Free Fall: an MMF romance (Wilde Boys Book 2)

by Sara Cate

  Like he fucking knows.

  I move first, leaving every thought behind, not giving a shit what could happen or what will happen next as I grab him by the back of the neck and pull his mouth to mine, desperate to taste his lips.

  He’s only thrown off for a second. Pure shock I’m sure. Well, I’m fucking shocked too.

  But then he’s kissing me back, tasting my lips, my mouth, sucking on my tongue as I force it between his teeth so I can claim his mouth for myself. And he doesn’t stop me. His papers drop to the floor as his hands grip my hips and shove me against the desk, pinning my body with his. A low growl echoes through my chest, and I don’t know if it came from him or me—because he is an extension of me. Or am I an extension of him?

  The kiss intensifies until all that exists is the taste of his lips, his breath, his scent, just Ellis. Every tiny movement of his body registering in mine like I’m on his frequency.

  “Nash,” he gasps, pulling away to look at my face. “Are you okay?” he asks with a hand on my chest.

  Fuck that. I swat his hand away and go in for his mouth again like it’s the only thing I need, the only thing I want. His kiss is oxygen.

  With my hands against the soft planes of his chest, I slide them down along the ridges of his ribcage, feeling his skin against my fingers like it’s the first time I’ve touched anyone. And when I reach the waist of his jeans, he doesn’t bother stopping me again. He doesn’t need to fucking check up on me; he needs to never stop kissing me.

  As my fingers fumble with the button on his pants, he stumbles forward, like he’s short circuiting, shoving my body even harder against the desk. That’s when he starts tearing at my shirt, but he’s taking too much care with the buttons. Forget that shit. I tear it off, hearing the buttons pop, too anxious to feel his bare chest against mine, and like I expected, it’s fucking heaven. The soft patch of his chest hair against my bare skin doesn’t feel wrong or strange. It feels right.

  Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind is a voice telling me to stop. This isn’t who I am, but I don’t care. Right now, I’m indulging. Just this once. Just for fun.

  And since this is the only time I’m doing this, I want everything. Every single thing.

  So, I make quick work of his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling them down, and of course, he’s not wearing anything underneath. His hard dick is staring up at me, and there is nothing stopping me from wrapping my hands around it.

  So, I do.

  Maybe a little too tightly. He moans, deep and husky before latching his teeth onto my jaw, kissing roughly. “Oh fuck, Nash.”

  He said my name. I’m holding his cock in my hand. And all of this is happening, and all I can think at the moment is I want to come, so fucking bad. But I want to make him come even more, so I stroke him slow and tight, learning the feel of him in my hand, so surreal. His dick is wider than mine, smooth and harder than a fucking rock.

  “Come here,” he groans, jerking my hips forward and tearing my pants open.

  “Fuck, yes,” I grit through my teeth as he makes contact. His hand is hot around my cock, stroking to my rhythm, and I’m going to come way too fucking fast. “Wait. Stop.”

  His touch leaves me immediately. We’re frozen in place for a moment, and my hand is still wrapped around him while he waits for my next move. I realize he thinks I wanted to stop completely, as if I’m backing out, but that’s so far from the truth.

  My body is on fire, and I haven’t felt this good in a long time. There is no stopping me now. So, while I have the chance, I do what I’ve been thinking about all fucking week.

  My eyes still glued on his face, I drop slowly to my knees and look ahead at his beautiful tan and pink length, tight round head, veins bulging, and warmth radiating into my palm. It is a perfect fucking dick, and I really never considered myself admiring another cock before, but here I am.

  Placing a warm, wet kiss directly on the head, we both shiver at the same time. Then I trail my lips along the bottom side, all the way to the base before licking my way back to the head. Every texture and sensation is so new to me, and I feel the shake of nervous excitement in my spine as I part my lips pulling him in. He glides easily along my tongue, and I’m almost afraid he won’t make it very deep when my gag reflex kicks in, but fuck, this is the only time I’m going to do this, so I’m going to do it right. I’m going to please him. I have to.

