Mine: MMF Bisexual Menage Romance

by Chloe Lynn Ellis

  Old dogs and their tricks.

  My heart contracts a little. I hate that Jack’s hurting. I wish I could just take it all away from him, but I know it’s not a battle that I can fight on his behalf. I can still try to help, though, even if he’s the one who will have to do the heavy lifting.

  My foot scrapes against some loose gravel, and Jack calls out without looking.

  “That you, Dylan?”

  “Yeah,” I say, smiling as I cross the distance to join him. He knows me as well as I know him, even after our years of estrangement. “It’s me.”

  I rest my arms on the ledge next to him, and we both look over the side in silence. The stars are out and the breeze is crisp and refreshing—peaceful, but I can practically feel the coiled tension radiating off Jack at my side.

  After a few minutes, I break the silence. “So, did you bring along a couple of 40’s for us?”

  Jack laughs at the reminder of our youth, some of the tension easing out of his body. When he answers, I can still hear it in his voice, though, like he’s choking on his own emotions.

  “Sure,” he jokes. “Bribed Old Man Garretty to pick ’em up for us at the packie down the way.”

  I snort, shaking my head. I remember us leaning out here, watching the traffic, or the sunset, or the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Anything, really. It was our place, but I only ever came up here with Jack. I knew he had come up here at least as many times by himself to get away from the stress of his home life. He’d told me once that it felt like the only place he was ever able to truly breathe.

  “I know I fucked up real bad tonight, Dylan,” he says after a minute, his voice low. “I swear I didn’t mean any of those things I said.”

  “I know,” I say, and I do. I get him. I love him.

  I put a hand on his back—comfort, support, connection—and I’m not sure how he’ll react. He tenses up for a split second, but it doesn’t last long before he lets that go. His muscles relax, and I rub slow, wide circles against the tightness there, hoping I can get through to him.

  I’m right here with him. Right here for him. He’s not as alone as he thinks he is.

  I’m crazy about this man, and I think I may have always been.

  “I can see you, Jack.”

  “I’m standing right here, of course you can see me,” he says, going for a laugh. But even I can hear that it sounds more like a choked sob.

  “You know what I mean,” I say, not willing to let him get away with hiding from this. From us.

  He sighs, then nods. “I do. I just… I don’t deserve it, Dylan. And you don’t deserve to waste your time on a wreck like me. You’re so close to getting your dream, and all I’m gonna do is shit all over it.”

  He’s part of my dream, ridiculous man. “You’d never hurt me, Jack,” I say, biting back a smile at his stubbornness. I will get through to him. “I know you. That rage, that sadness… none of it is who you really are.”

  “It’s all I have left,” he says quietly.

  “It’s not,” I say firmly. He hasn’t moved since I joined him here, and I slide my hand up to his shoulder, tugging gently. “Hey, look at me.”

  He sighs again, but does it. It takes him a moment to let his eyes lock onto mine, but once he does, I hold them firmly in my gaze, refusing to let go.

  I let him walk away from me once, but that’s never going to happen again.

  “Jack, just let it go. We’re up here where no one else can see. It’s just you and me. Let it go.”

  I can see the dam start to buckle under the weight, and then—finally—it bursts. “I’m a fraud, Dylan. I’ve always felt like it. Known it. Everything I have is thanks to Sully. I meant that part. I’d have nothing if it weren’t for him, and what’d I do to deserve it? Pick the man’s pocket? He should have thrown me to the fucking wolves, just like anyone else would have.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No.” Jack shudders, and I don’t even think he realizes he’s leaning into my touch now. “He didn’t. He took me in and gave me everything I was never gonna get from my own family. The Kelly clan’s legacy is always going to be booze, bruises, and being broke. This life I’m living now? I wouldn’t have gotten any of it without Sully. I cheated. I’m a fucking imposter.”

  “So… what? You’re going to give it all back?” I ask, squeezing his shoulder. “Go back to the life you were born into?”

