Read Menage Online

Authors: Emma Holly

Tags: #Fiction, #Erotica, #General

Menage (6 page)

I raised my eyebrows at that. 'I've never had it four or five times a day.'

'Haven't you?' He leant forward, his forearms flush with the Formica tabletop. 'Not even doing it for yourself?'

That brought the
colour
to my face. I had, of course -not every day, but plenty of days. My ex, a two-
fer
at the most, had never wrung it all out of me.

'If you haven't, you could,’ he said in his know-everything way. 'Between Joe and me, you could certainly give it a try.'

My heart played Fred
Astaire
for a couple of beats. Sean was offering me my fantasy on a platter - except he wasn't a fantasy. He was a real person with real feelings. I might promise to keep things light, but one of us was bound to end up hurt. Maybe all of us would. Life had taught me that lesson to the full.

I shifted on the seat, conscious of the heat between my legs. This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Would I kick myself worse if I grabbed it, or if I let it go? Coward that I was, I threw the decision back to Sean. 'Is that what you really want? To start up a threesome?'

'You bet,' he said, without a moment's hesitation. 'I can't hold on to Joe forever. Might as well go out with a bang.'

 

Chapter Three
Out of the Frying Pan

 

I returned to Mostly Romance at a pace too ambling to qualify as exercise. Sean's story had plumped the folds of my sex. The sensitive tissues chafed with my steps, but I ignored the discomfort.

My thoughts required my full attention.

Sean seemed to assume he'd lose Joe, that Joe would choose me over him. Did he expect me to make Joe choose? I thrust my hands in my pockets and worried my lower lip.

'On your left,' someone warned me from behind. I looked back. An inexperienced
rollerblader
was headed straight for me. I sidestepped towards a shop window to avoid getting bumped.

The next fellow wasn't so lucky.

'Watch where you
goin
', man,' said that dreadlocked individual.

The scolding rattled the skater so badly he wobbled into the path of some Japanese tourists. Skirting them by inches, he veered towards the
kerb
. A balding Italian man grabbed his waist, neatly rescuing him from careering into traffic - for which feat a young
punkette
with a nose-ring yelled, 'Good save!'

Yes, indeed, this place had all kinds.
Philadelphia
might not always act like the City of
Brotherly Love
,
bu
the diversity of her inhabitants gave her plenty of chances to
practise
.

I admired Philly's ability to encompass so much variety. I admired it in myself. So why should I make Joe choose? Why shouldn't all three of us be happy? My gloomier half said, 'Because that sort of thing never works.'

As if on cue, Marianne stuck her head out the shop's entrance and grabbed my lemon-yellow lapel. She tugged me behind her to our office. As usual, she'd closed the mini-blinds; said too much sunshine gave her a headache. I opened the blinds halfway, pinched a brown frond off the asparagus fern and turned to face her. I expected a dressing-down, but instead she bubbled over with news of a good-looking man in an Italian suit who'd dropped by to ask me out.

I said I couldn't imagine who it might be.

'You couldn't forget him. He's scrumptious. Sexy eyes. Gold Rolex. He said his name was Larry.'

I hung my jacket over the back of my old-fashioned swivel chair and sat. 'I don't know anyone named Larry.'

'Of course you do.' With the persistence of a bloodhound, Marianne parked her leather-clad bottom on the corner of my desk. Her miniskirt rode up her sheer black stockings. She wagged her pointy four-inch heel. 'You met him this morning. He gave you his card.'

'Oh, that guy.' I opened my centre drawer and pawed through the clutter for a piece of chewing gum. 'I don't know what you're so excited about. He wasn't anything special.'

'Are you kidding? He's totally beddable.'

'Maybe the suit hid his love handles.'

"The Italian suit,' she clarified. "The expensive Italian suit.'

I popped the last stick of spearmint into my mouth. 'Tom wore nice Italian suits.'

My partner snorted. Tom, may he rot in hell, is history. It's time you got back in circulation.'

