Looking for Chapter 1? It’s here.
Chapter 2? Here.
How about Chapter 3?
This chapter contains no violence. Congratulations; you’ve made it to the sex.
It was almost two o’clock in the morning. Carrie sat at a table, one of her wrists still cuffed to a metal rail just like she’d seen in interrogation scenes on cop shows. The adrenaline had long since drained from her bloodstream, leaving her physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Fear and anxiety hung over her head like a storm cloud, though it wasn’t so omnipresent that it prevented her from dozing right there at the table. Without her body’s natural fight-or-flight response, she was able to really reflect on the events of the evening, and she had come to the conclusion that she was probably screwed.
The bitchy blonde officer she’d seen earlier in the evening came into the room.
“All right, ma’am. You’re free to go.” That was unexpected. She unlocked the handcuffs and Carrie rose to her feet. Just putting weight on her legs hurt. Her whole body ached, in fact. She had a pounding migraine that she was certain sleep wouldn’t fix, and her chest, shoulders, and stomach still hurt hours later. Her forearms were on fire, the skin still burning from where Jamie had clawed deeply with her nails. They’d taken her to the bathroom and let her clean up a bit when they first brought her in, so at least her face wasn’t bloody. But her lips were swollen, and probably her nose, too. She didn’t even want to think about the bruises she’d find on her body once she got undressed for bed.
Carrie wanted to ask the officer why she was free to leave when they had caught her in the act of savagely strangling another human being. She realized it was probably best to keep her mouth shut and say nothing. Instead she rubbed her sore wrist, noticing the vivid impression the cuff had left on her skin. The officer led her down a short hallway that culminated in a spartan office with a desk and a file cabinet. On the opposite side of the room was a door. The officer gestured to it and told her good night, her face expressionless.
As Carrie reached out to push open the door, she panicked. “What about my stuff?” Her voice sounded strange, thanks to her puffy lips. “I had an expensive wristlet. It had my driver’s license and credit cards in it. And my phone?”
“Ma’am, you didn’t have any personal effects when you were taken into custody. We took nothing from you.”
Carrie stood there dreamily. Could that have been true? She supposed it was, and she exited the office. Rick sat on a bench in the hallway, and when she saw him she smiled in spite of herself. Her smile grew when she noticed her wristlet and her shoes sitting on the bench beside him.
Rick wasn’t smiling, though Carrie noticed with relief that he looked afraid as opposed to angry. “Jesus. You look like you just lost a title fight or something.”
“Is it really that bad?” She turned to see Alan standing nearby, his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.
“Well, it’s just…” Rick’s voice trailed off; she wasn’t paying attention anyway.
“What are you doing here?” Alan gave a surprised shrug at the question, and moreso Carrie’s almost accusatory tone. She elaborated: “I wouldn’t have ever expected to see the two of you in the same room again. Not after tonight. How are you guys not tearing each other’s throats out right now?”
“We called a truce.” Rick stood up from his bench and handed Carrie her wristlet and her phone. “There was enough drama tonight. No sense making it worse.”
She turned to Alan. “Still, how are you here right now, and not with Elisa?”
“Well, the easy answer is she’s in surgery. Gonna be there a couple more hours while they fix that leg you broke.” Reflexively Carrie began to apologize, just for Alan’s sake. She stopped when she realized she wasn’t actually sorry. The bitch deserved it, and anyway, she was prepared to do a lot worse than what she had actually done, and would have had the military police not shown up when they did. So she remained silent and let Alan continue. “Anyway, she’s probably going away for a long time. Her and that other girl you fought.”
“Really?” Carrie’s eyes were wide with surprise.
Rick spoke now: “Security cameras show them both confronting you, acting belligerent, and attacking you first. Elisa punched you in the face unprovoked. Jamie was holding you.” Carrie’s mind flashed back to a few hours earlier, and she winced with the memory. “That’s why you’re out here, and they’re both in the hospital with police posted outside.”
“So Jamie isn’t dead?” As Rick confirmed that she wasn’t, Carrie had to admit to being the slightest bit disappointed.
