Merlot, chardonnay, riesling...the wine on VDAY has to be red. It's such an interesting day, why do we feel the need to proclaim to outsiders that our relationship is adorned with overt affection one day out of the year? Couples who fight endlessly year round will put on a grand display of overflowing bouquets and edible arrangements. The talk of the office for the rest of the week. And then, back to reality. Back to sleeping without touching. Back to dinners in different rooms.
That's how Chloe used to live. Now, she's happier than she's ever been. She takes a deep breath and allows the open air of the farmer's market to swell in her diaphragm. The smell of wood smoke and salt diffuses in the air and she shudders, realizing she left her sweater at home. The chilly sea breeze is not good for short sleeves, but it is good for relaxation. Feeling at one with the ocean, with the little fishing village where she lived.
Trailing aimlessly along the aisles, she ponders on dinner for the evening. Cooking seems too stressful and takeout is depressing. No reason she shouldn't enjoy the holiday, but there is no need for extravagance. It will just be her, and her cat Chix. Maybe if she picks up salmon, Chix will eat it too...Gathering the ingredients for a quick and delicious tray bake, she lines up at the register to pay. The bottom of her dress swishes softly on her legs and she looks down, is this 6 feet from that guy?
After paying and thanking the cashier, she leaves the covered tent and welcomes the complete exposure to the sun's rays. There's something about basking in the heat of an ultraviolet ray that makes her feel complete. She decides to walk the short distance back to her beachy cottage, thanking herself for choosing walking shoes. Her ex would never allow her to wear such casual clothes in public, liking for her to put on a show. It's not that she didn't like the attention, she just wanted it from a more direct source. From him. And he was busy putting his attentions elsewhere.
She shakes her head and smirks the left of her mouth. Of course these thoughts are unavoidable today. Love is everywhere, painted on every shop's window and littering the conversations of school kids. She passes the parking lot of the elementary school and notices the children playing hopscotch. Missing the feeling of a goal that was so clear, so easily achieved. Count 1, 2, 3. Jump in, out, in. It was all so easy. Life was the moment. Now, life seems to still be that moment, but she's caught mid-jump. No love prospects, no kids. And not upset about it.
Passing the courtyard, a giant flower delivery van enters the corner of her eye. It's actually not hideous, and the elegance of the font makes up for the garish colors branded on its sides. Realizing that her observation has taken some time, it freaks her out that the van is moving so slowly. Should she turn around and make sure they don't follow her home? This isn't some horror movie, and she lives in a small town. She knows it's insane, but she can't shake the feeling that the man inside the van is looking at her.
He slowly rolls over the speed bump next to her and she cuts a quick corner, heading down an unfamiliar alleyway. All roads lead to Home, right? The bags of wine and food stuffs are weighing down her forearm, and the wind has picked up a couple of notches. Her outfit was a whimsical choice, and her nipples feel the prick of the cold. Head down, she wraps her arms around herself and keeps walking. Telling herself that she is grateful for the walk, and for the ability to walk, and that it isn't that cold...
10 minutes have passed before she sees the huge pink van again. This time, the driver is not alone. Another man is sitting in the passenger seat, but it's impossible for her to see his distinct features from this distance. Speaking of, why is the van getting closer? She feels a slight irritation building in her brow as she stares forward, the van approaching her from behind. Its speed slows next to her and for a second she deliberates taking off at a full sprint.
She hears the electric whir of the window going down, and gets the first sounds of his angelic voice. 'Are you lost ma'am?'
She turns around with what is surely a surly look. 'Why would I be lost?' She asks, again trying to sneak a peek at the newly added passenger.
'Well, ma'am, last time I passed you you were going that way.' He hooks his head in a vaguely backward direction.
Still standing on the sidewalk, Chloe pulls her imaginary sweater tighter around her torso. Well, last time you passed me I thought you were following me. And now here you are.'