  Relaxing my throat, I try again. Adding more saliva to his staff, I let him slide even further, feeling him at the back of my throat. His hands go to my hair, gripping the locks at my scalp as he jolts forward.

  “Fuck, Nash. Fuck.”

  I’m totally lost in the movement of my mouth around him, taking him a little deeper each time, saliva running down my chin and tears pooling in my eyes.

  “Your mouth is perfect on my cock, Nash.”

  The praise spurs me on, sucking him down faster, tasting the beads of pre-cum on my tongue. And the question in my head, what will I do when he comes, steals my thoughts. Will I swallow it down?

  This is the only time I’m doing this, so I guess I will. I want it. I want him.

  I don’t even realize I’m doing it, but I have one hand on my own cock, stroking shamelessly, and I feel myself building toward my orgasm at the same speed he is. And just when I think I’m there, he pulls out, and I stop my moving.

  “Stand up,” he orders me, breathless.

  His cheeks are red, his eyes dark and dilated with lust. As I stand, my lips wet and swollen, he grabs my jaw and pulls me in for a deep kiss. Fuck, I love his mouth on mine. More than I thought I would. Something about kissing a man as opposed to a woman is hot as fuck. Like I can be as rough and hard on him as I want, and he can take it.

  But as he pulls away, still holding me by the throat, he glares into my eyes. And my heart won’t stop hammering in my chest because I know what comes next.

  This is the only time I’m doing this. The thought echoes.

  “Turn around,” he says.

  My chest heaves as I pause.

  Make up your mind, Nash. I can’t let this moment pass.

  One, two, three, four.

  I turn toward the window. Facing his desk, my pants at my feet, I place my palms against the cool wood before feeling his body hot against my back as he hums low and inviting. With one arm around my waist, he takes my dick in his hand, stroking slowly as his other hand rifles through the top drawer. Glancing there, I see him drop a small bottle of lube on the desk, and bring a condom wrapper to his teeth to tear it open.

  My heart is going to explode in my chest.

  He lets go of my cock long enough to put the rubber on his own. Then, comes the lube. At first he drops some onto his fingers and I wait, trying to tell my chest to stop pounding so hard. It’s his fingers, slick and warm against my back entrance I feel first, making me jolt and clench from the sudden touch of him there.

  First, he’s just rubbing, and I know I should do something. So, I press back into his hand. Just do it, Ellis. Just fucking do it. I can take it.

  “Relax,” he mutters against my shoulder. And I do, enough for his finger to breach the tight entrance, and I let out a ragged gasp.

  At first, it’s all wrong, and I almost panic. I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.

  Then he pushes a little deeper, and everything changes. My spine turns into lava, pleasure sliding up until I’m choking on it. He’s only one knuckle in and I’m rocking my hips back toward him.

  More.

  “Slow down, baby.” He chuckles, twisting his finger a few times before adding a second and sliding a little deeper. Then he hits a spot inside of me that makes my cock jump and my eyes roll into the back of my head. Fuck yes.

  I moan, my fingers clawing at the desktop.

  “Just fuck me,” I say in a ragged pant, the words foreign in my ears.

  But he doesn’t, not right away. He spends another few minutes prepping my hole, slicking me up, and I hear his voice grow
hoarse as he does. This is turning him on, and that shit turns me on.

  When he pulls his fingers out, I take my first full breath in what feels like hours, but I miss the sensation. I need it back. The top of the lube bottle clicks again, and I hear the unmistakable sound of him covering himself with it.

  Then he’s there. The broad, moist tip of his cock pressing in. It’s too big, way too fucking big, but as he eases forward, he whispers, “Just bear down.” With that, he pushes inside of me, sliding all the way to the hilt, and we both groan, guttural and animalistic. Neither of us move for a moment, and I’m breathing in this new sensation of being so fucking full. Full of him.

  More.

