Page 115 of Better When Shared
Tristan rolled his eyes, but I could see the flush creeping up his chest as he watched Marco manhandle me, his own cock thick and flushed in the steamy air. I reached for him, pulling him into the press of our bodies, loving the way the water slicked across his skin, making his muscles shine.
“Should I get the shower chair for you, old man?” I teased, wrapping one leg around Marco for balance and running my tongue up the line of Tristan’s throat.
“I’m not the one who fell off a ladder yesterday,” he shot back, but his hands found my waist, steadying me as Marco’s fingers worked between my legs. The touch was clumsy and urgent and perfect—none of us cared about finesse right now, just the need to connect, to be as close as possible, to remind ourselves that we belonged together as one.
“Let’s see how many times we can make Juni come before the hot water runs out,” Marco said, already sliding two fingers into me and curling them just so.
“Odds are three,” Tristan murmured, mouth against my collarbone as he pushed Marco’s hand out of the way and kissed his way down my stomach. He was always competitive like that. “Four, if we really concentrate.”
Marco held me against his chest, bracing me, his cock pressed up against my ass while Tristan’s kissed my inner thigh. Tristan ate me out like he was starving, tongue ruthless and skilled. I grabbed the towel rack, bracing myself as Marco’s arms roamed over my breasts, grinding his cock between my cheeks. The angle was awkward and delicious. I could feel Tristan’s tongue flicking my clit, Marco’s cock sliding up and down my ass, every nerve ending screaming for more.
“Marco, fuck me,” I moaned, and he obliged, pushing his cock inside me with a single, perfect stroke. It hurt, just a little, fromthis angle, but that made it hotter. He bottomed out, hand fisted in my hair, and when I looked down, I saw Tristan’s green eyes watching me, his tongue still working my clit, sliding against Marco’s shaft as it thrust into me again and again.
“Good girl,” Tristan said. “Take it all.” He swirled his tongue, and his mouth and Marco’s cock sent fireworks straight to my brain. I came, hard, vision whiting out as the two of them kept moving, not giving me a second to recover.
When Marco pulled out, Tristan stood, kissed me on the mouth so I could taste myself, then reached down and lined himself up. He was thick and delicious, and the first push of his fat cock head still made my knees buckle, but Marco caught me, supporting my weight as I was filled all over again.
“Oh fuck, I love you,” I whispered, and Marco laughed into the side of my neck.
“Say it louder, Juni. I don’t think he heard you.”
But Tristan was focused elsewhere, gripping my ass as he pounded into me. “Make her come again, Marco.”
Marco’s fingers found my clit, and the next orgasm took me by surprise, shaking me so hard I nearly took all three of us down.
The third time was all about Marco. He slid back inside me with Tristan, my body so open and greedy for him I barely needed to adjust. Tristan’s hands held my shoulders, bracing me as Marco’s thrusts grew more frantic, more desperate, slidingagainst Tristan’s hard cock as Tristan held still, let him take what he needed, and when he came, I felt it everywhere—heat, pressure, belonging. Tristan followed him over the edge, biting down on my shoulder with a rough groan and I shivered between them, spent and happy.
We collapsed into a pile on the shower floor, letting the water run over us as our breathing returned to something like normal.
After three orgasms and one near-death experience (Tristan slipped on the tile and took us all down like bowling pins), we staggered back to our bedroom wrapped in towels and each other. Tristan was the only one who still managed to look dignified, because he somehow always did.
I sat on the edge of the bed, working lotion into my calves while Marco dug through the clean laundry pile for something that wasn’t ripped or covered in construction adhesive. Tristan sprawled next to me, elbows propped on his knees, rubbing my back.
“Do we have to wear real clothes?” Marco said. “Maybe we can just dig through Tristan’s apartment in Bath?”
“You can show up nude,” I said, “but you’ll have to explain to Gemma why her wedding is now a viral meme. I can already see the headlines: Bancroft Throuple Is At It Again.”
Tristan groaned out a laugh, covering his face with his hands. “Are you sure we should go? As a throuple, I mean.”
“It’s your cousin’s wedding,” I gasped, kissing the tip of his nose. “And you made me that killer dress. We should go.”
Tristan looked at me, then at Marco, his green eyes unguarded. “Good. I want to show off the people I love. If that’s okay.”
A beat of total silence. Marco stopped mid-pants leg. I dropped the lotion bottle.
“You—what?” I said.
Tristan blinked, then frowned, chewing on his lip the way he did when his anxiety was spiking. “I said I want to show off the people I love. Why are you staring at me? Is that not okay? I suppose we can… pretend to just be friends.”
Marco grinned like the world’s dumbest golden retriever. “Tristan, stop. Of course we want to be with you, to claim you. It’s just that you’ve never actually said it out loud,” he said, voice warm and teasing. “That you love us. We’ve been waiting.”
Tristan looked at the ceiling, visibly annoyed. “I assumed it was implied. I shared my yarn with Juni, and she’s atrocious at crochet.”
I tackled him, knocking him back onto the mattress and peppering his face with kisses. “Say it again,” I demanded. “C’mon, big guy. Just once more.”
He huffed, but his hands came up to hold my waist. “I love you, Juni. And you, Marco.” He tugged Marco close, then kissed the inside of my wrist, his mouth soft and reverent. “Happy?”
“Fucking ecstatic,” I said, shoving my tongue in his mouth as Marco flopped down beside us and wrapped us all up in his arms. “Because we love you too. With all our hearts.”