He chuckles, and it's one of those super clear laughs. Where you hear every note, and the underscoring breath that supports them. 'It's a speed zone, you know. School hours? And I had to go pick up my brother.' At the mention, Guy #2 picks up his head off of the passenger window. He lazily drags his eyes to meet hers and the intensity is overwhelming. His eyes are crystal blue, piercing, and demanding. Like, how dare you look at me? He says nothing, and Chloe's visibly shaken. Uncomfortable by the simple intention of the gaze.
Driver Guy seems to pick up on this, and reassures Chloe that his brother is harmless. 'He's just hungry, we've been driving all day. He just did our last delivery before we head home for dead hour.' In fact, the guy did look hungry. Just not for food. For human souls.
'I honestly just wanted to see if you needed a ride home, that bag is heavy and it's getting dark.'
Chloe is warming up to the guy in the van, bright, open and exciting. His transparency and brilliant smile make him a regular Casanova, mixed with a little Princess Bride for flavor. His brother causes reason for discernment, however. But when Driver Guy offers her a ride back home, she has no choice but to accept.
The ride is surprisingly unawkward, because he has impeccable music taste. FourFiveSeconds by Rihanna and Kanye plays just softly enough to coat the silence. Chloe sits between the two men, comically closer to the driver than his evil counterpart. They share menial conversation, and Chloe learns that they've shared the flower truck business for 4 years now.
She'd always admired an entrepreneurial spirit. It was why she was so attracted to her ex, he was the implementer to her ideas. All of a sudden, the idea of eating alone is unbearable. She timidly invites Driver Guy and his brother to share the wine, as thanks for the ride.
'Gee, I'd love to. Jack, are you in?' Jack shifts imperceptibly and his eyes meet Chloe's in the side mirror. They stay steady for a second, before falling back out the window, the atmosphere tense between them. The truck turns into Chloe's gravel driveway. As if he didn't expect a response, Driver Guy unbuckles and hops out. Chloe is next to exit, and Jack lingers in the car. He doesn't get out until her front door is unlocked, and Driver Guy's broad shoulders have crossed the threshold.
Chloe notices his hesitance but doesn't think much of it. She heads to her kitchen and Driver Guy follows. Realizing she hasn't even asked his name, she pours them each a glass of wine and shares her question.
'Dean,' he says, his eyes conspicuously low. She shivers from his obviously sexual gaze. It isn't invasive, just permeating. She wants to let her imagination run, picturing his blonde hair between her thighs, hands all over her skin...but she doesn't expect him to want her the same way. She's a stranger, a directionally challenged one at that!
She starts washing the asparagus to go with the salmon and hears Jack finally come in the front door. Her and Dean are making casual conversation when he enters the room, silent but deadly. His fist is tight around a dozen of their pink and yellow roses. He doesn't say anything, but stands immobile in the doorway. He leans on the frame and shoves the other hand in his pocket.
The shy bit opens Chloe's heart to him and she crosses the room to take the flowers. She thanks him, and their fingers softly brush with the transfer of stems. Suddenly, she feels short, acknowledging the difference in height between her and the two men. If she felt unsafe outside, why does she not feel the same with these strangers in her home?
She hasn't stepped away from Jack, still holding the flowers, and his gaze. Dean comes up behind her to breathe in the fragrance, and detours to smell her hair. 'Lady of Shalott, they're known for being the most ...blossoming variety. Do you have a vase?'
At the word blossom, Chloe's cheeks are tinged with heat. She is sandwiched between the two, caught between fear and excitement. Her voice stutters a bit, gesturing inarticulately to the bottom cabinet. Not wanting to touch either body, or have to leave the nest that they've created, she doesn't move to get it.
Jack looks at his brother over her head and they make an imperceptible (telepathic) decision. Dean crosses the room in a stride, opening the door to which she gestured. Jack reaches for her knife block, unsheathing the scissors and plucks the blooms from her hand gracefully. When he thanks her, the octave of his voice sends her heart racing.