“You really beat the shit out of her. They think she’s got serious neurological damage from when you smashed her head in.” Carrie hoped that Rick wasn’t as upset about it as he looked and sounded.
Alan spoke now: “And Elisa’s got a long, hard road ahead of her.” He paused and swallowed hard. “If she ever walks again, she’ll need years of physical therapy.”
“So why aren’t you at the hospital right now?” Carrie asked again.
“The not-so-easy answer is that I don’t love her. I never loved her. She isn’t an easy woman to love.”
“I knew it!” Carrie dialed down her joy over hearing Alan say it lest she appear heartless. “Still, she is the mother of your children.”
“Yeah, and I’m going to be stuck with sole custody when she goes to prison for assault, if not for attempted murder.” Alan let this sink in. “Like, around-the-clock.” Carrie had to bite her tongue to keep from suggesting that Alan pack up the kids and move with her and Rick to New Mexico, where they could form a wonderful poly triad. She could look after the kids during the day, and at night Alan and Rick could look after her. It was a joke, obviously; being in the military meant one didn’t have much of a say where he or she lived. Still, Rick wouldn’t have liked the suggestion. The two men had called a truce. There was no sense pushing her luck.
The three began to walk down the drab white hallway. Leaving the security office behind, they came to a flight of stairs and began to climb it. Alan continued: “I know it’ll be better once she’s out of the picture.”
“You really never loved her?”
“I thought I did. But she’s boring and uptight.”
“She’s also got a huge Christian stick up her ass,” Carrie reminded him.
Alan agreed: “She’s also got a huge Christian stick up her ass.” At the top of the stairs they walked through a doorway and into the hotel itself. They found themselves walking down a corridor, and Carrie wondered if it was the one she’d taken to the ladies’ room earlier. Alan went on: “Anyway, like I said, it looks like assault and conspiracy at the very least. I can’t be with someone who’s that kind of violent. I’m all about the love.”
“All about the love?” Carrie’s voice dripped with skepticism, and she prodded him to elaborate. At the end of the hall the trio came to the hotel’s main lobby and continued down another corridor toward the elevators.
“Yeah, it’s true. I’ve never been a hateful guy. I don’t think so, anyway. But it took getting to know you in Osan to show me that it was okay to live my life on my own terms. Here’s this hot chick – “ He turned to Rick and said, “No disrespect.” Rick shrugged, so Alan continued. “Here’s this hot chick who has this really awesome philosophy on life. She’s fun, always down to party on base or off. She’s young, beautiful, and full of this…energy, really. I couldn’t even describe it back then. Remember Mudfest?” Carrie nodded as she thought back to that gorgeous, muddy day in Boryeong many summers before. “You loved it, didn’t you?” Alan asked. “Elisa hated it. She was too uptight and too reserved to even stand in mud, let alone revel in it. Basically, you were the anti-Elisa. You showed me how fulfilling life could be. And I don’t even mean because we were…sexually involved.” He lowered his voice as he spoke the last two words, trying to demonstrate the slightest penitence for Rick’s sake. “I mean, you were always a positive person to be around. You didn’t make me feel awful about myself. You didn’t shove religion down my throat. You were a great mom, that much was obvious.” At this, Carrie felt herself blushing. “Plus you were comfortable in your own skin. You helped me to see what I really wanted out of life.”
“That’s sweet,” Carrie said, and she looked at Rick to make sure he wasn’t fuming over Alan’s words. He wasn’t. That was weird. Still, she changed the subject just in case. “I could really go for a drink.” She thought back to the margarita she’d dropped on the floor when Rick confronted Alan. “I wonder if there are any bars still open.”
“Not here at the hotel,” Alan said.
“We’ve got something better in mind,” Rick offered. When they reached the elevators he pressed the call button and the doors slowly slid open. Carrie walked in first and settled against the mirrored back wall, with Alan standing on her right and Rick to her left. She looked at the former, then regarded the latter.
“Are you okay with Alan being here?”
Rick nodded. “I told you, we called a truce. We spent the last couple hours talking while we waited for them to let you go. Turns out I’m capable of letting bygones be bygones. Who knew, right?”
“I sure didn’t!”
