by Shae Banks
“I love you,” he cut in, as if expecting those words to solve everything.
I hadn’t heard those words in years, then from two different people in less than a week. And they wondered why women come over as crazy. All I’d had from Francis in the space of a decade were empty and pointless gestures—money, cars, holidays, properties, and jewellery. Never affection, concern, or tenderness. He was cold, selfish, and demanding. But now that my brother was dead he loved me?
“You know what, Francis?” I started with a weary sigh. “I’ve received more concern and support from strangers in a hospital over the course of a week than I’ve received in ten years from you. Four cycles, Francis. Four. Dozens of procedures, hours of worry, days of agony, and not a single word of support from you. So, forgive me if I’m disinclined to believe you’ve suddenly discovered a shred of emotional attachment to me in the weeks after I’ve left you. Please don’t contact me again, my solicitor will write to you in due course. Appoint one of your own to reply.”
Not disconnecting the call, I held the side button down and turned the damn thing off. “Prick.” The bedroom door squeaked behind me and I turned sharply. “You heard all that then?”
Ryan shrugged. “Hard not to when—”
“You followed me to listen?” I surmised.
With an unabashed shrug, he stepped into the room. “You don’t have to put up with it,” he stated, and held out his hand. I put the phone in it and watched him set it on the nightstand.
“You can change your number,” he suggested, extending his arm. “You’ve already changed your address.”
“I’m going to do it the right way,” I explained, stepping into him. “If I’m reasonable, it’ll be easier.”
I’d missed this. His arms circling me, my head against his chest, the warmth of another body, and the familiar scent of his aftershave.
“There’s being reasonable and letting people take the piss, babe.” His chin moved against the top of my head as he spoke.
I closed my eyes. What the hell was I doing?
I’d left Francis, and that was absolutely the right thing to do, but this?
It felt right, better than right, but was I being fair to Ryan? What about Thom?
“Lyla?” he grumbled, as his arms tightened around me.
I pulled back and gazed into his eyes. The concern was back. “I’m okay. Honestly, I’m fine.”
His eyebrows knit together. “Listen. I know this is all… well, we didn’t plan any of this, did we?”
“Speak for yourself,” Thom announced, closing my bedroom door behind him, and walking directly over to kiss me.
Ryan stepped aside, but not far enough to break contact with me as I relaxed into Thom’s toe-curling kiss. His tongue caressed mine with languid strokes.
“Man, that’s… fuck,” Ryan murmured, causing Thom to break the kiss too soon.
“You’ve missed her as much as I have, I know, but you’ll have to wait your turn,” Thom declared.
My eyes flitted from Thom to Ryan. I knew that expression. I didn’t need to look down to know he was already hard. “I miss you. Both of you, I just—”
The words died in my throat when Ryan suddenly moved. Not towards me, but to Thom.
I’d seen them together, obviously, but this was different. I’d only seen Ryan like this once, and it had been with me. He was desperate to be touched. To feel, taste, and fuck. Seeing it from the outside was something new, and it instantly turned me on.
He wasn’t gentle. There was no room for tenderness with the way he gripped Thom’s belt and pulled him impossibly close.
Thom went willingly, their mouths meeting, and their hands left my body as they reached for each other almost desperately.
Had they been together while I was ill? The raw need from Ryan suggested not. The eager responses from Thom—the rapid removal of his shirt the least of them—only served to confirm the theory.
Content to revel in their appreciation of one another, I took a few steps back and sat on the edge of my bed. I didn’t know what I liked most—seeing their need played out before me or the sensations stirring within me as memories of being between them were resurrected.
I’d been kissed that way. Felt their hands on my body like that. I knew how they tasted, remembered how they smelled—not just aftershave, but sweat and other scents combined.
Thom’s jeans were open, and Ryan reached for his clearly hard cock when they slowed, the urgency ebbing away.
Ryan kissed him a final time then turned to me, sucking in a breath. “Sorry.”