'I am in circulation. Besides, I don't think I want to start up with anyone else right now. My life is complicated enough,’

This admission was a mistake. Marianne stood, clenched both hands in her satiny black hair and pulled. 'I knew it. You're having a rebound thing with those limp-
wristed
lodgers. Kate, Kate, Kate, can't you see there's no future in that?'

Determined to play it cool, I swung my feet on to the blotter and crossed my ankles. 'Aren't you the one who's always saying "live for the moment"?'

'If only you would!' Marianne plopped back on her own desk and tugged her gold-braided bolero jacket over her tiny waist. 'At least give the man a call.'

'If you like him so much, you give him a call.'

'You're impossible.'

'And you're so jealous you could spit.'

She glared at this, but her anger faded to a pout a moment later. 'Maybe I am, but that doesn't mean sleeping with them isn't a stupid idea.'

'It wasn't stupid when you wanted to do it.'

Since she couldn't think of a comeback for that, she sniffed haughtily and swept out of the room muttering that I'd better not come crying to her when my heart got trampled.

Her warning hit home. I had a tendency to get serious about the men in my life. This fling with Sean and Joe was the closest I'd come to breaking my habit of serial monogamy. Already, I liked Sean far more than was convenient, and Joe -

I squirmed lower in my chair. Joe was so yummy it was dangerous.

Joe was cooking when I returned home that evening. I have a nice kitchen with exposed brick walls, herbs hanging in bunches from the beams, and lots of fancy pots. I don't cook much, but I like the
cosy
way it looks.

I liked the way Joe looked in it, too. I stood in the doorway watching him slice vegetables at the big butcher's-block island. He wore stone-washed jeans and was bare-chested. A freshly ironed blue shirt draped the back of a kitchen stool, which was where it belonged, in my opinion. Muscles flowed beneath his bare skin as he chopped. Joe had an awe-inspiring set of shoulders, very broad and very firm. He didn't work out much, though. Twice a week, maybe, he joined Sean at the gym or rode his bike along the river to Boathouse Row. He was just one of those lucky people who are born lean.

He was born tuneful, too, I thought, listening to him hum. He had a nice tenor, with the slightest hint of huskiness. Unless I was mistaken, the tune was Nat King Cole's 'Rambling Rose'. He'd been into my CDs again.

'Hey there,
Mr
Capriccio.'

He spun around as if I'd caught him jacking off. Appropriately enough, the top button of his jeans was undone, revealing a silky line of hair that dived from his navel to his crotch.

'You're early,' he said, doing up the button and grabbing his shirt off the stool.

Before he could get more than a hand in the sleeve, I ran my palms from the
sinewed
balls of his shoulders to his elbows. 'I'm not early. I simply left on time today -and don't dress on my account. I like ogling your hairy chest.'

His blush enchanted me.

'I didn't want to ruin the shirt while I was cooking. I've just pressed it.'

My hands reversed direction, skimming up his arms and down the centre of his chest. I spread my fingers across his board-flat abdomen. His warm, satiny skin twitched like a horse with a fly on it. The temperature of his groin jumped and, to my delight, his goods began to swell. 'You pressed that shirt for me?'

'Uh huh.' His diaphragm jerked with a quick breath.

My hands wandered higher, over his ribs, on to his
pecs
. His nipples were small, no bigger than pennies. The nub of erectile tissue in their
centres
stood out sharply and a tinge of blood-pink excitement painted their tips. Joe lowered his head, watching my hands, watching his body react. My own nipples ached at the sight. Feeling naughty, I took the tiny beads between thumb and forefinger and pinched.

'Kate,’ he gasped, and backed me into the island. Drawer handles jabbed my thighs - not that I cared. His heavy erection dug into my front, hard and getting harder. His hips
swivelled
until the pressure nearly lifted me off my feet. 'Lord, you make me crazy. I've been thinking about you all day. I could hardly sit through class. I kept getting hard, remembering the things we did yesterday, and the things I want to do tonight.'

'Such as?'

