Always Theirs: A MMM Threesome Romance by James J.P

Author:James, J.P.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

10

Jordan

“Shhh,” Jameson hisses over my shoulder.

I ignore him as I pull the door handle. I latch it so softly that there isn’t a peep. For a second, I feel like a spy on a top-secret mission.

We listen for a moment, hoping we didn’t wake Fyre. When silence meets us, I nod, and we walk gingerly towards the stairwell.

“This should be quick,” Jameson says fully once we shut the door to the stairwell. “This hotel is small.”

“It’s trendy,” I say, noting the paintings on the wall. Paintings in a stairwell, really?

“It may be trendy, but it’s too small. There’s only one security guard on duty. It’d be easy for anyone to get to the second floor.”

We break down the risks as we enter the first floor, sweeping down the hall, the garden, and out the front of the building.

“What was Damon thinking?” Jameson wonders.

“He booked this months ago.” But I don’t disagree with Jameson.

Fyre is a star. Sure, he’s not Justin Timberlake or Jennifer Lopez. He doesn’t need a team of bodyguards yet, but he’s on the rise. His fans love him. He has a devoted base that only grows. I’m not surprised either, because every performance tops the last. His show last night was better than Baltimore, and I can only imagine what’s in store for Atlanta.

“I’ll check the back while you sweep the front. Deal?” Jameson asks.

I nod, and he takes off. He moves so fast, he doesn’t catch my face before he goes. I drop the smile, and let the frown bubble up from deep down. In a little over a week, this will all be over.

I scan the windows and doors of the building, checking for cameras and any points of entry. Everything looks clear, so my mind continues its assault as I wait for Jameson.

We’re going back home soon. I miss the firehouse. I miss our company. I miss the job. I miss my brothers. I miss my life.

I also know when we go home, that I’ll miss him.

“Shit,” I say, kicking the ground.

I feel stupid admitting it. I’ve known Fyre a few days. I shouldn’t feel this way about anyone at this point. I shouldn’t have butterflies in my stomach or knots in my chest when he sings. I shouldn’t look at him the way I do, and I definitely shouldn’t think the way I’ve dreamed about him.

As if it weren’t complicated enough, last night happened. Fuck, did it happen. I haven’t stopped replaying it since I woke up. I can hear every moan and taste every inch like I’m still at the couch. I don’t even mind that we didn’t use our cocks. What mattered to me was that Fyre got everything he wanted. He wanted our hands, and we were more than willing to give them to him.

Plus, I can’t get the image of his come-soaked body out of my head. His sweat-slick skin, the rise and fall of his chest, his legs languid and spread wide from use. He glistened like a pearl, and our seed was proof that he could trust us.

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