Not sure where all of this sexual energy has come from, she stands in the same spot and observes the scene taking place in her tiny kitchen. Two tall brothers, four hands, filling the vase with water and trimming the tips. Arranging the blooms on the counter and....
Now it's awkward. Chloe wants to move, to be helpful, but the kitchen area is too small for three chefs. Dean leans back from his floral creation and says 'Now isn't this beautiful?' Jack looks intently at Chloe and agrees, his timber making the hair on the back of her head stand straight up.
She's not sure how to handle this much, the mind games are making her giddy. Is it possible that they want her? That she isn't used up and old, broken? 'Thank you guys so much. For the flowers, for the ride, for everything.' 'No problem hun,' Dean says, 'it was our pleasure.' He closes in on her corner of the room like a tiger, focusing on its prey.
Within two steps, his toes meet hers and he dips down to kiss her. The exhilaration is a mixed bag of confusion and hormonal fog. His lips cover hers completely, and his hands aren't slow to find the cusps of her butt. He rubs the skin, pushing up the fabric of her skirt just a little. Not having forgotten about Jack, she breaks the kiss, panting from the exertion.
She looks around Dean's shoulders to see Jack back on the door frame, one hand in his pocket. The other is slowly rubbing his hardening member from outside of his jeans. Chloe's face is clearly shocked and she is treated with the first glimpse of his smile. Dean notices her perplexity as well and speaks up.
'We 100% do not want to make you feel uncomfortable. We both think you are beautiful and would like to make this Valentine's Day a little less lonely.' He kisses her again, pulling away ever so slowly, and whispers in her ear. 'Is that something that you would like?'
Unused to having her opinion matter, Chloe is suddenly lit up from her core. She feels wanton under both of their gazes, emboldened by the idea that two men want her simultaneously. Not having ever done anything like this before is definitely frightening, but for some reason she trusts them. And at the very least she wants to enjoy her evening.
'Would anyone like another glass of wine, then?' She asks, trying to be flippant instead of nervous. She wants to exude expertise, not fumble at the 40 yard line. Jack and Dean would have none of that. Neither brother answers her question, only beginning to move. Again, their movements seem synchronized, a timelessly choreographed orbit. Moving around and because of her.
Both men flanking her now, she worries that she's gotten in over her head. Dean kisses her neck while Jack begins to unbutton her dress. He is methodical in his movements, taking precaution not to touch her skin beneath the frock. Dean flicks his tongue on her ear, making her chest expand with the gasp. At the contact, Jack's brows furrow as his face becomes quite stern. The earlier fragility of the unveiling is gone now as his fervor grows.
He pushes both sleeves off of her shoulders, tracing her collar bones with his unmanicured hands. Dean also puts both hands on her, moulding each curve of her physique; starting with her side, trailing her hip, winding back inside her leg to come up to that sweet spot. She feels liberated, uninhibited by the pressures of conforming. She feels free and sexy.
Starting to really get into it, she puts her hands behind her head, clasping them around Dean's neck. She pushes her hips into his erection, placing it teasingly between her ass cheeks. The thin fabric does nothing to stop the transfusion of heat and attraction. Jack pulls her face toward him and stares at her. Her mouth parted, breathing heavily through the confusion. She doesn't want to be at the mercy of this man she doesn't know. And yet, she finds herself captured in a fiery kiss.
Dean instructs her to bend over, pressing the place between her shoulder blades while Jack makes his way to his knees in front of her. Still kissing her, tasting her, somehow dulling every other part of her body besides two pairs of lips...The brothers seesaw again, Jack standing and Dean falling to mid level. Jack's dick is massive. Chloe hasn't seen one this size in such a long time, and her nerves threaten to consume any bravery. But Dean's mouth has latched onto her pussy, and his tongue is cleaning the inhibitions from inside out. She takes Jack's tip into her mouth slowly, trying to keep pace with the urgency of the coupling. Pursing her lips on the soft head, salivating softly onto the drops of precum.