  “No. God, no, not ever. You better believe the moment Sully came calling, I ran as fast as I could outta that place. Every single time. I never missed an appointment with him, never missed an opportunity to get away. That townhouse is my home, Dylan. It’s not that I don’t want it in my life, I just… I don’t know how to deal with the pain of all that loss, now that he’s gone. Now that I’ll never have that again.”

  God, my heart hurts for him.

  “Jack, I know. Both of us know, me and Cate. It feels like someone burned a hole clean through you, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” he says, and a shudder goes through him.

  “It hurts in a way that’ll never go away, right?”

  He nods.

  “Like someone took a limb away, and all you have left is the phantom pain.”

  “Yes.” His face screws up with a parade of emotions, and then, with a choked sob, he lurches toward me, burying his face in my chest. Crying into me.

  “I don’t ever want to go back to that. To being a Kelly,” he mumbles into my shirt, shaking. “I pay them off, again and again, but I can’t get away. And I don’t get a damn thing in return. Ever. No love, no thanks, nothing. Just a big fat pile of judgment, neglect, or whatever other garbage the Kelly family feels like dropping on their awful, ungrateful, sell-out of a son.”

  He continues to cry and I cradle him in my arms, holding onto his back with one hand and stroking his hair with my other. As awful as this is, as painful as this is, he needs to get it out. It’s killing him inside, and it has to be purged. He’ll never get around this. He needs to go through it.

  And oh Lord, I’m so, so thankful he’s letting me help him do that.

  “You have us,” I remind him, remembering how devastated he’d looked when he’d been shouting about how alone he was. “Me and Cate. You have me.”

  He relaxes against me, and after a minute—clearing his throat—he lifts his head. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him cry, and it says more than anything that he was willing to do it in my arms.

  “I know I have you guys,” he says after a minute, not quite meeting my eyes. Still letting me hold him, though. “But that’s… you. It’s all I have, and I know…” He sighs, a sound of defeat. “I know that’s not gonna last. I’ll fuck it up, like I did when we were kids. I’m not, you know, all that great with relationships.”

  “Who have you had in your life, all these years?” I ask.

  He snorts. “No one. Sully, I guess. You know me, Dylan. I don’t know how to get close to people. I always push them away when shit gets too uncomfortable. Too close. I mean, sure, lots of girlfriends, lots of sex, but never a… a connection. Never anyone that I could feel…”

  I tighten my arms a bit, a silent prompt for him to tell me.

  He clears his throat, then mumbles, “You know, intimate with.”

  “No one?” I ask, tipping his face up so he has to look at me again. “Even now?”

  He returns my stare, and I can see the corners of his lips start to raise into a small, sheepish smile. “Cate, maybe. Who’d have thought? But… yeah. I guess I felt that way with Cate.”

  He stops, wrestling with it, and I raise my eyebrows.

  “And…” he pauses, clearing his throat again and taking a deep breath. “And you, Dylan. Guess maybe I’ve always felt that way with you.”

  “Remember that, yeah?” I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, tipping his head forward and resting our foreheads together. “You’re not alone, Jack. You never have to be.”

  He’d come to the house the other day for
sex. Reached for me. Inhaled me. Took what he wanted. But that was sex, and I know—as much as it scared the crap out of him to go there—it was easier, in a way, than this kind of intimacy. Than accepting love. So I don’t mind that he hasn’t reached for me now. That he’s just accepted, but not initiated. Let me comfort him. Let me touch him. Hold him. And now, when I finally lean in and cross that last inch between us, let me kiss him.

  I can taste the salt of his tears on his lips. The desperate need as he opens for me, invites me in. And then something tips inside him, and it’s not just a comfort kiss anymore. A connection, but hotter.

  Need.

  His hands go around my waist and when he pulls me against him, the heavy weight of his erection bumps mine. He freezes.

  “Is this… you think this is okay, Dylan?” he asks, his whole body radiating a totally different kind of tension than when I’d first come up to the roof and found him here. “Just you and me?”

  “Oh, hell yeah.” I grin, doing a hip roll to emphasize just how very okay I think this is.

