No Broken Bond Page 7

  The elevator chimed, and we moved as a unit into the car. I entered the code for the condo and the door slid shut, then silence.

  “Who wants a cup of tea when we get inside?” Talia finally murmured. “I think that sounds nice. Hmmm?”

  Drake and I exchanged a new glance of trepidation. Tea? I was relieved to see it wasn’t the mood enhancer he’d been thinking of, either.

  “Well.” Drake spread a wolfish smirk, crowding into her again. “I had something else in mind.” His voice dropped to a sensual growl. Talia giggled again, but there was a husk in her tone, too.

  “Me, too, brother,” I added softly. “Though I’m thinking…whiskey.”

  Talia’s brows knitted. “You’re always a gin guy.”

  “Not anymore.”

  And just like that, my mind zipped back to the scene in my parents’ kitchen. I might not ever look at a bottle of gin and not think about those minutes that had turned into one of the biggest letdowns of my life.

  “Doesn’t matter, really,” Talia replied. “You’ve had enough for tonight.”

  “Excellent point.” Drake all but pleaded at me with his stare while hugging Talia to his chest. “Let’s just go to bed and have hot monkey sex until we pass out.”

  “Mmmm.” Her voice was muffled, thanks to Drake’s tight embrace. It was still an adorable, arousing-as-fuck sound. “I think I could get on board with that plan.”

  “Agreed.” I growled it while pressing close and kissing the back of her head. “But first, I need a shower. Gotta wash off the stink of the night.”

  ‘Stink’ said it perfectly—and maybe scrubbing my body would wash off the stench of the self-pity in which I now slogged through at knee level. Maybe spending some intimate time with them would be just the healing medicine for us all.

  Talia went down the hall to the master suite, and I took a detour into the smaller one delineated as mine. When I came back into the master, Drake was already in bed with Talia. They both had iPads in their hands and were busy tapping through screens.

  “We look like an old married couple,” I mumbled. “Except for the obvious.”

  “Speak for yourself. We aren’t old.” Drake looked up, closing the cover on his pad and putting it on the nightstand.

  “Not that part,” I groused. “I meant—we aren’t a couple.”

  As soon as the complaint spilled, I wanted to cane myself for it. So the shower hadn’t helped at all. Fuck, I was getting on my own nerves.

  “No.” Leave it to Talia to go full with the raised hackles while still looking every inch the lady. Even in her cute sleep tank, makeup stripped and hair in a messy bun, she was as regal as the Queen of England. “We’re a family now,” she clarified, even making that sound like the royal ‘we’. “So, stop being so grumpy and come join us.” She pulled back the covers in invitation.

  But I was bolted to the spot. My sister’s wretched words came back, taunting me. Her insistence there was something wrong with what we were doing. Saying that people would talk about us behind our backs. Yet so many people at that party had known about Drake and me for years—almost ten, to be exact.

  So why the fuck was I letting it all bother me now?

  One look back to the bed answered that unequivocally. When I beheld the two people I loved more than anything in the world, all the reasoning notched into place.

  And I simply knew.

  This bullshit wasn’t just about me taking the fall anymore. It was about Talia. And Drake, too. They were in this relationship willingly, but no sane person would sign up to have a target painted on their back by the Ford family. It wasn’t fair to put them in my parents’ crosshairs, but I was too damn selfish to set either of them free.

  I would take the whole ship down with me, because I was too much of a coward to face the churning oceans of life without these two people.

  Chapter Three

  Talia

  “Come to bed.”

  So, this wasn’t setting a good precedent, solving problems with sex, but screw the shrinks right now. I wanted—needed—to get reconnected to Fletcher. To them both. For the last half hour, Drake had been my rock, reassuring me in verbal and non-verbal ways that this garbage with Fletcher’s family could be overcome with the force of our patience. I’d listened because, deep inside, I knew it was true. For all the brightness and laughter Fletcher could bring to the world, his lows sometimes resembled an icy tundra of sadness. It simply meant he felt everything with intensity and passion—and I wouldn’t change him for all the rice in China.