Then, she takes his whole length in her warm mouth. Jack puts his hand in her hair and cradles her scalp, pushing every centimeter into her phallic paradise. Sliding his shaft on the thickness of her tongue, enjoying the view of his brother devouring her other half. Dean's blonde mop is just visible over the arches of Chloe's asscheeks. She feels incapable of holding herself up between the pillars of sexual energy stationed on either side. Somehow feeding into her, and draining her of her very life energy at the same time.
Shaking, she humps Dean's face as his nose tickles her puckered hole. Her pussy lips are trembling, spread on either side of his lapping orifice. He winds around her clit in a tantalizing rhythm, secretly hoping that she falls, helpless, to the tiled floor of her spotless kitchen. Jack pulls out of her mouth and she whimpers a bit, meeting his gaze with teary eyes. The innocence in her eyes awakens the protective instinct in Jack, and he twirls her around.
Her dress haphazard, hair askew, Jack wraps her in an embrace from behind. For a man with such few words.... He embodies the proverb that those who know, do not speak. His vibrations take her higher and higher with only brief trails of touches. Caressing her small breasts, enjoying the goosebumps peppering her skin. Dean also stands and enjoys the view, the earlier rigid doll now as loose as a marionette. He likes that her flower's petals are the same rich hue as her nipples.
Locked in Jack's arms, Chloe cannot escape the open mouth kisses that Dean places intermittently down her front. On her forehead, on her nose, between her ribs, on the hot flesh of her pulsing mound. Jack slips a finger inside of her Catholic vagina and her whole body tenses again. Her tight hole hasn't been played with in so long, and now he threatens to demolish the sphincter holding it together.
She wants it. She wants them. She wants to feel both of them inside of her, to lose herself in the physical sensation. The push and pull that is fervent lovemaking. Will one push while the other pulls? The rhythm must be set and followed like a clap to a hymnal. She determinedly slips Jack's dick into her. Dripping, clutching onto it like she might never let it go. Steadying herself with Dean's hips, she takes him into her mouth this time. Both brothers let out a moan at how quickly she's learned the ropes.
When one goes forward, the other follows. Both in, and both out. They take up every inch inside of her, to leave her completely desolate each time they exit. Dean's fist is now wrapped in her auburn hair, and Jack reaches to fiddle her clit. Chloe is painfully close to coming, her toes clenching and unclenching as she tries to keep sucking. The pace has been ramped up, and she feels like a buoy on a raging sea. Lost. Rising high, only to crash with the next wave. She pushes Dean out of her mouth and pants heavily, biting hard on her lip to gain a snippet of control.
They don't let her. Dean tugs his dick as he sucks on her nipples, Jack still behind her. Their thighs slapping pushes her over the edge and she comes, every muscle in her body crumbling. The only thing keeping her up is the rigid penis still inside of her, and Dean's hands cupping her shoulders. He kisses each one, and Jack pulls out as slowly as possible.
The sudden loss of contact feels extreme and the temperature seems to have dropped fifteen degrees. The boys gather her dress and she slips it quietly over her head. Literally not knowing what to say?? Both men also start to slide their pants on, and she wonders if this will be the last time she sees the pair.
'So, Miss Chloe,' Dean starts, as he shoves one shoe on.
'Dead hours over. We'll be back for dinner, if you'll allow us. I'm still hungry.'
So many words from Jack at once is the final surprise she didn't know she needed. Chloe tilts her head back in a carefree, post-orgasmic laugh. Nodding, she turns again to the sink. Time to wash the asparagus.
Setting three plates on her table, Chloe wonders how in the world had her day ended up like this. Not one, but two madly sexy men craving her. Wanting to eat dinner with her, wanting to eat her for dinner...She hears an engine in her driveway and a smile lights up her face. Walking to the window, she takes another look at the obnoxiously pink flower van. Only then does she notice that the beautifully crafted font on the side reads 'Lady of Shalott, lover of two, a Valentine's rose of dreams come true'
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