Chapter 3 JUSTIN

Justin

Julia jerks in my arms when the front door slams, and the feel of it reverberating through my chest takes my breath away.

I sense her sniffles before I hear them, and I wrap my body around hers, feeling her twist in my grasp and bury her face into my chest.

"I'm so sorry, Justin. I didn't mean to say it. It was just so perfect," she whispers, and I make shushing noises against her hair, rubbing my hands up and down her bare arms.

"I know," I tell her, dipping my head and using my cheek to wipe away a stray tear. "It's alright. Soon," I soothe her, as much as I assure myself. He's not ready yet, and I understand that. He's not ready to face the truth. That he belongs to us, as much as we belong to him.

But my wife is crying in my arms because the man we both love is breaking our hearts with his determined self-destruction.

I can give him time to get his head on straight, but I can't wait much longer.

"Soon," I whisper into her hair.

***********

BEFORE

Remington

Six months earlier...

"Mother fucker!"

I throw the pillow at the TV, missing it by a mile, and fling myself back on the couch, sulking like a child.

"Stupid assholes just lost me five hundred bucks!" I mumble, and Julia, my best friend since college, coos at me in sympathy.

I pick up the beer by my feet and pout when I find the bottle empty. Julia passes me a tumbler of scotch before plopping onto the couch beside me. I chug it back in one, the sear little more than a sting after all the liquor we've burned through tonight. Julia takes it from my hands then places the glass, along with all the empty bottles, on the living room table.

Between me and Justin, her husband and my best friend in the world, there is quite the collection of empty containers.

Julia is mostly sober, content with the occasional swig from one of our glasses and to play beer wench for us instead. But Justin and I are just shy of shitfaced. She pokes me in the shoulder, gaining my attention.

My head turns in slow motion, pushing through the haze to look at her to my right.

"I'm sorry, Remi. That really sucks. Need me to float you the funds?"

Her mocking smile is incandescent, and I pick up another throw pillow and toss it at her head. Julia bursts into surprised giggles, attempting and failing to dodge my throw. She ends up falling face-first into my lap, laughing. Her jostling makes her rub against my dick, and I do my best to ignore it when she puts her hands on my thigh and flips herself over, so her head is on my legs.

Julia knows I'm not upset about the money. I could lose five million and not make a dent in my trust. I'm heir to one of the wealthiest families in New York. Money means little to me. No, I'm mad because a Lancaster doesn't lose a bet, and it's the third one I've lost this March Madness.

Best not to think about it.

I give her my best smile. The one that makes panties drop and legs spread for miles.

"How you doin', baby?" I ooze at her, drawing my finger down her face, over the slope of her nose, and through the crease of her lips.

Her smile is fucking radiant when she bats those big blue eyes in my direction.

"I'm doin' good, baby. How 'bout you?"

"I could use another drink."

Julia reaches up and pats my cheek, her smile sideways at this angle.

"You're going to be hungover as fuck tomorrow," she singsongs, and I burst into laughter. That's the funniest thing I've heard all night.

It's after midnight, and I've been drinking for hours, but I can handle my liquor. Better than she can, at least. I have fifty pounds on her, easy. All of it muscle.

Without thinking, my hand lifts to her hair, running my fingers through her blonde tangles.

Instead of minding that I'm playing with her hair, Julia leans into my touch, snuggling up into my side.

I lean over as far as I can with her head in my lap.

"Bitchhhhh," I whisper with affection.

"You love me," she sasses right back.

Justin grins at us from the chair, watching our play-by-play with amusement before giving his two cents.

"It was a good game, though; you have to admit. Who would have expected Charlottesville to come back from behind like that?"

"I need-I need-"

I look for something to throw at Justin, uncoordinated as I am, and Julia, anticipating my desire, sits up slightly to grab the pillow I tossed at her from the floor.

"Traitor." Justin laughs at his wife, catching the projectile from the air then shoving it behind his head. He picks up the last two beers from the cooler beside him and, at my head nod, throws the spare to me. I stretch to catch the bottle before it's over Julia's head, then give her husband a dirty look before popping the lid on the beer.

"First off, don't throw glass at your wife's face. It's rude."

"Thank you, Remi," Julia smarts from my lap. I pat her head like a dog.

"Second off, you know what, J? I'm not interested in your opinion. You're like the human equivalent to a puppy dog. Everything makes you happy. Nothing pisses you off. For five years, I've let your puppy dog ass follow me around, and I've never even heard you raise your voice. So, don't placate me with the 'it was a good game' bullshit, okay? When your balls finally drop, and you can put some bass into your voice, then you can talk to me about sports."