  But now it seemed he didn’t even want to move from the tundra. Drake and I, already snuggled close under the covers, stared at his immobile form next to the bed. The same lost, angry look dominated his normally beautiful face, unchanged from when we’d left his parents’ home.

  Finally, he pulled the covers farther back with a heavy sigh then climbed in. Drake and I traded a frustrated glance. Not a lot of ego boost when one’s bedmate sounded like he faced a firing squad rather than two people wanting to share some awesome love with him.

  I resolved not to take it personally. Fletch had endured a terrible night at the anniversary party. Maybe we could make him forget all about it.

  So here went nothing.

  Or maybe…a whole lot of something.

  I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try.

  I took a deep breath. Folded my hands against the coverlet, almost laughing at myself. Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee…

  “Guys…I think we need to try something a little different tonight.”

  “Different?” Drake’s bold features flared.

  “How different?” Fletcher’s tightened.

  I almost laughed. Together, they looked like a pair of nervous colts. Our bedroom dynamic was incredible on a bad day, off-the-charts amazing on a good one. Why mess with the norm? Or so that was what their faces conveyed.

  I didn’t care.

  It was time to push some limits.

  I started the process by reaching for Fletch. “I want to show you how much I love you, Fletcher. How much I really care about you.”

  His lips twisted. “I don’t need pity, Talia.” His tone was a bitterly perfect accompaniment.

  I pressed on.

  “Well, that’s good, because pity isn’t what I had in mind.” It was time to put on my bravest face…my big-girl panties, figuratively speaking. I’d been bold and not worn any panties to bed, and the soft brush of the sheets against my mound definitely gave a measure of sensual courage. I turned a little, looking up to him through half-closed lids, hoping I appeared seductive. “Lie back, Fletcher. Let me love you.”

  With a thoroughly masculine hum, Drake propped up on an elbow and stretched his big body out. He was at a perfect distance to stroke my arm or back or whatever came within reach but gave me enough space to crawl atop Fletcher.

  “I think we need to get rid of this.” I tugged Fletcher’s T-shirt over his head, thankful he cooperated in getting the garment off. Without breaking the connection of our stare, he tossed it to the floor.

  “Mmmmm. Better.”

  I leaned down, kissing him, drawn in by the deep blue oceans in his eyes. So much torment there still, like angry waves crashing on the shadowy shores in his irises. The blue grew darker toward the center, until it nearly blended with the ink of his pupils. The creases at the corners were deep flares of stress tonight, more pronounced than I ever remembered. I hated the circumstances that made them that way but loved him for not shying away from their intensity.

  I traced those precious grooves with my thumbs. Finally whispered, “You are so beautiful, Fletcher.”

  And so uncharacteristically quiet.

  Another wrenching observation. He usually had a sassy comeback, or at least a gentle thank you. Now, he just stared with unblinking force, as if seeing me for the first time.

  Insecurity swirled. Was that good or bad? What was he thinking? Was I making him feel worse? Should I be doing something else? Maybe takin
g charge was a bad idea. Maybe I should’ve left well enough alone…

  But then Drake was there.

  He stroked along the back of my thigh, his hand big and warm and reassuring, as if he sensed I needed the contact for my very grounding. I beamed him a quick smile, silently thanking him for the solace. He gave me courage to keep trying with Fletch.

  With growing boldness, I worked my way down Fletcher’s chest. I spread my fingers, touching every inch of his light-gold skin, marveling at the corded strength beneath it. His muscles, already strung tight, pulled and bunched as I stroked him—though in my mind, in that special place where he alone dwelled, I didn’t feel arousal or excitement. His presence was defined by tension, hesitation, darkness.

  What am I doing wrong?

  I rose up again to kiss his mouth. A sigh loosened in my throat as he let his mouth open, accepting the slip of my tongue. The kiss was quiet and easy, working up to a low sizzle. I accepted that, knowing he needed it. We didn’t have to be in a hurry. I had one goal alone. To make him to feel how loved he was.