'Oh, man.' He grabbed my hips and kneaded. 'Don't get me started. I want everything to be perfect, the food, the wine, the dessert. Sean is staying with friends tonight. We have the place to ourselves.'

'I see. And does everything have to happen in order -food first, sex last?'

Confusion creased his brow. 'I don't want you to think I'm just some horny kid. I'm making salmon with orange sauce, steamed artichoke hearts and -' he consulted the open cookbook'- Indonesian rice salad.'

I slipped my hands down his back and under the waistband of his jeans. He wore them looser than Sean did. I had room enough to take possession of his downy hindquarters. He went up on his toes as I stroked them. What a sensitive boy he was. 'That sounds delicious, Joe. Is anything in the oven yet?'

'No, but-'

I silenced him with a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He tasted of ginger and oranges. He moaned, then filled my mouth with his tongue, slow, forceful
spearings
that probed my palate, then my cheeks. My nails curled into his buttocks at his sudden switch to aggressor. He didn't even flinch, he was so focused on his explorations.

I fumbled for his zip. 'I think I need an hors d'oeuvre.'

The sound of the tag ripping downward brought him to full alert. His long, strong fingers folded over my wrist. 'No, no, no. I waited all day for this. I can wait a few hours longer.'

'Can you?' His prick sprang through the vent of his briefs. How could I have forgotten how impressive he was? Veins stood out along the stalk and a drop of clear fluid seeped from the slit that pierced his
glans
. I swiped it off with the pad of my middle finger. At my touch, the passage gaped like a tiny mouth. A second drop squeezed through the contraction, this one large enough to roll sinuously down the head. I licked my lips. Hors d'oeuvre and men some. 'You look ready to go right now.'

'I can wait,' he insisted, though he was dancing on the spot.

I collected another drop and carried it to my lips. Salty. 'Maybe I can't wait.'

'Please,' he said, eyes glued to my sucking mouth. 'I want to keep my edge.'

I settled my cheek on the perspiring curve of his shoulder. 'From what Sean says, your edge doesn't take long to recover.'

He grasped my arms and pushed back. 'When did you and Sean have a chance to discuss my "edge"?'

'When he brought the flowers.' An idiotic rush of embarrassment heated my cheeks. Obviously, Joe didn't know about our
tete-a-tete
.

He touched the telltale
colour
with the back of his hand. 'You're blushing. Did you and he - Kate, did you and Sean make love?'

My embarrassment deepened. 'Not exactly. We, um, we did what you wouldn't let him do last night.'

Joe slammed his fist into the cutting board. 'Shit. I wanted to cop your cherry myself.'

I had to laugh at that. 'And here I thought you were concerned for my well-being.'

‘I was! I mean, that was part of it. He's hung like a damn horse. Oh, hell.' He pushed his hair back with both hands. 'I'm sorry. Of course you and Sean have the right to do whatever you like. It wouldn't be fair for me to keep all the good stuff for myself.'

'Well.' I shimmied closer. 'I hope you don't think that's all the good stuff there is. In any case, I didn't think you wanted to cut Sean out.'

'I don't.' His arms circled me and he rested his cheek on my hair. 'I just want to have some time that's only for us, like tonight.'

"That's fair.'

'I guess I didn't think Sean would want to have you to himself.'

I chuckled. 'I don't think Sean expected that, either.'

'He didn't hurt you?'

'No-o.' I liquefied at the memory of him
manoeuvring
me into position, the way he'd shoved my knees apart with his boot, how thick he'd been when he breached me. 'It was ... interesting. He's very commanding.'

Joe shivered in my arms and I
realised
he had his own memories.

'Yes,’ he said. 'Very.'

I assessed his distant expression. 'Next time would you like to watch?'

He shivered again. 'Next time I'd like to do. Then maybe I'll want to watch.'

'Fair enough.'

Other books

Lost Melody by Roz Lee
WLT by Garrison Keillor
Wolf by Cara Carnes
Hard To Bear by Georgette St. Clair
A Song to Die For by Mike Blakely
Pyro by Earl Emerson
Cuentos malévolos by Clemente Palma


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024