The Hat Trick Box Set

by Samantha Wayland

  It no longer mattered. Garrick’s ferocious kiss doused his anxiety. He was only here. Now.

  Savannah’s lips cruised across his back, remarkably coordinated and thorough, given how hard she worked the plug. The still-cold silicone surface burned against his skin, soothing muscles as it tortured them.

  With a final shove, the plug slipped past the last of his barriers and locked into his body, his muscles clamping down around the neck.

  He groaned, not caring if he sounded as needy and totally fucking delighted as he was. “Holy shit. It’s big.”

  Savannah’s warm hands rubbed over his ass, soothing him one moment, pressing his cheeks and wiggling the plug the next. “It looks amazing in you.” She hesitated. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  She’s asking now? “Yes, god, yes. It’s okay. Great. Fucking amazing.”

  She smiled against his shoulder blade. “Oh, we’re going to get to the fucking amazing part next,” she promised, using his own dark promise against him.

  His knees trembled, and he might have slumped to the floor had Savannah not spun him around and kissed him. Her fingers speared into his hair and held his head while she devoured him.

  Garrick’s hands ran over both their bodies, stopping to tap the plug, doing something to Savannah that made her squeak and jerk against him.

  She ended their kiss, but left her hands where they were, forcing him to look at her. “You’re ours, Rhian.”

  He tried to nod. “Yes.” He was. Absolutely. Theirs to do with as they pleased.

  He kissed her again, trying to tell her with actions what he couldn’t find the words to describe.

  She kissed him back and Garrick tortured them both. When Savannah squeaked for a third time, Rhian ran his hands around her body until he found Garrick’s fingers in her ass, thrusting deeply.

  He broke their kiss and that goddamn sound escaped. Every time he moved, the plug in his ass brushed his prostate, sending electric shocks through his entire body. His cock leaked, smoothing the thrust of the swollen head against Savannah’s soft belly as she writhed on Garrick’s hand.

  Panting, he tried to hold on. To follow their lead. To let them take control of him so he didn’t have to think. Just feel.

  “God, I have to fuck you.” The words burst from him, breaking through his fraying control. His finger slid in next to Garrick’s, just as she had done to him, and she plastered herself to his chest, clinging to him.

  “Please. God. Do it. I want you to fuck me. Own me.”

  The words startled him and he staggered back, his ass landing on the stool behind him. He grunted as things shifted inside him and Savannah practically crawled up his body. He helped her, trying to keep her safe above the hard floor, he and Garrick scrabbling to balance and lift her. Suspended, she grabbed his face in both hands. “Please, Rhian. Don’t make me wait.”

  His control was shot, so it was Garrick who slowly lowered her onto Rhian’s aching cock.

  “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered as he slid into her heat, his head spinning as she bore him down on the plug in his ass. He slipped his elbows under her knees and cupped her ass so she was bent in half, her full weight his to control.

  Her kiss told him she approved. Mightily.

  He fucked her slowly, lifting her just enough to rub along her clinging walls, then let her fall again, taking him deep, the rocking motion creating wondrous zings low in his gut, the plug a constant grind against his sweet spot. He could tell when Garrick thrust his fingers back into her ass, and not just from her shouting. Garrick’s fingers bumped against his shaft through the thin wall that separated them and Rhian thought he would die.

  Jesus, how much could he take?

  “Garrick,” Savannah pleaded, groaning as Rhian shifted his grip and the angle. The sound cut off when the pressure of Garrick’s fingers disappeared.

  Then Garrick was above them, all around them. He grasped the counter on either side of Rhian, his arms a frame to keep them from tumbling to the floor. Rhian stared up into his eyes and stopped moving, fascinated as Garrick’s and Savannah’s faces contorted with concentration. Bliss.

  He was shoved back against the counter a moment before Savannah became almost unbearably tight and the thick presence of Garrick’s cock in her ass pressed heavily against Rhian inside her.

