Three Times You (JACKSON BROTHERS TRILOGY Book 1)

  THREE

  TIMES

  YOU

  F. LOCKS

  Three Times You

  Copyright ©️ 2021 by F. Flocks

  Book cover by Ana Carolina Marzzari

  Translation by Gabriela Rodriguez

  Review by Thai Cassaro

  Book layout by Grazi Fontes

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. According to the Copyright Law

  ISBN 978-1-4767-4660-9 (ebook)

  Digital version — 2021

  SUMÁRIO

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

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  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  Epilogue

  I thrust again, strong and deep, making the headboard slam against the bedroom wall. Her hips grind under me, rubbing her clit against my skin like she’s about to come. My hand is around her neck, a thumb on one side and four fingers on the other, like I’m choking her, and she screams, reaching her orgasm. I can feel my dick getting harder as I’m about to come too, but I pull it out before doing so. I take the condom off before putting my dick in her mouth, she chokes, holding it at the base while sucking the head and a moans leaves from her mouth.

  My eyes travel to our reflection in the mirror, watching our kneeling bodies, my cock fucking her mouth. My hands in her hair, twisting it into a tight knot, moving her head back and forth. With my other hand, I slap her cheek and when she bends, I shove my entire dick into her mouth one last time before my orgasm takes over and I let out a moan feeling like I’m about to collapse. The knocks at the door never seem to stop.

  And they won’t.

  I leave the room and sit on the dusty steps that are between the old house and the shop. Sweat drips down my forehead, tracing my eyebrows and running down the edges of my face. The 104 degrees outside is enough to make me feel like I’m dying. Even breathing becomes difficult; so I grab my tank top that hangs on the door and clean my face with it. The grease smears the white fabric that I will, for sure, put off washing it as long as possible, maybe even throwing it away if I end up on the streets. There’s no way of knowing what will happen tomorrow, nor what Massachusetts has in storage for me. The only thing I know is that the man who found me on the street and took me under his wing, when I was thirteen, is now dead.

  My client leaves the room, still straightening up her dress, as I watch the two girls, who were knocking on the door, grab everything they can, shoving it all in one bag. Samantha gets into the car that I’ve just fixed and winks at me, filling out a check for my mechanical services. She then backs up, and leaves the shop.

  The only person I could count on died three days ago. His body is not even cold yet and still, his daughters come barging in demanding the house, the only real roof I’ve had over my head. It pisses me off, of course it does. Fuck, here I am, a twenty-two-year-old man, starting over again. A vicious cycle that insists on making me start fresh, but that’s ok, that’s me rebuilding myself one more time. Who knows, next time I might hit the jackpot. At least now I have a profession, thanks to Steven.

  I bury my head in my hands, feeling the heat strike me, not because of the July sun, but because of the effect of blood running through my veins like crazy as I watch his only daughters going around the house and entering the shop again, exactly where I am. Not a monthly phone call, or even a Christmas card to their father, yet here they are, smiling like he wasn’t rotting under the ground at this exact moment, only a few miles from there at the city’s cemetery. I can’t swallow right because there are so many words stuck in my throat. None of them are nice and, without a shadow of a doubt, they won’t make the girls feel remorse in any way.

  “You’re disgusting!”. One of them points at me, watching my brazen smirk.

  “Not more than you!” I rebuked.

  I put one of the backpacks on my shoulder and strap two others to the motorcycle, they are filled with clothes and as many tools as I can carry. Now I understand him, he knew he was dying and wanted to make sure that I would at least have something that could give me freedom. The fact he left me his Harley, in which he’d invested tons of money fixing it up in the past few months, also made his daughters outraged; but after rubbing the documents on their faces they shut their mouths two seconds later.

  Now, getting on the motorcycle, with an address in hand, I know exactly where to go, even though I’m not really sure what to do there. His last words to me, when I found him on the ground of his shop, were just “I’m sorry”; then Steven took the damn paper out of his pocket and closed his eyes. When I realize, I’m crossing the state heading to Massachusetts. I will probably spend what’s left from the funeral, so, hopefully, whatever waits for me there makes some real sense to me and that Steven can finally rest in peace from this fucked up world.

  I look at my reflection in the mirror that’s hanging on the door that divides the closet from TJ’s room, pleased with my deep cleavage. The women in my religious family are always trying hard to please their husbands and look respectful. “Don’t cut your hair, Lizzie, your husband won’t like it”, “don’t show too much cleavage, Lizzie, Christopher won’t be happy to see that much skin exposed”. Thank God, my mom and dad are the pariahs of their families, which makes me and my sister the deviant cousins. That’s why every time my aunts question my sister Lizzie, she smiles and takes out her tit to breastfeed her son Joseph in front of their husbands. I love my sister.

