by Sean Michael
He really didn’t want to have to go through the trouble of finding a new lawyer. Mitchum was…well, broken in, so to speak. His reaction to this particular ask notwithstanding. Hell, Rook kind of liked that Mitchum was shocked and questioning him—it made him be sure of his own motives and confirmed that they needed to have everything set in stone to protect both sides, but especially the man who they would ask to be theirs for the year.
“No, I’ll do it. I’d rather do it myself and be sure that this is all above board and that neither party is going to get screwed.” Mitchum seemed to be relaxing a little. At least his voice had come down in pitch.
Rook did laugh this time—he couldn’t help himself. “Well…” He gave Mitchum a wink and left it at that. The truth was, if this worked, all parties were going to get screwed, but only in the fun spanky way where lots of cum got spilled all over the place. Which was his favorite way of screwing. Rook didn’t like the other kind and was hoping to avoid it.
Mitchum ignored him and gathered the papers Rook had brought in with the list of things they’d brainstormed together over the last week on. “You need all of this included.”
“Yes, we want to be thorough.”
“All right. Leave this with me and I will have something drawn up for you to look at by Monday. Does that work for you?” Mitchum looked at him over the rims of his glasses, equilibrium clearly restored.
“Yeah, that’s great. Thanks.” Rook stood and held out his hand.
Mitchum stood as well and shook it, expression serious. “Let’s make this the most outrageous thing you bring to me, hmm?”
Rook was still laughing as he hit the street and headed to Java Java to meet Knight and Bishop. They were already at a table, thick as thieves with their heads together. Looked like they had his coffee and a cinnamon bun already for him as well, so he skipped the line and headed straight to them.
Knight gave him a grin as he walked over, dark eyes glittering. “How did it go with Mr. Stuffy?”
“He’s going to do it!” Rook was pleased and surprised. He’d been sure that this time he’d pushed Mitchum too far out of his comfort zone. He was glad, though. Mitchum was a good lawyer. And he always felt that the guy had his best interests at heart, even when he totally ignored the man’s advice.
“Rock on.” Knight offered him a kiss then fed him a bite of cinnamon roll. “Did he freak out?”
Rook thought that was what Knight was hoping for.
“Not as much as I thought he was going to. He told me we couldn’t do it to start off with and he looked like this bizarre fish for a few minutes first. But in the end, he said he’d do it. I think he wants to make sure I can’t be sued if things go wrong. He’s uptight, but he’s a good egg in the end.”
Rook gave Bishop a smile and touched the back of his hand. Bishop immediately turned his hand and twisted their fingers together.
“Knight thinks he has a possibility. Maybe. Some kid in an art class.”
Knight shrugged. “We’ll have to see.”
“Why not? That is, after all, where you found me.” Rook bounced in his seat. “Are you guys finished your coffees?” He was ready to go home and, uh, celebrate, the idea of having a contract for a fourth guy. Okay, so maybe it was more the idea of a fourth guy itself that had him hot and bothered. Lawyers and contracts, no matter what they were for, were kind of stuffy and not hornifying.
Bishop laughed softly. “You are insatiable, Rookie.”
He didn’t bother trying to deny it—he was.
“He’s a slut. Through and through.” And he loved the way Knight smiled at him, eyes warm, fond. Knight had a hint of softness in that hard exterior. Hell, the interior was pretty tough.
He and Bishop knew where the gooey parts lived, though, and he thought it was high time they went back home and searched them out. Rook stood, and held out both hands. “Come on, lovers. I have an itch that only the two of you can scratch.”
Knight finished his own coffee, then shot Rook’s back too, as Bish rolled his eyes.
“Someone’s going to paint once we’ve made like bunnies.” Hell, Rook knew Knight might not even make it to the bedroom. Unless Bishop insisted, and Bishop was very good at insisting.
“Celebrating us, first.” Bishop grabbed his hand, then Knight’s and tugged him onto his feet. “You brought home those new dildos from the store yesterday and I have a hankering to try them out.”
