by Smyth, R. A
His eyebrows rise in surprise when he finds all three of us on the sofa together. The tension leaves his body, his shoulders dropping when I give him a small smile, the relief visible in his eyes as they soften.
“Come join us,” I say, waving him over.
Dropping the bag, he strides across the short distance towards us. As he reaches the sofa, Barrett holds out another black t-shirt for him. Where the hell did he even pull that out from?
“What the hell is that?” Aiden demands, looking at the t-shirt like it’s an explosive and not a piece of fabric.
“You gotta wear one if you wanna be part of the crew,” Ty says, indicating our matching t-shirts.
“What? No!” Aiden shakes his head adamantly, looking at me with a slightly pleading expression on his face that is totally out of character and looks absolutely hilarious on his hard, masculine features.
I bite down on my lower lip, holding in my laughter as I shrug my shoulders. “Not my rules,” I tell him, completely unapologetically.
Rolling his eyes, he snatches the t-shirt out of Barrett’s outstretched hand and, standing right in front of me, so close I could just reach out and touch him, he reaches behind him, grabbing the neck of his top and slowly, inch-by-inch, revealing his lickably toned abs to me.
I watch mesmerized, like he’s a tall glass of water and I’ve been lost in the desert for weeks, dying for a drink. When he’s standing half-naked in front of me, he smirks down at me, knowing damn well the effect he has on me. The asshole.
Pulling on the t-shirt Barrett gave him, glaring down at it like the t-shirt has personally offended him, he scowls at Barrett before sitting on the floor in front of me, leaning back so I can run my fingers through his hair. I highly doubt watching a cartoon is his thing either, but he doesn’t say a word as we continue on with our marathon.
“What’s going on with Preston?” I ask after we’ve gone through another few episodes. It’s actually an awesome show. Watching three teenage girls kick ass and take down the bad guys is totally helping, and I’m feeling more optimistic than I have in days. I mean, if Sam, Alex and Clover can do it, we can too, right?
“He’s just not good at handling shit that’s out of his control,” Barrett explains. “I bet he’s at home beating the living shit out of a punching bag. He’ll be back when he’s worn himself out.” Barrett’s anger towards Preston resonates in his voice. His words do nothing to reassure me, though. It’s been a couple of days since he disappeared and that seems like more than just working out a few issues. More in the realm of rethinking life decisions, like if you still wanna be with your girlfriend and her three other boyfriends.
“This is all my fault,” I murmur, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach at the thought of losing Preston. I couldn’t hold it against him, though. I know how much he struggles with his emotions. He needs to feel like he’s in control of his life, and he’s given up so much of that control recently. Not only by agreeing to be a part of this fivesome, but he’s let the three of us barge into his sanctuary and live in the warehouse. None of that could have been easy for him to do. This is a far cry from the straightforward life he was leading before we all showed up in Crescentwood, turning his world upside down.
He must have been close to losing it when he found out Kurt got to me. Then with the way I’ve been handling things the last few days? It’s all been too much for him.
Turning around, so he’s kneeling in front of me, Aiden reaches out, holding my chin firmly between his fingers. His touch is gentle and his face softens with tenderness as I roam my eyes over his features. The way he’s holding me ensures I can see every flicker of anger, concern and love in his eyes. “Absolutely none of this is your fault,” he says. “You do whatever you have to do to process all of this and let us worry about, Preston, Okay?”
I simply nod my head, not knowing what else to say.
“It’s good to have you back,” he murmurs. “I’ve missed you.”
I can feel the tears building behind my eyes at his sweet words. The fact he’s saying them with Ty and Barrett beside me makes them even more meaningful. Aiden’s usually a growling, protective caveman around the others, reserving his softer side for when we’re alone. I must have really worried him if he doesn’t care who can hear him right now.
Leaning in, I press my forehead against his. Bringing my hand up to rest on the back of his neck, I tangle my fingers in his hair. It was thinking about moments like this that got me through those horrible days and long nights.
