Grace

 

I had no idea what was happening with my body. Wetness, shivers of excitement bordering on convulsions, my chin sticky with cum and drool, even now after swallowing most of it down like a dirty bitch.

This shouldn’t be me. I shouldn’t be this woman.

But I was.

And I loved her. Just like they did.

I could see it in them. Both of them. Lust and want and something else. Love from Brett, blazing right through his features, but from Thomas something more than desire. Care. Pride. Affection, even. Stuff that made my heart shudder.

I was too fucked to protest when two sets of strong arms grabbed me up and tossed me like a doll between them. This was new, this shared thing they had going on. An unspoken camaraderie which suited them much better than the festering simmer of competition.

I could get used to this, I thought, managing a grin as Thomas raised me high enough to wrap my bandy legs around his waist. That changed in a beat when I slammed down on the cock he’d positioned just right for my still-pulsing pussy.

No, I’d never get used to this. Not in a million years.

I was still burning up, squirming against the sensation as I bucked for more, my arms wrapped so tightly around the neck of this man who’d flipped our world on its head that I’d have sworn I’d never be able to let him go.

And then there was Brett, the man I loved more than the whole universe, pressing tight behind me, breathing into my ear as he pressed his cock to my poor clenching ass.

“Fuck,” I whimpered. “Oh, fuck.”

I knew it was coming, throwing my head back onto his shoulder as he pushed his way inside.

It hurt. Fuck, how it hurt. But I couldn’t stop, didn’t want it to stop, craving it more than reason as my heart pounded loud in my ears.

There was nothing like it. Nothing in all the years that could have prepared me for this. Caged between two firm grunting bodies, limp as they pounded me with long, deep thrusts.

Two at once.

I was taking two big dicks at once, without the stability of anything other than the two of them suspending me between them.

I barely knew who I was kissing, one of them, then the other, all my focus on how it felt to be stretched so wide, filled to bursting. Brett’s hot mouth was on my neck as Thomas plunged his tongue deep into my mouth, and I loved it, loved both of them.

This wasn’t a game for me, not anymore. This wasn’t a passing fantasy in the night with my hand down my knickers. This was real. All-consuming in my desire to please them both.

“That’s a good little slut,” Thomas breathed, and my heart bloomed.

“Fucking take it,” Brett snarled, and I did. I took everything they had.

My eyes were springing with tears from the strain, my lungs ragged as I fought the urge to wail out loud, but I was moving with them all the same, sweating cold and hot, mashed against rippling muscle both in front and behind.

“Come for me, please,” I cried. “Please come for me.”

Thomas licked my open lips before his answered, and his smirk set me on fire.

“Not until you do,” he said, and I felt it in them both, the same crazy need to feel me fall apart between them.

It came so much easier than I expected. I came so much easier than I expected. My stomach muscles were clenched so tight I feared I’d never stand straight again, every nerve in me spiralling as those two fat cocks slammed in hard. My pussy throbbed raw before the ache of climax found me, that sweet spot deep inside unravelling with a string of sparks that had me convulsing.

My ears were ringing as I heard them grunt along with me, the expletives hissing loud enough to grit my teeth as I cursed like a whore.

I didn’t care that my cheeks were wet with tears and likely blooming pink. I didn’t care that they’d claimed all of me, likely to leave me a ruined limp mess for all time.

All I cared about was the way they thrusted into me, both of them reaching their peak as I screamed out with mine.

I couldn’t think.

Couldn’t do anything but hold on tight.

Couldn’t stop my body burning up and screaming for more.

Until it was done.

We were done.

They held me so tight, still suspended between them as I strained for breath, and this was the most fucked-up moment of all, feeling so right between two men who’d felt so wrong.

I’m sure I was smiling. I’m sure my words made no sense as they tumbled breathless from my lips.

And I’m sure they were smiling too as they moved together onto the bed and kept me tight between them.

We stayed for an eternity in the cold afternoon light, three bodies breathing and holding, three bodies coming down from a crazy high I’d never known.

It was Thomas who pulled away first, stroking my cheek with a tenderness in his fingertips I’d never felt from him.

Brett folded me further into his arms, nuzzling my neck as I watched the other man get to his feet and retreat to the bathroom.

I wondered if this was it, a beginning of another retreat as he bailed and ditched us high. But no, he came back with a smile on his face and his dick still proud, giving Brett a playful slap on his arm as he passed by on his quest for his clothes.

That playful slap meant everything.

I couldn’t hold back the grin at the shift in the room. Coaxing Brett away from me with an urgency from deep. He got it, kissing my neck once more before dragging himself away from me in search of clothes of his own.

It was when he slapped the other man back, right between his shoulder blades, that I knew the page was turning.

“Fuck,” he said. “They were some moves.”

“Didn’t move too fucking bad yourself,” Thomas said back, and I sighed happy onto the mattress, well aware that my holes were still weeping all over the sheets.

It was disgusting.

Beautiful and disgusting.

Hot and beautiful and disgusting.