  “Oh my god,” Savannah cried. “Rhian. Rhian!” He silenced her with a kiss, overwhelmed by the sound of his name on her lips while Garrick surged farther and deeper into her ass.

  Garrick’s thighs shoved his apart and his weight shifted back, jamming the plug hard against his prostate. His eyes slammed shut as he tried to absorb what was happening to him.

  He was enveloped in their arms, in her body, by them. “It’s too much,” he cried, dimly aware of the tears spilling down his cheeks.

  Garrick stopped moving and Savannah’s fingers traced over his wet cheeks. “Baby?” Rhian could hear the alarm in Garrick’s voice.

  Rhian looked at them. Saw the worry in their eyes.

  “Are we hurting you?” she asked.

  He shook his head. God, no, that wasn’t what he’d meant.

  “You’re both…” He looked at them again and his heart hurt. “You’re both so beautiful. This is insane.” He laughed in disbelief. Relief. “How the hell did I end up here?”

  He meant in love with two people, but he hoped they’d think he meant on a damn stool.

  Garrick eased back a little, but before Rhian could protest the loss, Garrick shoved himself forward again, rocking Savannah and making them all cry out. Then he did it again.

  Rhian tried to help. He swore to god he did, but he was overwhelmed by emotion and sensation, barely able to do more than cling to Savannah.

  It was perfect. He couldn’t understand how the hell they always made it so damn perfect.

  “You belong to us,” Garrick said, like it was the answer to the question he hadn’t asked out loud.

  “And we belong to you,” Savannah added, her face pressed against his.

  “And…we…belong…to…you.” Garrick chanted, each word punctuated by another thrust. His deep voice vibrated along Rhian’s skin, his final thrust crushing them all together.

  Rhian came in a blinding flash, shouting words he couldn’t understand and wouldn’t remember. Certain he’d wish he’d kept them to himself but unable to contain them.

  Garrick and Savannah rocked against him, over him, through him. Her cry of ecstasy a second before Garrick’s roar of satisfaction. Their bodies quailed, the plug in his ass forcing his orgasm to go on until he was empty. Drained.

  Completely theirs.

  Owned.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Garrick was trying very hard not to smile like a simpleton.

  He was almost certain Rhian had no idea he’d shouted how much he loved them both while he was howling through his climax. Nor had he registered Savannah’s return of that love, gasped between countless kisses to his face.

  Goddamn, it had been perfect. And would be again. Soon. Not that Garrick was going to press the issue on either front. Not, at least, until one of them said it when it wasn’t strung together with a whole lot of f-bombs, a string of gods, a handful of damns, and at least one Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

  For now, it was more than enough. More than he’d dared to hope until a few days ago, and he’d never dreamed Rhian would say it this soon.

  And technically, he hadn’t. Not really. But kind of.

  He rubbed his lips to get rid of the smile.

  The three of them were strolling down Beacon Hill toward Boston Common in search of sunshine, Starbucks, and some time in the park. Acutely aware that no one had asked Chance the exact addresses for Rhian’s biological family, Garrick couldn’t stop searching for familiar faces.

  Oddly, Rhian didn’t seem to be similarly concerned. But then, he had no reason to expect anyone would recognize him, even if they were to march right by on the narrow sidewalk.

  For once Garrick was t
hankful for prickly New Englanders’ distaste for eye contact with strangers on the street. But how could a mother not recognize her own child? Especially one as beautiful as Rhian?

  Weaving around a tree planted in front of a huge old townhouse, Garrick’s arm brushed Rhian’s and he fought the urge to thread their fingers together, hating that it wasn’t possible. He could hold Savannah’s hand, but Rhian couldn’t because they worked together, so Garrick shoved both his hands in his pockets. He made a study of the uneven bricks beneath his feet while he wrestled with the frustration. They’d figure this shit out eventually. Or get used to it. They were a threesome and, goddamn it, they were going to stay that way.

  They rounded the next corner and Garrick automatically scanned for people who looked like Rhian. He was stunned when he found one.

  All three of them stumbled to a halt.