“I love you,” I breathe, the words barely more than a whisper. I know he won’t say it back. Not with the others beside us. But I don’t need him to. I’ve known for a while now that he feels the same way. It’s in every heated look he gives me. He’s always putting my needs first, always ensuring I’m taken care of. Who needs words of love when the proof is written in everything he does?
His hand wraps around the back of my neck, holding me in place as his lips meet mine in a bruising kiss that says so much more than words ever could.
________
I toss and turn for several hours before giving up on sleep. Today was a good day. I laughed and talked with the guys, engaging with them and, for the most part, I was able to keep the heavy thoughts at bay. But now the darkness brings back the fears I’ve been pretending don’t exist. Every time I close my eyes I hear the click of the lock, feel Kurt standing over me, his warm cum spurting onto my stomach.
Unable to lie there with my disgusting thoughts any longer, I climb out from between Ty and Aiden and head to the bathroom. I’m sitting on the lid of the toilet, staring at the bathroom door thinking about the day Barrett pressed me up against it and ate me out like he would die if he didn’t taste me there and then, when he slips into the room.
He lowers himself slowly in front of me, neither of us saying anything for a long time. He watches me warily while I stare absently at the door.
“Every time he made me...come,” I eventually whisper, not taking my eyes off the door, “I pretended it was one of you. It was the only way I could…” I trail off, unable to finish that sentence out loud. “Do you remember the day you—” I stop mid-sentence, unsure if I should even bring it up after everything that’s happened.
“Fucked you senseless with my tongue?” He finishes for me, smirking proudly like it was one of his greatest achievements. I can see the anger in the tightness of his jaw, though, the worry in his eyes, despite how hard he’s trying to pretend everything is normal.
I give him a small smile, lifting my hand to his cheek before leaning in and kissing him gently. He presses his lips softly against mine, letting me take the lead.
I press my lips first to one corner of his mouth, then the next, before angling them over his, sucking his lower lip into my mouth. I run my tongue over his lip, wanting entry, but instead of giving me what I need, he pulls back.
“Sophie,” he whispers, but I cut him off before he can give some bullshit excuse about what he thinks is best.
“I need you to put the broken pieces of me back together.” My voice is a shattered whisper, admitting to him how fucking tormented I am. Each of them have been slowly pulling me back out of myself with their protective natures, warm comfort and easy jokes, but my body still doesn’t feel like my own. I can’t stand to be in my own skin. Every time I close my eyes, I can feel Kurt’s hands on me, feel him grinding against me. I need to get him out of my mind, even if only for a moment; to have a sense of security and safety. I need to feel whole and loved.
He stares into my eyes for a long time, indecision written across his face. He must see the truth of my words, the feeling of despair coursing through me as he grabs hold of my waist, using his firm grip to slide me to the edge of the toilet seat.
He gives me one final look before pulling my t-shirt off over my head, leaving me bare before him. He doesn’t spare a second glance for the bruises adorning my body, leaning into my neck, replacing every rough touch with a gentle kiss befo
re slowly moving over my collarbone down to my breasts.
He lavishes them, his touch the antithesis of Kurt’s. His every caress showing me his love and affection, telling me how much he cares. Every time his lips touch my skin, he displaces Kurt’s touch, helping me regain a part of myself.
His hand trails up my side, cupping my breast, massaging it as he dips his head, rimming my other nipple with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. I release a low moan, arching my back and pressing my tit further into his mouth.
I lift myself off the lid so he can slide my joggers and boxers down my legs, opening me so his broad shoulders can settle between my thighs as he licks my pussy. My hands move to fist his sleek, soft hair, the strands twisting around my fingers as I rock my core against his tongue.
He circles my clit before dipping down, diving inside of me, thrusting his tongue in and out of me as my soft moans turn to low groans. My body pulses with need and my pussy spasms as I cry out my release. Barrett continues to lick me, soaking up my juices, until he slides me off the toilet seat, into his lap as he sits down on the floor, his back against the bathroom wall.
