Page 176 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“So fucking tight,” I groan. The sight alone would be enough to excite me, but feeling him swallow my thick cock is absolute heaven. It’s a wonder I can do this without exploding right away. “Such a good boy, taking my cock like this.” Miles groans, his mouth focused on Sophie.

“So good for us,” she agrees with a sigh. Sophie gasps. “Right there.” Her voice is a whine now.

“Use your fingers, Miles,” I grunt as my dick fills him. “Make her cum while I fuck your sweet ass.”

Miles mumbles something into Sophie’s pussy, but I can’t hear it. I grip his hips and pull out slowly before pushing back in. I want him to feel every fucking inch of me. Out and back in, out and in.

“Look at you,” I pant. “Taking my cock so well. Taking every fucking inch.” Sophie’s breathing quickens.

“You're doing,” she pants, “so well. Making us both-” she gasps, unable to finish her thought.

“That’s it, make her scream, pretty boy.”

I pick up speed, pistoning into him while Sophie whines and whimpers in front of us. The sight, the sounds, the fucking feel of him squeezing my cock with his ass. It’s all too much. With a roar, I push deep, filling him while Sophie cries out in front of us. My fingers dig into his flesh while my dick twitches inside him, releasing every drop.

My breathing ragged, my body finally relaxes and I slide my hand up Miles’ back and into his hair. Sophie is panting and lying back while she tries to catch her breath. I pull on Miles’ hair, making him rear up until his back is against my chest with my lips next to his ear. I roll my hips, still deep inside him, and he whines.

“I’m very,verythankful for you.” I glance up at Sophie, though I know she probably won't register my words. “For both of you.”

Leaving Sophie and Miles in bed is always the most difficult part of my morning. And afternoon. And evening. And night. But someone has to let the caterers in to set up. Since we're still organizing and living half out of boxes, I knew there would be no way for us to host a Friendsgiving without help. The team is still setting up when Isla arrives, early as promised, with a huge jug of something red and glittery.

"Here," she shoves the jug into my arms and I'm thankful for my reflexes. "It's a mix between a bramble, a French 75, and hard cider," Isla explains, shrugging off her jacket and hanging it in the enormous coat closet by the door."

"Nice to see you too." I lead the way into the kitchen.

"Yes, now where's myfavoritebrother?" Isla looks around.

"I'm right here." I step into her line of sight, but she simply looks past me and I hear the footsteps on the stairs just out of view.

"Is that Isla?" Miles shouts.

"Yo!" she replies, just as loud, and rushes over to hug him as if they haven't seen each other every day for the last two weeks. Isla has already been here nearly every day since we moved in. At first, it was with the excuse of finally meeting Sophie. She figured out our little dynamic immediately, detective that she is, and was genuinely happy. I even heard her mutter something about Miles and Ifinallyfiguring it out.

"Hey, kiddo, ready to stuff ourselves into a coma?" Miles slaps her roughly on the back while I set the cocktail jug on the counter for the bartender to take care of when he arrives.

"Obviously," Isla snorts. "Where is Sophie? And why is it so quiet?"

"Well, it's not quiet now that you're here," I point out. "Seriously, you walk in the door and the decibel level shoots up."

"And stays up," Miles adds with a laugh.

"Not my fault you guys are boring." Isla shrugs and leads the way into the living room where the antique record player is set up.

"Queue up the music, kiddo." Miles grins.

Isla hums to herself, searching through the albums on the shelf until she finds the one she's looking for. I don't have to see which one she picks out to know what's about to start playing. WhenTwist And Shoutby the Beatles fills the living room, my lips spread into a grin.

I hover on the edge of the room, watching the two of them act like utter goofballs, singing and dancing to a song that Miles' father always loved. The record player was his. Every once in a while, after dinner, they would fire it up and dance around to the classic with their plates still on the table. Their own little party of three. Isla never saw it with her own eyes, but when Miles' dad died, she took it upon herself to keep music in Miles' life. Her taste in tunes always aligned much more with his than mine did. They've been concert buddies for years, but this holiday pre-meal tradition holds more love than I can possibly say.

When the song dies, Isla is quick to steal Miles' phone and connect it to the Bluetooth speaker. The playlist starts with a Shania Twain classic and I decide it's time to focus on the festivities.

Most of the guests arrive over the next half hour and the bartender does his job well, supplying them with drinks while we wait for our meal to be ready. For our Friendsgiving. Miles and Sophie invited some people they know in the industry who weren’t planning to leave for the holiday. Natalie hangs out near the collection of cocktails, wine, and beer. Moira has her engaged in a very animated conversation, though I can’t hear what it’s about.

The front door opens and Mel appears just as a Thanksgiving rap plays over the speakers. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my boss looks timid. Other than our monthly lunches, I haven’t seen her in public in years. Her usual black pantsuit hasbeen swapped out for a short, maroon dress with cap sleeves and a gold chain around the waist. Her hazel eyes sweep the scene in front of her until they land on me.

“You came!” I shout, approaching her and closing the door behind her. Though it’s not something we usually do, I pull Mel into a hug. She grunts when her chest meets mine.

“I did.” Her gaze returns to the room behind me. “You have a lovely home.”

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