18. Together

EIGHTEEN

TOGETHER

I climb onto the bed. Tommy's cock twitches in anticipation. I purposely refuse to look at either his face or Clay's as I throw one leg over him, grabbing his bare cock, and lodging it at my entrance.

For a split second, I wonder if I should ask for a condom. Now that I know about Summer… I should. After all, I know Clay has them. He only ever bought them for when I offered to let him fuck my ass, and the second he pulled that first one out, I knew what was going to happen.

To make Tommy wrap up would be a slap in the face. He did it with Summer, but we never had that layer of protection between us.

That seals it. Tomorrow might be different, but for now? I start to take him inside my soaked pussy.

"Yes… God yes. I killed for you. I'll kill again. Anything. For this… there isn't anything I won't do."

I'll remember that.

As I sink on top of Tommy, I finally do look for Clay. He must have undressed while Tommy was positioning me right he wanted me. He's completely naked, and just as fucking hard as Tommy. I stare at his cock for a second, unconsciously squeezing Tommy as I remember was it was like to have Clay fucking my ass… what? An hour ago?

Has my whole goddamn life changed in an hour ?

Tommy lifts his hips, burying his cock as deep inside of me as he can go. I feel it since I'm still ogling Clay's sculpted body, the V on his hips, and the cock jutting up from the junction of his legs.

I can't see his face, though I hear the satisfaction in his voice as he says, "What a good girl. You took Tommy so well. Look at his face. He looks like he's about to nut already. Don't you fucking do it, though. Let her squeeze you. Let her fuck you. But don't you come until I join you. You got me?"

Tommy's voice is strangled. Because I tightened my core, squeezing him again? "I'm trying, Clay. But you know how good it feels inside of Cyn."

"Oh, I know. Why do you think I made sure to sneak in over the years and fuck her while you were with Summer?" Clay chuckles. "She was still my wife, Tommy. Did you really think I'd go five years without fucking her?"

"No," he gasps. "Why the hell do you think I left the backdoor unlocked? She's yours. But, damn it—" He angles his hips enough to withdraw slightly, then slam up into me so hard, I bounce. "—she's mine, too."

I moan again. No matter how I feel about these two guys, or the sudden knowledge that they've been passing me back and forth for years, I can't help but react to the way that Tommy's fucking me. He knows how to work my body almost as well as Clay does which is probably why I could never tell the difference when one would take me or the other.

Do I care that they shared? I must be as twisted and damaged as they are because… I don't. It was just sex, and these are the only two I've ever had it with. They each have a claim to my body that I won't deny—otherwise I wouldn't be riding Tommy Gillis right now—but that's not what gives this a taste of hate sex.

They lied to me. Betrayed me.

And, one way or another, they're going to pay.

As I have that thought, I run my gaze over Clay again even as his best friend eases his thrusts, careful not to come too soon. My husband preens , and I firm my resolve. I'll admit that I enjoy the sight of his naked body way more than I should, but a quick flicker toward the floor reveals his pile of clothes—including his sheathed knife—not too far from the edge of the bed.

Then I see the torn remains of the condom packet suddenly fluttering next to them and snap my head back up.

With the bottle of lube palmed in his hand, Clay uses four fingers to slip the condom on the bulbous head of his cock before rolling it up his length. He pours a liberal amount of the lube into his palm, slathering it on the condom, getting good and slick.

His eyes find mine as he pours more of the lubricant onto his hand before setting the bottle on the nightstand.

Prowling toward the bed, his covered cock leading the way, he

Tommy picks up his pace even as Clay uses his clean hand to press down on my upper back, pushing my tits against Tommy's bare chest.

It's a new angle for him to penetrate me. He hits just the right nerves with his next thrust and I mewl against his skin before lapping at the space between his pecs.

"Cyn," he pants softly. "Oh my fucking God, yes ." His strokes become shallower as if desperate to keep pumping into me—or because he knows that, in a moment, I'll be so stuffed, he'll barely be able to move.

Because once my ass is in the air, Clay makes sure my ass is slick with lube before he positions his cock against the rim of my asshole.

I know what to expect this time. I won't lie and say that there isn't a burn as he breaches me, but the feeling of him working the first inch of two of his cock into me while I'm full of Tommy in my pussy… I can handle the burn. I can handle the pain.

Fucking hell, I can handle both my husband and my lover.

He pushes a little harder as the weight of his body presses me further against Tommy.

I'm sprawled between them, my legs open, leaving them to fill me completely as Clay says between obviously gritted teeth, "I spent five fucking years watching Tommy have sex with you, Cyn. When he wasn't there, I took his place because I knew you needed me. You craved me." Yes. Damnit, yes . "I wanted to watch with you knowing I'm here. To beg me to join you… but I should've known better about that one. If I want you, I have to take you. And, my pretty little wife, you're not going to stop me, are you?"

