like a part of this moment. He shivered, dropped onto her.

  “Oh, God, sorry,” he said, struggling back up.

  “Shh…no, no, it’s fine. I…love it. I love the way you feel. I’m…” She sighed, and held him to her breasts. “That was….”

  “Amazing,” he mumbled, then propped up again, kissing her deeply, running his tongue along her lips then into her mouth. “I could kiss you all fucking night.”

  “I wouldn’t tell you no,” she said. The tears kept rolling down her face, no matter what she did. He touched her wet cheek.

  “I said, no crying.” He went up on one elbow, ran his fingers across her lips, her neck, her chest. Then to her utter mortification, she let loose and sobbed as he held her close, crooning and making shushing noises. She had no idea why, but it felt great, cathartic, and as much a part of the moment as the connection they’d just shared.

  By the time she’d gotten hold of herself, she had no idea how much time had passed. She had never felt more complete, being held by Nick. She sat up, rubbing her nose. “Where’s Ian?”

  Ian stood and watched his long-held fantasy unfold. Saw Nick drop down between Hannah’s legs, bury his face in her pussy as Ian stroked her nipples, teased her until she came in a frantic rush of erotic energy. Then, that moment when the man climbed up her torso and dove into her, his strong ass moving, her lean legs wrapped around him, their age-old dance of sexual satisfaction filling his brain. Then…something in him snapped. He sat back, stood, and rubbed his eyes.

  Nick was whispering to her. She was about to come, Ian could tell. She arched up, cried out his name. Ian’s jaw clenched as he backed further away, stumbling over a chair, still watching. “Wait,” he whispered. “You didn’t put on a…,” he groaned and sat, fisting his cock and giving it a couple of quick pulls as Nick’s back arched, his head went up and he called for her, his body shuddering in the grip of climax, as Ian groaned and covered his belly with his own fluid.

  He sat, breathing heavy, frozen in place. Nick stayed over her, they kissed, then he heard a sob and he sat up. Hannah? Crying? No way. But yes, her shoulders shook and Nick rolled to her side and held her close, kissing her hair, telling her it was fine.

  Ian stood, some kind of bizarre fury hitting him between the eyes. He knew it for what it was—jealousy. He acknowledged it, walked out of the room and stood in the kitchen, holding the edge of the sink and counting to twenty then forty. He looked up at the ceiling. This is what you wanted. Remember?

  “Ian?” Hannah’s voice floated out of the bedroom.

  He’d spent a fair amount of time discussing this night with her. They figured that Hannah should be the one to invite him over, tell him it was merely for sex, but only if he wanted it. He’d agreed, to their surprise and Ian had held back the urge to ask about Jake. None of his business and besides, “this was about sex,” as they kept insisting even to each other.

  He looked out over the dark lawn and had a terrifying epiphany. He wanted more from Hannah. He wanted to be with her every morning, every night, to hold her hand and take walks, shit he even felt a sick but very base need to see her swell with a baby—one he put there, his. He closed his eyes. Get. A. Fucking. Grip. She does not want any more from you.

  And now? He sighed, ran a hand down his face. “In here,” he said, fixing a neutral look on his face after wiping off with a towel and tossing it into the laundry room.

  “Come on in here,” Nick’s voice was strong, stronger than he had heard it in a long time. “We’re lonely and need some Ian time.”

  He smiled, and stood in the door. The two people he loved were sitting in each other’s arms, gloriously naked. Nick’s hand cupped Hannah’s breast, almost casually. Ian smiled at the realization that Nick was a breast man, which worked, since he was an avowed legs and ass guy.

  Her hand was draped along his thigh. The room was suffused with lusty smells, with a distinct undercurrent of the sweet honey-like fragrance Nick had pointed out to him and that now filled his senses whenever he was around Hannah. He shook off the emotional bullshit, or tried. Then strode over. “Okay, then let a guy in will ya?”

  They parted, and he dropped down between them, forcing his brain to shut down as Nick’s lips found his and Hannah straddled his hips. He was hard again, amazingly enough, but felt detached somehow, and already worried—how would this work? Where would they sleep? Why didn’t he remember to give Nick a condom?