  He laughs, and even in the darkness I can tell he goes red. “I mean, what would Cate think?” he asks. “It’s always been, you know, all of us.”

  I smile. Maybe he’s getting it, after that outburst at the restaurant insisting we pair off. Stuck seeing the world in the narrow, narrow limits he grew up with. All of us. That’s how it should be.

  I step back, grabbing his hand. “How about we go ask her?”

  19

  Cate

  “I don’t know how this—” I flutter my hands up and down, indicating both of them, all three of us. “I don’t know how this is supposed to work; I never thought this would be my life.”

  I bite my lip, joy that the fact that this is my life sending sparkles through me, points of light that war with the darkness of my fear.

  Dylan found Jack.

  I don’t know how or where; they wouldn’t say. But it doesn’t matter. He’s safe now. My heart’s finally beating at a regular speed again now that I know he’s okay, that they’re both okay. I made us all coffee and we listened to Jack apologize profusely about how he handled dinner.

  I’m just glad that everyone’s home.

  Everyone’s home. That’s the crux of it, right? The idea of the three of us, together, all at once, making a home, making a life. It’s so overwhelming, and yet... it feels right, more than any relationship I’ve ever known.

  I continue, swallowing my fear and letting that joy continue to spread through my body. “But I do know that I want this to work, I want us to work. And I want—”

  Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m going to do this.

  But the idea has been in my fantasies for so long—ever since I came back to Boston and saw Jack and Dylan in the flesh—and now it’s actually possible.

  I can’t bear not to ask, even though I’m terrified they’ll tell me no.

  I need them to know what I dream of, what I think about when I touch myself in my moments alone.

  I look at Jack, at Dylan, meeting their eyes as confidently as I can, and reach up to touch their faces.

  “I want you both.” I swallow hard. “I mean, obviously, you’re both amazing in your own ways, awesome ways, I know you know I want you. You both make me feel like no man ever has, better than I even thought was possible, I mean I thought coming more than once just happened in the movies—”

  I bite my tongue to stop the words babbling out of me, step back to get a little breathing space. The two of them are so damn hot, my body’s response to them makes it hard to think.

  This isn’t coming out right.

  “I mean, um. I want both of you,” I try to explain. “Both at the same time. With me.”

  I know I’m blushing, can feel heat searing across my cheeks until I feel like I must be giving off steam. Jack and Dylan exchange a split-second look that I can’t quite read before they look back at me, practically squirming from my own nerves.

  Dylan’s eyes seem to bore into me like searchlights, an intensity he doesn’t normally give off. I squeeze my thighs together. I can’t help it. It’s hot.

  Jack rubs a hand across his jaw, and his voice is careful, like he’s picking his words one by one.

  “You want… both of us. You mean, like before on the couch?” He licks his lips, and I know he’s imagining how I took him in my mouth while Dylan fucked me.

  A shiver goes through me at the memory, the burning intensity of that night, but I shake my head.

  “That was wonderful, that was… that’s not what I mean,” I manage to stammer out. “I mean—” I grumble, frustrated. “Ugh, let me just show you.”

  My annoyance and hunger, my need, overtake my shyness as I pull Jack into me by his shirt, hard, his chest flush with mine.

  “Damn, Duchess,” he begins, heat flaring in his eyes, but I put up a finger to shush him.

  I’m not done yet.

  I turn to Dylan, reaching out the hand that isn’t gripping Jack’s collar, and yank him toward us. I pivot back to face Jack—which means Dylan’s chest collides with my back, his hips hitting my bottom with a satisfying smack that sends a delicious shiver through me.

  “Like this,” I tell them.

  And then the situation hits me—how I went from skittish about asking them to fuck me together to being flat-out bossy and manhandling them into position—and it’s been such a long day, and it’s just so funny. I start laughing, I can’t help it, leaning back against Dylan’s chest with Jack’s shirt still balled in my fist.

  “Is that clear enough for you two?” I ask, wiping tears of laughter off my cheeks.