  But back to me, staring at my eyeliner that is never symmetric, questioning whether I should take off my gray dress and just slide under the sheets or put on my strappy stilettos and go downstairs for the boys’ birthday party. TJ and Ty, the twins, will probably get drunk enough for me to have to drag them up the stairs and into their own beds. And I’m not really in the mood for that tonight.

  Going with my second choice, that won’t make me look like a creepy loner, I sit on the bed and put my heels on. Two minutes later, with a heavy sigh, I make my way down the stairs, hearing the laughs on the first floor as I’m walking down step by step, wishing that the night would end soon, but it won’t. The party will carry on until sunrise, but maybe I can escape from TJ and go to bed early if I’m lucky.

  I’m not always this boring, I like parties, but the last semester made me change my mind about all that endless chaos, that always ends up in some sort of fight, wacky sex, and thousands of cups scattered around the house. I can’t complain, though, when I started “dating” my childhood friend, I truly understood where I was getting myself into, every time I let him into my pants. If I want my boyfriend Tales and his brother, Tyson, to let me stay at their place until I graduate, I have to accept all the naked girls walking through the hallways too.

  As I walk into the living room I see TJ on the edge of the table, he smiles widely as he raises a cup to his mouth right after his opponent throws a ping-pong ball into it. He drags his forearm over his lips, wiping the liquid that’s running down his chin. Tales is wearing a white T-shirt that says “Blow My Candle” and an arrow pointing down at his dick — not that it’s necessary, I roll my eyes smiling as I get closer.

  His eyes meet mine and then his smile grows wider, his white teeth highlighting his tanned skin and his green eyes. I know it’s him, I haven’t mixed them up in so long, because, even though Ty and TJ are identical, they wear completely different clothes. I want to laugh just thinking about Tyson wearing that T-shirt.

  “You look hot.” TJ slides his right arm around my waist, pulling me into a kiss. “I thought you’d never come down.”

  “You wouldn’t be that lucky.” I kiss his lips before stepping aside.

  Everybody starts screaming, so I back up, looking for the reason why people have gone wild. That’s when I notice the girl, who stands on the other side of the table, taking her shorts off, revealing her tiny bikini bottoms. I feel my cheeks blushing, but it’s not from embarrassment. When I face TJ, he shrugs, and then I notice that he’s not wearing shorts either. His white briefs are tight enough to show his glorious dick, even though the thin fabric prevents it from being completely out in the open.

  “Okay.” I sigh before moving away.

  “Do you wanna play?” TJ asks as I’m walking away.

  “Do you wanna see me naked in front of your friends?” I cross my arms over my chest.

  I hate it when TJ gets wasted because h
e messes up and acts as if it’s nothing; like it was normal to play beer pong with a girl and ask her to take her clothes off, when it doesn’t even work like that. Why does everything have to involve naked people with him? What the fuck is his problem, honestly?

  “Oh, come on! Why are you mad? It’s my birthday!”

  “It’s not midnight yet.”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “When did you become so boring?” he screams after me as the distance grows between us.

  I ask the same question every day, even though I know the answer. Things got complicated when we ended up together in the same bed, because TJ is complicated and free, he doesn’t like ties and has been inside more holes than a golf ball. And, although he’s always been my best friend and has a heart the size of the world that makes me love him, it still annoyed me that he didn't take anything seriously.

  As soon as I enter the kitchen to fix myself a drink, I recognize every face around the kitchen island, which I consider the downside of having a mansion so close to the university, everyone has a free pass, and only when Mr. Jackson shows up to visit his sons that the house stays quiet and totally clean. I love it when he comes, the problem is that it doesn’t happen very often.

  “Does TJ already have a dick shoved up his ass?” Tyson’s deep voice stands out, despite the kitchen being crowded.

  “Yep,” I reply, watching him through the brim of my cup.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t stress out over him.” Ty walks towards the marble island, putting his tattooed forearms against the surface.

  He smiles at me as he leans forward, searching for a clean cup.

  “It’s hard not to stress when your boyfriend is betting with a girl who is probably losing, only to end up naked in a room full of pervs.”

  “You need to chill out, Ky.” He chugs the liquid inside his cup.

  “Yes, of course, all I need is to relax and this is the perfect environment for it.” I sigh, defeated, and take a sip of my drink. “How can you act like fifteen-year-old boys when you guys are actually twenty-three?”

  With the money they have, of course they can, they’re spoiled. His laugh echoes through the kitchen, making me laugh as well. After so many years of getting to know those two, it still surprises me how much they look alike. How can two people be born and look exactly the same? I wonder how it would be if I had a twin sister. I’d probably make her go to my classes and take my tests while I stayed home sleeping.

  “It’s simple math. If you’re hot, and have a big dick, women will chase you, eventually, it will get to your head; when that happens, you will have fucked so many pussies that you’ll be acting like a fifteen-year-old jerk off machine.”

  I grunt. It’s weird to know how big my boyfriend's brother's dick is, since my boyfriend has the same one.