“Those were horse-sized, Bish…” Knight protested as they headed out of the coffee shop, waving at the barista.
“You can take them.” Bishop sounded confident, then he grinned and it was a wonderfully wicked expression. “You’re going to take them.”
Rook cheered. “And I can help, right?”
“There’s more than enough horse-sized dildos for you to be on the receiving end too,” Bishop promised.
It hadn’t been exactly what Rook had meant, but it worked for him.
God, he loved these two men more than anything. Was it crazy for them to be contemplating bringing in someone else?
The answer to that was probably yes, but not because he already loved Bishop and Knight. He had more than enough love for three men. He had all the love in the world.
* * * *
God, he was bored.
Like intensely, crazy bored.
Jason kept his eyes on the spot on the ceiling where the stain stopped. Being perfectly motionless was the whole trick of life modeling, but even so… The last thing he needed to do was sit and think about how his only remaining client at the gym had just dropped him and his rent was two months past due.
What was he going to do? He could live in his car for a little while, but winter was coming. Hell, it was already bearing down—he could feel it in the mornings when he went out to run. God knew this was not the place to be homeless when the winter came.
And without training clients the gym wouldn’t let him in.
And he couldn’t get more clients without a gym.
Fucking economy.
Fucking money.
Fucking Jack Winters dropping his prices at the fitness center so far that nobody private could compete, not after paying the gym its cut.
The life modeling gig was the last thing he had left and, at forty bucks a night, it wasn’t going to help. Not at all.
The night’s session was almost over when two guys came in—one big, dark and quiet, the other slender, blond and bouncy. “Hey, Knight!”
“Hey, you hooligans.” A guy from the back stood and stretched. “I’m out of here, Ginger. You good?”
Ginger Peters, the instructor, who had to be thirty months pregnant, smiled. “Yeah. I’ll get Jason to help me to my car. In fact, time’s up, everyone. Thanks, Jason, for sitting.”
Jason sat up, grabbed his robe and tried to smile. “Sure.”
The taller one of the guys who’d just arrived leaned into his painter friend. “Is that him, Knight?”
“Mm-hmm.” The artist—Knight—grinned, the smile slow but not sweet at all. “Approve, Bish-love?”
“I just might. You have a good eye.”
“Well, duh.” The guy called Knight grabbed his palette pad, scribbled on it, then rolled it up.
Jason tried hard not to pay attention, not to anybody, but it was tough. Really tough.
Especially when the fierce-looking dude walked up to him and pressed the paper into his hand. “For you, stud. Enjoy.”
Then the trio just…walked away.
The blond looked back just as they got to the door, gave him a warm, inviting smile, then they were gone.
Ginger smiled at Jason. “Keep that.”
“Huh?”
“Chris Knight’s one of the up-and-coming artists. It’ll be worth a fortune one day.”
His fingers clenched around the roll. “No shit?”
“You have my word.”
Jason shook his head. “No way. Why’s he here then?”
“I hear he likes to go incognito, take the b
eginner courses and have some fun. More than one teacher’s ripped him to shreds only to backpedal when they found out who he was.”
“Weird. I’ll get dressed, hon, then carry your stuff.”
Artists were strange.
He got back to his clothes, put on his jeans, T-shirt, hoodie, tennis shoes. Only then did he look at his picture. It was him, but…
He was…
Erect. God. And there were hands and cocks and mouths on him and…
Jesus.
Oh, God.
He stared, stunned, his fingers curling as he shook his head. Fucking pervert. They said there wasn’t anything sexual about posing like this.
Nothing.
But this was…
God.
He shook his head, swallowed hard. He just needed to throw this trash away, go home.
Bleach his brain.
At the bottom of the picture was a scribble—Interested in a job? Come to the Z’va coffee house. Tonight.
No way.
No.
Fucking.
Way.
Pervert.
Chapter One
Rook bounced as they headed toward the Z’va coffee house, walking between Knight and Bishop, his two favorite people in all the world. “He was a stud, Knight. He really was.”
