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  your situation, but this was a special delivery for Mr. Jackson and Mr. Ashby, and they’ve had… unusual deliveries in the past, and the bananas had paperwork, so we let them in escorted.”

  The bananas?

  The van door slides open and bananas begin pouring out. Not the fruit kind, but the human-dressed-as-fruit kind.

  Carrying musical instruments.

  My bodyguards step in front of me, trying to act as a barrier between me and the bananas, but I wave them away. “It’s okay,” I say, laughter starting to bubble up in my chest. “They’re bananas, not assassins.”

  “As I said, this was highly unusual, but Mr. Jackson and Mr. Ashby have had unusual deliveries in the past,” the security guard tries to explain.

  “What the hell? Did you do this?” I ask, my mouth gaping as more bananas pour out of the van. There must be fifteen of them. I don’t know how they all fit in the vehicle, but they’re forming a little group in their yellow tights and their banana costumes. They’re even wearing little banana stem hats on top of their heads.

  “I swear this was not my work,” Aiden says, laughing as a trombone blares out notes that startle me, making me jump.

  “Which of you hired a marching band dressed as bananas?” I can’t cover my laughter, and I snort loudly as I hold my hand over my mouth.

  “I wish this were our work,” Noah answers as the marching band begins belting out REO Speedwagon’s Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore. “I think I know whose work it is, though.”

  “Annie,” Aiden chimes in. I give him a look that says I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, and he laughs. “We’ll tell you later.”

  And that is how I, Grace Monroe Sullivan, former head of my parent’s foundation (before I was fired), and the notoriously slutty soon-to-be estranged daughter of the very conservative President Arthur Sullivan, came to be standing here in the middle of the road in my formerly quiet, historic neighborhood with my football-player, trench-coat-wearing, drone-flying, naked-bongo-playing boyfriends, listening to a marching band of bananas play REO Speedwagon.

  47

  Noah

  Grace giggles as I hoist her over my shoulder and carry her down the hallway to my room. Our room. Fuck, we’re going to need a bigger room if the three of us are going to do this. Hell, or just a bigger bed, at the very least.

  I drop her directly onto the bed. She looks up, her cheeks flushed and her green eyes bright. "Wait," she says. "I have one question."

  "Shoot." Aiden and I wait expectantly.

  "What is the deal with the trench coats, anyway?"

  "We thought you might–" I start, but Aiden interrupts.

  "Hate us," he says.

  "Hate is a strong word," I continue. "We thought you might not be happy to see us, after the month you've had and the way it was really all our fault."

  "How was it all your fault?" I ask.

  "Obviously you couldn't resist us the night of the fundraiser," Aiden says.

  "Because we're so sexy."

  "Yeah, that was clearly it. There's something about guys in trench coats," Grace murmurs.

  "So, we figured we suck pretty hard at romance, but we're pretty good at comedy," Aiden goes on.

  "What's funny about trench coats?" Grace asks.

  So we drop the coats to the floor and show her.

  The fact that we haven't seen her in a month works in our favor, because both of us are rock-hard.

  "You knitted sweaters for your dicks," Grace realizes. "Do those say…love?" She looks back and forth between us as she reads the lettering. "We… love… you."

  "Impressive, right?" I ask, glancing at Aiden. "I told you she'd be impressed."

  "She was more impressed with the drone," Aiden says. "And the banana band."

  "You can't take credit for the banana band. You know that was Annie’s doing.”

  "Stop talking," Grace orders, standing up beside the bed. I watch, trying not to gape like I’ve never seen her naked before as Grace takes off her shirt, unhooks and removes her bra, and dangles it from her fingers to tease us before dropping it to the floor. She unbuttons her jeans and shimmies out of them, then does the same with her panties – and Aiden and I stand there mesmerized.

  Then she puts her hand on her hip. “Well, what?”

  “Well, what? I’m just standing here enjoying the show.”

  She walks over to us and puts her hands on our sweater-clad cocks. “So, I just want to be clear. Your grand plan was to fly a drone over my backyard, drop glow-in-the-dark condoms, send a note in a blow-up doll, and then stand outside of my house and flash me so I could see the 'I love you' socks you knitted for your dicks?"

  “Pretty much,” I say.

  Aiden snorts. “You could still reconsider this whole relationship, you know."

  But Grace just smiles as she pulls the hand-knit socks from our cocks. “Obviously, the media is right.”

  “About what?” I ask.

  “I must be crazy, because I think I’m going to keep you.”

  “Life won’t be boring,” Aiden warns.

  Grace laughs. “It hasn’t been since I met you.”

  I inhale sharply as her warm hand wraps around my cock. She’s standing between both of us, her hand moving lightly up and down our shafts, and I have to close my eyes for a minute because I want to savor this moment. When I open them, she’s looking at me, her eyes half-lidded, her lower lip pulled between her teeth.

  That’s the expression I want to memorize, to etch in my brain forever and ever. That look she gives me, that look she gives Aiden - the one that says she wants us beyond all rational thought - is what I can’t get enough of.

  She strokes us as we both caress her body, our hands tracing every inch of her except where she wants us to go. I know she’s wet. I know she’s wanting it by the way her lips start to fall open in a little O, by the way she presses her thighs together, by the way she starts to breathe in little pants that make her chest rise and fall quickly, her perfect breasts on display for us.

  It’s the things like that I love.

  When she falls to her knees, I try to stop her. “You need to get up because I want my mouth on your pussy. We haven’t tasted you in a month.”

  But she just smiles. “Patience is a virtue, boys,” she says seductively.

  I glance at Aiden for a second, and he just shrugs. “I’m not going to complain-“ His words are cut off abruptly as Grace guides him to her mouth and wraps her lips around his cock. I watch, transfixed, as she strokes me rhythmically, her hand moving up and down my length as she takes him in deeper.

  Aiden moans low in his throat. “Fuck, that feels amazing,” he says, his hands in her hair. “I’ve missed this little mouth.”

  When she gets enough of Aiden, she switches her attention to me, her hand still on him as she meets my gaze. Her eyes are large as she touches her tongue to the head of my cock, catching the pre-cum that dangles from the tip before swallowing me.

  Her mouth is like heaven and I don’t ever want to leave it. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, down on her knees like she is right now- naked, her eyes clouded with lust and desire. She takes me in deeper, moaning loudly when I thrust my cock into her throat. It’s been so long since I’ve been inside her that I want to fuck her senseless. The image of her jerking Aiden off while she sucks my cock is enough to make me come almost immediately.

  But she doesn't let me. She pulls her mouth away and looks up at us as she strokes both of us at the same time. “Do you know what I thought about when I was gone?”

  My voice comes out gruff–"What?"– as Aiden groans.

  “I thought about this,” she says, her voice husky. Our cocks are so close to her face, and all I can think about is how lush her lips are, how perfect her tits are, and how much I want to come on them right now. “I thought about the night that you both came in my mouth.”

  Fuck.

  “Shit, Grace,” Aiden groans.

  “Y