  “Jesus!” he yelped when Hannah leaned down and bit his nipple. His cock jumped and he gripped her hips.

  Nick laughed and leaned back on his arms. “Okay, my turn to watch,” he said, hand on his shaft. Ian did a double take, but Nick’s face was calm, happy, free of bitterness or irony. Nick leaned up and found Hannah’s lips, then released her making his way up Ian’s torso, licking and sucking then kissing him, hard, as he slid into the soft welcoming, familiar depths of Hannah’s body. Realizing about a beat too late he had forgotten his own condom but no longer really giving a shit.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  One night, two months after they’d started their “sex only for now” program, Hannah sat at the dinner table with the men, sipping a beer. The whole surreal nature of this crazy arrangement was mind boggling. The logistics of their encounters, considering Ian was a single dad, sometimes overwhelmed her. His place was only available if Alyssa was willing to have Jamie overnight. She had been, until she’d gotten some earth shattering news relative to her pregnancy and had nearly gone off the deep end. After that, Ian felt guilty asking her. The boy’s grandmother would take him sometimes but had a lot of questions about it that Hannah knew Ian couldn’t answer.

  Hannah’s apartment was certainly not an option, not with her mother still hanging around, asking her about her “brewery man” all the time. So they ended up at Nick’s place more than once, although his bed was small and too crowded for her taste and that is where they sat tonight, glaring at each other. The day had been a long one for everyone, and they’d been testy, snappish and more than once she doubted her sanity for thinking two is better than one when it came to the hairier sex.

  She’d thrown a heavy pepper grinder straight at Ian when he kept complaining about the dinner she’d made, unable to find a single thing right about it. Nick had nearly fallen out of his chair laughing when Ian had yelped, cursed and caught the thing with his skull before it fell to his lap. “Fuck you, you’re no better.” She yelled at the man still trying not to laugh too loud once he realized how upset she was. “I’m leaving.” She’d declared, dead serious – although she was so amped up at the thought of being between them again, she hesitated. They had only managed actual sex a few times, again, logistics and practicalities keeping their base urges at bay. But those times had been mind blowing, emotional experiences, for her at least.

  Nick
spoke first, leaving Ian glowering at her, hand covering the knot rising on his head. “Wait, Hannah, I’m sorry. He’s sorry. We’re being shits. But we’re over it now. It’s out of our system. Okay?”

  Ian snorted. Hannah glared at him but let Nick draw her back to the table. “You’re just saying that because you want to get laid,” she said into her beer, realizing the utter absurdity of that comment. Of course he did. That’s why she was here, with them, in the first place. Something about that realization made her chest tight. Nick took her glass, set it down and put her hand to his lips. She smiled at his painfully handsome face, stuck her tongue out at Ian and let Nick pull her into his lap.

  “Yeah, I do. But more importantly, we,” She felt Nick’s leg move under her and heard Ian’s yelp when Nick’s foot connected with his. “We want you to be happy.”

  She looked away from him but he found her chin with his fingertips and drew her back to his lips. Dear Lord but the man could kiss like nobody’s business. She sighed and wrapped her arms around him, letting him dive into her mouth with his tongue, loving the stirring underneath her when she clenched the back of his neck and held on tight.

  She studiously ignored Ian, paid full attention to Nick, running her hands across his shoulders, then down, unbuttoning his shirt and yanking it off his arms as they kept their lip lock. She sighed, feeling another, just as beloved set of hands on her shoulders, easing her blouse off, unclasping her bra. She leaned back against Ian’s strong torso as he reached around to cup her breasts, flick at her nipples. His lips and teeth teased her neck and shoulders. “Sorry,” he whispered in her ear. “Truly.” He claimed when she shot him a dubious look. “C’mon,” he picked her all the way up off Nick’s lap, having his own turn with her lips as he carried her down the hall. Ian set her on the bed, running his hands down her enervated skin. She sensed Nick between her legs, kissing and licking up the inside of them before using that amazing mouth on her clit.

