Joe breathed deep and slow, obviously enjoying this, obviously trying to stay loose. 'Oh, man, look at you.' He slid his hands down my back and kneaded the muscles of my bottom, pulling my cheeks apart with each circling squeeze. 'Oh, man, you are so gorgeous. I love watching you suck me, the way your whole body moves with it, the way your mouth hollows when you pull, the way you make me wet from tonguing me so well. It is so
rucking
sexy.'
His praise made me want to please him all the more. I sank forward till my nose brushed his crisp, black thatch.
'Oh, honey. Oh, yeah. Turn for me, sweetheart. That's right. I want to do it for you, too.'
Careful not to lose his mooring, he rearranged us on the bed until we both lay on our sides. He kissed my cunt so tenderly it made my neck go limp. He kissed me the way most men only kiss women's mouths, as though the flesh there were beautiful and delicious - infinitely desirable, endlessly lovable.
I hummed my enjoyment into his erection, running my hand in long, grateful strokes down his legs. He hummed back and burrowed deeper. His chin settled over my clit, rocking it hard. The remnant of his beard, faint from his recent shave, burned pleasantly over the hood. I might be sore later but now the friction was just what I needed. He probed my sheath as deeply as he could with his tongue, spearing in and out like a small, flexible penis.
It felt so good, I wanted to thank him somehow.
I thought of Sean. With a shudder of anticipation, I dipped two fingers into my juicy well. Joe started in surprise, but quickly resumed what he'd been doing -until I pushed the lubricated digits between his buttocks. He grunted as they slid past the ring of muscle guarding his gate, stiffened when they reached the first knuckle, and moaned when the webbing struck home. The smoothness of his passage surprised me, and the tightness. No wonder men liked this. I wiggled experimentally.
His cock leapt in my mouth and his anus clenched my fingers. His reaction excited me so much a gush of cream welled from my sex.
'Mm.' I pulled up my
favourite
lollipop until it slipped free with a smack. 'Say, Joe, where would I find your prostate?'
His laugh sounded more like a cough but he did answer. Towards the front, right about where your fingertips are. But, Kate, wait a second before you go exploring. You might get more than you bargained for.'
To my surprise, he reached down and repositioned his cock between the meeting of my breasts. 'Hey,' I protested.
'Forget it, Kate. Try concentrating on one thing at a time.'
He had a point there.
'Will I feel anything?' I asked, probing the soft, silky walls.
'You might.' He squirmed under my manipulations. 'You might feel a firm swelling, about the size of a walnut.'
'Oh! There it is. I feel it.'
Joe felt it, too. He moaned loudly, his body undulating against the sheet, his cock stiffening between my breasts. 'Rub it, Kate. Yes, right there. A little harder. Long strokes. That's it. Just like that.'
Massaging the hidden gland was like doubling the voltage through a wire. Within seconds, he was panting and shaking. His movements ragged, he took me in his mouth again. With one taut hand, he cupped the side of my breast, pressing it against his rigid shaft to make a
cosy
tunnel. He must have wanted to thrust but he kept himself on a brutally short rein, making do with tight jerks of his hips. Everything followed the rhythm with which I rubbed his hot spot - his abbreviated thrusts, his sucking, his repeated gasps for air.
With that kind of inspiration, I came long before he did, in a shower of sparks that burst from the heart of my sex and spread out in delicious rippling tingles, making my back bow and my toes curl.
'Again,' he pleaded, bucking harder between my breasts. 'Come again, Kate.' But I was determined not to miss his fireworks.
They were worth waiting for, too. A warning flush darkened his body a second before he came and his anus clamped my fingers like a vice. It took all my strength to continue the massage, but it was worth it to hear his rapturous groan, to feel his seed shooting hot and strong along my belly. He settled slowly, still twitching as I petted him down.
'Man, you wrung me out,’ he said in a tone of amazement.
I wriggled around until we lay face-to-face. His eyes were closed but he pulled me into a sweaty embrace.