“Even though it really hurt me, what you and he did to me wasn’t much worse than some of the things I’ve done to you. Even with Vicky. I see that now.”
“We never should have tried opening up,” she said with a sigh of resigned despair. “We did everything wrong.”
“We made mistakes,” he admitted. “But there’s no reason to keep looking at the past when we should be looking forward.” Carrie agreed.
The elevator doors opened onto the seventeenth floor and the trio stepped out. Rick led the way to his and Carrie’s room, on the opposite end of the floor down a hallway that seemed longer to Carrie now than it had when they checked in the night before. She asked them to slow down a bit, for her sake. “There’s too much walking. I can hardly even move.”
“We’re almost there,” Rick said as he fished his wallet out of his pocket and withdrew his room key. He kept walking, and Carrie leaned against Alan for support. He put his arm around her, undoubtedly still wary of crossing Rick with a move as overt as that. Still, she appreciated the effort. They walked together, Alan holding her gently, careful not to use too much pressure. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her more than she already was.
They arrived at the room, and Rick unlocked the door and admitted the other two before stepping inside. He paused by the door to take off his formal jacket and tie. Alan did the same. Carrie, meanwhile, headed straight for the king-size bed. The mattress was vast, dressed impeccably with a comfortable duvet and several large, decorative down pillows. She took a seat on the foot of the bed, feeling the soft bedclothes against her battered body.
“Feels good to sit somewhere other than that chair,” Carrie said to nobody in particular. She looked over at Rick, standing at the room’s minibar in his white formal shirt and slacks. He’d undone his two top buttons, and she had to admit he looked hot. Bottles clinked noisily together until he found what he was looking for. Carrie looked up at Alan, standing by the side of the bed. “In that room, in the security office, there was this hard wooden chair. I sat in it for like three hours. My ass was numb by the time I got up.”
While Rick mixed a drink, Alan sat down by Carrie’s side and began to smoothly massage her shoulders. She whispered a warning, her voice excited in spite of herself. “Rick is going to kick you out of here if he sees you doing that!” After all, a civil truce between the two men was one thing, but she knew Rick wouldn’t be okay with something like this. Still, Alan didn’t yield. Truth be told, Carrie didn’t want him to. He didn’t even stop what he was doing once Rick turned away from the minibar and headed over to the bed, a highball glass in one hand, a bottle in the other, and a full ice bucket under his arm. Draped over his shoulder were a couple hand towels. Carrie wondered what those were for.
Rick set the bottle and the ice bucket down on the nightstand along with the hand towels. Then he proffered the highball glass to Carrie.
“What is this?” she asked, regarding it with interest.
“Whiskey and soda.” She turned up her nose and shook her head, so he set the glass down on the nightstand.
“What’s in the bottle?” It was already in Rick’s hand; he passed it to her and Carrie regognized the black-bat-on-red-circle logo instantly. Bacardi Gold rum. She twisted off the cap and took a sip even as Rick sat down by her side. His hands replaced Alan’s on her shoulders, massaging kindly even as the other man began to caress her hands.
She looked down at what he was doing. “Gentle,” she said. “Please. They hurt.”
Alan got off of the bed and knelt before her. He moved his hands down to her thighs, petting her tenderly through her tattered ballgown. At the same time, he lowered his face to her fingers and softly kissed them. Carrie’s head was suddenly swimming. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening. She tried not to focus on how much strife her attraction to Alan had caused her marriage and instead did her best to concentrate on how good he and Rick were making her feel.
“We need to get her out of these clothes,” Rick said, and Carrie felt a charge of electricity pass through her body as he slipped his fingers beneath the straps of her gown. In rapt anticipation, Carrie brought her shoulders in close to her body – it hurt, but she held them there – and in seconds the garment was down to her waist. Grimacing with unease, she managed to rise to her feet, and the men slid it the rest of the way down.
She sat back down on the bed, feeling somewhat self-conscious in just her bra and a matching pair of lace boyshorts. She’d deliberately selected the sexiest ensemble she owned, though when she put it on earlier that evening she didn’t expect to display it for anyone. Maybe for Rick, but sure as hell not for Alan. That he was here in a hotel room with her seemed to defy all rational thought.
