Page 53 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Brian

The Amalthea

Watching them get ready for dinner was its own kind of torture.

Enzo stood in front of the suite's full-length mirror, buttoning a crisp white shirt that clung to his shoulders in ways that made my mouth water. Every movement sent muscle shifting beneath the fabric, and all I could think about was peeling that shirt off him, running my hands over the warm skin underneath. The memory of his mouth opening for me in that Valencia courtyard played on repeat in my head—the sweet shock of his surrender, the way he'd melted against the stone wall when I'd wrapped my hand around his throat.

My cock had been half-hard for hours now, a constant ache that refused to subside no matter how many times I tried to think about quarterly reports or tax law. Usually, by this point, I'd have opened Grindr or one of the other apps, found someone willing to meet me in their hotel room or a bathroom stall, anywhere I could fuck away the need that lived under my skin like a fever.

But every time I reached for my phone, my brain conjured images of Enzo's dark eyes going wide with want, or the way Gemma had watched us kiss with that hungry expression that made me wonder what she'd look like as I sank between her legs.

Christ. I was fucked.

Gemma emerged from the walk-in closet wearing a black cocktail dress that should have been illegal. The fabric hugged every curve, the neckline offering enough cleavage to make my hands itch to touch. She moved with that dancer's grace, every step deliberate and elegant. I hoped like hell that she was unaware of how she was destroying my already fragile self-control.

"What do you think?"

She smoothed the dress over her hips.

"Too much for the ship's main dining room?"

Too much for my sanity, maybe. The wine from earlier had left her cheeks flushed and her movements looser, more sensual than her usual cool precision. When she turned to check her reflection, the dress pulled tight across her ass, and I had to bite back a groan.

"Perfect,"

I managed, my voice coming out rougher than I'd intended.

Enzo was staring at me in the mirror, his shirt only half-buttoned, like he'd forgotten what he was doing. His gaze kept dropping to my mouth, and I could practically feel the heat of his attention burning across my skin. Every few seconds, his tongue would dart out to wet his lips, and I'd remember the taste of him, the way he'd whimpered when I'd deepened the kiss.

The tension in the suite was thick enough to cut with a knife. We'd been dancing around each other since we'd gotten back from Valencia, making polite conversation to mask whatever we were all feeling, crackling between us like electricity. I couldn’t handle dinner with them. Wasn’t sure I’d survive the night sleeping in the same room.

But not once had I felt the urge to go fuck someone else, which was… interesting.

I imagined what would happen if I ignored my sensible side and pulled them both onto that massive bed. If I stripped Gemma out of that amazing dress and taught Enzo what his pretty mouth was made for. The thought sent blood rushing south so fast it made me dizzy. My cock strained against my pants, demanding attention I couldn't give it, not with them both so fucking close and so off-limits.

My brother’s fiancée and his fucking best friend.

"You're not getting dressed."

Gemma’s tone was carefully neutral.

"The reservation is in twenty minutes."

I glanced down at my rumpled button-down and khakis, the same clothes I'd worn to Valencia. The fabric felt too tight, too hot, like my skin was trying to crawl out of it. The thought of sitting through a formal dinner, making polite conversation while my body screamed for relief, was unbearable.

"I think I'll stay in tonight. Order room service, get a little rest."

Gemma's expression shifted, disappointment flickering across her features before she could hide it.

"Are you sure?"She stepped closer. The movement brought her perfume with it—something expensive and subtle that made me want to bury my face in her neck.

"We could change the reservation, eat somewhere more casual..."

"I'm sure,"

I said, even though every cell in my body was screaming at me to go with them, to spend the evening watching Gemma laugh over wine and catching Enzo staring at my mouth across the table.

"You two have fun. Take pictures."

Enzo finished buttoning his shirt, but his movements were distracted, clumsy. The kiss had changed things between us, shifted some fundamental dynamic that I didn't understand yet.

"Brian. If you want to talk about earlier..."

Enzo bit his lip, his eyes darting to the side, and I could imagine what he was thinking about.

"Nothing to talk about,"

I cut him off, probably too quickly.

"Just showing you what attraction looks like between guys. For educational purposes only."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but the alternative—admitting that kissing him had been the most intense kiss I'd had in years—wasn't an option. We were trapped together in this room for seventeen more days, and I knew how it would go if things got deeper.

It could only end with me hurting Enzo. That was in my nature, and I’d come to accept it, come to accept my faults.

"Right. Educational."

It was clear that he was hurt by my words, but I couldn’t take them back.

They left a few minutes later, Gemma's hand resting lightly on Enzo's arm as they walked toward the door. The casual intimacy of the gesture sent jealousy spearing through my chest, but not because I wanted to be with either of them, because I wanted to be with both. The thought of them together, of Gemma's elegant hands on Enzo's skin, of his mouth learning the taste of her...

I should be there, too. Touching him. Kissing her.

Fuck. I was losing my mind.

The moment the door clicked shut behind them, I was stripping out of my clothes with desperate efficiency. My skin felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for relief. The shower called to me like salvation, the promise of cool water and a few minutes of privacy to deal with the need that was eating me alive.

The marble bathroom was a study in luxury, all clean lines and expensive fixtures that would have impressed me under normal circumstances. Now, all I cared about was the massive shower with its rainfall head and multiple jets that invited you in. The glass walls made it all but impossible to enjoy when Gemma and Enzo were around, but I was finally alone.

I turned the water on hot—fuck cooling off, I needed the heat—and stepped under the spray with a groan of relief. Steam filled the space immediately, turning the air thick and humid. Water cascaded over my shoulders, down my chest, following the trail of hair that led to my aching cock.