My knees press into the cold tile as I straddle him. His hands run up my naked back, waiting for me to make the first move. I have the control here. It’s my decision if we go any further or not. My choice, how hard, fast and deep we go.
I reach down into his joggers, freeing his large dick, feeling the heavy weight of it in my palm as I wrap my hand around his wide girth and pump him up and down.
I raise myself onto my knees, hovering above him as I position him at my entrance. I slowly lower myself onto his impressive length, feeling my walls stretch to accommodate him as he seats himself deep inside me.
When he’s fully sheathed within me, I rest my forehead against his, relishing this moment that I wasn’t sure I would ever get to experience.
After a few moments, his dick twitches inside of me, needing me to move. Rocking back and forth; I cry out as he repeatedly hits that perfect spot deep inside of me, making me grind harder against him until both our bodies are covered in a thin layer of sweat,
I lift his hand to wrap around my neck. I know the dominant move isn’t his thing, but sensing that it’s what I need, he obliges me, using his firm grip to pull me into him, kissing me deeply.
Like his soft touches and shallow thrusts, his kiss is sweet and cathartic, and with every moment I feel like I’m gaining back a piece of myself, reclaiming who I am.
“I’m going to come,” I cry out before I tumble into oblivion, collapsing against him as his hot seed releases inside me and he groans into my neck.
We both sit there, pressed up against each other, until the cold air of the room seeps into our skin, creating a chill.
When I finally lean back, he raises his hand, pressing it over my heart. I’m sure he can feel the chaotic thumps as it beats frantically in my chest. “I’ll always be here to put you back together,” he promises before sealing it with a kiss.
Chapter 35
“Preston!” I yell out, the words echoing around the empty foyer as I slam the front door behind me. He’s been AWOL for several days now, which is more than enough time for him to sort his shit out and come home. We’re all struggling, but Sophie needs us—all of us. He can’t just fucking take off.
Walking through the house, it’s clear he’s been working through some anger issues. The place is totally trashed. Furniture and broken shit everywhere. Glass and ceramic cracks beneath my booted feet as I storm through the rooms, taking in the carnage. I’ve yet to see Preston, but I’m becoming increasingly apprehensive about the state I’m going to find him in.
Finally, walking into the den at the back of the house, I spot him sprawled out across the couch, clutching a bottle of whiskey. He’s hugging the damn thing like it’s a fucking teddy bear.
Sighing in frustration, I stomp across the room, yanking the bottle out of his grasp and throwing it across the room. It smacks into the wall; the glass shattering and the noise startling Preston awake.
“What the fuck, man?” He slurs, glaring at me. His gaze is unfocused as he narrows his eyes, probably seeing three of me and trying to work out which is the real one.
“Get the fuck up,” I snap, in no mood for his attitude. I’m here to bring him back. That’s it. I’m so fucking pissed at him right now. Angrier than I’ve ever been with him before. It won’t take much for him to push me over the edge today and he won’t fucking like it if he does.
I don’t know what Ty said to Sophie the other day, but it seems to have pulled her out of her self-imposed prison. There’s been more life about her the last couple of days. She’s still struggling though, and the last thing she needs to deal with right now is Preston’s inability to cope. The fact she blames herself for him not being able to handle his own shit only pisses me off more.
Despite the fact I want to murder the fucker right now, Sophie doesn’t have a hope of moving on without him around. So, he needs to stop with his pathetic pity-party and face up to his problems like the rest of us.
I know he’s stressed out and worried right now, we’ve a lot going on and I get he feels like his world is fucking spiraling. We’re all making sacrifices and doing things we never thought we’d do, hell, never in a million years would I have thought I’d be part of a fivesome, trying to take down a criminal organization, but, hey, here we are. We’re a team, The Fuckable Five. No one messes with us, not even one of our own.