I shuffled back a little on the mattress, my feet leaving the floor, and raised my brows. “Don’t stop on my account.”
“Lie back,” Thom commanded softly, joining me on the bed. “We can’t risk anything strenuous, but I don’t think either of us can wait any longer.”
He stroked the few errant curls back from my face as Ryan reached for the band of my leggings and began pulling them down. Thom’s tongue swept across my lips as I lifted my ass to make it easier for Ryan.
Once he’d stripped me of those, I felt the hospital stockings being rolled down each leg before they were pulled off my feet, and I couldn’t help but groan in relief to be rid of them.
“God, I’ve missed you.” Ryan’s breath ghosted across the front of my underwear as Thom pushed his tongue into my mouth.
With my eyes closed, everything felt so much more intense. A hand pulled at the material of my top before cooler air hit my stomach. Every deft flick of a tongue, the soft caress of lips against mine, drove my need for them higher. They were hungry, but gentle in their reacquaintance with my body, and I basked in their attention. I craved more.
Thom pulled back, and I opened my eyes to watch him while he looked down at the puckered wound across my stomach.
An emotion I wasn’t used to seeing settled on his features, and I didn’t like it. Grasping his chin, I pulled his face back to mine. “I’m okay,” I breathed against his lips.
Just as I was beginning to think he’d changed his mind, his hand fisted my top and dragged it up the rest of the way until my new, black bra was on display.
If it was at all possible, his eyes heated further, and I desperately wanted to squirm to try and alleviate the need between my thighs. It’d been too long since I’d been with them.
Ryan’s hands gently gripped my hips, as if he’d expected the movement. “We’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”
When he was happy I wasn’t going to move, his fingers curled into my underwear and dragged the cotton painfully slow down my legs until he could throw them over his shoulder.
Thom grabbed my chin and pulled my mouth back to him as hands trailed up my legs, and thumbs brushed up the inside of my thighs before pushing my legs apart. A hand, I assumed Thom’s, grabbed my bra and pulled the cup down to expose one breast, and then the other.
A swipe of a tongue from ass to clit had my nerves coming alive as fingers rolled my nipple. Fisting the comforter, I tried desperately to keep myself grounded. To make it last, but it had been way too long.
Another swipe, another pinch, and Thom’s tongue flicked across the roof of my mouth, which only added to the sensations building too quickly for me to grab on to any control.
Doing the only thing I could, I curled my fingers around the back of Ryan’s head to hold him to me, and my other hand around Thom’s cock. I pumped him in time with Ryan’s tongue and he groaned into my mouth. But I couldn’t keep up the pace, my fist faltered its movement, I was getting close, too close.
My body exploded like it never had before. I’d been away from them for too long, and the stress, upset, and grief, all faded to nothing as my body flew apart into a million tiny pieces, only to be put back together again with their continued ministrations. Nothing mattered aside from this moment, and all I could do was ride the intoxicating wave.
My chest heaved with each breath. “Holy shit,” I gasped. My eyes cracked open only to meet Thom’s st
ill too hungry gaze. “Well, that won’t do.”
I flicked my eyes down to Ryan, who was distracted with kissing my inner thigh, and then back up to Thom.
He must have read my expression correctly, because he leaned down, his lips brushing against my own, and whispered softly, “He looks a little lonely down there.”
Thom moved to the side of the bed and stood up before he helped me scoot up the mattress until my head rested on the pillows. Once he was happy I was comfortable, he gave me a sweet kiss before he fixed his sights firmly on Ryan.
With me moving up the bed, it pulled Ryan’s attention to Thom and me, so I offered him an encouraging wink along with a smirk.
Thom kicked his jeans off, his boxers following, and stalked towards Ryan with a purpose. Ryan straightened from the bed and turned in time for Thom to slam his lips against his own. It was desperate, and if I thought it was hot before, then this was scorching.
Thom wasted no time in pulling Ryan’s clothes off until they both stood naked, pressed together, at the end of the bed. They were a vision—one I’d never forget. Ryan reached between them, fisted a cock in each hand, and began stroking them both. Without a conscious thought, my thighs rubbed together to try and relieve the ache that zipped through me.