“You want to take off her bra?” Rick asked Alan even as he was tugging her boyshorts down over her hips. Without a word, Alan got to work unclasping it, letting it fall lifelessly to the bed and freeing her breasts in the process. Meanwhile, Carrie tried her best to help Rick take her panties the rest of the way down without straining. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to move them over her legs and off her feet. Rick tossed them onto the carpet, leaving them to rest atop the forgotten ballgown. For good measure, he tossed her bra onto the pile as well.
Carrie took another sip from the bottle of rum, savoring the distinctive taste on her tongue. She wondered exactly what the two men had in mind for her. The possibilities seemed limitless, but she knew she was going to enjoy whatever lay ahead. She leaned back on her elbows, trying not to look too wanton, too hungry for them, even though that was certainly what she felt.
Rick spoke: “This is probably going to sting a bit.” Before his words could register in Carrie’s brain she felt biting cold at the top of her back, between her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry,” he said as he wiped her with a wet hand towel. Carrie looked over and saw Alan dunking the other towel in the ice bucket. She tried to protest before Rick cut her off: “It’s pretty bad back here.” At the same time, Alan was dabbing at a spot on her shoulder where Jamie had dug in with her nails.
“It really hurts,” Carrie said, her eyes shut to the pain.
“We’ve gotta clean you up,” Rick said. Alan followed his towel with a sweet kiss on her broken flesh. Carrie felt the ice-cold water drip down her back and it made her wince.
“Please. I can’t – “
“Just a little more.”
Alan spoke now: “Maybe we should…”
Carrie felt their hands on her, slowly lying her down atop the duvet. She dared to open her eyes, staring at the ceiling as the washcloths moved over her, soaking her with frigid water and half-melted ice. Someone’s hands caressed her breasts, then drifted over her stomach and down to her hip. She imagined that that was Alan, and that the other pair of hands that held her head in place and washed dried blood off of her neck belonged to Rick. She had no way of knowing, of course. But she liked thinking she was right.
Their ministrations were light, implying a kindness or even a sympathy Carrie could scarcely believe. She had nearly killed two women. Granted, it was in her own defense, but still; motivation was less important than result. Perhaps more to the point, she had caused two women to want to kill her. Did she even deserve such consideration? The fact that one of the men currently pleasuring her was the husband of one of the women was not lost on her. Carrie tried not to overanalyze the situation, and told herself to simply focus on the here and now.
“I need to press hard for a second,” Alan said. She felt the pressure increase on her left leg and she bit her lip to avoid crying out as it reached a crescendo. After a second he stopped. “You’ve got a nasty cut here. Lots of dry blood. I got most of it.”
“You need another towel?” Rick asked. He was icing Carrie’s collarbone, where a large patch of skin was black and blue.
“No, I can just fold this one.” Alan got up to wet the towel again, then returned to the bed.
“Want to help me turn her over?” Alan didn’t reply to Rick. Instead, Carrie felt their hands under her hips and her shoulders.
“Ready?” Carrie didn’t know if Alan was asking her, or if he was asking Rick. She pressed her elbow into the mattress and in an instant she was lying face-down, her arms crossed under her chin.
“Ow,” one of the men said as he beheld her. It was Rick. “Lots of bruises back here.” The men wasted no more time examining her before getting to work. Their hands swirled against her shoulders and back, dragging wet washcloths along the swollen surface as rivulets of water dripped down her body. Every so often someone would kiss her, and even though they didn’t kiss her lips as she wanted them to, the heat still provided an exciting contrast to the chill. And even though she couldn’t see them, she knew whose lips were whose. She could tell it was Rick who kissed her shoulders. She knew it was Alan at the small of her back.
“You’re really swollen back here,” Alan said at one point, indicating a massive bruise on her lower back, just above her ass. “I’d better put some ice on it.”
Carrie winced again just at the thought. The cold water was shocking enough. Ice, though?
He could sense her hesitation, and it gave him pause. Rick spoke next: “There’s a shower cap in the bathroom. I’ll put some ice in it so it’s not too cold. I’ll even wrap it in a towel. But if I don’t ice it now the swelling is going to get worse.”