In answer, I arch my back just enough to take a little more of Clay.

"Ah, yes. That's my good girl. Take your husband's cock. I have more to give, baby, and you're going to take it all."

Tommy's stopped moving beneath me. He's still inside of me, but I'm stretched so tight, he has to be able to feel the girth of Clay's cock pressing down against him. Fuck. With as much of my husband as I've taken already, there's nowhere for either of them to go.

I thought I could handle them. Maybe… maybe I was wrong about that, too.

"I'm too full," I tell him. Full? Try impaled . "That's… that's enough."

"Silly Cyn," he says, and before I can do anything else, he brings down his hand, slapping me on the ass. I jump at the stinging sensation, and I don't know how it's possible, but he bottoms out inside of my ass. "See? Thats my wife. You've had enough when I say you've had enough."

I gasp. "I fucking hate you."

He presses a kiss to my back. "Baby, if I believed you meant that, I'd kill myself for real. But since I know better, I'm going to fuck your ass while Tommy does his best to get in and out of your tight pussy. Maybe then you'll learned there's no escaping us."

Another stinging slap, another yelp.

This time, I swallow the vitriol I want to spew at Clay.

He can tell. Trading his spanks for a gentle caress, he calls out, "Tommy?"

"Yeah… yeah, Clay?"

Oh. Tommy's close close. No wonder he stopped moving. Considering he seemed to mastermind this whole thing, it's not performance anxiety or something like that that kept him from fucking me harder once Clay took my ass. Nope. He's about to go off like a rocket, but he's listening to Clay. Until they got to share me, he wouldn't come.

Now? All bets are off—and Clay knows that, too.

"Can you reach Cyn's clit?"

His hand shifts. Our bodies are slick with sweat, lube, and the juices from my pussy, but he manages to shove his fingers between us, finding my clit. My answering squeal as he rubs the super sensitive nub is all Clay needs to know, but Tommy still says, "She's so fucking hot, Clay. Her clit is huge, and I can see how we have her split open. This is the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen. God, Cyn, you're gorgeous ."

He lifts his head off the pillow, trying to kiss me. I want to refuse. I'm being fucked by two killers I thought I knew—I thought I loved —but for Tommy to kiss me while Clay is slowly rocking in my ass? If he hadn't pinched my clit, forcing my lips to part as I cried out in pleasure, I never would've let him in.

But I do, and no matter what Clay had seen while he stalked Tommy and I over the years, watching his best friend nip my bottom lip, shove his tongue in my mouth, and kiss me like he owns me… it makes my murderous husband even more dangerous.

Clay won't hurt me. As vulnerable as I am—and I don't just mean in this position—I know he won't. But he does increase the pressure as he pulls out just enough for the full sensation to subside a little before returning tenfold. I gasp again, and with his slippery hand, he grabs my hair, tugging my head back.

Now Clay's kissing me, and it never even occurs to me to deny him his kiss. And I know, as the possessive way Clay claims me—plus how my back bent to accommodate him—finally sets Tommy off enough that he's coming inside of me, that whatever happens when this night is over, Clay was right.

I can't deny him anything.

Sandwiched between the only two men I've ever loved, I should feel like the luckiest fucking woman in the world.

Clay is spooning me, his naked body pressed against my back. His cock is nestled between my thighs. He's hard again, but he's also snoring softly as he clutches me to him.

Running around an island, killing all our old friends, then having his cock sucked, his side slashed, and nutting three times since he first told me to crawl to him? Poor psycho husband. He must be exhausted . He didn't even try to fuck me one last time after the two of them herded me to bed. Clay just pulled me up against him, promised me again that there's no getting away from my husband, then promptly went to sleep.

Despite my situation, I feel a familiar pang in my chest. That's Clay. Man could pass out anywhere, then wake up instantly without an alarm after the deepest, most restful sleep. That's my Clay… only my Clay is undeniably a ruthless killer who plotted with his best friend for the last five years to wear me down, get me to accept that I belong to both of them, then kill everyone I knew—everyone they believed every wronged me—as a twisted way to make amends.

Some girls get flowers and diamonds. I get my former tormentors trussed up, mutilated, tortured , plus a side of double penetration as they both needed to fuck me at the same time just to really send home the message that they believed I was theirs.

It's hard to deny that. Clay is at my back. Tommy is sleeping in front of me, just as naked, just as possessive. His hand is on my hip, the other one reaching out toward my hair, fingers twining around the damp clumps that haven't dried all the way yet.

