Brazen Mistakes (Brazen Boys #3)

30. Clara

Chapter 30

Clara

T he bath, coupled with a call to Emma, helps, even if it doesn’t get me anywhere near normal. I stay in the tub until the water cools, not quite ready to return to a world where I’m learning to pretend on purpose instead of just because it’s the safest way to survive.

A knock on the door while I’m draining the tub has me wrapping myself in a towel. “Yup,” I call, a second before Jansen pops his head into the room.

“Damn. I was hoping I’d catch you naked,” he teases.

“There’s always later,” I say, as I clear the few steps between us and lean into him, his arms coming around me, holding me tight. And it’s exactly what I need.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah, some.”

“Well, we duked it out, and Walker gets you tonight. But I need some Clara time, too. ”

“I’m assuming there were no actual punches thrown?”

“I plead the Fifth.”

“Jansen Pierce.”

“Okay. Fine. Trips was out from the start, and RJ got an alert on his phone about something with his dad, so he had to go manage that up in his bat cave, and well, yeah. I called out ‘nose goes,’ but Walker apparently could tell I was about to, so he got his nose before I got mine, and here we are.”

My laugh is real and full. “I guess I should be flattered?”

“Definitely.”

I step back and he grabs my shirt, rolling it up, so he can put it over my head.

“I can get myself dressed.”

“But isn’t this way more fun?” he asks, his eyes brighter than I’m used to seeing.

With a teasing grumble, I let him help me into my pajamas, both of us knowing I’m probably not keeping them on long enough for them to get dirty.

Our fingers lock together as he drags me around a pile of boxes with Walker’s name on them and up the stairs, his thumb rubbing the back of my hand. The motion is unconscious for him, but so essentially Jansen that my breath catches. Watching the flex of his shoulders, the way his ponytail bobs as he bounds up the stairs, pausing halfway to check in with me, it’s so perfect it hurts.

He throws open the door to Walker’s room, pulling me to the love seat and dragging me into his lap. “I’ve got a delivery,” he says, his arms banding around my waist.

Walker looks up, shoving two things that flash gold and black under his desk lamp into a drawer by his easel. “So I see,” he says, a grin cutting across his face that says he’s looking for trouble. And I’m always a fan of Walker’s type of late-night trouble. Although I wonder what’s changed his mind about letting things get physical.

“Are you going to kick me out?” Jansen asks, a pout pulled across his face.

“Actually, no,” Walker says, moving across the room and locking his door. He clicks through his phone until the thrash metal that had been humming along when we came in changes to a lo-fi mix, the sound drifting through the space from hidden speakers.

“No?” I ask, squirming on Jansen’s lap.

“I’ve been wanting to catch a particular moment for a while, but I can’t be in two places at once, so I’m hoping Jansen can help.”

“And what moment is that?” I ask, Jansen resting his chin on my shoulder, his fingers teasing my ribs.

Walker scoots his drafting chair to the side of his bed, motioning for Jansen and me to join him over there. Jansen scoops me up, plopping me onto the mattress, his eyes twinkling as he glances at Walker. “I’m assuming we’re going for that moment when she totally lets go and just takes, right?”

“Yup. Pure pleasure, pure release, pure ecstasy. I can’t draw it from memory. Believe me, I’ve tried, but it’s just not quite right. I’m going to need a live model.”

Now I’m sure I’m blushing. “Walker, I—”

He leans down and kisses me, hard, tongues and teeth, his fist digging into my damp hair. Pulling back, both of us panting, he presses his forehead to mine. “I know you need this. And I need this too. I can’t fix anything right now, not really. But I was too hard on you. I know you love me. And I know you aren’t trying to use me. Let me make it up to you.”

I nod, words caught in my throat.

“And the drawing, it’s only for me. I won’t share it with anyone, not even Jansen, unless you say it’s okay.”

I grip his shirt, not ready for him to pull away yet. “I trust you. Completely. But a drawing? It’s a little embarrassing.”

Jansen’s warmth presses up against my back. “There’s nothing embarrassing about you when you come, Clara. You’re decadent.” He follows that comment with a brush of his nose along my neck.

Walker grips my hands, still clutching his shirt, and pulls back far enough to see me clearly. His dark eyes are so full of want and care, I can hardly breathe. He’s giving me an opportunity to hide from my reality. I’m not sure I should take it.

Only his next kiss is gentle, coaxing, and my body reacts as it always does, relaxing into the pillow under my head, melting into the blankets, welcoming his affection. Jansen’s solid mass behind me is the only reminder that I should have bones. With a soft hand to my cheek, Walker pulls back, and it’s like there’s a string between our gazes, and neither of us wants it to snap by looking away. We need this connection, and Jansen will let us make it happen.

Jansen’s hands slip under my shirt and tweak my nipples, forcing my eyelids to snap shut, before dragging off the shirt he just put on me.

When I next open my eyes, Walker has his drafting chair right across from my face, his sketchbook propped on one knee, the scratch of his pencil barely audible over the hum and beat of the music.

Jansen pulls me close, and I realize he’d already taken off his clothes before joining me in the bed. Reaching back, I slide my hand along the underside of his growing erection, and he laughs, pulling his hips away from me. “Bad Clara. This is supposed to be about you, not me.”

The bark of laughter that escapes me is loud and wholly out of place, but feels good, easy after the weird, heavy anxiousness I’ve been wearing all day. Twisting, I kiss Jansen as a reward, and he’s happy to take it, his lips soft as his fingers trace lines over my ribs and breasts, waking up my nerves with his ministrations.