Carrie nodded, still unsure. Rick got up from the bed and set to work making her an improvised ice pack. At the same time, Alan moved his hands from the tops of her thighs down to her feet.
“How does that feel?” Carrie didn’t speak right away. Instead she murmured her satisfied approval.
“Don’t stop,” she said with a reserved chuckle. “It feels good.” He continued, his hands gentle on her skin yet firm enough to soothe her aching muscles. She sighed – was it a sigh? It may have been a moan – as he worked on her legs and feet, and for a moment it felt like she and Alan were the only two people in the world.
She could see Rick walking back from the bathroom and braced herself for what she knew was coming. But to Carrie’s surprise the makeshift ice pack on her back didn’t distract her from the pleasure Alan was providing.
“I’ll leave this here for awhile,” Rick said.
“Not too long. I’m not staying in this position all night.”
“Definitely not. You want some more rum?” Carrie nodded and Rick handed her the bottle. She propped herself up onto her elbows and took a drink. Rick sipped from his cocktail, then set both back down on the nightstand. Then he kissed her. Carrie didn’t usually care for the taste of whiskey on his lips, but right now she was happy. She was still sore, but being cared for by two men she loved had nearly erased the trauma of being attacked.
It was a sweet, soft kiss, and when it broke Rick sat beside her and began to massage her shoulders, being careful to avoid the spots where she’d been scratched and cut. At the same time, Alan’s hands were kneading her ass. It wasn’t a sexual gesture, but it still felt arousing to have his hands on her like that.
“Dude. Switch with me. I want to do that. You come massage her shoulders.”
“No way! I’m having too much fun! Anyway, I already massaged her shoulders.”
For an instant, Carrie worried that this was it: This was where Rick was going to get up off the bed, punch Alan out, and drag him into the hallway. Then Rick set her mind at ease: “Then let me do it too.”
He shifted his weight and leaned over her. Carrie felt all four hands on her ass. “You take that cheek. Let me get this one.”
Their hands roamed the insides of her thighs as well, and she wondered if they could feel her heat on their fingers. She was definitely wet; any further up and they’d definitely feel that too.
The massage lasted more than ten minutes, and when it was over they lay together in silence, the men’s arms ensconcing her in a protective embrace. Carrie lay on her side with Rick in front of her, his eyes reflecting the room’s dim light as Alan’s chest rose and fell against Carrie’s back. Overwhelmed with emotion and relief, she felt like crying again. Unlike earlier, she managed to hold back the tears.
She kissed Rick again, opening her mouth to him as he opened his to her. They kissed hungrily, with all the passion one might expect following a harrowing brush with danger. Rick brought a hand down to Carrie’s hip as she moved her own between his legs, fondling him through his pants using the heel of her hand. She felt him spring to life in response, and though she was certainly in no rush she enjoyed the thought of opening his pants and letting him out.
Carrie was so preoccupied with her husband that she didn’t even notice that Alan had risen from the bed. Therefore it was a very welcome surprise when his hands parted her thighs.
She pulled away from Rick. “Are we really doing this?”
“Yes we are.” She smiled upon hearing his words. “If you want to, I mean. Is this what you want?”
She nodded, excitement in her eyes. “I’ve wanted this for a very long time.” She hoped that he could read her appreciation on her face. But that appreciation was replaced by an expression much different and far more intense as Alan slipped his fingers inside.
Rick carefully maneuvered Carrie onto her stomach to allow Alan greater access. She arched her back as best she could, but he was already caressing her deftly, his thumb stroking her excited clit. His fingers felt as good as – no, better than – she remembered, and she pushed against him. She wasn’t trying to resist. She pushed against him because she was unable to resist.
As he fingered her, Carrie watched Rick undressing. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and dropped it to the floor, followed by his undershirt and his slacks. Carrie stopped him before he could drop his boxer briefs as well.
“Let me,” she said, and sat up. As she pulled his shorts down by the waistband he sprang toward her, unrestrained. His cock was thick, veiny, and gloriously uncut. She closed her hand around his hardness and pumped him several times from the base all the way up to the fat, swollen head. Then she took him in her mouth.
