The Theory of Deviance: Portland Rebels, Book 3

by Rebecca Grace Allen

  Mikey’s soft laugh was the first thing she heard. “Okay, that was ridiculously hot.”

  The sound was a glass of cold water on a humid day. She exhaled, and the tension seeped from her. Krissy rolled to face Mikey and nuzzled his cheek.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He was flushed, his hair in his eyes, and his grin slightly crooked, dimples showing.

  “You’re welcome.” Mikey leaned in and pecked her on the lips. He gazed down at her, something blooming between them that didn’t appear to need words or explanations.

  She knew she owed him them, anyway.

  Rafe tugged on one of her pigtails. “I can think of better ways for you to thank us than with words.”

  A glance back at him showed one quirked eyebrow. Even though she’d come only moments before, desire dashed through her belly, hot and insistent. She lifted a finger to outline the slender planes of Mikey’s chest.

  “Would that be okay?” she asked.

  “Would what be okay?”

  “To thank both of you at the same time.”

  Mikey’s jaw went tight. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He glanced in Rafe’s direction, then closed his eyes and reopened them.

  “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be okay.”

  Rafe curled up behind her, his hips rocking against her ass. “Lube’s in my bag.”

  Of course he’d brought that with him. Rafe was the sexual version of a Boy Scout, always prepared. Krissy crawled down the bed and leaned over the end of it, unzipping her roommate’s duffle and searching around until she found the small bottle stashed inside.

  Returning to her spot between them, she threw a glance at Rafe. He smiled placidly and waited, letting her take the lead.

  Her pigtails falling over her shoulders, she leaned down to kiss Mikey, then lowered a hand and peeled off his briefs. His breathing went ragged as the fabric moved away and his cock pushed up to meet her touch. She’d felt the shape of him yesterday, but it was a new kind of thrill to get to see. He was long. Longer than Rafe, actually. And so hard Krissy needed to bite her lip, wondering how amazing he’d feel inside her.

  Not yet. Maybe soon, but not yet.

  On the other side of her, Rafe pulled off his boxers. Trying to figure out the mechanics, she nudged Mikey’s thigh. “Sit up?”

  He obeyed quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Rafe moved to flank her right, as if this were a pre-blocked scene and they already knew their marks.

  And Mikey was staring at Rafe’s cock.

  It was hard not to look at, so thick and beautiful, and Mikey’s chest rose and fell as his brows drew tight. There seemed to be some kind of battle raging inside him, something more he couldn’t bring himself to say, but he wasn’t stopping her. Just staring.

  Her heart seized for a moment, but then Rafe put a hand on her arm and kissed her shoulder, a gentle encouragement. It ramped up her sex drive, tiny shivers unfurling along her skin. Popping open the bottle of lube, she drizzled the thick liquid over Mikey’s shaft until it coated him entirely, then turned and did the same to Rafe. It dripped along the ridge, chocolate sauce on the ice cream sundae of debauchery she’d created.

  She placed the bottle behind her and reached for Rafe first. The wide circle she made with her fist around his girth was familiar territory, as was the low Mmmm he made at her first slow pump. Turning to Mikey, she leaned in for a kiss, then ran a finger around his tip.

  He hissed, breaking the kiss as his head fell back. She did it again, finishing it off with a stroke downward, and his hips shot up into her touch. Anchoring himself with his hands behind him, Mikey moved in close, his forehead an inch away from hers, his shivery breaths warm on her face as she started a rhythm.

  “Harder, Krissy,” Rafe murmured. “I think we both need it harder.”

  “Jesus,” Mikey breathed with another punch of his hips. “Yes. Harder. Please.”

  She did as Rafe instructed, and Mikey’s eyes squeezed shut, face contorting into a mask of pleasured agony. Krissy worked them at an equal pace, high off the feeling of both of them in her fists, the sound of wet flesh against flesh. Her unhurried tempo earned her a nip at the shoulder from Rafe. He liked it faster, but she was holding him off, building him up, wanting to hear the crescendo of their pleasure at the same time.

  It wasn’t long before Mikey shuddered and went stiff. “Oh shit. Shit, I’m gonna come.”

  Rafe’s warm chuckle was like the buzz of a vibrator, revving her up all over again. She felt his hand cover hers, taking control and jerking himself at the tempo he liked. Mikey opened his eyes, breath going hot and fast as he watched their fingers race over Rafe’s cock. He swelled even harder under her ministrations, and that low noise in the back of his throat made an encore appearance, just like yesterday.

  It was suddenly obvious to Krissy what Mikey wanted. And she could give it to him.

  Her mouth at his ear, she whispered, “It’s okay to want both of us, Mikey.”

  He exploded.

  His eyes slammed shut, and he let out a groan. Krissy cupped her palm over his tip on every quick upstroke, gathering the sticky liquid that spurted into her hand as she helped him through it. One last grunt and he slumped against her. Rafe bit down on her other shoulder, and Krissy turned to watch as his release hit home. Warmth spilled over their hands, and Rafe moaned against her skin, then soothed the sting of his bite with a kiss.