“I told you.” Knight winked at him, goosed him gently. “O ye of little faith and large penis.”
He jumped at the goosing and rounded on Knight, his ire fading as he played the words back. “His was pretty impressive, too. You think it was just a shower? Or a grower, too?”
“That I don’t know. He’s never sprung wood in class.” Knight winked.
“That’s a damn shame.” Rook stepped back between them and looped a hand each through Knight’s and Bishop’s arms. He loved touching them. Hell, he loved them, plain and simple. “So. I know I’m not the only one who wants to do him six ways to Sunday.”
Bish snorted. “Or get done by him.”
“Sure. I’m easy.” He was. As both his lovers well knew.
“He might say no… You do realize this, dear boys.” Knight could be such a turd.
“You wouldn’t have suggested it if you believed that.”
Knight nodded, hips bumping his. “He’s got a great ass and the rumors are he’s unattached. A little gym bunny.”
“I didn’t get a good look at his ass, but the rest of him was vavavavoom!”
“I saw his ass,” put in Bishop. “It was great.”
“I need a cup of coffee. I told him where we’d be. We’re sticking with the original plan, boys?”
They’d made similar offers before—four times. No one’d ever said yes. Of course, Knight hadn’t picked before.
A boy. A man. A lover. Someone for them to play with at will. They’d started talking about it late one night—the three of them naked and lazy, sprawled. Knight had been teasing Bish about getting a houseboy, someone they could touch, drive crazy. Boss around a little. Play with.
That had been Knight’s phrase. Play with.
Rook nodded eagerly and Bishop grunted an affirmative.
Rook tried not to get excited, but damn. It wasn’t easy.
They piled into the shop, waved at Rick and Les. “The usual, boys?”
“Please. You and Bish go sit, I’ll get it.” He pulled his wallet out and sauntered up to the counter.
Rick grinned at him and Les made the black coffee, the mocha latte, and the triple espresso with a shot of caramel. “We haven’t seen you three in almost a week. I was going to send a search party.”
“If you promise it’ll be full of studs, it’ll be another week before we’re back.”
“Shit, I can’t afford that! Knight keeps me in business!”
He pouted. “Too bad. I guess we’ll have to keep finding our own studs.”
He handed over a twenty and waved away the offered change. Grabbing the tray, he headed to the table Knight and Bishop had chosen. Knight was straddling a chair backwards, Bishop’s hands on his lean shoulders, rubbing hard. Knight looked tired, but each touch seemed to make that sexy body to relax. Rook licked his lips. Who needed a search party of hotties when he had his two very own personal studs to love on?
The look on Knight’s face was pure bliss—lips parted, surrounded by goatee and mustache, the hair black as pitch.
“No orgasming in the coffee shop—they’ll throw us out again,” Rook teased, putting their coffees down on the table.
“Shh. He’s rubbing. Don’t distract him.”
He grinned at Bishop, who just smiled back. “I’ll do you when we get home.”
It was probably for the best—he’d never met a massage he didn’t want to turn into more. Especially when Bish was the one dishing out the massage—you could feel the love in every touch.
Knight moaned, the sound like liquid sex. “Bish has the best hands.”
“He does.” Rook was getting hard. Between the look on Knight’s face and the memories of what exactly those hands could get up to…
He sat down and pulled his chair up to the table. Bish could make you beg, make you scream, make you hurt in ways that felt so fucking good after… And after… He never ever doubted that Bish loved him.
He tried not to whimper—he already had a reputation for being easy, so the last thing he needed was to get all hot and bothered by memories.
Knight met his gaze, near-black eyes dazed. “Tell me when you see him.”
Not if.
When.
That had him even more jazzed. Knight really believed this guy was going to show up, was going to at least listen to their proposition. He bit his lower lip and nodded, eyes going automatically to the door.
Bishop was murmuring softly to Knight. Rook couldn’t hear the words, but it didn’t matter. He knew the tone, knew the need. Knew that, no matter what the stud said to their offer, Knight was going to get worked over tonight and he was going to get to enjoy all the benefits.