Clay likes my hair long. Clay likes my hair down. After our shower, he handed Tommy the brush, watching in approval as my boyfriend untangled the hair that Clay shampooed and conditioned in the shower. When Tommy admitted he wasn't so sure how to pull my hair up the way I like after it's been washed, Clay took the brush away from him.

He likes it down. It's down.

Clay likes me to sleep naked. Like the two men, I don't have a stitch on.

At least I'm clean. My body feel like it's been hit by a truck since it's definitely not used to being fucked like that, but Tommy pulled a pain reliever bottle out of his duffel bag. Clay dropped two in my mouth, then handed me a can of ginger ale to chase it down so that I wouldn't be as achy in the morning.

After all, it'll be Monday. If all goes well, we're leaving tomorrow.

Do they realize that there are five dead bodies on the island? Six if you count what happened to Aaron? I'm sure they do. Fuck, they planned this for five years . I'm sure they have something up their sleeves, just like I'm betting they think I'll be that timid heroine, that meek little girl who simply goes along with it.

Clay and Tommy are treating me like I am. As soon as they both finished, they were careful to take care of me. I guess that's the dominant nature that Clay's always had and that Tommy obviously suppressed. They fucked me like they didn't care if I broke, and when I didn't, the killer and his accomplice pampered me like I was precious. They used my body until I was a trembling, sweaty, sticky mess between them, and as I came down from being fucked by the both of them at the same time, Tommy stroked my hair out of my face. Clay peppered kisses down my back, telling me how good I was, how impressed he was that I took them both so well, and how it'll be that much easier next.

Next time…

I didn't argue. My mind whirring, both with the realization that they're serious, that this is happening, that my life is set… I let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to me because, well, I'm beginning to understand that that's what they expect from me.

By the time they learn that that's not true, I'm hoping to have a plan of my own.

Until then, I played my part as my husband disposed of the condom he pulled on to take my ass. While I laid on my side, honestly too spent to move, he stroked his semi-hard cock, gathering up as much of the come that clung to him after he pulled the condom off. Then, dipping his finger between my legs, he scooped up some of Tommy's load, swirling their jizz together, then went a step further than shooting come on my chest. He swiped it on my lips before fisting my hair, tilting my head back, kissing me so deeply, I was light-headed before he finally pulled back.

He did all of this while Tommy watched, his expression hungry, his cock already twitching again.

He wanted to fuck me. Since I took Tommy back, I learned that he can go as many times as I could take him. One was never enough for him, and I always got the impression that he was making up for lost time.

Now I know better. Now I know that he was doing his best to catch up to the number of times Clay fucked me so that, by the time they agreed to share me, they'd be even—and I'd be so addicted to both of them, I'd go along with this madness.

He stroked himself, almost whimpering as Clay tasted the combination of all three of us he forced onto my lips. But he didn't move. As much as he obviously wanted to stick his dick back inside of me, he waited to see what Clay wanted to do first.

And what Clay wanted to do was carry me bridal-style to the bathroom where the three of us had a very cramped shower in the shower stall. Once we were clean and I felt semi-human again, he dressed me while Tommy changed the sheets on our bed so that, when he guided us to lay down in our spots, there was no mess.

Clay fell asleep first. Tommy murmured all of the things that he was looking forward to doing now that we were going to be a trio. We'd have to leave Gullhaven, of course. The whole fucking world still thinks Clayton Rivers is dead, and with Clay funneling money into an LLC that Tommy had access to, it was better that they did. I half-listened to him, waiting for the post-nut clarity to fade to post-nut exhaustion. Tommy cuddled closer, falling asleep, while I refused to.

Their breathing is even. Both of the guys are out out. I'm still super careful as I unthread Tommy's fingers from my hair. It takes a few seconds to remove his hand from my hips, listening intently for any change in his breathing. When he doesn't react, I focus on disentangling myself from Clay's tight hold.

That takes longer, but I'm determined. Before, I was too stunned by the events of the night to fight back. I tried, even drew a little of Clay's blood, but he was right. If I wanted to kill him, I could've.

That's not what I want. I'm confused. Hurt. Feeling betrayed. I'm also irrationally happy that my husband seemed to return from the dead, even if he came back just in time for Halloween as a Michael Myers-Jason wannabe.

I mean, I could kill them. As I slip off the bottom side of the bed, the two completely unaware that I'm almost gone, I know that both Tommy and Clay have their weapons in this cabin. Chase's gun is useless now, but anyone can kill if they put their minds to it. Having a large knife like Clay's or even a switchblade like Tommy's will make it so damn easy.

But I don't want to. So, instead, I pull on the first sleep shirt I can find, slip my feet into a pair of sneakers, then grab my phone and disappear into the night.