Stumbling to his feet, he staggers over to the bar in the corner of the room, grabbing a fresh bottle of alcohol and popping the top off. He’s barely brought it to his lips when I’m stomping across the room, once again snatching it out of his grip and dropping it to the ground.
“Wake the fuck up!” I yell, more furious than I’ve ever been. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, hiding out here and drinking yourself to death?” I scowl down at him, not bothering to hide the disgust on my face.
He’s always struggled with his anger, never known how to handle it. Usually I just leave him to it, knowing he’ll eventually work his way out of it. But that shit just won’t fly any longer. He’s with Sophie. He’s gotta think of someone other than himself for once in his life. He’s responsible to another person now, and she really fucking needs him to pull his shit together.
“You need to sober up and come home with me.”
“No,” he slurs, like a petulant child. “I can’t.”
“I don’t give a shit if you can’t. You will. Sophie needs you. We need you, man.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.” This time his voice is forlorn, the anger replaced with a bone deep weariness that resonates with me. “I can’t see her like that.”
“And you think running away from her is going to make it better? How the fuck do you think she feels? She’s just survived the worst thing that’s ever happened to her and she’s got no idea how to come to terms with it, but she can’t do it alone. She fucking needs you.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s got all of you.”
“So? That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need you too. She’s worried about you.”
He scoffs at my words, irritating me all over again. “She probably doesn’t even know I’m gone.”
I shove him hard, sending him sprawling to the ground.
“You think she doesn’t know you’re not there?! She fucking knows.” I snarl, scowling as I tower over him. He’s being a selfish prick, letting his anger and concern get the better of him. This isn't like him, though. He needs some fucking sense beaten into him.
“What the hell?” He growls, climbing back to his feet, swaying as he does, but I’m done listening to another fucking word out of his mouth.
Before he’s regained his footing, I slam my fist into his face, relishing in the crack of his neck as his head flies to the side. He stumbles back a step before regaining his footing. His whole body is tense now, his fists repeatedly clenching and unclenching as he tries to breathe th
rough his anger.
I see the moment he fails, when he lets the enraged beast inside of him take control. I plant my feet, readying for the fight, as he lunges towards me, his fists moving with the speed and agility of a trained fighter.
Landing his first hit, my head snaps to the side, my mouth filling with the bitter taste of blood. It’s quickly followed by another hard knock to my head. While he might have more experience in the ring, I’ve got anger, fear and concern on my side and I channel all of those feelings into my next punch, aiming for his gut.
“Oof,” he grunts as I successfully knock the air out of him. Doubling over, I take advantage of his weakened position to bring my knee up, connecting with his lower abdomen.
Unfortunately for me, he recovers quickly, his arms coming up to wrap around my waist. Using his superior strength, he drives his shoulder into me, pushing me backwards until I hit the wall.
Moving surprisingly swiftly for someone who’s wasted off his face, he delivers an uppercut to my jaw, causing me to groan in pain. Punching him in the chest, I reach out and grab a hold of his shoulders, shoving him back again. This time when he falls on his drunken ass, I dive on top of him, using my weight to pin him to the floor.
Delivering another round of blows to his face and chest, I let out all of my anger from the last few weeks. I unleash the pent-up aggression I have at Kurt, at myself for not being there for my girl, at Preston for fucking leaving us. I soak up the pain as the skin on my knuckles splits.
Preston is a beaten, bloody, groaning mess by the time my energy wanes, some of my resentment abated. Seeing that he’s also done with this ridiculous display of testosterone, I roll off him, landing on my back on the floor beside him, breathing heavily.
Neither of us moves for several minutes, each of us lying in silence, panting as we recover from our fight. It’s been a long time since I’ve beaten the crap out of someone. I’d forgotten how hard it is on the knuckles, and Preston is no amateur. He knows how to make his hits land so they have the greatest impact. While he may not have been aiming to do any lasting damage, he definitely wasn’t holding back. So now my body, face and fists are all protesting my movements as I sit up, groaning at the burning ache.