'I need a nap,’ he mumbled. 'Wake me in an hour.'
An hour? I thought. Try eight.
In actuality, it was more like thirty minutes - and he woke me. The next time was slow and sweet. Sensing my exhaustion, he rocked me like a baby in a cradle, keeping me on the brink for ages. When I was ready to weep with longing, he pushed us both over the edge in a deep, muscle-wrenching climax. I stayed awake long enough to sample the brandy-soaked pears he'd finally remembered making, after which I sank into a billow of pleasant dreams.
At
, a metallic rattle disrupted my slumber. Heart pounding, I bolted up in bed. Someone was trying to force the lock on the front door.
I flashed back to the months following my divorce when I was a woman alone in a big city living in a creaky old house that, for all I knew, was haunted by the ghost of my dear-departed lesbian aunt. Mind you, Aunt Sally loved me enough to bequeath me the house, but she was also the sort to drop in uninvited, just to say 'hi'. Frankly, I didn't welcome a visit from the Other Side any more than I welcomed a visit from a burglar.
A snore from Joe returned me to the present. Thank God. 'Joe, wake up.' I shook his shoulder. 'Wake up!' '
Wha
-?' He lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. 'I think someone's trying to break into the house.' His head flopped back down. '
Prob'ly
Sean.' 'Sean has a key.'
‘
Prob'ly
drunk,’ he said, and closed his eyes again. 'Knew he wouldn't stay away all night.'
To a panicked woman, who was only half-awake, this conclusion represented too big a leap to reassure. I grabbed the fireplace poker I kept for just such an emergency.
Joe struggled up on his elbow. 'Don't bash him. He's the best friend I've got.'
I should have bought a dog, I thought, clumping down two flights of stairs with the poker held before me like a sword. A big, scary dog with sharp teeth and a loud bark. Something crashed in the vicinity of the kitchen. I froze. Then I heard a curse that was, indeed, familiar. It was Sean.
I flicked on the light and found him trying to pick the pieces of a broken glass off the linoleum. He blinked owlishly in the sudden glare. I noticed that my yellow trousers, and Joe's jeans, lay in a tangle by the refrigerator. Sean must have tripped over them.
'Kate,’ he said, his eyes bloodshot, his sensual mouth slack. 'You're up.'
This is what I got for starting an affair with a twenty-three-year-old. No, with two twenty-three-year-olds. Sean swayed on his haunches.
'Couldn't stay,’ he said. Too many illegal substances. I don't party like that any more.'
This declaration would have gone down better if he weren't totally sloshed.
'Come away from that glass.' I pulled him up by the arm. One of his palms was bleeding, a long thin cut, like boys used to swear by in the old days. He stumbled against me as I guided him to the sink. I opened the tap and held his hand under it.
'
Ow
,’ he said, but I didn't see any glass. 'Can't drink like I used to. Only had three beers - okay, maybe four. And look at me. I'm a mess.'
'That you are.'
'Hate a sloppy drunk.' Unable to keep his footing, his elbow
thunked
on to the counter. 'He won't love me any more.'
Trying not to laugh at his theatricals, I wrapped a paper towel around his palm and applied pressure. 'I'm sure Joe has seen you drunk before.'
'No, not because of that. Because I stole your cherry - your
arse
cherry,' he enunciated, in case it wasn't clear. ‘I knew he wanted it, but I stole it anyway. In fact, I stole it because he wanted it.' His face settled into mournful lines like the tragedy mask at a drama club. 'Kate, sometimes I'm so bad I don't know what to do with myself.'
When I smiled at him, tears stung my eyes. I remembered being his age, and remembered a few of the lousy, selfish things I'd done since then. 'Everyone is bad sometimes, Sean. That doesn't make it right, but it doesn't make you a monster either.'
Nodding, he sniffed hard and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. His muscles bulged with the motion. Some tough guy - and that black T-shirt had seen better days.
'Whew.' I waved my hand in front of my nose. 'You smell like a brewery.'