  “Fletcher?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Can I…do more? I mean, will you let me—?”

  Oh, my God. Could I get any more awkward about discussing sex? I was in a hot, passionate, incredibly sexy relationship with two gods turned into human form, yet naughty bedroom talk was like learning ancient Greek for me.

  Maybe I’d just show him.

  I tugged on his pajama pants, hoping he’d get the hint and let me off the dirty chatter hook. Relief flooded in when he raised his hips off the bed, allowing me to slide the pants all the way down. Quickly, I dumped them atop his T-shirt on the floor. At the same time, Drake shifted up higher on the pillows, his heavy-lidded gaze betraying his motivation. He wanted a better view of what was about to happen—but no way was he going to interfere.

  Well, shit.

  I was a little lost without his usual direction, but I could almost hear his voice in my head, guiding me what to do next, so I went with it. Trusted it. I had to, before uncertainty chomped in and ate me alive. No room for that right now. This wasn’t about my needs or feelings. Fletcher needed the consummation of our connection and I was determined to deliver, despite how completely unfamiliar this felt. Amazing, how sex was a totally different experience when I was being told what to do, rather than taking control myself.

  I had to leave all the doubts behind.

  Just…go for it.

  I lowered my attention again, sliding everything down his etched torso this time. Along the way, I nipped at the sculpted striations of his pecs and abs. He was so incredibly made. Leaner than Drake, but not by much. If they’d both become sports stars instead of businessmen, Drake would’ve been perfect for boxing and Fletch for swimming.

  I didn’t stop until my face was level with Fletcher’s groin. His erection pulsed in front of my face, full and ready, the slit at the top glistening with a pearl of milky fluid. Wow. So hot…and needing my attention.

  I tore my sights away long enough to look back up, met by a pair of gazes like hungry wolves, waiting for their next meal. Drake’s jaw was tense and his bare nipples hard points against the coarse hair on his chest. Fletcher was even tauter. He gripped the sheets bunched at his hips, his knuckles straining against the skin stretched across them.

  I smiled.

  They both growled.

  Drake’s instructions flowed through my head again. Remembering how he’d told me to do this in the past, I wrapped all my fingers around Fletcher’s cock, squeezing with firm pressure.

  Fletcher groaned.

  Oh. Wow.

  I got more adventurous. Licked his tip with the end of my tongue, teasing enough to make him hiss with pleasure. I glanced up again, just to make sure I was reading him right, and was met by Drake’s approving wink and quick nod. I moved in for another swipe, taking more time, using the flat surface of my tongue on the sensitive underside of Fletcher’s crown. His answering groan was my new super power. I moved down, determined to fill my mouth with as much of him as I could. Slowly, I slid over his pulsing shaft, tightening the suction on the pull back up.

  He didn’t hiss anymore. Or even groan.

  He was stock still and breathing as though all the air in the room wasn’t enough to satisfy his lungs.

  I was pretty sure that meant he was enjoying things.

  I continued the motions several more times.

  “You’re doing so good, baby.” Drake’s voice was rough and strained. His praise sank right into my bloodstream, which proceeded to rush between my thighs. When his voice dropped like that, amazing things were about to unfold. My pussy knew it, too. Every intimate fold in my body was a fresh throb of arousal—of anticipation I’d never known. I couldn’t wait to be fucked by one—or both—of them.

  The wait was already killing me. I ground my crotch onto Fletcher’s leg, hoping for some friction to ease the building ache.

  “Shit.” Drake’s harsh hiss made me proud inside. I was getting to them. “Look at that. Fuck.”

  “Looking,” Fletch confirmed, though his tone was a dark timbre I barely recognized. It was permeated with arousal, but also with anger…and frustration.

  It was also kind of hot.

  “My dirty little bitch,” he rasped then. “You’re so fucking sexy. Do it again.”

  No doubt about it. He was commanding me this time. While the voice emerged from his lips, it was barely his own. And while the filthy words took me by surprise, they also ramped the pressure in my core to nearly unbearable need. I pulsed. I gushed. I ached.