Julia laughs in a manic sort of tone, and when I flick my gaze back to J, he's stretched out in the chair, legs crossed at the ankles. His shoulders are thrown back, his chest puffed out, and he has a look that I can only describe as smug coating his face.

"What?" I ask between them, obviously missing part of the joke.

"If you think Justin is like a puppy dog, it's only because you haven't heard his Dom voice yet," Jules teases, and J gives a satisfied smirk.

"Dom voice?" I ask, not believing a word. Justin is the whitest white boy I've ever met. He's good-looking; there's no denying that. But he screams prep school education. Never a hair out of place or stubble too long, the guy goes to a salon every other week instead of a fucking barber like a real man should. There's some ink under his shirt and a body well-earned from our daily visits to the gym, but an alpha, J is not.

"Yeah, okay," I snark, chugging back the rest of my beer.

It's only when I hear the sound of my own swallowing that I realize the laughter has died out between the married couple. I look to Julia in my lap, at the pink flush that's run over her shoulders. At the way she's biting her lower lip. How her breathing has changed, just enough so that her breasts heave in tight little pants.

I'm instantly aroused, my dick twitching underneath her.

I follow her gaze to find Justin staring at us both, a predatory gleam in his eyes I've never seen before. He brings the bottle to his mouth, and the motion is smooth and controlled, his Adam's apple bobbing in a deep sultry rhythm as he drinks the rest of the liquid. He lets the empty container drop to the floor, uncaring if any drips may hit the carpet.

Justin rises from the chair, the muscles in his arms flexing as he moves his weight from his wrists to his feet. The blood is rushing in my ears, the room so hot I'm sweating. It's barely ten feet from the lounger to the couch, but it suddenly feels like a desert, my mouth as dry as the Sahara when Justin stalks towards us like prey.

I feel like I'm floating.

My reliable puppy somehow morphed into a predator. A predator stalking its prey.

Shit.

Does that make me the prey?

Do I want to be caught?

"Ummm," I manage to mumble, but that's as far as I get before Justin straddles his wife, her head still on my lap, and lowers himself to his hands and knees on top of her.

"Wanna play, baby girl?" Justin asks in a voice I've never dreamed could slip from his throat. It's dark and dirty, like chocolate-covered coffee beans. My cock immediately responds, though the rational part of my brain desperately fights my body for control.

But Julia was right.

I'm three sheets to the wind. There's very little logic left in my brain.

All I can think about is how hot it is in this room and how fucking good the couple on top of me feels.

Julia says, "Please," her body withering on my lap, and all attempts at rational thought flee. Justin looks at me and licks his lips before lowering his face to his wife's.

Only he doesn't kiss her. Not like I'm expecting him to. He teases her lips, darting in and pulling back. Nipping at her mouth, flicking her with his tongue. Julia chases him when he drifts away, her arms linked around his neck, little mewls of need unfulfilled dripping from her lips every time he darts away.

He grinds his dick into her crotch, and my eyes bug out, my cock under her head so hard it hurts.

"Stay still," he orders her, voice like velvet over steel. She stills immediately at his command. Her muscles tremble with desire, but she doesn't move more than that.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." I breathe out, my hands lifted to the air, unsure of where to put them.

Maybe I've imagined this once or twice. What would it be like with her? With them? She's gorgeous, after all. Who doesn't have a fantasy or two about fucking your best friend's wife? But never in a million years did I ever picture this.

"Do you want a taste?" Justin asks, and it takes me longer than it should to realize that Justin is talking to me. I look at him hovering above her, her body pinned between us, and I've never wanted anything more.

But I can't seem to open my mouth.

"Uhhhh."

"Have you ever wondered what Remi tastes like, baby?" Justin faces his wife, and she stares at me, licking her lips, slowly nodding yes.

"Me too," Justin says, and without warning, his hand is in my shirt, and he's yanked me down to meet him, his lips firmly melding with my own. I can taste the liquor on his breath, feel the chapped texture of his lips. His technique is rougher than anyone I've kissed before, and my heart is thudding in my ears. I hear it echo in my head, one beat, two beats, before I thrust my tongue between Justin's lips, exploring the inside of his mouth.

He groans at my intrusion. Tightens his grip on my shirt. I grasp the back of his neck, holding him in place while I claim him on top of his wife.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

I jerk away from Justin with a gasp and see his eyes glazed over with lust.

"My turn," Julia pants and struggles to wiggle from underneath her husband. Justin rolls right off the couch, freeing her to climb into my lap. Julia straddles me, a hand on either side of my face, and when her lips entwine with mine, it couldn't be more different from her husband's.