  “Ah!” She yelped, gripping his hair while Ian kept teasing her nipples, drawing them into stiff, needy peaks. The orgasm startled her with its quickness and ferocity. She groaned and angled her hips up, needing something, someone, inside her, but Nick just sucked at her, running his fingers along the edges of her sex. Ian covered her lips at the last minute, drowning out her cries. She held onto him; let the exquisite climax smother her entire universe. Ian released her and Nick leaned back, giving her some space to recover. “God damn, boys, that was…hey!” Ian stood as Nick smiled and flipped her over in one quick movement.

  She grinned, wiggled her ass, and went up on all fours. She knew this drill and loved it. The men switched places and Nick got on his knees in front of her, drawing her up first to meet him. His tongue-tangling kiss gave her a taste of herself, and she held onto him, suddenly needing this connection, this moment of completion so badly her chest ached. She pouted when he ended it, giving her bottom lip a nip with his teeth.

  Reaching down to wrap her hand around his thick cock she made a satisfied sound, loving the feel of him there, and of Ian rubbing his shaft against her ass as he slid fingers inside her reaching up high, then pulling out, rubbing her still throbbing clit, then repeating the whole glorious process. She arched her back, her whole being on fire with need to be filled, taken, by them both.

  “Mm hmm,” Ian sighed, pushing her forward gently so she dropped back on her hands and knees, eye level with Nick’s sex. She loved the sight of his hand around his own cock, as she lapped at his head, sucked the early evidence of his desire from the tip. As Ian slid slowly into her she groaned and slipped her lips as far down Nick’s cock as she could. She was still honing her swallowing techniques but the practice was definitely fun. Nick thrust into her mouth and she relaxed her throat muscles, let him go as far as he could then pull out, his pink flesh wet and slick from her mouth.

  Ian reached around to flick her clit, pressing and rubbing it so her back arched more, taking all of his length inside her. She sucked Nick back down, and he thrust deeper, breaching her throat a little. He threaded his fingers in her hair, tugged it, the way she liked. “That’s it,” Ian said, “Fuck her mouth baby. She wants it, don’t you Red,” He smacked her ass, hard, making her jump and moan as her skin heated up where he’d struck her.

  He moved faster, going deep and hard inside her, hanging on to her hips now as she pulsed around him. Nick matched his rhythm and her vision dimmed, as her body reacted to the extreme erotic moment.

  “God, Hannah, I’m gonna come. Do you want it, or should I….” his last words were drowned in a loud groan.

  “Pull it out,” Ian croaked out, still pounding into her. “Show me Nick.”

  “Fuck,” Nick muttered, and Hannah felt his cock stiffen as he yanked it out of her mouth. “You too,” he insisted. They both pulled out of her and covered her face, back and ass with their essence. “Shit,” Nick grunted, then flopped to his side. Hannah smiled at him, stood and heard Ian start the shower for her. He pulled her to her feet, wiped her back and face with a towel while the man she’d barely known other than as Alyssa’s wounded, gay brother started to drop into sleep.

  “Leave him,” Ian pulled her in for a gentle kiss, holding her face with both hands. “You’re amazing.”

  “I know,” she smacked his ass and ducked under the hot stream of water before he saw her tears. She was so weepy lately. Something about doing this, having this incredibly intense thing with these guys had turned her into an emotional wreck—a positive cry baby. But after that first night she had not let them see it. No way. She did not need them thinking she was going soft and wanting to get married…or anything as drastic, ridiculous or utterly perfect as that.

  Later she laid awake, listening to Ian’s soft snore, realizing that Nick was tossing and turning, tussling with a nightmare. She touched his face, saw his jaw clench and drew her hand back, remembering the story of that night when he woke and nearly beat Ian to a pulp in his sleep. But he calmed as she ran her finger down his cheek. Her skin was raw, her lips hurt, and she felt like she’d just had a killer workout. But at this moment, nestled between the two men she would claim to love, she had never felt more complete. She propped herself on her elbow, watching Nick struggle through the dream.