Fuck, his life was good.
He took a sip of his espresso, humming at the sweetness of the caramel.
One eye half on the door, he gave most of his attention to his lovers.
Knight’s high cheekbones were painted a rosy red, his eyes closed. The man had the longest damn eyelashes he’d ever seen. Ever.
Rook wished, all of a sudden, that they were at home. Oh, he wanted to meet the stud, to make the offer and have it accepted, but he also wanted to pounce, to suck Knight’s cock and do whatever Bish ordered him to do. He wanted to hear Knight beg, to see Bish in those tight leather pants, in the black leather gloves…
His cock pushed hard against his jeans and he barely bit back a moan. Bish gave him a knowing, loving look, hazel eyes hooded.
He barely saw Bish’s tongue flick out, touch Knight’s ear.
He licked his lips, ready to leap up and suggest they go home, when the door opened and the stud from the art class walked in.
“Psst. Guys. Look.” He nodded in the direction of the door.
Bish backed off, and Knight’s eyes opened. “Go ask the pretty boy what he wants to drink, Rook-love. Then bring him over.”
“Anything for my Knight.” He let his hand trail along Knight’s shoulders before he went over to the cutie.
“Hey there. What can I get you?”
“I don’t drink coffee. A small non-fat chai, please?” The guy pulled out a wrinkled five from his pocket.
Rook wrapped his fingers over the hand with the five. “I’ve got it, sugar. Why don’t you go sit with Knight and Bishop?” He nodded toward his lovers.
“Knight and Bishop. Those are cool names.”
“Yeah, they’re cool guys, too. I’m Rook, by the way.” He held out his hand.
“Jason Myer.” The handshake was firm, strong.
“Hi, Jason, it’s great to meet you.” He waved at the guys behind the counter. “Large non-fat chai for my friend, please.”
It felt good when Jason relaxed a little bit, took a deep b
reath. “Thank you. I… You’re not in the drawing class, huh?”
“Hell, no. I can’t even draw stick figures!” He laughed, paid for Jason’s drink and grabbed four of the café’s huge cookies at the same time.
“Me neither. I’m a personal trainer, not an artist.”
“Oh, cool! Bish is at the gym a lot.” He grinned and patted his belly. “I’m there just enough.”
Jason smiled back at him and…whoa. Yeah. That was why Knight’d picked him. Yummy.
Bish was going to eat this one alive.
He gave Jason his best flirty look, grabbed the guy’s drink and led him over to Knight and Bish. “Guys, this is Jason Myer—personal trainer and studly model.”
“Hey, stud. Have a seat. You like my portrait?” Knight wasn’t looking all dazed now—no, the man was sharp and on fire.
“It was… I thought I should return it.”
“Oh, honey, why would you do that?” Rook frowned.
“It’s very…personal, and she said it was worth something, that you were there just to observe.”
Knight waved one hand. “Nonsense. I drew it for you.”
“There you go.” Rook waited for Jason to sit in the booth then slipped in beside him, sitting close. “It’s yours.”
Jason looked at Rook wide-eyed, then wrapped his hands around his mug. “So, your note said something about a job?”
Rook and Bish both looked at Knight, grinning. Rook even bounced in place a little.
“Yeah. I overheard your conversation about your situation at the gym and the boys and I are interested in hiring someone.”
Jason’s head tilted. “As a trainer?”
“Not precisely, no, although training is very much involved.”
Bish smiled. “Yes, training is important. Are you good at taking orders, Jason?”
“I follow directions really well. I didn’t lose my clients because I’m bad at my job. I just can’t compete with the big houses, price-wise.”
“That sucks.” Rook put his hand on Jason’s thigh and squeezed, giving him a sympathetic look.
Those big muscles leaped and jerked. “Thank you. So…what are you hiring for?”
Knight looked over, grinned and winked. “We want someone to play with. For a year.”