  With his hands on my hips, he slides out and back in, hitting that spot again that turns my body into fire. Oh, I am not going to last long. Fuck I might come without even touching my own dick.

  More, I repeat in my mind

  He laughs. Oh, shit. I guess I said that out loud, but I want more. I want him faster, harder, deeper. I just want him.

  Wrapping his strong arm around my chest, he pulls my body upright against his, still buried deep as he thrusts his hips hard, pinning me to the desk.

  “God, you feel so good on my cock, Nash. Like you were fucking made for it.”

  I reach a hand back, holding onto his leg as he pounds into me. And the minute he grabs my cock, I’m done. He doesn’t even need to stroke. He picks up his speed, fucking me harder, his masculine grunts in my ear, and I shoot right into his palm. I’m on another planet as my body shakes and explodes in pleasure. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

  A moment later, he thrusts and tremors, emptying his cock into the condom between us. And we’re both left gasping for breath. I feel his warm breath on my neck, clutching my body, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stand. I sink against his hold as he slowly pulls out, leaving me empty and missing him immediately.

  It’s like coming back to earth. My head starts to clear as he disappears from the room, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth he uses against my ass and then to clean up his desk.

  “This contract is fucked now,” he says, throwing away the pages that ended up crumpled or covered in cum.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, pulling up my briefs and jeans. “About that.”

  Ellis throws the washcloth in the wastebasket, and looks at me with sincerity. He walks up to me, touching my chest and pulling my face close to his.

  “Don’t apologize. Not to me. I thought it was going to take you a lot longer to get here.”

  Then, he kisses me and for a moment I forget what this is. We’re just friends. Friends who fucked.

  But just once. I let my guard down once. I’m not doing it again.

  20

  "What the hell happened to your hand?" I ask, the moment I walk into the kitchen and notice the beet red, swollen knuckles on Nash's hand. He's opening the fridge, and I notice the way he's barely using that hand.

  "It's fine," he mumbles.

  Uh-oh. Something happened after we separated earlier. I knew this would happen and at this point, I'm over it. I grab him by the shirt and drag him to the counter so I can get a closer look. "Nash Wilde, tell me now what you did."

  "He didn't hit me if that's what you're worried about." Ellis walks into the room, looking too handsome, freshly showered and dressed in a casual T-shirt and sweatpants.

  Glaring at Nash, I try to be stern with him, but the moment he gives me those tortured eyes, I fall apart. Running my hands through his hair, I place a kiss on his temple. "Listen here, boys," I say as I grab a towel from the drawer, laying it on the counter and going to the freezer to get ice. "I'm not going to stay if you two are going to fight. And we are definitely not doing what we did today again if this happens every time." I wrap the ice in the towel, holding it on his fist. He gives me a pitiful, stubborn expression like he's too tough to be taken care of by a woman, but he knows as well as I do it's what we both want.

  Let me take care of you, Nash Wilde. Let me love all of the hate right out of you.

  "So, you're saying you want to do that again..." Nash says, teasing me with a pinch of my ass.

  "No, it was terrible. Hated every moment." Giving him my best eye roll and sarcastic tone, I wait for him to crack a smile which he eventually does. It's not a big smile, but it's something.

  "Just until next week," I add, going to the sink to wash my hands.

  “Perhaps we should set some ground rules,” Ellis says, leaning on the back of the couch and watching us.

  “Do we need to?” I ask.

  “Do we?” This time he’s looking at Nash.

  The room grows silent for a moment, and I wonder if these two are finally about to snap and have it out with each other.

  “No,” Nash says finally.

  “So, what do you guys want for dinner?” I ask, looking through the fridge. Nash let the staff have the day off since we were gone most of the day anyway. Which means we are on our own unless we go to the mainland, but I’m much more into the idea of eating something here then possibly talking these guys into laying on the couch with me to relax and watch a movie.

  My plan mostly goes down without any issues. There’s chicken in the fridge, which I season, and Ellis puts on the grill. Nash helps me put together a kale salad, and the three of us eat on the patio with white wine, and for the most part they get along. That is to say they completely avoid looking at or talking to each other.