  She brushed her fingertip over the small globe and eagle Semper Fi tattoo on his bicep. He flinched from her touch, then sighed and rolled over, away from her, muttering about “Dan,” and “fire.” Then he seemed to settle. But now she was wide awake. So she wandered out to the kitchen for some water, leaning on the sink, pondering how she’d landed herself in this particular bizarre situation. She’d never been more physically fulfilled in her life—couldn’t even fathom how it could be better on that front. She sighed, pulled her hair up in a ponytail, trying to pinpoint what was bugging her, how to quell the near constant ache she’d developed deep in her chest whenever she wasn’t with them.

  “Hey,” Nick’s voice behind her made her jump and turn, her hand to her throat.

  “Jesus, you scared me.”

  “Sorry,” he sat, Brutus at his side, snuffling around until Hannah started patting him. “Damn dog. Such an attention whore.” But he smiled at her, before putting his head down on the table.

  “What’s wrong?” She rubbed his shoulders. “Nick?” He sat up, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Headache? Need a pain killer?”

  “I miss him. So much,” he muttered, running a hand across his face. He had gotten comfortable not wearing his sunglasses at home, around her and Ian. She touched the burn marks around his eyes trying to soothe away the stress on his face.

  “Miss who, honey?” Her heart pounded. Finally, she could get his whole story—maybe.

  “Dan.” He said simply. His shoulders shook, but no tears fell. She touched his face again, and he gripped her hand, held on as if his life depended on it. “I miss him every fucking day of my life.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “We were together for nearly two years. And I loved him. I was r
otating home, finally. He had another year, maybe two. But we were…shit.” He put his head back down on the table. Hannah stood behind him, kept massaging his neck, shoulders, and arms.

  “Tell me more.” She whispered in his ear. Something about this moment felt like exactly what she needed to get her head around Nick as a partner.

  “He was smart, scary smart. Dark hair, dark eyes, tall, even taller than Ian. A young innocent guy from Ohio. An only kid. Barely eighteen years old. He wanted to….” Nick’s voice broke.

  Hannah sensed tears pressing against her eyes. She kissed his rough cheek. “Go on.” She said, threading her fingers in his hair, frightened by the depth of emotion rolling up from her gut.

  “He wanted to open a bakery. His parents were chefs. They…they accepted him. Mine didn’t. My father kicked my gay self out of the house and told me I was not welcome anymore.”

  “When?” Her heart was ripping in two at the thought of him, alone.

  “Junior year of college. About the time I managed to get seduced by a married male professor who popped my cherry and made me fall in love with him, or so I thought.” He took a long breath. “I’m not mad at him anymore. It was…all it needed to be. But I just dropped out after that and joined up. Made it through basic and got assigned in Counter Intel. I’m a computer magician, it seems.” He sat up, pulled her into his lap. She went, loving his words, his lips, his smell.

  “Tell me more about Dan,” she whispered into his neck.

  “He loved books. Would read out loud to me—Hemmingway, Faulkner, Salinger, King, all of it. I loved the sound of his voice. It was musical.” He ran a hand down her neck then lower, cupping her breast. “He played soccer in high school. We used to play together, when we got bored. It was a great excuse to have contact. God, it was terrifying. We tried so hard not to get caught. But I loved him and we were going to be together, forever.”

  She stood up, got them both a glass of water. He gulped his down. His face was tense. “I was not supposed to be there that week. On that fucking stupid convoy. But I went because Dan was going, and he said he wanted my help. We were headed into some god forsaken city that had been identified as a potential terrorist nest but abandoned. They’d left behind something like twenty computers, a giant hard drive. Shit that required our expertise. So, I went.” He sighed. But Hannah stayed silent, leaning into his shoulder, the deep rumble of his voice in her ear. “Straight into a fucking trap. We drove a dozen very smart Marines directly into it. And I was one of three who lived,” he put his forehead to her shoulder. “I can’t stand myself most days. That I lived. You know? Even though I’m ruined, can never have a normal life again, thanks to the attack. But honestly I didn’t care. I wanted to die with Dan.”