Page 40 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Marco

I paused in the doorway to the room we'd claimed as our own, a tray of food in my hands, struck by the tableau before me.

Juniper sat propped against the carved headboard, her brown skin luminous in the lamplight, wearing nothing but the white shirt Tristan had been wearing on the first day.

It hung open and loose on her frame, revealing the curve of one shoulder and hinting at treasures beneath.

Her fingers moved through Tristan's hair, massaging his scalp with with gentle, repetitive strokes that spoke of comfort rather than seduction.

After two days of passionate sex, we'd learned that Tristan had struggled silently with anxiety for years.

His panic attack had hit suddenly and all at once, when we'd started to talk about returning to Bat

Now, Tristan lay with his head in my wife's lap, relaxed and a little zoned out.

It looked like her massage was working wonders.

His sharp features relaxed in ways I'd never seen.

But it was his expression that made my chest tight—vulnerable and peaceful, like he'd finally found permission to simply exist without performing.

"You're doing a good job of taking care of him,"

I said softly, not wanting to break the spell but needing to acknowledge what I was seeing.

Juniper's smile was tender.

"The panic attack was a little scary. But I get it. All that control, all that responsibility. It's exhausting. Sometimes you just need someone to rub your back and tell you it's okay to rest."

Tristan made a grumpy sound.

"I've never had a panic attack in front of someone before."

Something warm and complex bloomed behind my ribs, followed by a pressure behind my eyes as I realized how scary his panic attacks must have been to manage on his own.

I wanted to hug him close, to make him understand it was okay.

I wondered where his parents had been through all of this.

He'd said something about their early retirement and travel, but that was all I knew.

Juniper probably understood better than anyone.

She had little in the way of family.

My parents were wonderful, warm and sweet, and they'd likely adopt Tristan as their own the moment they met him.

As I watched them cuddle, I realized that this was what I'd hoped for without quite knowing how to name it.

It wasn't just a sexual connection, but genuine care.

The kind of intimacy that meant seeing someone's needs and meeting them without being asked.

I set the tray carefully on the mattress, arranging plates and glasses with the same attention I'd given the cooking.

"The internet said that getting a good meal can help with anxiety. Moderate the blood sugar levels and give you a nice hit of happy hormones. So dinner is served. It's nothing fancy, but it should restore some essential nutrients we've lost with all the sex."

Tristan stirred, lifting his head to survey the spread with obvious appreciation.

"It smells incredible. I can't remember the last time someone cooked for me without being paid for it."

The admission, like his panic attack, hit harder than I expected it to. Here was a man who could afford any restaurant in the world, any chef or service he desired. But no one was taking care of him just because they wanted to.

We ate directly from the tray, sharing portions and stealing bites from each other's plates with the kind of casual intimacy that usually took years to develop. With Mr. Donnelly's help, I'd cobbled together ingredients for a stir fry that was exactly what our bodies needed; savory and satisfying without being heavy. The kind of food that reminded you that eating could be pleasure instead of mere sustenance.

Tristan reached for his water glass with movements that were looser than his usual precision. The recovery from his panic attack had mellowed his rigid edges."Let's stay,"

Juniper said.

"One more night. And to be clear, we'll still want to fuck you in Bath."

I grinned.

"Or wherever else we may be."

I watched something shift in his expression, relief washing over his features. Maybe Tristan was learning to want things for himself instead of just accepting what duty demanded. He nodded.

"I suppose it would be impractical to attempt the drive in questionable conditions."

"Absolutely impractical,"

I agreed, hiding my grin in Juniper's hair.

"Downright irresponsible, even.”

Juniper's grin turned wicked, an expression that meant she was about to say something that would make us both blush.

"Speaking of irresponsible things, you haven't eaten your strawberries. You need your vitamins, Tristan."

She reached for one, holding it out to him.

"Be a good boy and open up,"

she commanded softly, holding the bread just beyond Tristan's reach.

His lips parted automatically, pupils dilating as she placed the bright red berry against his soft, pink lips. I watched, mesmerized, as he took a bite, and she traced the curve of his lower lip with the juicy fruit, letting the sugary sweetness coat his skin.

She dragged the berry across her chest, dripping sticky juice in places that made my mouth water, then popped it into her mouth, chewing with a soft moan of pleasure.

“You made a little mess,”

she whispered, licking his lips, then pressing her sticky finger between them.

Tristan's response was immediate and desperate. His lips closed around her digit, tongue swirling against sensitive skin while his eyes fluttered shut in concentration. He kissed his way up her wrist, licking and nipping, then followed the sticky trail down the hollow between her breasts. The sight sent heat racing straight to my cock. There was something primal and possessive about watching him submit to her gentle dominance, about seeing his careful control dissolve under her control.

I took another berry from the tray, biting into it, then gliding it over the curve of her breast and coaxing him to lick her clean. Juniper's breath hitched as his mouth closed around her nipple, working it with increasing confidence.

"Fuck,"

I muttered, moving to clear the tray from the bed. Plates and glasses were relocated to the nightstand with more haste than care, because suddenly food was the last thing on any of our minds.

"He's a natural,"

Juniper observed, her voice thick with arousal as she watched Tristan worship her tits.

"Look how eager he is to please. How good he is with his mouth."

The praise made Tristan moan around her nipple, his hips shifting restlessly against the mattress.