His kisses stay steady, his hands in constant motion over my skin, wrapped around me from behind. Walker’s view is uninterrupted, his pencil rarely pausing, but his pages occasionally flipping.

An errant thought causes a poorly timed chuckle out, both guys pausing.

“Nothing, nothing. I just had a weird thought,” I choke out.

“What thought, beautiful?” Jansen asks, licking up my spine and making my back arch.

“Uh, I just saw Walker flipping pages, and it reminded me of a flipbook. Then I imagined a sexy cartoon flipbook.”

The silence makes me want to shrink, but then both guys laugh, too.

“That’s probably a thing, to be honest,” Walker says. “Ancient graffiti is at least fifty percent dicks, so a sex flip book has to have been done before.”

“New calling, man?” Jansen asks, and Walker flips him off .

I burrow into the pillows. “Sorry. Mood killer.”

Jansen nips my shoulder, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes. “Sex seasoning, maybe, but not a mood killer.”

Walker and I huff out matching almost laughs, but then Jansen kisses and nips down my back, his hands slipping under my waistband and pulling my hips back, so my ass is grinding against him, and I forget what was so funny.

Jansen continues his slow assault, finding new sensitive spots I’d never considered, the underside of my bottom rib, the small of my back, inching down the bed behind me, my hands having nothing to grab onto but the sheets. Slowly, I’m undressed, Jansen continuing the drag of his tongue and teeth over my hip, one cheek of my ass, and if I weren’t practically dripping, it might be weird. But it’s my slow undoing, coupled with Walker’s analytical gaze as he draws, warming my front while Jansen warms my back.

Finally stripped bare, I expect Jansen to continue his assault where I want him most, but instead, his tongue traces a line down the back of my thigh, and I gasp as he passes the sensitive skin where my ass meets my leg. The gasp doesn’t go unnoticed, and his teeth nip there, leaving me to groan and shudder, wanting more, but trusting that waiting will be worth it.

The back of my knee makes me squeal and twitch, Jansen swiftly moving on, switching to his hands to give a small but thorough foot massage. I glance down at him, his grin mischievous. “Any reason you’re all the way down there?” I ask, pulling my foot from his grasp and flopping my legs open. “I know you’d much rather be up here.”

He pulls out his ponytail, his grin turning into a smirk. “I just wanted to make sure Walker had a roughed-out sketch before we got to the best part.”

“Right,” I say, knowing that Jansen likes to play, and that Walker is just the perfect excuse.

The tilt at the corner of Walker’s lips says he knows Jansen’s full of shit. “If you want something, you need to ask for it,” he says, his eyes meeting mine over the edge of his sketchbook.

I swallow, the intensity Walker wears like a mantle flowing around us all. “I do, don’t I?”

He nods toward Jansen, and I sit up a bit on the pillows. “Jansen, make me come for Walker, and then you can take me however you want,” I say, surprised by the husky tones of my voice.

Jansen’s grin is bright, and he nips the inside of my ankle before slinking up the bed between my legs. “Sounds like a deal, beautiful.”

The first exploratory lap of my slit sends electricity surging from my toes to my earlobes, and the rough chuckles of both men mingling with my groan.

I’m not going to last long. Jansen’s slow torture did more than I thought it had.

Two fingers slip in without any protest from my amped-up body, and Jansen coaxes me, his breath warm against my clit, his tongue tracing around his fingers, but not hitting me where I want it to.

Still, the wet sound of his lapping and the pump of his fingers in and out has me rocking into him, my body urging me toward what it wants, to the point where all the heaviness of the world vanishes for one perfect moment .

The scratch-scratch of Walker’s pencil picks up, but I can’t keep my eyes open anymore, focusing instead on hauling my pleasure to the surface.

When I’m about to scream in frustration, Jansen pulls my clit into his mouth, the slightest brush of teeth meeting with his tongue, and I explode, no longer certain what sounds I’m making, how my body is moving, just riding the bright, effervescent high of my orgasm, needing the oblivion, the silence in my brain, more than anything.

The guys are murmuring, but I’m still out of it as Jansen flips me over, hauling me until his hips press against my ass, and he slides in, the wet sound of his thrust the first noise to cut through the silence in my mind.

I scramble to keep myself in place as he pounds into me, rougher than he’s been before, his fingers digging to my hips, gripping me close like he needs more, and I struggle to push back, wanting to give it to him.

His tongue traces across my ribcage, and sooner than I thought, a guttural cry escapes him, his teeth digging into the soft flesh of my shoulder, the feeling of him pulsing inside of me pushing me to the edge of coming again, but not throwing me over.

He collapses on top of me, both of us crumpling to the bed. Turning my head, I find Walker’s eyes locked on me, and he sets down his sketch pad, the intention in his gaze making me shiver. He reaches across the bed, digging his fingers into my hair, his tongue plunging into my mouth. “Gorgeous,” he whispers .

He stands and disappears behind me. Jansen slips from my body before Walker hauls my ass back up to his hips, sliding in without any foreplay, both of us groaning.

One hand on my hip and the other sneaking around to play with my clit, he rides me through two more orgasms, finally coming and collapsing us both back to the mattress, rolling us onto our sides without leaving me. Jansen’s gaze meets mine, his fingers closing the distance and brushing up and down my arm, while Walker burrows his nose into my neck behind me, all of us quiet as the music continues to hum in the background, the steady beat encouraging time to disappear.

I fall asleep pressed between the two men, diving into dreams before my thoughts catch up with me.