But as I moved afresh, I knew I wouldn’t be repeating the experience in a hurry.

Everything hurt. Every single thing.

I laughed as the guys caught my discomfort, clearly visible through my smile. Their arms were right there waiting, lifting me to my feet and keeping me tall until I found my balance, two smirks at full volume as I dithered my way to the bathroom to splash my face with cold water.

My reflection was different in the mirror. My hair slick and messy all at once, my eyes wild and watery, my lips puffy from dicks and kisses.

I couldn’t hold back the laughter as I splashed myself cool.

The guys were pretty much dressed when I stepped back in to join them, absorbed in a low grunt of a conversation like two old friends. And that, right there, that was the greatest outcome of all, zinging right through me as I dared to reach for a fresh pair of knickers from the drawer.

Brett dropped to his knees to help me dress, and I watched Thomas all the while my husband guided my body in every which direction.

Thomas looked as different as I felt, his smirk at odds with the asshole I’d come to know these past few weeks. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t, just kept my smile easy on his as he fastened up his shirt cuffs.

“Whisky,” Brett announced, when he finished pulling my cami top down over my head. “I think we need a decent shot of whisky.”

“Whisky would most certainly be welcome,” Thomas agreed, leaning back for a stretch before landing a palm on his stomach. “But first food. I’m ravenous.”

That was hardly a surprise and I told him so with a giggle. One honeycomb sundae does not a meal make.

“Help yourself from the kitchen,” Brett told him. “Grab whatever you want.”

Thomas tipped his head before his exit. “I’m thinking steak. Rare. Fries on the side.”

“Go for it,” my husband said. “You’ll find the butcher’s finest in the fridge.”

It was only with his hand on the door handle that Thomas glanced back to face us. “How about you filthy pair? Hungry enough to join me?”

My nod was instant, and so was Brett’s.

“Steak for three sounds really good,” I told him. “We’ll be out to join you as soon as I’ve managed to get myself buttoned up straight.”

We watched him leave, saying not a word as the door swung closed behind him. Brett’s raised eyebrow was the only communication but it summed up far more than a mouthful of words.

He liked it.

Fuck knows, I think he even liked Heath.

And so did I.

I grabbed my blouse and buttoned it up with still dithery fingers, reaching into my jeans pocket to check my phone was still in place before attempting to clasp up the button.

It was only when I pulled the handset from my pocket that I saw the flash of the message icon. I unlocked the screen with a thumb swipe, not surprised that I’d missed the bleeping in all the double dick action.

My sister. Sarah’s name flashed up before the message text. There was more than one. A whole string from the looks of it.

I stopped dead, swearing my heart would pass out on me as I struggled to comprehend the words.

Thomas Heath IS Thomas Browning. My fucking God, Grace. We KNOW him. x

No.

It couldn’t be.

We couldn’t possibly.

My fingers were shaking to a whole new tune as I called up the next.

Polly Piper knows him. I caught her before she left the bakery for the day and she cried like a baby before she told me the truth.

He’s Thomas Browning. No fucking shit. Tina Hadley is his mother.

I felt sick as I clicked for more.

Jesus Christ, Grace, call me. Please call me. x

But I hadn’t. Of course I hadn’t.

I could barely bring myself to click on the final message. I had tunnel vision as I stared, unable to face so much as glancing at my husband as he adjusted his collar in our full-length mirror.

Thomas Heath’s dad was George Foster! Fuck! Tina was with George Foster at Alvington Plastics before he hooked up with Brett’s mum. Shit, Grace. Thomas Heath is Brett’s stepbrother. His actual stepbrother. I can’t even…WTF?! CALL ME! x

I couldn’t call her.

I couldn’t do anything.

My mouth was open as Brett headed back in my direction, my desire to throw my phone out the window overriding every urge to show him the messages.

But I couldn’t not. I daren’t not.

I didn’t even have the beginnings of reason as he landed a kiss on my cheek and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s up with you, Mrs Foster? Two at once left you a little pale?”

The shake of my head was slow. The way I handed over my handset was slower.

His brows knitted as he scanned my screen, and then they loosened, every one of his features going slack with shock as he scrolled up and down.

“This can’t be right… my dad wasn’t…”

That’s when it hit me. What this would mean for Brett’s pedestal memory of his dad if this were true.

Brett’s dad was a hero beyond fault in his eyes. Beyond the tiniest hint of criticism, no matter what the situation.

“Dad wouldn’t have… no fucking way…” His laughter didn’t come close to convincing. “There’s no way, Grace. If Thomas Browning was my dad’s boy he’d have…”

It broke my heart to see the way his eyes darkened as he swallowed.

“I’m calling my mother. She’ll set this straight.”

His fingers were shaking as they fumbled with my phone keypad, unwilling to even seek out his own mobile before keying in his mum’s number.

I reached for him as he put the phone to his ear, but he stepped away, pacing through to the bathroom as his hello barked out.

It was when the bathroom door closed that I knew this was really real.

Really, really real.

And it was when I heard him scream out loud that I knew Polly Piper wasn’t lying.