Faking with Benefits : Chapter 18

Josh passes me my plate. “We get to know each other.”

My insides immediately clam up. “I already know you both.”

“Not everything.” His dark eyes flash up to mine. “There are lots of things I don’t know about you. You’re not a particularly chatty person.”

I swallow, looking back down at my plate. “Maybe I like it that way.”

“On dates, people talk, Layla. That’s the point.”

I sigh, poking at my lasagne. “Alright, then. Ask me something.”

He pauses for a few seconds. I tighten my grip on my fork, praying that he won’t ask anything embarrassing.

I didn’t expect to be so nervous on this date. After the last one, I was hoping that I’d be more relaxed, but it feels like I’m right back where I started. Josh and Zack have both lost their suit jackets and ties, and they look absolutely edible with their collars open, sleeves rolled up. Zack stretches next to me, unsubtly wrapping an arm around me, and my heartrate just ratchets even higher.

“What made you get into fashion design?” Josh asks.

I relax. This one’s easy. “Well. It all started out because I was a scholarship student. Emery High — the school where Luke taught me — is a private academy. My parents couldn’t afford the tuition, but I got a scholarship.” I take a bite of food, chewing quickly. “Problem was, the whole uniform cost about two grand altogether. I used to scrounge second-hand stuff from the lost property and try to tailor it to fit me. Took out hems, stitched up holes, stuff like that. But no matter how good I got at sewing, the clothes still looked old. I stuck out in my class like a sore thumb. It wasn’t particularly fun being The Poor Kid.”

“Posh knobs,” Zack mutters, trying to steal some melted cheese off my plate.

I bat him away, smiling when he kisses my cheek in apology. “I was working in a shopping centre at the time, in the lingerie section. They’d given all the employees some store credit as a Christmas bonus, and I saw this push-up in the clearance section. It was hot pink and bright orange lace. I thought it was hot as Hell, so I bought it and wore it to school the next day. And I felt… confident. Pretty. Underneath my ugly, patched up clothes, I had something special on.” I shrug. “I wanted to make other people feel like that. So I signed up for A-levels in Textiles and Design, got into London Fashion School for undergrad, and the rest is history.”

Josh smiles slightly. “You had your whole life planned out when you were sixteen?”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not at all.” He spears a piece of tomato. “Your parents must be proud.”

“I think they’re a bit confused that I went to such a fancy school and came out determined to sell undies, but they’re supportive. I don’t see them much.”

“You’re not close?”

“I just… don’t have time. I don’t even remember the last time I had a day off.”

“You should see them,” Josh says quietly. “I bet they miss you.”

I glance across at him. “What about you? How does your family feel about you talking about handcuffs and squirting on the internet?”

“My brother thinks it’s hilarious. My dad…” he pauses for a moment, his face glossing over. “He’s…”

“A total prick,” Zack supplies.

Josh nods. “He has informed me on multiple occasions that having a son who runs an ‘agony aunt’ column is deeply embarrassing. But I don’t exactly care about his opinion. He’s a terrible person.”

Crap. “And your mum?” I follow up, almost scared to ask.

Josh doesn’t say anything, spinning his water glass between his fingers. I may be socially stunted, but I know how to take a hint, so I turn to Zack. “What about your parents?”

“They don’t mind me doin’ the podcast,” he says happily. “I think they’re still kinda sad I’m not playing rugby, though. It was my dream ever since I was a kid. They were as cut up as me when I injured my knee.”

“Did you have to get surgery?”

“Oh, aye.” He yanks up the ankle of his dress trousers, showing me the long scar striping down the front of his knee.

I trace my finger over the raised skin. “I wish I could’ve seen you play rugby.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, love. I was a prick back then.”

“You’re a prick now,” I say kindly. “Does it still hurt?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “S’fine.”

“It sometimes still gives out,” Josh says drily. “I keep telling him to get it checked out, but he won’t listen.”

“Hate hospitals,” Zack mutters. “It’s fine.”

I lean against his side. “I’m sorry you had to stop playing. That must have been awful.”

He looks pathetic. “It was. Sometimes I even amaze myself with my own bravery and resilience. Will you kiss me better?”

“I guess I have to,” I sigh, setting down my plate. “You are my boyfriend. Get here, then.”

“Nice,” Zack mutters, dropping his trouser leg and pulling my mouth roughly to his.

I kiss him back hard, melting against him. It’s hard to imagine that one week ago, I thought I didn’t like kissing. I think I could kiss Josh and Zack all day and not get enough. As Zack gently nudges my mouth open, licking into me, I feel my belly flip, warmth spreading through me.

Suddenly, I feel another hot mouth on my neck. I gasp as Josh presses in behind me, trailing a line of soft, sucking kisses down my throat. Immediately, my whole body goes into overdrive. If getting kissed by one guy was hot, being kissed by two men, my body sandwiched between theirs, is practically orgasmic. I have to force back a shiver as Josh licks a hot line down the side of my throat. I can already feel my underwear getting damp as arousal coils inside me. My head starts to spin. I can’t get enough air in.

