AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It was as if a weight had lifted off my chest, one I’d been carrying without even knowing about it. I laughed, high on the hit of adrenaline and happy sex hormones that were coursing through me. It wasn’t only the sex that had done it though. Admitting to myself and saying the words to Flynn was so freeing. It was warmth and sunshine, ice cream cones on a summer’s day, swimming and laughter all wrapped up in three little words.
Feeling something for Tristan other than the need to throttle him had been impossible less than a few hours earlier, but now it was as if the walls were crumbling, and he was letting us see his true nature. He was grumpy and wanted things to go his way, but he was sensual and caring, gentle when he wanted to be. He knew I liked it rough, and when I was in the right frame of mind, I loved the bite of pain during anal when I wasn’t prepared properly, but he’d taken it slow with me. He’d been gentle, only giving me as much as I could handle. He’d left it to me to ask for more when I was ready, despite being able to yank me down on his dick and fuck me any way he wanted. His kisses had been druglike, his touches like he was worshiping me.
Flynn and Tristan cherished every part of me, showed me how much they wanted me. Their touches were reverent, like I was worth something more than what they could get from me. They showed me that my body wasn’t just there to get them off, and they weren’t using my mind to benefit themselves. Between them, I felt loved. Telling them that I was gone for them too was nerve-wracking but fucking amazing.
Grinning like a loon, I lifted on my elbow and leaned into Flynn. His lips met mine in a kiss that was as sweet and slow as it was toe-curling. I didn’t want to pull away, but I needed to show Tristan too. Our lips met and Flynn ran his fingers through my hair, nuzzling my temple until I turned back to him, deepening our kiss. When Tristan kissed a line across my cheek, I shifted, capturing his lips again and turning our kiss into a three-way one.
“Do you want a shower, love? Or a bath?” Tristan asked, his gaze warm and his lips tilted up in a soft smile.
“I’d really love a swim,” I sighed wistfully. Bloody marinas. They were always so busy and hardly the place I’d dive into the water. “But I don’t know I have the energy for it. We could hop into the hot tub instead?”
“I’d love that,” he murmured against my lips. “Flynn?”
“Yes, please.”
I’d barely sat up when both my guys were helping me off the couch. Tristan carried me up the stairs to the top deck and over to the bow where the hot tub was sunken into the deck. Sheltered by the soaring arcs of the hull that met in a point directly in front of us, he held me as Flynn looked after the cover. I could see the boardwalk from where I was perched in Tristan’s arms, and if anyone looked at the right angle, they would definitely be able to see me too.
But it was the first time that I’d only wanted to be naked in front of the two people I was with and not the whole world.
As soon as the three of us were in the water, my muscles melted. Flynn sat at my feet, propping them in his lap and massaging until I was in heaven. Tristan’s hands were at my shoulders, loosening the knots there too.
“Massages are my favourite thing in the world,” I sighed.
“I prefer ice cream,” Flynn deadpanned.
“Kale and coriander for me,” Tristan added. I snapped up, falling off his lap with the move. I went under, flailing until I could extract my foot from Flynn’s lap and push myself back up. Water streamed down my face, and I coughed up the mouthful I’d taken in.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked, among coughs, disgusted.
Tristan snorted out a laugh, his smile lighting up his face. The frown and concentration lines disappeared, and he looked relaxed and happy. He was gorgeous.
But he also had taste in his arse.
“I’m kidding. I hate the stuff. It’s an abomination. But I’m definitely a savory person. Give me cheese, olives, meats and a rich wine, and I’m in heaven.”
“I’ll pass on the wine, but the rest is good.” Flynn hummed, reaching for my feet once more and digging his thumbs into my arches.
“Don’t like wine?” he asked.
“I don’t drink at all.” Flynn paused, the air heavy with anticipation. Would he tell Tristan the reason? He took a deep breath and explained, “I don’t drink because of my parents. I’ve seen what happens to people when they drink too much.”
I wanted to reach for him, to give him the hug he deserved for being so brave and telling Tristan that piece of himself. It was a big deal. He was such a private person. After all the shit we’d gone through as kids and teens with those motherfuckers bullying both of us, telling anyone anything about himself was a huge step. I smiled softly at him instead, mouthing, “I’m proud of you,” to him.
“I get that. Parents can be… difficult.” Tristan wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me onto his lap again before running his fingers through my wet hair. He huffed out a laugh, but it sounded sad rather than humorous. “My mum was quiet as a mouse. If you didn’t see her, you’d never know she was there. It was as if she’d merge into the walls. My dad made up for it. He was loud. He ran the household with an iron fist. If any of us stepped out of line, we were punished. His belt usually, but he enjoyed a variety of implements. My older brother towed the line. I rebelled. A lot. Then one day he’d had enough of me. Told me not to bother coming back home. I’d broken the rules for the last time.”
“How old were you?” I asked softly.
“Oh, already an adult.” He shook his head, waving off my concern, but he pulled me tighter against him and dropped a kiss on my temple. “I was bumming it in the granny flat in the back yard. I didn’t have a job. I was smoking weed all day every day. I was stoned a lot.” He stopped speaking but resumed playing with my hair. It was as if he needed a moment to gather his thoughts before he could continue. “We were such dickheads. I got high with some mates. We stole a car, took it for a joyride, damaged a bunch of other cars and smashed through a fence. The car was totalled, and we were lucky we didn’t kill anyone or ourselves.”
“Geez,” Flynn murmured. “So lucky.”
“I was convicted and served six months on top of some time in remand. I’m lucky it was only that—mine was the shortest sentence. The others were in there for a couple of years.”
“Do you still speak to them?” I asked. “Your parents, I mean.”
“Not really. Mum’s birthday and Christmas mostly, but I only speak with her. Haven’t talked to my dad in decades. My brother, yes, but he and I are very different, so it’s hard.”
“Yeah, that’s me too,” Flynn admitted. “Mine have mental health and addiction issues. They’re hoarders, they were neglectful, and, yeah, my house wasn’t a fun place to grow up.” We were quiet for a moment. Reflective. The conversation had turned heavier than any of us had intended, but I loved the connection we were building.