“I think our girl likes watching us,” Ryan panted against Thom’s neck.
“Let’s give her something to really enjoy.” Thom grabbed Ryan’s shoulders, spun him on his heel and pushed him onto the bed before following behind him.
“Wha—” Ryan’s shoulders tensed as he stared at me.
I watched Thom over Ryan’s shoulder as his hand moved from Ryan’s neck and down his back until I couldn’t see what he was doing. Ryan tensed further for a moment before his eyes fluttered shut and a groan escaped his lips as he fell forward onto his hands and knees.
Thom winked, and I maneuvered slightly until I was lying across the bed to give them more room.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ryan chanted, but the tension in his shoulders still hadn’t eased, and I wanted desperately for him to stop thinking and just feel. I scooted over until my head and shoulders were underneath his body.
Reaching up, I trailed my fingers from his pecs to his stomach, and the muscles jumped under my fingers.
“Oh, God,” Ryan panted.
I didn’t try to see what Thom was doing, I just concentrated on what I wanted to do, and what I wanted to do was taste him, badly.
I mimicked what Ryan did to me earlier but in reverse. I licked from the head, down his shaft, until his balls nudged against my nose, and then back up. On the next swipe down, I ran my tongue over his balls and felt Thom’s knuckles brush against my forehead as he twisted his wrist near Ryan’s ass.
Ryan’s body rocked and dipped towards me from Thom’s extra weight settling against his back, so I took advantage of him being closer and opened my mouth, swallowing him, only to almost choke on his cock from the awkward angle.
I wanted to see Thom take him, and I glanced up to see his dick disappear inside Ryan, before their balls pushed together. “Oh, God,” I whispered, as the need between my thighs turned almost painful.
The comforter next to my hips bunched from Ryan gripping it so hard, and his panted breath ghosted across my bare stomach since I hadn’t righted my top from earlier.
Not able to reach Ryan now that Thom had picked the pace up, I move until I was on my side to make the angle a little easier. Still not able to quite get Ryan to where I wanted him, I reached up and grabbed Thom, adding just enough pressure to bring Ryan’s body closer.
Satisfied, I rested my head in my hand, and opened my mouth. Each thrust from Thom pushed Ryan into my mouth without me needing to move and risk a neck cramp—they had insisted I take it easy.
Bolstered by their pants and groans, I became even more daring. With the hand not supporting my head, I reached forward until I could lightly trail my nails from Ryan’s balls to Thom’s. Precum instantly coated my tongue.
“Lyla, babe, shi—” Ryan groaned above me, and Thom moved faster, pushing Ryan farther into the back of my throat on each thrust. Their balls tightened simultaneously in my hand, and I knew they couldn’t hold out for much longer.
Ryan jerked forward, slamming into my throat and then back into Thom. Their movements became erratic as they chased their orgasm, their balls drawing up impossibly tighter in my palm. The smell of sex and sweat permeated the air along with their combined groans and grunts. It was intoxicating and addicting, and I didn’t want it to end.
Hot spurts of cum hit the back of my tongue and throat, and Ryan pushed impossibly deeper inside. I repeatedly swallowed as best as I could with his cock in my throat, but I felt a wetness on my chin from not being quick enough.
Utterly spent, Ryan pulled from my mouth with a hiss and moved to the side, so I could wiggle out from under him before he collapsed onto the bed with Thom still on top of him. Thom, to my surprise, leaned towards me with a smirk, and licked the cum off my chin before giving me a languid kiss.
“Wow,” was the only thing I could say, which made them both laugh through their breathlessness.
“I told you she was dirty,” Thom goaded, shifting to lay on my right.
“You’ve bloody corrupted me,” I argued, readjusting my bra to cover myself.
Ryan pushed up onto his knees, facing us both, and grinned. “We’re only just getting started.” Then he turned his hands, palms up, and flicked his fingers towards the ceiling.