Juniper’s gentle control was working wonders, making him forget all about the panic attack, focusing him on one thing: her body. And I wanted to help.

"Let me show you something,"

I said, moving closer until I could feel the heat radiating from both their bodies. My hand found Tristan's shoulder, fingers tracing the defined muscle while he continued his devoted attention to Juniper's breasts.

"She likes it a little rough,"

I murmured, tracing the line of his jaw as he worked my wife's breast in his mouth.

"Feel how hard her nipples get as you nip at them."

Tristan followed my instruction with reverent care, his teeth grazing her skin. Juniper's head fell back against the pillows, a soft sound escaping her throat that made us both want to hear more.

"That's it,"

I encouraged, my lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Just like that. Now try the other side."

Finally, she fed him the rest of the berry, like it was a reward for his hard work, and he ate it, moaning softly as he stared down at her like he was witnessing art, his breathing rough and uneven.

"You're beautiful,"

he said, the words carrying the weight of genuine reverence.

"Both of you. I can't believe this is real."

"Very real,"

I confirmed, my hands mapping the territory of his chest as Juniper reached for both our cocks through whatever fabric remained, when her hands wrapped around us with equal hunger.

"Look at these beautiful cocks,"

she breathed, freeing us from our remaining clothes with efficient movements.

"So different, but both perfect. Marco's long and elegant and uncut. Tristan's thick enough to stretch me so nicely, with such a pretty head."

She shoved our underwear down and stroked us together, comparing length and girth while we both leaked pre-cum across her palms. The visual was overwhelming. I loved watching her silky skin against our flushed flesh, loved seeing how hard his cock got as her fingers dancing between us, making coherent thought impossible.

"I want both of you,"

she said, the admission raw with need.

"Want to feel completely full, completely claimed. Think you can handle fucking me together?"

Tristan's response was a strangled sound that might have been agreement. I could feel his whole body trembling against mine, could tell he was approaching that edge where need overtook fear.

"We can handle anything,"

I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Tell us what you need."

Instead of answering with words, she positioned herself back against the pillows, thighs falling open in an invitation that made us both groan. Her pussy was pink and swollen, already glistening with arousal that spoke of exactly how much our exploration had affected her.

I kept control, kneeling behind Tristan as I guided his body between her legs, my chest pressed against his back while I whispered instructions that were half guidance, half filthy encouragement.

"Start slow,"

I murmured, my hands covering his as he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Let her adjust before you give her everything."

The first push inside made all three of us moan. Juniper's back arched off the bed, her hands clawing at the sheets while Tristan fought for control. I could feel every tremor that ran through his body, could tell the sensation of being inside her overwhelmed him. I ran my hands over his chest, down to his thighs, and cupped balls, then stroked his cock where it impaled my wife. The point where their bodies joined was sexy as hell, and I’d never tire of touching them there, of feeling her pussy lips stretched around his hard shaft.

"Fuck, she feels incredible,"

he gasped.

"Always so tight and hot and perfect."

“Are you feeling better, sweetheart?”

Juniper asked, stroking his

He looked confused for a moment, as if he’d completely forgotten the panic attack had happened. Then he blushed and nodded.

"Move,"

I commanded, my need becoming more intense as I watched them connect.

"Show her how much you want this."

My fingers danced between his balls and her clit as Tristan began to thrust with increasing confidence, each movement drawing sounds from Juniper that made my cock throb with sympathetic need. But watching wasn't enough anymore—I needed to be part of this, needed to claim my place in whatever we were creating.

"Make room,"

I said, my hands guiding them into position.

"I want to feel both of you."

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and for a moment, she simply rode him, writhing on top of him as she ground down onto his thick cock. I leaned forward and kissed her, praising her for treating him so well.

Then I pressed her forward, spreading his legs so I could kneel between them. I positioned myself alongside Tristan, both of us pressing against Juniper's entrance with careful coordination. She was so tight that for a moment I thought we might not both fit, but her body accepted us, adjusting us and wrapping us in her accommodating heat.

"Holy shit,"

she gasped, her voice breaking as we both pressed inside.

"So full, so fucking full. Don't stop, please don't stop."

We found our rhythm through trial and desperate error, moving together in ways that maximized pleasure for all three participants. The sensation was overwhelming—tight heat wrapped around my cock, Tristan's shaft pressed against mine, Juniper's body accepting everything we offered while demanding more.

Her hands clutched wildly at both of us, nails raking down backs and chests while she gasped encouragement that became increasingly incoherent. The visual alone—both our cocks disappearing into her body—was enough to drive any rational thought from my mind.

"I'm close,"

Tristan warned, his voice tight with the effort of holding back.

"Can't last much longer."

"Together,"

I managed, my control hanging by threads.

"All of us together."

Juniper's climax hit first, her body clenching around us with enough force to trigger our own releases. I felt Tristan pulse against me as he emptied himself, hot seed mixing with my own as we both filled her completely. The sensation was overwhelming—physical pleasure amplified by emotional connection, by the knowledge that we'd crossed every remaining boundary together.

We collapsed in a tangle of sweaty limbs and satisfied breathing, none of us capable of movement beyond the gentle touches that confirmed we were all still present, still connected. This was better than any fantasy I'd ever constructed, better than any scenario I'd ever imagined.