  It’s disappointing.

  Today was so perfect, and I’m not just talking about the hangar. Everything before that, the boat ride, swimming, and being together was fun. Natural. Complete.

  Nash lets me nurture him in the same way Ellis strengthens me. Strangely, it works. When everyone is happy, no one is jealous or territorial. I almost wish it could be like this forever, but that’s crazy.

  I’m not Zara. When all of this is over, I’m not choosing between Ellis and Nash. I could never do that. If I can’t have both of them, then I can’t choose one.

  I just wish I could help them mend this bond and get over whatever issues they’re holding onto. What did Nash do to Ellis that fucked him up so much?

  After dinner, we head inside, and the guys indulge me with a movie. As we pile onto the couch, I sit between them, pulling a large throw blanket off the back to cuddle under. Nash has the remote and immediately pulls up his Netflix, and the first thing I see when the screen lights up is my face.

  My heart stops.

  There under Continue Watching is a thumbnail image of the ballet, Giselle, with my face in full makeup in a red dress on stage. I completely forgot our production was recorded and produced for streaming. I’ve never even watched it…but apparently, Nash has.

  “What’s that?” Ellis asks immediately.

  “I forgot this even existed,” I mumble.

  Nash fidgets next to me as I glance at him. “You watched it?”

  He shrugs, and I see him trying. Instinct has him wanting to put up walls, block us out, avoid being caught with emotions, but he doesn’t. It’s not easy for him, but he manages to reply with, “Yeah, I watched it. Why wouldn’t I?”

  My lips stretch into a thin smile I try to hide in the blanket. Nash watched me dance. Zara told me about the night she and Alistair came to see me in this production, how it was supposed to be her and Nash instead. But he said he hated ballet.

  What if it had been him that night? Would things have been different? Would he have ever looked at me then how he’s looking at me now?

  “Let’s watch it,” Ellis says, putting an arm along the back of the couch.

  “Noooo,” I whine, hiding under the blanket.

  “Oh yeah,” Nash says casually before hitting play.

  As the music starts, I’m battered by memories. This was the peak of my career, right before everything went to shit. Before it all became too much. Flashbacks of my mother forcing me to spend my weekends in the studio, working until I’d collapse,
missing entire meals at a time, and only getting about three hours of restless sleep each night. It was like the moment she got a taste of my success she wanted more. She had my agent on the phone more often than not, talking about modeling, movie parts, endorsements. It never ended, and I started to see only one way out.

  But Giselle…this memory is a good one. And as I watch with them, I don’t see the mistakes she would point out. I see the look on my face, and I remember how it felt on that stage. I remember I loved it.

  The boys next to me keep making oooh and aaaah comments with every leap and spin, like it was some superhuman feat. Shaking my head at them, I laugh. But then I glance at Ellis, and he’s staring at the screen with adoration. Me. He’s looking at me with adoration. Sure, it’s a version of me from a few years ago, when I was at the top of my game, but still…there’s something like love in his eyes, and damn it feels good.

  Nash’s hand clutches my leg gently under the blanket and not in a sexual way. He’s looking at the TV with the same expression as Ellis, biting his lip with a smug grin. It’s Nash’s version of adoration.

  And for the first time since I arrived on Del Rey, I start to consider maybe dance isn’t done with me yet. I may never be in a Netflix production again, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel that good on stage again. This is what I want, and a week ago, I was ready to give up the fight on the things I wanted, but these two have managed to renew this drive in me again.

  Before my breakdown, dance was this thing I loved but it was used against me. And now I think I’m ready to take it back.

  21

  The guys get swamped with work the next day, so I’m alone with my thoughts and a renewed sense of excitement and purpose. Of course, the anxiety and dark thoughts are still there, waiting in the wings, ready to rear their ugly heads, but I manage to keep them at bay all morning. And it’s enough to go back down to the studio and actually lace up my shoes this time.