Carrie savored the way he tasted, and drew him as deeply as she could. It wasn’t easy, however, with Alan working his fingers in and out of her. She was soaking wet and very slippery, and his hands moved rapidly. He was using both of them now, that much was more than evident. One continued to strum her aching clit. The other was deep inside, the digits playing over her G-spot, tantalizing the nerve endings. Together, they were prodding her ever closer to the point of no return.
Carrie felt her climax looming – the first of many, she was certain – and reached out, clasping Rick behind his ass and pulling him ever closer. As her fingers pressed against his skin he filled her throat even more fully than she could ever recall him doing. She swallowed every inch, consuming him until he was nestled as deeply as he could be, his stomach pressing against her nose and making her gasp around his hardness.
She came then, his cock suppressing her moans. Alan’s hands hadn’t stopped moving all the while, and her hips began to roll as she rode the waves of pleasure. At the same time she resumed sucking Rick, lips pursed as her head moved rhythmically up and down. When her orgasm finally subsided she paused to catch her breath. She tried to speak but couldn’t.
Alan spoke instead: “God, that was so hot.”
“Yeah. So hot.” Carrie’s voice was an inadvertent whisper, further muffled by the mattress beneath her face. After a second she looked up, catching sight of Rick as he stroked himself mere inches from her mouth. Carrie licked her lips to show him how badly she wanted to swallow him again. And just in case he didn’t get the message, she spoke: “Fuck my mouth.”
“Hand me a condom,” Alan said. Instinctively Carrie turned her head back toward him, even as Rick got up to fetch a condom from the nightstand drawer. Alan was already naked, and the sight of his chiseled, muscular body brought back a flood of memories. His shoulders were firm, his chest broad, his arms thick and powerful. And speaking of thick and powerful, Carrie thought as she watched him roll the latex over his engorged cock.
She was snapped back to reality by Rick as his hand on the side of her head earnestly returned her to the task at hand. She slid her mouth over him and began to suck, even as she felt Alan parting her lips from behind. His hands held her hips as he entered, driving himself all the way inside. At the same time Rick took a handful of her hair, his pelvis rocking back and forth. They filled her so completely, so perfectly, that she wouldn’t have been surprised if their cocks met somewhere in the middle.
Rick maintained his rhythm, each movement of his hips sending his hardness deeper down her throat. Carrie’s eyes watered and she struggled to breathe, but he didn’t slow down, and she didn’t want him to. He tightened his grip on her hair, still tangled around his fingers, and used her brown locks like reins. Carrie moved a hand down between her legs and slowly rotated her fingers over her clit, Alan’s hands now gripping her tight, round ass as he fucked her. He moved in and out like a piston, each thrust an unsurpassable high until the next one. His balls slapped against her hand and her clit, and soon she was screaming her release into the quiet of the night.
Carrie’s body trembled. She could feel her pussy dripping, soaking the duvet and Alan’s cock along with it. His thrusts were more rapid now; she knew he was close. It had been far too long since Carrie felt him come, and she couldn’t wait. His breaths came in shallow, ragged wheezes, and by the time he finally announced his climax her heartbeat was racing with anticipation. She felt him fill the condom, his groans and bleats of pleasure thrumming in her ears, and then Rick chimed in as well. He slipped out of Carrie’s hungry throat and she took him in her hand, moving it up and down his length until he painted her neck and her breasts.
She felt Alan collapse against her, bracing himself against the mattress with his arms so as not to put all of his weight on her. He exhaled hard, his breath cooling her overheated back and shoulders. Carrie wanted him to turn around so she could see the pleasure in his eyes but she couldn’t bear to look away from Rick and his still-erect member. At last, her husband reclined against the bed, and Alan slipped away from her as well. She relaxed then, coming to rest on the still-wet duvet.
Carrie smiled, seemingly for the first time all evening. She hoped her men could tell how satisfied she was. “Finishing always feels good.” Her voice sounded dreamy, though not tired. She realized that she was wired, and probably couldn’t sleep now even if she wanted to.
Alan spoke: “Who says we’re finished with you?”