'Some stupid first-year shook up a beer can and sprayed me with it.' He pushed carefully off the counter and tested his balance. 'Better take a shower.'
'Better let me help you,’ I said, easing his arm around my shoulders.
In fits and starts, we shuffled up the stairs to the second floor, to the bathroom he and Joe shared. The air smelled of shaving cream and cologne - Joe's
Aramis
, Sean's trendy Calvin Klein. I propped him on the toilet and turned on the spray. Once it was going, I knelt down to remove his shoes. 'You
gonna
wash my back, too?' I didn't answer, but that didn't seem to matter to him. The three, or maybe four, beers had loosened his tongue. 'Nobody ever washed my back, not even my mom.'
That tugged my heartstrings, too. What a softie I was. 'You could have asked Joe.'
He shook his head, that hound-dog look on his face again. 'Joe gave me so much. I couldn't ask him to baby me, too.'
I peeled off his socks. 'Sure you could. But you would have had to give up your nice, dominant position.'
His glare told me I'd hit a bull's-eye. His mouth opened on a stutter. Then he closed it and started again. 'You've got a sharp tongue,
Mrs
Robbyns
.'
'Ms Winthrop,’ I corrected,
levelling
him with the gimlet eye I used to save for Tom. Unlike my ex, Sean met it like a man.
'You think I wouldn't let Joe baby me 'cause I wanted to stay in charge?' 'You tell me.'
He rubbed his face with both hands. When he let go, the mournful lines were gone. A sly smile had taken their place, one I found altogether too charming. 'I'm letting you baby me.'
I braced my hands on my knees and stood. 'That doesn't count. You're not in love with me.'
His grin faded. He couldn't deny my words, or that he was in love with Joe. With a weary sigh, he stripped off his stinky T-shirt and tossed it into the hall.
"Thanks, Kate,’ he said. He appeared almost sober. 'I think I can take it from here.'
Joe was sitting on the stairs when I emerged, his head in his hands, his back bowed over his knees. He'd pulled on a pair of briefs and nothing else. I sat next to him on the faded cabbage-rose carpet runner. He gathered my hand on to his knee. My guess was Sean had never said he loved him.
'You
heard?'I
said.
'Yeah.'
'You know, we can stop this any time you want -before anyone gets hurt.'
'Do you want to stop?' His eyes were brilliant in the low light from the hall.
I shook my head.
'I don't think Sean wants to stop, either, Kate.'
'But-'
He silenced my protest with a petal-soft kiss. 'You have to be brave to have an adventure.'
I snorted. 'Yeah, and you can't make an
omelette
without breaking eggs, but I don't want you or Sean to end up cracked.'
He bussed the tip of my nose. 'I'm not a coward and neither is Sean - or you.'
I leant my head on his shoulder and thought that over. Cowards don't divorce their philandering husbands, or start their own businesses, or form ménages a
trois
. Maybe I could handle this. Maybe.
'We'll wait until he comes out,' I said. 'He can spend the night with us.'
Joe squeezed my shoulder in approval. "That's a girl. We'll make an adventuress out of you yet.'
The next day was Saturday. Mostly Romance didn't open till
. A quickie to start the day would have suited me, but Sean was too grumpy and Joe was too hungry. The rumbling in his stomach distracted me from my goal.
As a result, we all rolled out of bed together.
'Bagels, coffee, fruit,' Sean said in his curt morning rasp. 'Be at the table in half an hour.'
Fortunately, this meant he was preparing the meal. I'd just finished setting the kitchen table when the telephone rang. More at home now that he'd
tupped
the lady of the house, Joe grabbed the cordless receiver. He frowned at the voice on the other end.
'It's Larry,' he said, and thrust the phone in my direction.
For a moment, I drew a blank. Then I remembered. L. Kingston Something-or-other.
'Oh, damn. Marianne must have given him my number.'
'Indeed, she did,’ said L. Kingston as I lifted the phone to my ear. 'She also gave me to understand you were available.'