Just This Once (Just Us Series Book 1) Read online

  Just This Once

  An MMF Bi Menage Romance

  Copyright © 2019 by Roxanne Riley

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any portrayal of any person living or dead is completely coincidental and not intentional. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission from the author, other than brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews or promotion.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Lacey

  Chapter Two

  Adam

  Chapter Three

  Lacey

  Chapter Four

  Adam

  Chapter Five

  Lacey

  Chapter Six

  Lacey

  Chapter Seven

  Dante

  Chapter Eight

  Adam

  Chapter Nine

  Lacey

  Chapter Ten

  Dante

  Two weeks Later

  Epilogue

  Lacey

  One Year Later

  Special Inside Look into Double the Luck!

  Chapter One

  Lacey

  My best friend greets me at the baggage claim of the airport with all of the deranged excitement of a cocaine-fueled squirrel. She pounces on me, nearly toppling me over, and her squeal of excitement leaves my ears ringing.

  We haven’t seen each other in close to a year now, and I know Max (short for Maxine) has missed me. And frankly, it’s my own fault I haven’t come to visit. “Max, you’re crushing me,” I wheeze, wriggling in her embrace and trying to blow a handful of her brown curls away from my face.

  “Suck it up,” she replies cheerfully, “The price of staying at Chez Maxine is the destruction of your ribcage.”

  I manage a weak chuckle despite her vice-grip, and briefly wonder about punctured lungs. But she finally releases me and looks me up and down fully. “Holy shit, girl, you look amazing!”

  “Yeah, well, stress diet,” I say with a small smile.

  Max frowns. “Did you manage to find a place before you left?”

  I nod. “I found a cheap month-to-month place for now.”

  She makes a face. “Sounds skeevy.”

  “Better than the alternative,” I sigh, snagging my bag off the carousel, “I can’t afford to keep staying in hotels, and all of the apartments in my price range seem to have no vacancies.”

  “You could move out here with me,” she cajoles, grabbing my bag from me and leading me outside.

  I snort. “Like I could afford it, it’s ten times more expensive to live out here, even if I am splitting with you.”

  “You could find a job that actually uses your degree instead of wasting your talents,” she shoots back.

  I hold my hands up placatingly, laughing. “Ok, ok, I’ll think about it, I promise.”

  She tosses my bag in the trunk and we get into the car. “But seriously, are you holding up ok?” she asks.

  I nod firmly. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  “And everything else? No more headaches, no more dizzy spells?” she looks at me worriedly.

  “Not for a while, no,” I say.

  I find myself subconsciously reaching for a spot on the back of my head. Carefully concealed under the top layer, there’s a spot where my blonde hair is only about an inch and a half long, in the places around the scar where it actually grew back.

  Max reaches over and pats my leg. "Don't worry," she says, "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even remember his name."

  "Whose name?" I ask, a smile beginning to curl the edges of my lips.

  "Attagirl!" Max crows.

  I grin, but the truth is that I've barely given any thought to The Asshole since The Incident. It was freeing to be rid of him.

  But being single again had me thinking about… Him.

  Adam.

  My "One that got away."

  Adam Olsen had been my high school sweetheart, but then he had gotten an incredible scholarship at a school I couldn't afford, and being split across the country had ruined us.

  But I'd never really moved on. I had tried, but no one compared. And so I had ended up in a string of awful relationships, with the latest being the worst.

  I don't know how to share my heart with anyone else when he still has a hold on it.

  "Earth to Lacey," Max chants, startling me from my brooding thoughts, "You alive in there?"

  I blink and smile. "Yeah, sorry, just zoned. Guess the jet lag is hitting me."

  "Well, we'll just have to pump you full of caffeine, then!" Max quips cheerfully, "Because there is no stopping us today."

  "There's never any stopping you," I shoot back, half laughing and half groaning at her energy.

  But true to her threats, she pumps me full of energy drink and the two of us spend the day on a mad tear through town. Manicures, pedicures, and Max drags me through a dozen or so of her favorite shops.

  By the time I collapse onto her fold-out couch, I'm so exhausted I'm sure I'm going to crash immediately, but my brain stubbornly refuses to shut off.

  My thoughts are drawn right back to Adam, and I think back to the last day I ever saw him, a week after I turned eighteen and the day before he left for school.

  "Come with me tomorrow," he whispers against my lips.

  I'm straddling him, our shirts abandoned somewhere on the stairs and my pants tossed aside somewhere else. My dad said he wouldn’t be home until later tonight, and we have the whole house to ourselves.

  “What?” I laugh, kissing him again, “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” he asks, pulling his face from mine and looking into my eyes, “Lace, I can take care of you. You know that.”

  A heady swirl of emotions surges through me and I slide off of him. All I want is to run away with him, to hand myself over to him completely, and that terrifies me.

  I know I can’t. I have to be more than just his girl, I have to have a life of my own. And to me, that means my own job and my own education. But the lure of running away with him is heady, with the alternative being a semester of basics and panicking over my “undeclared” major.