  Dylan’s big hands settle on my hips and tug me tight against his body, and I realize with a jolt of lust that I can feel him, hard and hot, through his jeans. Lust curls tight in my belly and suddenly I don’t feel so ridiculous anymore.

  “Oh, I think we get the picture, Cate,” he says in my ear, his breath hot on my skin. “You want us both inside you at once, you want us both kissing you—” yes, “—and fucking you—” yes, “—and making you feel amazing.”

  Oh, God. Yes. So very, very yes.

  I shiver as Jack’s hands come to rest on the curve of my waist, just above where Dylan is gripping my hips.

  “Yeah, Wildcat, we get it,” Jack says, and his eyes are blazing with the same need I feel coursing through my nerves. His thigh slides between my legs, pressing deliciously against my aching sex. “You wanna be as full as we can make you, coulda just told us that.” His fingers tighten and I squeak softly without meaning to, earning me a wicked grin from him. “I think we can make that happen for you, beautiful.”

  Dylan chuckles. “Oh, we definitely can. I know I’ve been thinking about that particular... ah, combination,” he says. “I just didn’t want to bring it up before Cate did, didn’t want her to feel pressured to do that particular thing if she wasn’t into it.”

  Jack nods. “Same, bud, same. Not the kind of thing you just spring on a woman. But now that we know…” He looks down at me, then bends in and kisses me so deep and hot that I feel my knees go weak.

  If it weren’t for both of them holding me up, I’m sure I’d sink down on the floor.

  “Well, now that we’re all on the same page,” I breathe, licking my lips, “you two need to take me to bed, right now. Because I don’t think I can stand being teased any longer.”

  We practically race up the stairs to our bedroom—and God, how nice is it that we have an our bedroom—and we’re tearing at each other’s clothes before we even hit the first landing, shirts and belts and shoes discarded on the mad dash to new territory.

  The thought makes me breathless.

  This truly is new for me. Not just two at once—that’s definitely new—but also, the fact that one of them is going to be entering me from behind. It’s something I’ve never ever done in all the years since I started being sexually active. I’ve had boyfriends who wanted to do it, sure, but to be honest, I never trusted any of them enough
to go there.

  In the past, I’ve been scared that it would hurt.

  Scared of what they’d think of me… especially if I liked it.

  But the idea of Jack and Dylan both filling me up at the same time? Front and back? God, it makes me feel like my insides are molten gold. Twisting, liquid flame. It makes me crazy.

  We get to the room, and Dylan pulls condoms and lube out of the nightstand drawer while Jack scoops me up and tosses me onto the bed. I can’t help but giggle as I land on the mattress with a bounce. Sex with these two is hot… but it’s also fun. Always.

  They’re my everything.

  Jack kneels on the mattress next to me and Dylan sits on the bed on my other side, and suddenly I’m not giggling anymore. Trembling, maybe. So keyed up with anticipation that I feel like I might break apart at the slightest touch, sure.

  But I’m definitely not giggling.

  I reach out to them both and all three of us fall back onto the mattress, a wonderful mess of hands and kisses and soft, hungry noises.

  “Shut your eyes, Duchess,” Jack tells me, his voice a low, throaty growl that lights up my nerves like a neon sign.

  I don’t know how it is that I manage to obey him and still feel like I’m totally in control here, but somehow, I do—this is all for me. They’re all for me.

  I let my eyes flutter closed and just focus on the rush of sensation as Dylan and Jack worship me.

  Hot, strong hands stroke and tickle and tease what feels like every inch of my body. Eager mouths lap at my throat… my breasts… my inner thighs. I squirm and twist, eager to feel everything, and every jolt of pleasure is made all the more intense by my willing blindness.

  My breath catches in my throat as I feel a hard, male body lower itself between my legs, broad shoulders pressing into the softness of my spread thighs. I raise my head to look, to see which of my incredible men is kissing and lapping at me, making desire and pleasure shiver through my chest, but a big, hot hand gently lowers over my eyes and pushes my head back down on the pillow.

  “Oh, God,” I moan, and then after that I just do my best to hold on as whoever’s between my thighs does his very best to destroy my grasp on reality.