I obliged, raising my arms so he could remove my top, as Thom unfastened my bra.
“Here,” Ryan said, reaching onto the floor and producing his discarded t-shirt. “That’ll do.”
Then he lay back down at my side and reached for Thom’s hand.
This, right there, was happiness, I realised.
Not fucking my brother’s best friends in his bed. No, that was pretty fucked up, to be perfectly honest, but us. Three of us, together, handling life.
My decision was made right then that I wouldn’t accept anything less for myself, or them. Ryan loved me. Feelings were there for me too, but it was far too soon for me to allow myself to fully commit. I’d only just escaped the frying pan, and while I was very happy in the warmth of the flames, I didn’t want to get burned. I wasn’t sure I could take it.
It wasn’t what we were about. No hurt. No sadness. No blame or regret. We were just enjoying our lives. Living. It just happened that we were doing so together.
It all seemed perfect.
Some would argue too perfect.
22
Lyla
The week leading up to the funeral passed almost like the ones before I became ill. The two distinct differences being Thom and Ryan had started sleeping in my room, and Sam began spending more time with me while the others were at work.
With my stitches out, I’d upped my activity, joining him to walk Gunner a couple of times and even letting him drive me to the supermarket to restock the fridge. I was sure I could drive myself, but he’d argued against it. When he wasn’t giving me medical advice, he was laid back and easy to be around. I could see why he and Lloyd had become such good friends.
When the day came, I wasn’t filled with the dread I expected, and I attributed much of that to Sam and his support. Thom and Ryan had been amazing, but during the hours they were at work, Sam had been there, a quiet, constant presence. I’d grown used to it.
I’d just finished blow drying my hair and was putting the finishing touches on my makeup when I heard a bang above.
I waited, listening for more sounds, but none came. Thom and Ryan, after much persuasion from me, had gone to the funeral directors to say their final goodbye together, leaving Sam and me to get ready.
Concerned, I made quick work of finishing my makeup and left my room. Standing at the bottom of the stairs leading to the loft bedroom, I hesitated for a moment, but called, “Sam?”
No answer.
My feet were silent on the carpeted stairs as I cli
mbed, and once the door came into view, I called again to announce my approach. “Sam, you okay?”
His door creaked open, but he wasn’t there when I reached it. No longer hesitant, I knocked and walked in.
When I last lived in my childhood home, the attic had just been a boarded-up storage space. Lloyd had told me he’d insulated and partitioned it, and even put in a window, creating a generous top floor room that he planned to turn into a games room. I hadn’t learned the full story behind Sam’s arrival, but I suspected it ground Lloyd’s grand plans to a halt.
The walls were a dark cream, except the one at the rear of the room where his bed and two nightstands stood. That was papered with a brickwork pattern. His walnut wardrobe was closest to the door, and three matching, long chest of drawers lined the right-hand wall, holding a TV and a few personal items.
Opposite that, directly beneath the Velux window, was a two-seater, brown leather sofa and low coffee table.
That explained why he’d been so comfortable to just hide upstairs when he’d first arrived—there was very little for him to come down for.
“You okay? I heard a bang,” I explained, as I stepped into his room, leaving the door open.
He was standing with his hands on the low ceiling on either side of the window, looking up at the sky. Dressed in black trousers, a white shirt, and black shoes, he would have looked dashing had his hair been styled.
“Knocked the guitar over,” he mumbled, stepping back and turning to face me. He was clean shaven and managed to force a smile that dimpled his left cheek. A regiment tie hung loosely around his neck, and his top two buttons were open, which displayed a smattering of hair on his broad chest.
“I didn’t know you played,” I remarked, walking towards him, catching a glimpse of the instrument on a stand at the far side of the sofa. That explained why Lloyd’s guitar had been left out. He must have taken up playing again. The laminate flooring was cold on my feet, my pantyhose not acting as any sort of insulation, and I was glad to reach the black rug that covered the floor between the sofa and the TV.