  Krissy tilted her head back and closed her eyes, almost laughing from the sheer joy bubbling up inside her, and the deep, hot craving for more. Making them come like that, having them at her mercy—it was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  She could go all over again.

  Letting Mikey’s softening shaft go, she draped her hand along his inner thigh, but his eyes were still shut, his sweaty forehead pressed to her arm. The mattress to her right rose as Rafe stood.

  “Towel,” he mouthed, and strode out of the room. Mikey clung to her, still catching his breath, too wrung out from his orgasm to move, she guessed.

  Rafe returned a moment later with a towel wrapped casually around his waist. He tossed Krissy another one. “I don’t know about you two, but that tuckered me out. I’m gonna shower and pass out. I’ll take the couch tonight.”

  He winked and left the room. Krissy glanced after him, wistful. A small part of her thought it might’ve been nice to have all three of them sleep together, but that wasn’t what he’d been after, and it would be good to have some time alone with Mikey after what had just happened.

  She pressed her lips to the top of his head. “You okay?”

  He shrugged. Pulled away from her and put his face in his hands.

  Oh, no.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  Mikey shook his head. “No. I don’t know. Can we just…go to sleep?”

  Worry popped the balloon she’d been floating on. “Sure,” she croaked.

  Not knowing what else to do, Krissy wiped her hands off, then offered the towel to Mikey. He took it from her and cleaned himself up, staying silent as he tossed it in a laundry basket, then reached for his briefs. She moved with him in silence, putting her underwear on too. Mikey lifted the blanket, and she crawled in beside him, curling her body around his when he shut off the light.

  What had gotten him so upset? Yeah, a virgin having a three-way was definitely jumping in the deep end, but he’d seemed into it when they started. He’d been on board all the way through, until she said what she did at the end.

  It’s me. I made him do this. He’s upset because of me.

  She tried to talk herself out of it, but it wasn’t working. Her anxieties were running away with her, her pulse in her throat, every limb tense. If she weren’t wired already, the fact that he wouldn’t talk to her was making it even worse. She had no idea how she was going to repair things, let alo
ne sleep now.

  She pressed a tentative hand to his chest, and he covered hers with his in the darkness. It was a small reassurance, but Krissy couldn’t help but think what they’d done—this thing that she’d been dreaming about and had been so damn good—had just ruined everything.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a little after dawn when Mikey broke out of sleep again, body cold with night sweats, his chest so tight he could barely breathe. The guilt was too much. Even Krissy’s warm body curled around his couldn’t stop the panic wreaking havoc in his gut.

  He gazed down at her sleeping form. She was so peaceful, all creamy skin and dark lashes. Being in here with her was what he’d been waiting for, her hands on him what he’d craved, but the memories of how much more he’d wanted last night were making his skin crawl.

  He’d wanted Rafe too. And Krissy knew it.

  Even worse? He’d taken the Lord’s name in vain in the middle of it all, so turned on by his fucked-up desires it wrenched words he’d never normally say from him.

  God, he was never going to be able to get these ideas out of his head, was he? He’d thought if he could make things work with Krissy, maybe he’d never have them again. But the part of him he’d hoped to bury with her arrival was far from gone. It was alive in every frazzled nerve ending. And despite the encouragement she’d given him in the heat of the moment, the euphoria of his orgasm had ended, and all Mikey could feel was shame.

  He needed to get out of here.

  He gingerly pulled the covers back and disentangled himself from Krissy’s embrace. After searching for his glasses and finding them on the nightstand, he grappled with his clothes, losing his balance several times as he struggled to tug his pants on in the dim light of the room. Finally dressed, he stumbled into the bathroom, did his business, and tiptoed toward the front door. He’d just grabbed his coat when he heard Rafe’s deep breathing.

  He didn’t want to look—was halfway pleading with himself not to—but he was a moth drawn to a flame, unable to stop himself. His coat in his hand, Mikey slowly turned around.

  Rafe was naked from the waist up, the blanket bunched down low over his hips as he slept facedown on the futon. A tattoo covered the length of his back, a design Mikey had only gotten a glimpse at the night before. He took several unsteady steps toward the couch, curious and terrified as he bent closer to examine Rafe’s ink.

  A large heart spanned the space between his shoulder blades. The left side was red and white, embellished with magnificent feathers; the other black with webbed, scaly wings. A halo with two horns sat above it. The design ended at the base of his spine with the heart’s dual sides twining together, black lines curling around into a forked tail.

  Devil and angel, merged together. Was Rafe here to save him or to damn him?

  Mikey threw on his jacket and hurried outside. Letting the door click shut behind him, he fumbled for his gloves, tugged on his hood, then raced down the steps and onto the street. It was so fucking backward, to be running away from where he usually went for solace, but now there was only one place he could think to go to for consolation.

  His hands were like ice, his cheeks numb when he finally yanked open his church’s front door. The heat after the six-block walk was welcoming, as were the empty pews he found inside. Monday morning mass had just ended and the next one wasn’t until noon. The priest would be busy, and the odds of any of Mikey’s students being here were slim to none, but he kept his head down anyway as he charged up the stairs to the second-floor balcony and sat in the back row.