“Layla,” Josh mutters into my skin.

I turn to face him blindly, crashing our lips together. He inhales sharply, then kisses me back, hard. We surge into each other. On my other side, Zack’s hands curve over my hips. I shiver as his big fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, sending goosebumps streaking over my skin. I arch into him. Zack gets the message, reaching up to cup one of my breasts in one big hand. I start to pant slightly as Josh touches my face, kissing me harder. Our mouths roll together, slow and sensual, tugging at each other as Zack’s hand climbs my chest. When his thumb finally strokes over my tingling nipple, I can’t stop the moan that falls out of me, my whole body starting to shake.

Josh jerks away like I’ve burned him, his cheeks flaming.

“Do… you want dessert?” He says quickly. “I’ve got ice cream.” He jumps to his feet. “Let me just get it.”

He disappears into the kitchenette. I watch him go, gasping. “Crap. Did we go too far?”

Zack nuzzles my neck. “Nah. He probably just wants to make sure you finish your dinner date.”

I smile. “I never thought he could be so domestic.” I always thought of Josh as so uptight and business-oriented. Kind of like me. I’ve never seen this softer side to him before, but it’s very sweet.

“He’s just tryin’ to impress you,” Zack murmurs, stroking his hand over my stomach. “He only ever cooks for girls. I remember he used to make Sunday roast every week when we were dating Monica. Only southerner I ever met who can make a decent gravy.”

I roll my eyes, pulling away from him. “Right. When you were all dating your ex, Monica.”

Zack snorts. “You really think she doesn’t exist, don’t you? Hang on, we’ve got pictures.” Still holding onto me, he pulls out his phone, flipping through his photo album. “Here.” He shows me the screen.

I lean in for a better look. In the picture, all three guys are sitting on a park bench with a dark-haired girl. She’s perched between Luke and Zack’s laps, leaning across to hold Josh’s hand. He’s smiling across at her, his face full of affection.

I freeze. “Wait. You’re telling me that your four-way was real?”

Josh comes back to the table, setting out three bowls of vanilla ice cream. “Yes.”

I look up at him. “Monica wasn’t just a bit for the podcast?”

He gives me an odd look, sitting back down next to me. “We don’t lie on the podcast.”

“I…” I can feel my face heating. My stomach twists as I study the picture. Luke’s hand is on Monica’s hip, and Zack is kissing her neck. All three of them have been naked together in a bed, getting off one girl? It seems like some kind of fantasy.

“Here.” I jump as something cold touches my lips. Opening my mouth, I let Josh feed me a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, letting the sweetness melt on my tongue.

“So you actually all slept with the same woman? For real?”

“Yes,” Josh says patiently. “Repeatedly. For several years. Why did you think we were so happy to share you?”

I gape. “I… but… how the Hell did that happen?!”

He shrugs. “We’d been discussing group relationships for years on the podcast. Once you get used to the idea, it starts to just seem… normal. Logical, actually. We live in a society which tells us that we’re supposed to get everything we need, physically and emotionally, from one person. But that’s impossible.”

Zack nods. “Aye. Monica was a guest speaker at a convention we attended. We had a drink with her in the bar after, and she suggested it. We all said yes, and it went from there.”

“Wow.” I sit back, blinking. “And you liked it?”

Josh feeds me another spoon of ice cream, dark eyes intent on my face. “It was probably the best relationship I’ve ever had. It was a lot easier than you’d think.”

I lick vanilla off my lips. “But you guys broke up? What happened?”

“My fault,” Zack says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t do long-term. I broke up with her, so she left Josh and Luke, too. It woulda been a bit awkward for her to keep dating my roommates and not me.” He sighs mournfully. “It was hard giving up the sex, though. Damn.”

“Right,” I choke out. “The four-way sex. That actually, really happened. Yeah.”

Josh gives me a weird look. I’m not surprised. I probably look like I’m having an aneurysm. I don’t think I’ve ever been so shocked and turned on at the same time.

“Speaking of,” Zack perks up. “Flower boy here ain’t the only one who got you a present. I have somethin’ for you, too.” He leans over the arm of the sofa and rummages around under the coffee table.

Josh stiffens. “Oh God. Please don’t tell me it’s the—”

“Here ya go,” Zack says happily, dropping a brown cardboard box on my lap. I study the label on the packaging. There’s a black logo on the front, of a curvy, stylised woman with devil horns.

“Sinsters?” The name sounds familiar, but I don’t remember where from.

“One of our sponsors,” Zack says. “Here.” He hands me his keys, and I use the sharp edge to cut through the tape, pulling open the box.

Inside, a pink rubber penis wrapped in glittery tissue paper stares back up at me.