“I’m ready,” Drake says quietly, and I watch from the dark hallway as Drake lifts his knees and Hunter aligns his cock with Drake’s tight hole and eases himself in. He does so with a long, breathless groan, and I can’t help the tiny squeak that slips through my lips.
Quickly evading the doorway, I keep my back to the wall and my hand down my panties as I wait to be caught. But I’m not. Instead, I listen as Hunter moans again, his cries mingled with his best friend’s, and I know the moment he’s inside him as far as he can go because Drake lets out a strangled, “Fuck.”
“Goddamn, that’s good,” Hunter replies. His inhales are rapid and desperate sounding as if the air is being choked out of his body. “Fuck, that’s so good, Drake.”
“It is, isn’t it? Just keep moving.”
I’m losing it. This feels so wrong of me to even be listening, let alone pleasuring myself to the sound, but I can’t help it. Those men are mine, both of them, and I didn’t think there could be anything as good as having them both, but I was wrong. Because watching them have each other is far, far better.
The bed creaks, the headboard slamming into the wall as Hunter fucks him with fire and passion now, thrusting to a heavy beat. And if they thought I was going to sleep through this, they are crazy.
“Stroke my cock while you fuck me,” Drake commands, and I assume Hunter listens because the next thing I hear is Drake muttering broken words and phrases:like that, yes, good, perfect, oh God.
“I’m gonna come,” someone says in a breathy exhale, and I don’t know who it was because I’m too lost in my own orgasm. My head hangs back, my spine slick with sweat, as I soar toward my climax, blinded by pleasure.
When the hearing returns to my ears and my eyes finally open again, I make out the sound of their kisses and what sounds like a tender moment of whispers that I can’t quite distinguish. After everything, it sounds like a private moment, so once I’ve caught my breath, I slink back down the hall and straight into my bathroom.
Standing at the sink after I’ve washed my hands and doused my face with cold water, I stare at my reflection. The girl staring back is momentarily happy, but I quickly cure her peace with all the fears and thoughts I’ve been keeping pushed away.
Like what is going to happen to us if this all falls apart? What if Drake doesn’t want to commit and leaves us? What if Hunter can’t come to terms with his sexuality? What if losing Drake breaks our marriage because I’m not enough?
They’re stupid worries, really, but I can’t help myself. I’m barely used to one person loving me so much. What are the odds the three of us actually make this work and end up together? It’s too good to be true. There are too many complications to worry about. Too much at stake.
I want to crawl into bed with them, lie between them and let their nearness scare away all of the worries, but I can’t. Instead, I climb into bed with my own fear and fall asleep, alone.
* * *
When I wake,I’m no longer alone. I hear the buzz of Hunter’s electric razor as I peel my eyes open.
“Morning,” he chimes with a bright smile.
Well, aren’t you chipper this morning?
“Morning,” I reply with a stretch. Climbing out of bed, I walk into the master bathroom and we go through our usual morning routine, like everything isn’t so strange right now. After washing my hands and brushing my teeth, I pause and lean against the counter, staring at him through the mirror.
Hunter will try and stay silent through everything. He doesn’t want to talk about it because talking about it means facing the truth and having to make a decision. It means change, and change is scary. But I’m not going to let my husband live in silence anymore.
“You didn’t come to bed last night.”
He pauses, the playful grin melting off his face. “I slept in the guest room with Drake.”
I bite my lip as I stare at his reflection. Then that wicked grin tugs on the corner of his mouth again as he steps closer to me, crowding me against the sink. Staring back at me through the mirror, he leans in and kisses the side of my neck.
“But you knew that already, didn’t you, Red?”
So he did hear me in the hallway.
“Maybe,” I reply, my lips pressed together.
His arms snake their way around my waist, pulling me closer. “And did you like what you saw?”
“Did you?” I reply, staring at him and fighting the urge to melt to the floor. I want to hear him say it. My husband had sex with a man last night, a pretty big deal that I’m not going to let him just avoid facing.
He pauses in his attempt to make this about me watching him. Then his gaze lifts to my face in the mirror. Sincerity washes over his expression as his brow furrows and his mouth sets in a thin line. “Yes.”
“What does this mean?” I ask carefully.
“It doesn’t mean anything. We got carried away and—"