Page 62 of Don't Puck Up

He went slowly, edging in so I could feel every thick inch of him stretching me to the limit and rubbing against Chris’s cock. My shout was barely a whimper. My voice had been stolen.

I was stuffed full of them. They moved, one pulling out to their cockhead as the other drove inside me. Then they changed up the pace, both of them withdrawing and bucking into me at the same time. Every time I got used to it, they changed things up, keeping me on the edge while still climbing toward a monster orgasm.

Their moans and grunts were a symphony to my ears. I was unable to see, but I didn’t need to. I knew they were riding a high too. V’s hand tightened on my hip, and he slid his other up to my breast, tweaking my nipple as his movements stuttered.

“Too good,” he moaned, then slid his hand down my body. I felt him interlace his fingers with Chris’s and lift it to my other breast. Chris played with my nipple, sliding his other hand between my legs to roll my clit between his fingers. It was sensation overload. The stretch, the fullness, and the way they were moving inside me, playing my body like a finely tuned instrument, had me shattering. I cried out, shaking in their strong hold.

V turned my face and pressed his lips to mine, his tongue delving deep as I quaked.

My arms gave out, but V was holding me tight. He lowered me gently into Chris’s embrace, and their focus shifted to chasing their own highs. Their hands on my hips and legs tightened. They moved faster, need overruling any careful control they’d been exercising. The punched their hips forward, pressing every button with perfect precision until my core tightened again, and another orgasm rocked through me.

Darkness surrounded me, and I heard their muffled cries, but I was swimming underwater in an ocean of ecstasy. The sting of them pulling out of me barely registered. The damp cloth on my heated skin was soothing. Warmth surrounded me, and I heard myself say, “We love you being our secret.”

twenty-one

Locke

The problem with my well-thought-out plan was that it worked. I’d lost the mask while still maintaining my anonymity. I’d kissed them both. Good God, they were incredible. I was already addicted, but now I was completely gone for them. That first brush of my lips against theirs had changed everything. I couldn’t stop after that. I’d gorged on them, tasting every inch of them until need had overwhelmed us all.

It had been incredible. It was everything I’d dreamed of and more. But the thing that had cinched the deal was Kamirah and Chris’s trust. I’d removed their ability to see what I was doing, and they hadn’t hesitated to trust me.

What would they get in return? Their trust broken.

I picked up my clothes and looked at them one last time. They were curled up together on the bed, already fast asleep. They hadn’t even stirred when I’d removed their blindfolds.

The walls began closing in on me. I needed to get out of here.

I tiptoed down the stairs, trying not to wake them, my heart shattering into a million pieces with each footstep I placed between us.

Screwed was an apt description. I was epically fucked.

Commitment didn’t scare me. Hell, I’d jump into a relationship with them right now if I could. But that was the problem. It was also the whole point of my hairbrained scheme this weekend. I’d planned on coming out to them. I had the misguided idea that I would reveal my identity, then spend the weekend doing all the things I hadn’t been able to do with them while wearing a mask—kiss, cuddle after sex, fall asleep together, take a shower with them, you name it. It was all supposed to be happy boyfriend to the married couple.

But that wasn’t how life worked.

Hearing Kamirah remind me that I was their secret was like a gut punch. In my need to get to them, I’d forgotten that about myself. I’d ignored the one reason I’d continued with the mask—hiding my identity to protect them. It had completely disappeared from view. I’d gotten to Big Bear as quickly as I could—via a small commercial flight—but it had taken me straight through LAX.

They only had half of the information they needed to be able to decide whether to trust me. I wasn’t someone who could be kept secret, and not in a “Nobody puts Baby in a corner” kind of way, but in a “My face is public property” way. People saw me in LAX. They followed me, the circle closing around me until security had to step in and clear me a path. Fans—the same people who made and could break my career—were interested in my life. It’s what I’d signed on for when my agent told me I’d scored the role of a lifetime, then another and another. I sacrificed some of my privacy for the sake of my career.

But Chris was holding onto his privacy with an iron-clad grip.

If I revealed who I was to them—hell, if I kept seeing them—eventually, shit would hit the fan, and everything they’d worked to protect—the largest of those things being the truth of Chris’s sexuality—would ultimately be made public. And if it did, I’d be faced with Chris walking away just like he did with Hux. I wasn’t sure if I could handle that.

I couldn’t change who I was. Sure, I could walk away from acting, I could move out to the country and live a simple life away from fame-obsessed Hollywood. But how would that help? It would only put distance between us. We wouldn’t have achieved anything except exploding Chris and Kamirah’s reality into a million pieces. The fact was that I was a movie star. The world knew I was bisexual. I drew the public’s attention.

They needed discreet. They needed someone who blended in and wouldn’t get noticed. Someone who wouldn’t rock the foundations of their world again. They already lived like hermits. The TMZ article had done a number on them. They were prisoners in their own home, terrified of doing anything in front of their neighbors. Their biggest fear was ending up front page news again.

If anyone got wind of me visiting them once or twice, it’d be easily explainable as a friendship. But more than that was a fucking disaster in the making, especially with me coming and going in the dead of night. Chris was so deep in the closet that literally only a handful of people knew his true orientation. Every relationship he’d had was predicated on being discreet, on hiding—and then there was me.

I’d been careless enough already. I’d been to their house far too many times over the past few months. I’d done exactly what their ex had—parked a short walk away and slunk around in the shadows to enter from anywhere but the front door—and look where it ended up with him.

It'd fucking ruin me if they turned away from me. But what else did I expect would happen?

I had to act. I couldn’t risk them—not when I was so fucking in love with them. There was a reason why Chris was closeted. It wasn’t because of the team—there was already one bi guy on it, and if I wasn’t misinterpreting what I’d seen at the New Year’s Eve party, there was at least one other. So, it was something else.

Butwhatever it was, it ultimately didn’t matter. I was their secret. Hearing it out loud made me realize just how wrong I was for them. I couldn’t be what they needed, not when I would draw so much attention to them. I couldn’t hurt them, and I definitely couldn’t protect them if we were together.

Which left me with one option—walk away.