Page 74 of Unloved

He’s home. He’s safe. He’s mine.

“I love you,” he says in between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The bed dips upon Lennox’s return, and he hovers over us, hands and fingers all slicked up, commanding our bodies every which way.

When Rhys is on his back, legs spread open, I glide my cock over his hole, over and over again, sliding and inching the tip inside of him.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I say as I tease us both, going a little bit deeper each time.

At the same time, Lennox chooses to torture me, using only his fingers, testing my concentration as he slides his slick fingers up and down my taint.

“Fuck him,” he orders. “I want to see if I can drive you both crazy.”

The Lennox behind closed doors is the complete opposite to the man he is with everyone else. He commands and dominates; he makes sure he’s steering our ship and Rhys and I just follow.

Hovering over Rhys, I finally push all the way inside of him, loving how his moan echoes around the room. As I find my rhythm, Lennox fills my ass with three thick fingers, stretching me wide as I try to concentrate and distinguish between both sensations.

Rhys’s arms circle my neck, dragging me down to kiss him.

We’re all teeth and tongues as my hips begin to rock into him persistently, loving the contrast of my cock inside Rhys and Lennox’s fingers inside me.

Just as I’m getting used to the full feeling, Lennox drags his fingers out and I whimper from the loss. My own cock slipping out of Rhys.

“Fuck,” I groan.

Holding my length, I line it up with Rhys, just as I feel Lennox line the head of his cock up with my hole. I know Lennox, I know he’s either going to push it in slowly or sync it up to be the exact moment that I push inside of Rhys.

But even knowing the two possibilities, I’m unprepared for the way my body pistons into Rhys’s body as Lennox slams into mine.

Our voices bounce off the walls as the sound of skin slapping skin creates an erotic symphony. The three of us in perfect synchronicity.

And it’s not just sex.

It’s the way we feed off each other, the way we bleed for each other.

It’s the perfection from the very beginning of seeing someone for the very first time and not needing any reason or any rhyme to know in the marrow of your bones that they were made for you.

It’s the heartache.

It’s the tragedy.

It’s the downfall.

Mine is theirs and theirs is mine.

I reach around and squeeze Lennox’s leg, letting him know I’m too close to crawl my way back.

And then I grab Rhys’s cock and stroke it furiously.

“Come, baby. Let go and come for me.”

28

LENNOX

FOUR WEEKS LATER

“Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad,” I call out to Rhys and Samuel, who feel the need to drop me off to my support group themselves every other week.

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