  I’ve been crying myself to sleep for over a month, at war with myself. I wonder if my head and my heart will ever be on speaking terms again.

  No matter what I choose, I lose.

  “I’m not just gonna come be your little housewife while you actually make something of yourself,” I reply, the words coming out harsher than I mean them to.

  “That’s not what I meant-” he protests, sitting up.

  “Then what did you mean? I can’t afford the schools out there,” I fold my arms across my chest, “You’re asking me to give up any kind of a future of my own.”

  He sighs, “You’re right. It’s not fair for me to ask you that.”

  Tears sting my eyes and I look away from him, not wanting him to see. But he knows me too well. He comes over to me and pulls me into his arms. “Shit, Lace, I’m sorry, please don’t cry. We’re going to make this work,” he strokes my hair, trying to comfort me, “I’m coming to visit you over Thanksgiving, and we’re both flying home for Christmas, it’s going to be fine.”

  “I want to go with you,” I admit, “I want to give up everything and just let you be my future. But we both know better.”

  I lean my head against his chest, listening to the thrum of his heartbeat. “It’s just four years,” he murmurs, “We
can do this.”

  I nod, then look up at him. “I love you,” I whisper.

  “Love you, too,” he says, smiling that crooked grin that makes my heart stop.

  I stand on tiptoe to kiss him, and we melt into each other, falling back into my bed and shedding the last of our clothes. Somehow in the madness, Adam rolls on a condom before pinning me down and moving into me.

  I cling to him, my legs around his waist. It feels like I can’t pull him close enough, and he sinks deeper and deeper into me with every thrust. His teeth find my lower lip and he bites down, and that little flash of pain brings out something feral in me.

  My nails sink into his back, and I tear my mouth from his to trail kisses along his jaw until I reach his neck and bite down.

  The scrape of my teeth on his flesh makes him let out a growl of pleasure and he slams into me harder. Our lovemaking becomes rough, animal, like we’re desperate to leave our marks on each other.

  And we do. My neck and breasts are dappled with bruises from love bites, and so are his chest and throat. There are long scratches down his back, and when my orgasm sneaks up and steals my breath, I kiss him so hard I taste blood, and I can’t say for sure if it’s Adam’s or my own.

  My climax almost always seems to triggers his, and as I’m still reeling with aftershocks, he grips my hips hard enough to bruise as he cums, thrusting deep into me with a groan.

  He rests his forehead on mine, both of our faces damp with sweat as we try desperately to catch our breath.

  I try to memorize every inch of his face, from that scar on his eyebrow to the constellation of freckles across his nose and cheeks. I nearly lose myself in the ocean of his eyes. With his blonde hair and sun-kissed skin, he’s like sunshine personified. So I soak up every bit of the warmth while I can, and all the while, I try to tell myself that this won’t be the last time. It can’t be the last time.

  But it was the last time, I think as I’m drifting to sleep, my heart still racing and my body aching with need from the memory of his touch.

  He wound up playing a game over Thanksgiving and had to cancel his visit. My dad had passed away a week later, and because I went home for the funeral, I didn’t end up sticking around for Christmas.

  After my dad died, I grew more and more withdrawn. The skimpy phone calls, letters, and Skype that we managed to squeeze in around both of our classes and his athletic schedule trickled to a halt. Every time he hung up, I was left aching.

  I desperately wanted his comfort, but it felt hollow without his arms around me.

  And I just wasn’t strong enough to miss him that much. So despite the fact that it tore me apart, I let him go.

  Even now, sometimes I can’t help but think that I should have just run away with him when he asked me. I never did stop missing him.

  Chapter Two

  Adam

  “Quit it, you’re spilling my drink,” I feel Dante’s hand clamp down on my thigh, stilling my bouncing leg.

  “Sorry,” I try and relax, “I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

  “What are you nervous about?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink, something electric blue that smells strongly of rum and pineapple.

  “I’ve never done this before,” I say, as if it’s obvious.

  Dante laughs. “Slept with a girl? Yes, you have!”

  Lacey’s face flashes through my mind, bringing along its familiar ache. I push the thought aside in annoyance. It pisses me off that I still let her get in my head, after all these years. Not that it was her fault we broke up, just…

  I’ve moved on with my life. So why does it still feel like a punch to the gut every time I think about her?

  “That’s not what I meant,” I grumble, “I’m not used to…sharing.”

  “Neither am I,” Dante says, “But you said the idea of it turned you on, right?”

  I nod, even as I feel my face heat. Dante leans in and kisses me, his hand resting on my cheek. “We both agreed it was one of our biggest fantasies, so all we’re doing is giving it a try, ok?”

  “Ok, ok,” I grin at him, “I’m not backing out, I’m just nervous. What if we meet some gorgeous vixen who steals you away from me?”

  Dante snorts. “Please. Who could compare?” he runs his fingers down my chest and abs, deliberately brushing lightly with his fingertips to make me twitch and squirm.