  The beautiful blonde girl was on her phone, walking straight toward them and not paying the least bit of attention to the three people blocking the sidewalk. Like most Bostonians, she probably figured they’d move out of her way, and if they didn’t, she’d just plow right through them.

  “Chelsea,” Rhian said, shocking Garrick.

  Chelsea’s head jerked up. “I have to go,” she said quickly, and hung up without waiting for a response. Then she stood, frozen, and stared at her brother.

  They all stared back.

  Garrick understood immediately how Savannah had known this girl was related to Rhian. The resemblance wasn’t just close, it was downright eerie, extinguishing the last doubts Garrick had harbored that Chance hadn’t accurately identified Rhian’s family.

  The longer the silence stretched, the more painful it became, and not just Rhian’s grip on Garrick’s arm. Chelsea’s face went from shocked to suspicious, her blue eyes narrowing. She took a step back.

  Rhian let go of Garrick and held out his hand. “Please. Don’t run.” When she didn’t move, he walked toward her. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

  Garrick and Savannah exchanged a quick look. This had to be damn hard for Rhian, but his face didn’t betray a hint of anxiety. Chelsea, on the other hand, appeared decidedly alarmed.

  Garrick decided then and there that if she said no to Rhian, he would throw her over his shoulder and duct tape her ass to the chair at Starbucks.

  “Sure,” she agreed reluctantly, gesturing over her shoulder. “There’s a place right around the corner.”

  No one told her they knew. Or that they lived right up the street.

  They followed Chelsea the block to the Starbucks on the Common and scored two tables near each other. Garrick was tempted to rearrange things so they could sit together, but Savannah stayed him with a hand on his arm. As much as he hated leaving Rhian to deal with this on his own, it was probably for the best. They would be close enough to see and hear if Rhian needed them, but far enough that they couldn’t hear their conversation.

  “Chelsea,” Rhian said as they hovered over their table, both too nervous to sit yet, “this is Garrick. And Savannah.”

  Chelsea shook their hands and smiled, murmuring, “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes narrowed on Garrick’s hand on Savannah’s back. She’d probably seen Rhian doing the same thing and thought Garrick was poaching on her brother’s woman. Garrick decided he might like Chelsea just fine.

  Savannah took everyone’s orders and went to the counter. Watching Chelsea for her reaction, Garrick put his hand on Rhian’s back, just as he had with Savannah. It wasn’t an overtly sexual or even intimate gesture, but it sure as hell didn’t go unnoted. Chelsea’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her blonde bangs.

  Savannah returned, and Rhian and Chelsea eased into their seats. Savannah handed Rhian his coffee and put her hand on his shoulder, her thumb brushing his neck. “Here you go.”

  “So, how do you three know each other?” Chelsea asked, innocently enough. Garrick wondered if the others could see the curiosity blazing in her eyes.

  Rhian opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, Garrick said the closest thing to the truth that was fit for public consumption.

  “We’re Rhian’s family.”

  Rhian watched Garrick and Savannah take their seats a couple tables away, wondering what the hell Garrick was talking about.

  Rhian had no family.

  He looked at the woman sitting across the table from him and realized that, for the first time in his life, he was awfully damn close.

  He glanced at Garrick and Savannah again.

  Awfully. Damn. Close.

  “They care about you a lot, huh?”

  Rhian brought his attention back to his sister. His sister. How many times would he think that, say it, before it stopped being scary?

  “Uh, yeah.” He glanced over at his lovers. They both watched him carefully. “I guess they do.”

  He could tell she wanted to ask more, but she just nodded. “I’m glad.”

  “Me, too.”

  They shared a smile and their resemblance struck him again.

  “You must look like your mother,” he said.

  She cocked her head. “You know, right?”

  “I figured it out with some help.”

  “Then she’s your mother, too.”

  He shrugged. “Technically.”

  Chelsea sighed. “Fair enough. And yes, we both look like her. Thank god. My father was a real asshole. And ugly one, to boot. He took off when Buddy was barely a year—you know about Buddy, right?”—he nodded—“and Mom was still pregnant with me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “From all accounts, I’m not. Jimmy was no prize.”