  “Get out of here,” I mutter.

  “Go have fun, Ky. Put on a white bikini and jump in the water,” he suggests. “TJ will be stuck in a room with you before midnight.”

  I flip him off as he leaves the kitchen with a small smile on his face. This isn’t the way I want TJ. Bribing him with sex is not the way to get him to toe the line. He has to learn that if he has a girlfriend he can’t walk around naked — or almost, for that matter — around the house, but that’s hard when the only thing he knows how to do is to be the center of attention; the worst part is that, besides being a hot motherfucker, our sex is incredible.

  After drinking two cups of a delicious cherry-flavored drink, I go back to where TJ is, watching him completely naked now, with a Solo cup on his penis, while several phones capture him drinking the last cup of the game. Ty watches me, smiling as if I were crazy for getting into this situation with his brother, and I sigh because I agree with him. I love Tyson and Tales, but most of the time they are too much work. When TJ is not getting into trouble, Ty is getting into fights.

  “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll put my clothes on in a second.” He turns around to face me, still holding the cup.

  “Don’t be shy on my account, keep going. There’s no one in Massachusetts who hasn't seen what you call a dick.”

  The surrounding crowd explodes in ecstasy and I smile, not because I like attention or need people’s approval, but because I know I can put Tales Jackson in a position he’s not used to be, and this has nothing to do with sex. When TJ opens his mouth to say something that I know I won’t like, someone screams:

  “Midnight!”

  A second later, a college girl, or a stripper, I will never be able to distinguish, shows up with an enormous cake with two lit candles right in the middle of it and everyone starts singing “Happy Birthday”. TJ bends over to pick up his briefs and puts them on swiftly, revealing his private parts for a few seconds. Ty stays in a corner, hiding his smirk, at the same time his brother leans over the cake, blowing the tiny flame over the candle.

  The girl walks graciously towards Tyson, swaying her hips as she balances herself on her high heels, wearing only a small golden bikini and, when she reaches him she bounces twice, clearly excited. Ty then picks up the candle and turns it upside down, burying it on the cake. He’s too “tough” to blow it. After that the room erupts in excited screams, not because Tyson Jackson puts his finger on the frosting and rubs it on the girl’s lips, but because after doing so he kisses her so hard as if he’s about to fuck her right then and there. It’s exactly the kind of show that happens with such frequency that’s making me reach my limit.

  After everyone says their birthday wishes to the twins, I’m able to sneak through the crowd to hug my boyfriend. He keeps a presumptuous smile on his face, and it makes me smile to see him this happy, despite everything else. His hands slide through the side of my body, while his mouth touches the skin on my neck.

  “Happy Birthday, TJ.”

  “Happy birthday to you too.” He says, biting my lip.

  “It’s not my birthday.”

  He frowns.

  “Happy fourth of July, then.”

  “Happy fourth.”

  “I think I’m wasted.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  A hand pulls him by the neck and three seconds later he disappears through the crowd. I know twenty seconds is the most I can spend with him at a party. I walk towards Tyson, and he watches me as I get closer, I smile at him, opening my arms going in for a hug that will be awkward. Ty is good at public display of affection, but only when there are tongues involved.

  “Happy Birthday, Ty.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Keep an eye on your brother. I’m going to bed.”

  He nods as I walk towards the kitchen.

  I open the cabinet and grab a package of nuts, placing it under my arm, scared that someone will snatch it away from me before I get to my room. When I step on the hallway that gives access to the staircase, I see Tyson at the door; I walk towards him with a confused expression and let a deep and tired sigh escape my lips.

  Ty is wearing a different t-shirt, I ask myself how the hell he found a different t-shirt so fast without going to his room. I open the package before getting to him and stick a nut into my mouth, facing him, confused. As soon as his eyes turn to me, they scan my whole body, from my sandals to my tits and then slowly to my face, my cheeks heat up in response; I ask myself what the hell is going on, because he’s never looked at me like that, not even when he was joking.

  And he wasn’t.

  “What do you want?”

  “Nice way to answer the door.” He fakes an accent, which makes him sexier. Even though I don’t understand where this is going.

  “Why are you standing there like an idiot?”

  He cocks an eyebrow, seeming excited with my question, but then he grins, and Christ, it’s not the way I’m used to seeing Ty or TJ smiling.

  “Are you doing that again?” I ask impatiently. “I’m not going to fall for it this time, it’s not funny anymore. I won’t be able to identify you because one of you is playing the role of a third-person and then Tyson’ll start to laugh, saying he could easily fuck me without me even knowing that I was sleeping with someone else other than my boyfriend.”

  “So you have a boyfriend?”

  “You know what? You guys are screwed because now I’m going to kiss you,” I announce, stepping forward, watching him frown. “If you’re my boyfriend, okay; if you’re not, my boyfriend will come out from the bush he’s hiding.”