  His hood still up, he bent over, clasped his hands together, and stared out across the sanctuary to the crucifix.

  I’m going to Hell.

  Terror clutched Mikey’s windpipe. He didn’t want to think it, but the idea that God couldn’t love anyone who didn’t follow His teachings had been drilled into Mikey since he was old enough to read. It was what had kept him from approaching his crush in college, doing nothing but yearn from afar.

  Knowing he’d never crossed that line had been his only saving grace—the one thing he could fall back on for consolation when he feared God’s wrath. He’d come clean in confession and had been absolved from his transgressions, but now for the first time in his life Mikey was worried his luck had run out.

  He drew in a shallow breath and pressed his knuckles to his forehead. Repentance was still an option. He hadn’t actually done anything last night, other than feel and watch. He wasn’t committing a sin if he didn’t act on these desires.

  But he wanted to.

  There was no escaping it. It wasn’t virgin curiosity driving his attraction to men, not a one-time feeling he’d had years ago that he’d get over when he found the right girl. He’d thought Krissy might be that girl—heck, he still did—but being with her hadn’t changed anything.

  Damn it, why couldn’t he have been satisfied with her attention instead of craving them both?

  His eyes closed, Mikey began singing silently, running through all the hymns he could think of about forgiveness, ones about penance and contrition and asking for mercy. He stayed that way for what must’ve been hours, trying to wash away his thoughts with song, not moving when people started filing in downstairs, hoping absolution would find him.

  The only one who found him was Krissy.

  He bolted upright when she sank onto the bench next to him, immediately cringing from the soreness in his back after so much time spent hunched over. She didn’t say anything, her coat by her side. Mikey pulled off his hood and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

  “How’d you know where I was?”

  “I had a hunch.” Her eyes were downcast, her face pale. Dressed in jeans and a simple blue sweater, she was the most subdued he’d ever seen her.

  Mikey swallowed and glanced behind her. “Is Rafe with you?”

  “He wouldn’t be comfortable here.”

  The comment irked him. Given Rafe’s apparent ease with his own bisexuality and casual feelings toward sex, Mikey supposed her roommate had plenty of reasons to feel on edge in a church, but Rafe’s beliefs weren’t his concern. What did concern him was Krissy, and the distance camped between them like a heavy morning fog.

  There was no way they’d be able to fix this now.

  She stayed quiet for a long time, then finally said, “I don’t blame you for hating me.”

  “You think I hate you?” he asked. She nodded mutely. “Why?”

  “Because it was my fantasy, what we did last night, and I pushed you into it when you weren’t ready.” She shook her head and pinched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

  Mikey’s stomach roiled. He didn’t want to discuss this here, but she was hurting too, and he couldn’t stand how sad she looked.

  “I could never hate you.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “You couldn’t?”

  “Of course not. And you didn’t force me to do anything. This, me being here—” he sighed and waved around the room, “—that’s my stuff, not yours.”

  One of her shoulders curled up in a shrug. “I think maybe we’ve both got some stuff we still haven’t told each other.”

  “Maybe.” Mikey drew in a deep breath as she slid closer to him on the bench.

  “Was I right, last night?” she asked quietly. “About you wanting—”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t let her finish that sentence. Not here. “You were.”

  “So, you’re bi,” she confirmed. Mikey could barely nod in reply. “Is that the real reason you’re a virgin?”

  “Partly, I guess. I’m not the type of guy the girls come running for, and I’m kinda shy, in case you haven’t noticed.” She giggled softly. The sound was a soothing balm to his ragged and flayed nerves. “But, yeah, it’s that too. I haven’t been able to come to terms with everything I…” he exhaled, “…want.”

  “When did you figure it out?
”

  He huffed out a laugh. Man, she asked a lot of questions. But it took the sting out of the situation, somehow. Like it wasn’t anything serious, just more stuff she wanted to know.

  “College. I dated a few girls and definitely liked them, but then my senior year, I met this guy. He was in my music history class and a little like you, actually. Really bubbly and full of life.” She turned her smile into his shoulder. It gave him the strength to keep going. “We were paired up on a project, and the next thing I knew I was thinking about him all the time.”

  “Did anything happen?” The devilish glint in her eyes made his already queasy stomach sour.

  Had he acted on his desires? Expressed the sudden consuming need to take another man’s cock in his mouth? Partaken in the forbidden acts that drove him to quick, sweaty orgasms in his dorm room, imagining fucking into his crush from behind and losing his virginity in a totally different way?

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He looked at the bronze cross looming at the other end of the room. Life-sized and lit up where it hung beneath the domed ceiling, a white glow illuminated the figure suspended from it.

  “It’s an abomination.”

  His words came out in a whisper. Krissy’s response, however, did not.

  “What?” The word echoed in the empty room. Mikey winced.

  “‘You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female’,” he said. “They’re God’s words. And I’ve never figured out how to interpret them differently.”

  “So you think this—” she lifted a missal from the rack and waved it around, “—two-thousand-year-old book that’s been translated and edited and retranslated is actually the word of God?”

  His cheeks went hot at her censure. The same disdain had driven him from the support group back at school.