  I grab his wrists. “You’re asking for it,” I warn, my threat all seductive and no edge.

  “Not just yet, but I promise, I’ll be begging for your cock later,” he whispers in my ear, stirring the aforementioned cock within my jeans.

  I take a long drink of my ice-cold beer. My fiancé and I are out at this local nightclub, Ecstasia, which has a sort-of not-so-secret reputation as a swingers’ place. Which led Dante to believe that it was the perfect place to find what we were after.

  He and I are both bisexual men, and we’d spent a lot of hours talking about our fantasies. We’d acted out a few, and I’m honestly not sure which I’ve enjoyed more: fulfilling his or letting him fulfill mine.

  But the one we kept coming back to, the one we both wanted most, was to share a woman. The idea of getting to watch some beautiful girl ride Dante’s dick turns me on more than any porn I’ve ever watched.

  So tonight, we had decided to gather our courage and give it a shot. Although so far, the place has been kind of a clusterfuck, so we’ve been sitting at the bar and scoping the place out to see if anyone catches our interest. There aren’t a lot of single girls around, though, to our disappointment. It looks like the vast majority of them are coupled up. If not “throupled” or more.

  The club, for the most part, is a lot like any other nightclub. Loud music, dancing, overpriced drinks. But there are also plush couches along every wall featuring people in all stages of hooking up. There are also some “private” rooms up a flight of stairs for those who aren’t into exhibitionism.

  I don’t know how they get away with it, but the place seems surprisingly open about their reputation as a playground for kinksters.

  A nervous thrill runs through me and I take another drink, scanning the room once more. Dante chuckles. “Relax, my love,” he says, “She’ll find us when she finds us. Whoever she is.”

  Dante’s like that. A big believer in destiny and “going with the flow.” And while for the most part, I admire his free spirit, part of it makes me sad for him.

  He says he very firmly believes that everything happens for a reason and that he believes in karma. So the fact that he seems to believe he deserves any part of what he’s been through upsets me.

  When I mentioned that to him, though, he just shrugged and told me that it didn’t matter. “Every hot coal I walked on was just one step I took that brought me closer to you,” he’d said.

  Sappy idiot. I love him.

  So I try to channel his energy, to relax and let my guard down a little, try and have a good time.

  Who knows? Maybe we won’t even find the right girl tonight. We talked it through and we want to take our time and wait for the girl that feels right to both of us. Maybe it seems like a lot for a one-night stand, but if we’re only doing this once, we want it to be worth it.

  We’re going to show this girl, whoever she is, the night of her life.

  Chapter Three

  Lacey

  “No way. Not a chance. Absolutely not.”

  I fold my arms over my chest as I appraise myself in Max’s floor-length mirror. “Hell will freeze over before there is any way I’m going out in public in this dress.”

  Max has stuffed me into a clingy, ice-blue dress that leaves next to nothing to the imagination. The hem is so short that I can’t bend over more than a few inches before my ass cheeks are exposed. And she paired it with strappy silver heels that leave me tottering around like a drunken baby giraffe.

  “Don’t be such a drama queen,” Max wheedles, “You look so hot!”

  While I would never admit it, I secretly think she’s right. T
he dress does great things for my curvy body, and the heels, while awkward, do make my legs look fantastic.

  “I’m gonna trip and show the entire world my ass!” I protest.

  “No, you won’t,” Max insists, “You’ll come out, you’ll drink, you’ll dance, I’ll show you the time of your life!”

  She shakes me by the shoulders as if to punctuate her sentence, manic energy rolling off of her in waves.

  She’s been practically peeing herself in excitement all day, but she won’t tell me why. I know she’s not that excited about some nightclub, so I have no idea what kind of shenanigans she’s planning to throw at me.

  “We could have a good time here, just hanging out together and watching chick flicks,” I counter.

  “No way, we have to go tonight!” Max says, quickly vetoing my idea.

  “Why? What is so important and magical about this club?” I ask.

  “I just think it’s going to be fun,” Max replies, but the lie is glaringly obvious, and one look at my face and she immediately knows I’m not buying it.

  She sighs, dropping the act. “Look, you don’t have to wear the dress. You can come out in a burlap sack for all I care, but I really want you to come out with me tonight. There are a couple of people I really want you to meet.”

  She fidgets with a pendant while she speaks, a silver heart that at first I think is Celtic, but then I see that it’s an infinity symbol sort of in the center of it. There’s a look on her face that I’ve never seen before, something vulnerable and tender. Whoever gave her that necklace is important to her, and it’s important to her that I meet them and like them.

  I sigh. “If I flash anyone my ass, I’m blaming you,” I grumble.

  Her face lights up and she throws her arms around me with a squeal. “Wear some cute panties and suck it up, buttercup!”

  A little while later, I’m being swallowed up by flashing lights and pounding music. Ecstasia, the club she’s dragged me to, is packed, and I’m immediately overwhelmed. She looks around, and I can feel the excitement rolling off of her in waves.