Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

SILAS

“This is the best dream ever,” I mumble, closing my eyes tight, so I can get back to that perfect in-between-ness. That hazy, golden, floaty moment when you’re awake enough to steer the dream but sleeping enough to believe it’s real. It’s where I can pretend the fantasy I’ve had way more times than is appropriate is coming true.

“Not a dream, sweet boy. I thought we covered that already.” Ava’s throaty laugh chases away the foggy tendrils lingering from whatever drugs are still in me. I’m left with the dawning realization this could possibly, maybe, not be a dream.

Which would mean this really is happening. That I’m really naked in bed, not just with Ava Anders, but with her husband Huck. A dude who, despite literally being old enough to be my father, is also nearly double my size. He should be kicking my ass for the way I’m rubbing my dick against his wife’s soft stomach, not grinding his own cock between my cheeks as if it’s on a mission to find and breach my hole.

It’s been a long time since I was with anyone, because recovery pushes people not to substitute relationships or sex for their addictions. The last time I had sex with anyone other than my own rosy palm is a blur of hazy high, a faceless woman, and a terrifying wake-up call on a ledge outside a hotel window. I don’t even remember the last time I was with a guy. At least, not beyond the recollection of bitching to the guys in the band about my ass being too sore to sit on the couch in the tour bus for days.

“Do you want to talk things out, Si, or undress my wife?” Huck punctuates the question with a roll of his hips. His dick is so long it nudges past my balls to poke at Ava’s clothed pussy. His base presses against my asshole, and the thought of all that thick velvet-over-iron rearranging my guts makes my lower body clench in anticipation.

“Talk later, Huck. Later,” I choke out.

“I think you should call me ‘sir’ when you’re naked with my cock about to split you in half. Don’t you?”

I don’t have to see his smirk to know he’s got one.

Still, I need to see his eyes to trust this is really real real. His knowing green eyes meet mine, laugh lines grooved deeply into the corners of each. A hand untangles from the octopus spoon thing we have going on and cups my chin. He turns my head a little farther, enough that he can tip his own chin to me and kiss me.

A sigh of pleasure pushes my lips apart, and Huck takes full advantage, licking his tongue into my mouth and sweeping along mine. Ava’s nails scrape along my exposed chest as she strokes her dainty hands over every inch of me she can reach.

“Oh, sweet Si. You’re every bit as sexy as I dreamed you’d be.” Her smile in the mirror behind Huck is brighter than the sunlight streaming through the hotel window.

I cringe at my lame-ass poetic thinking. It’s lunacy to start romanticizing what we’re doing here. Maybe, it’s the hangover brain, and yeah, I’ll be unpacking the fucked-up reality of my sobriety being shattered without any intention on my part later. There’s no telling what’s motivating Ava and Huck right now, but I need to figure out what I’m doing real quick.

Jameson would shit kittens if he found out I fucked one of his parents. If he found out I fucked them both, at the same time? Nuclear wouldn’t even come close to the meltdown he’d have.

“You’re thinking awfully loudly for a man who wants to talk later. And if I’m not mistaken, Ava’s still got her panties on. Which means someone’s not listening to my directions.” There’s a smile in Huck’s voice, but there’s steel in it, too.

“Just, are you sure this is okay?” I sound so small. But I didn’t stutter, so fuck it.

“Are you sober now?” Huck asks.

I nod.

“Do you want to be with us, make love with us?” Ava asks.

My head swivels fast enough my chin drags Huck’s hand with it, his grip still firm on my face. I search Ava’s eyes, not even sure what I might see. Nervous energy vibrates in my chest at the idea of making love to the two of them. I’m twenty-five years old, and in the decade or so I’ve been sexually active, I’ve never once made love to another person.

Fucking? Sure. Done more than my fair share of that, though not since before rehab. What if I disappoint her? Them? Sex is easy enough. Tabs go into slots, whatever variation the parties involved choose. It’s somewhat more than getting off alone, but definitely less than making love.

“Si? I don’t want to pressure you.” Worry turns her pale blue eyes dark, and I’m certain whatever I do in the next few moments will forever change things between us.

She and Huck have been pivotal figures in my life since before the band blew up on the music scene. When I needed people to give a shit about my downward spiral, they were the only ones besides my bandmates who did. The risk of disappointing Ava feels like hot lead in my gut. Somehow, destabilizing the band by pissing off Jameson seems like the lesser risk.

“I want this. Want you. Just…” Whispers of rehab counselors in my memories say to be brave with my truths, so I push the next word through clenched teeth. “Scared.”

“Maybe, we should slow things down and talk now,” Ava suggests. My dick kicks its objection, and I press closer to her.

“No. Please. I don’t want to be scared. I want this.” Urgency builds in me, a conviction that missing this moment would destroy me.

“Then be a good boy and take off my wife’s panties, Si.” Huck’s instruction has my hand moving before my brain can stall the action again.

The three of us wiggle and twist until Ava can kick her underwear off the edge of the bed behind her. With my hand on the silken skin of her hip, I freeze. Waiting for direction. I’ve never needed a lover to dominate me, even when I’ve let men fuck me. This need to follow Huck’s orders is new for me. Because it’s him.

Precum leaks from the tip of my dick as I imagine what he’ll compel me to do next. Ragged inhales brush my chest against Ava’s pillowy tits, and my focus narrows to the furled beads of her nipples as they poke me. Will Huck tell me to play with them? Will he let me suckle them?