I tried to focus on washing, on the mundane task of cleaning away the day's sweat and sunscreen. But my hands kept lingering, tracing paths that made my breath catch, and when my fingers brushed my nipples, I couldn't hold back the low moan that escaped my throat.

This was why I used the apps. Why I fucked strangers in hotel rooms and bathroom stalls and anywhere else I could find relief. Because when I went too long without it, when the need built up like pressure in a closed system, I became someone I didn't recognize. Someone desperate and needy and out of control.

My hand drifted lower, fingertips tracing the line of my abs, following the water's path until I reached the coarse hair at the base of my cock. I was already fully hard, the tip flushed dark with blood and leaking pre-cum that the shower spray washed away as quickly as it appeared.

I wrapped my fingers around my shaft with a shuddering breath, the familiar weight and heat sending pleasure sparking up my spine. The first stroke was slow, experimental, but the second was faster, more urgent, and by the third I was lost to the rhythm, my head falling back against the marble wall as I worked myself with practiced efficiency.

Images flashed behind my closed eyelids—Enzo's mouth opening for me, Gemma's dress clinging to her curves, the way they'd both looked at me with naked want. I imagined Enzo on his knees, those full lips stretched around my cock while Gemma watched, pressed against my side and touching us both. The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel his tongue, almost hear Gemma's voice.

My pace quickened, my breathing harsh in the steamy air. I was close, so fucking close, pleasure building at the base of my spine like molten metal. My free hand braced against the wall, holding me steady as I chased the release that would quiet the noise in my head.

The soft click of the suite door opening didn’t register through the haze of arousal. It wasn't until I heard Gemma's sharp intake of breath that my eyes snapped open, reality crashing back like a bucket of ice water.

They were clearly visible through glass that refused to fog up, perhaps by design. And they were standing in the doorway, frozen in shock. Gemma's hand was pressed to her mouth, her green eyes wide and dark with something that looked like hunger. Enzo stood behind her, staring at my naked body with an expression of pure want that made my cock twitch in my grip.

"Fuck.”

I tore my hand from my cock, fumbling for the shower controls.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, I thought you were at dinner—"

"I forgot my purse,"

Gemma said.

The water shut off with a harsh clank, leaving the bathroom in sudden silence except for my ragged breathing and the steady drip of water from the showerhead. Steam swirled around me, creating an atmosphere that felt dreamlike, surreal, but somehow, they remained clearly visible.

I grabbed a towel from the heated rack, wrapping it around my waist with hands that shook. My cock was still hard, still tenting the terry cloth in a way that was impossible to hide. The orgasm I'd been chasing felt like a distant memory now, replaced by mortification so intense it made my stomach churn.

I walked through the bathroom door into the main suite.

"I'm sorry, that was incredibly inappropriate—"

"Was it?"

Gemma's voice stopped me in my tracks. When I turned, she was looking at me with that same predatory focus she'd had in Valencia, like she was seeing something that fascinated her.

"There’s nothing wrong with masturbation, and you thought you were alone. Unless it was your thoughts that were inappropriate."

I stared at her, my brain struggling to process her words. Behind her, Enzo was still staring at my body, his gaze tracking water droplets as they rolled down my chest and disappeared beneath the towel.

"Gemma. You're my brother’s fiancée—”

“Ex-fiancée,”

she corrected.”

“Ex-fiancée, but still. And Enzo is his best friend. This is exactly the kind of situation that ruins friendships and destroys families."

She stepped closer, her heels clicking on the marble floor. The sound echoed in the steamy space, sharp and decisive.

"Jake abandoned me two days before our wedding. He doesn’t get a vote."

There was steel in her voice, a core of anger I'd never heard before. It made her seem dangerous, unpredictable, nothing like the controlled CEO I thought I knew.

"Besides,”

she paused, her gaze dropping to the obvious bulge beneath my towel.

"It would be a shame to ignore such a... substantial need."

My mouth went dry. "Gemma..."

"Enzo," she said.

"you mentioned wanting to know what it felt like. To touch another man intimately."

Enzo made a sound like a strangled whimper, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I... yeah. I did."

Gemma’s smile turned wicked.

"Well, here's your chance. If you want to try sucking your first cock, I don't think you'll find a more willing volunteer."

The words hit me like a physical blow, sending heat rushing through my veins so fast it made me dizzy. My cock throbbed against the towel, demanding attention, and I had to grip the edge of the dresser to keep from swaying.

Gemma's eyes sparkled with mischief and wine and something darker, hungrier.

"What do you say, Brian? Would you like Enzo to take care of your… problem?"

I looked at Enzo, my heart hammering against my ribs. His face was flushed, his breathing uneven, but his eyes... his eyes were full of want and curiosity and a desperate need that mirrored my own.

"Enzo, is she right? Do you want to...?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was in a trance. His knees hit the carpet with a soft thud, and he looked up at me with those dark eyes, waiting.

Like a fucking offering.

I glanced towards Gemma, who had her arms folded over her chest, her eyes wide. She grinned at me.

“This is alarmingly sexy,”

she said.

“And it feels slightly like revenge. Imagine what Jake would say.”

I laughed softly as I stepped closer to Enzo, reaching down and cupping the back of his head, stroking his curls out of his eyes. His breathing was coming fast, nervous, but he settled as I smoothed my hands over his cheeks and jaw.

“You can say no at any time.”

He grinned up at me, his usual cocky bravado surfacing again.

“It’s okay if you want to admit you’ve been dying to throat fuck me with that big fucking dick for ages.”

I snorted.

“If only to shut you up.”

His cheeky smile widened at the truth behind my admission. I sighed and stroked my thumbs down the ridge of his cheekbones, softening my voice.

“You’re beautiful, sweetheart. Of course I’ve thought about fucking you.”

His soft gasp told me all I needed to know.