  Rhian grimaced. “No, he wasn’t.”

  Chelsea frowned. “You remember him?”

  “Yes.”

  Rhian tried not to go back to that awful apartment, hiding under the table. He didn’t mask his reactions, though. He felt a completely foreign connection to this woman, and for some damn reason, it put him at ease.

  Which was funny, since it also scared the shit out of him.

  “Does that mean…” She didn’t finish her question, fiddling with her cup and staring at the tabletop instead.

  “Go ahead. Ask me.”

  “Do you remember her leaving? What happened?”

  She didn’t know the truth. So he told her. All of it. Even how he’d ended up with his new name. He didn’t spare her a detail, or soften anything about either of her parents. Her direct and weirdly familiar blue stare told him he could be honest.

  By the end, her fingers were tightly knotted in her lap, her shoulders hunched.

  “I’m sorry, Rhian.”

  Rhian waved it away. Having told Savannah, then Garrick, and bits and pieces of it to the Morrison brothers, it didn’t bite at him like it had when he was the only one who knew.

  “It’s okay. I turned out pretty well in the end, I hope,” he said lightly.

  It was his stock answer when people expressed their sympathy over his craptastic childhood, though most didn’t know the half of it. This time, though, for the very first time in his life, he meant it. He was doing okay. It hadn’t broken him.

  “So, how did you figure it out?” he asked. “I can’t imagine your mother admitted it.”

  “What? To abandoning you? Hell no.”

  “Then how?”

  Chelsea smiled. “I’m nosy. It’s a great failing of mine, as Grandfather likes to point out. Constantly. He’s always promising I’m going to regret what I discover, but since that day I found your birth certificate, I’ve become an expert at snooping.”

  One hundred questions nearly choked Rhian, but he stuck with the here and now. “How long ago was that?”

  “Four years, almost. I had to go slow. It took me a few weeks just to make a copy, then even longer to withdraw enough money to pay a PI and not alert Grandfather.”

  Rhian choked on his coffee. “You hired a PI at age fourteen? That’s pretty precocious.”

  Chelsea grinned. “Nosy, remember? And I wante
d to know the truth. The mother’s name on the certificate was Diane Williams, which intrigued me since I had to assume it was my mother—there are no other Dianes in my family—and my godfather’s name is Robert Williams. He lives in Back Bay. There was no father listed, but her last name and your middle name made me wonder.”

  She watched him closely and he told himself not to ask. He flinched when her hand covered his.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Rhian took a long sip of his coffee and checked to see Garrick and Savannah’s gazes riveted on him. He took a deep breath. “No, tell me.”

  “I’ve heard the stories about my mom’s disappearance and then coming back years later, hooked on all kinds of crap and pregnant with me. Buddy in tow. But I’d never heard she’d lost a child. I figured she didn’t want to talk about it, but I wanted to know. Especially because Robbie—my godfather—has been like a father to me my entire life, and I thought he might be your biological father. That he might not know.”

  “You seem to have understood your mother pretty well for a kid that age.”

  “She’s good at a lot of things, but pretending to give a crap about anyone but herself—and maybe Buddy—isn’t one of them.”

  Rhian grunted. That certainly jived with his memory, as well.

  “You look a little like him. Robbie. Something about the chin and lips.”

  Rhian swallowed hard. “Okay.”

  She patted the back of his hand. Comforted by an eighteen-year-old girl.

  An eighteen-year-old girl who just happened to be his sister.

  “Anyway, as you can imagine, I didn’t learn what I expected, which was, frankly, where you were buried.” She cringed in apology. “Which, of course, I’m really glad about.”

  He smiled a little. “Me, too.”

  “Then a couple years ago I confronted her and she flipped her lid. I mean, really wigged the fuck out.”

  She hesitated, biting her lip.

  “You’re not going to get any shit from me about swearing,” he said with a chuckle.