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So I’d told both of them about the other, explained I couldn’t let either of them go, that I cared too much about them both. I’d expected them to end it with me right then and there. But surprisingly they’d agreed, told me almost identically that they refused to give me up, that if they had to share me with the other, so be it.
They were possessive and territorial of me when it concerned other men, but with each other? They were accepting, conceding that I couldn’t give them up.
So here I was, living two separate lives, having two separate relationships, and in love with both Ryker and Jareth.
“What a story,” I said to my reflection.
I finished getting ready, my belly tightening with each passing second. I’d been seeing both Jareth and Ryker for months now, and every day I felt my feelings for them grow. I loved them. And although I knew they cared about me too, there was this little voice in the back of my head that reminded me this could all end horribly.
Maybe this wasn’t real. I mean, it sure sounded fictional. Me with two men, both of them desperate for my attention, possessive of me….
If I was being honest, it all sounded too good to be true.
But everything had been going so smoothly, so perfectly. Once things had become official between Ryker and Jareth, it had all fallen into place perfectly, as if that’s how it was always meant to be.
I split my days up every week between them. Three days on, three days off, and one day I had for myself. Although, if I were being truthful, if I could spend every single day of every single week with both of them, it would be nirvana.
I gave myself one last long look in the mirror before heading downstairs. My roommate was sitting on the couch, a pint of ice cream in her lap, andWhen Harry Met Sallyplaying on the TV for the hundredth time.
I grabbed my purse and checked to make sure I had all the essentials: lipstick, deodorant, gum, and my wallet.
I heard the loud rumble of a motorcycle approaching, and my pulse raced, butterflies moving wildly inside me. I walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside and seeing Ryker come to a stop in the driveway.
“I always know when you’re about to leave, because I can hear his motorcycle or see the fancy Mercedes pulling up in the driveway,” Kati shouted from the living room and then promptly looked over her shoulder and grinned.
She liked to tease me about how she was jealous, how she couldn’t believe I was in a relationship with two men and they were totally okay with it.
I’d always just say,“You and me both.”Because I couldn’t believe it either.
“Don’t wait up,” I said as I opened the door, not giving Ryker the chance to come get me.
This was his third night, meaning it was the last night I’d see him until next week. But that was the agreement we’d all come up with, and it had been working seamlessly so far.
Although I hated going these long stretches without seeing him or Jareth, I couldn’t lie and say that having some time apart was also nice, almost liberating. It gave everyone time to themselves.
I shut the front door behind me and rounded the corner, seeing Ryker dismount, a helmet under his arm and his focus on me. He didn’t grin, didn’t show any kind of expression, but that was usual. He was the strong, silent type, brooding and intense, serious but with a playful side.
And that playful side just happened to be when we were in his bed, both of us naked, his big body on top of mine as he commanded me like he knew me inside and out.
I guess that was the similarity between Jareth and Ryker. They were both so intense, so serious all the time. But they showed me a gentle side, one that was sweet and endearing but also told me—showed me and taught me—who was really in control.
I might have had power over them both, but they wielded something far stronger within me.
Desire. Love.
When I was within reaching distance, he set the helmet down and reached out for me, curled his fingers around my hip, and pulled me against his hard body. I melted against him, slowly trailing my gaze up his body so I could look into his face.
He was six-foot four inches of pure, unadulterated masculinity, with his arms and chest covered in tattoos, the description “tall, dark, and handsome” fitting him perfectly. He was brutal, was completely devoted to me, and was what I would consider an all-around male.
And he was mine.
He stared into my eyes, this possessive expression on his face. He made a deep sound in his throat before he slid his hand up to cup my cheek, and then he leaned down and kissed me. His lips on mine were owning, consuming.
He slid his tongue along the seam of my mouth, urging me to open without saying anything. I felt the hard evidence of his arousal pressing against my belly, and I rose on my toes and wrapped my arms around his neck, keeping him close as he mouth-fucked me.
There was no other phrase to describe what he was doing.
In and out, he thrust his tongue in my mouth, stroking it with mine, pulling a soft moan from me as I felt arousal move through my body. My panties instantly became wet, my nipples hardening. But he pulled away before things got too heated, before he fucked me against the side of the garage. Which I knew he would, and I was tempted to beg him to do just that.