  Once more, I rubbed my pussy against his leg. This time, he raised the limb, too, creating even more resistance. I moaned around his cock. If we kept grinding like that, I’d have an orgasm from just that.

  “Greedy thing, aren’t you?” He swept a hand from the sheets to my hair. “Keep sucking me. Then grind on my leg again.”

  My mind spun. My senses reeled. I obeyed him without question, giving over to a wild animal inside. A hot, horny, needy creature, driven only by instinct and a near-Pavlovian response to his dirty tone.

  “Yeah,” Fletcher praised. “Yeah, that’s it. Your cunt is so wet. It’s soaking my leg. My needy whore.”

  “Dude.”

  Drake’s reprimand was quiet, but I heard it. I tried to censure him with a glance. Stop. I want this. Oh, God, how I wanted it—and how I dreaded him interrupting it. Fletcher’s words should have been degrading, but they felt like adoration. I was so turned on, so hot with anticipation of what came next. How did I let them know without breaking the moment?

  I waited until Drake met my gaze. Sent out a silent shout, ensuring all was okay. The man, a master at reading my expressions, would hopefully understand the look on my face. The need in my eyes.

  “Fletcher.” I breathed it more than spoke it. “I need you. I need you so badly.”

  I took his cock again, impaling my throat on his hard length, not stopping until I nearly gagged. I was in a frenzy. Needed to please him. Was nearly losing my mind because of it.

  He threaded his fingers deeper into my hair, taking control of my movements. Inwardly, I rejoiced. I wanted him to use me. Wanted to feel like I gave him all I had. I breathed deep, relaxing into his guidance, letting him take over completely. My eyes watered from the sting of how tightly he held my hair, but that also added to the magic of this moment…the sorcery of all these amazing sensations in my system.

  More.

  “Please. Fletch.”

  But he quickly choked my sigh off, ramming his cock farther into my throat. It was deeper than either of them had ever gone. I panicked and began gagging, instinctively pulling back, only to get nowhere against his firm hold.

  “No. Take it. Take all of me.” I’d never heard his voice so stern. My pussy juices were a tiny river of lust, running down my leg now.

  I looked up at him, eyes clouded with tears, mind crazed with desire. It was agony but I wanted it. Needed him to push m
e, consume me, take everything he could from me—and to take everything from him in return.

  He thrust his hips up, again and again and again. His face was fierce and his cock was brutal as he fucked my mouth the same way he’d pound my pussy. My gagging and moaning did nothing to deter him.

  Drake’s deep voice broke through our sexual fog. “Enough! It’s too much for her.”

  I tried shaking my head, letting him know I was fine. And I was. I was on the verge of coming, exactly like this, lost to the wicked paradise of Fletch’s rude, filthy handling. I didn’t let my rhythm break on his cock, not that I had a say by that point. Fletcher was sweating, drops falling from his brow, running down his aquiline nose and spattering on his taut, straining abs. He was utterly carnal…completely beautiful.

  “It’s not, God damn it. She’s loving it.”

  “Fletch—”

  “Feel her,” he ordered. “Do it. Do it. Reach down and feel her pussy. I’ll bet her naughty cunt is soaked. I’m right, aren’t I, sweet Talia? You like the way I fuck your pretty mouth, don’t you?”

  His voice came to my mind with rasping detachment, but I agreed with every word. I prayed Drake would just do it—how I yearned for his long fingers on my clit, stroking so I could finally know the best climax of my life—but Drake didn’t move. He was motionless against the pillows. True, he enjoyed what he saw, since there was no mistaking his own tall erection, but his lust and his brain were clearly at war. He grimaced, craving to protect me. He hissed, yearning to fuck me.

  Time to take the initiative again.

  Desperately, I grabbed his hand. Luckily, he was close enough to touch. At once, he wrapped his fingers around mine. I responded with a quick, reassuring squeeze. After that, he kept his words to himself but kept his attention completely on my face—double-checking every damn movement Fletcher made.

  Fletcher…so incredible in his control.