“Have… have a good day.” She couldn’t run away from his silk voice and abrasive fingers fast enough, and she was past caring if he knew it.
Chapter Three
Matt
He returned to the suite feeling relief that the sub was no longer there, but neither was Stephon. Matt picked up his guitar, sank into the plush cushions of the couch, and began playing. He was no Krispin Righteous, the lead singer of their band, but he’d trained in classical music and tended to revert when troubling thoughts filled his brain. The hard rock band bunnies would think he’d grown a second head if they heard the soft romantic melody of Brahms, which was never meant for guitar, though his talented fingers somehow made it work.
He didn’t hear the door, but when his eyes opened Stephon stood, rooted to the spot, just inside the entryway. “Did something bad happen that I need to know about?”
Stephon knew Matt only played classical music when his thoughts troubled him. “No, nothing bad.”
“You didn’t stick around for a morning quickie,” Stephon chided.
“That’s more your thing, not mine,” Matt quipped.
“Yeah, but it might have put you in a better mood.”
“My mood’s fine.” Matt changed the subject. “Are we rehearsing today?”
“Our dictatorial leader says we are.”
“Well, it’s early, but I’d rather get it over with.” Matt put the guitar down.
“I’m with you, and Krispin deserves us pulling him from Angela’s bed, the lecherous pig.”
“He’s only been married six months; I think he’s supposed to be a sexaholic at this stage.”
Stephon walked closer to the couch. “I keep wondering if he chafes. I would think after five or six times a day it would be a little sore.”
Matt shook his head. “You imagining the rawness of Krispin’s junk needs to be scrubbed from my memory.”
“Hey, I was thinking about your junk getting some last night. Cheryl Lee took special care of us both. She might be worth another play scene down the road.”
“She might.” He tried to keep his depressed mood to himself, but Stephon’s hand circled his throat from behind the couch, applying firm pressure.
“What’s up, bro?” The warm breath of his friend whispered along the side of his face.
They weren’t brothers by blood, but having each other’s back in a hole in Afghanistan at the beginning of the second Gulf War made them closer than most siblings. Sharing women in ménage one-nighters also gave Stephon the right to touch him this way. Matt’s hand gripped Stephon’s wrist and applied slight pressure. “Do you ever get tired of the endless women?” The strong hold on his throat loosened, but the hand stayed where it was.
“Tired, no. Bored… sometimes.”
“Maybe that’s it. I’m just bored.”
“You want what Krispin and Angela have.” It wasn’t a question.
“Maybe.”
“Some days I want it too. But then others… I don’t want anything changing. I’m also afraid there’s no one out there that would accept our lifestyle and the feelings we have for each other.”
“If we paid a woman enough, she could accept anything.”
“Isn’t that the real problem? They want us for our money and notoriety. They accept our tag-team love so they can say they slept with Stephon Cross and Matt Mathews of Blood Rights and then become celebrities for a short while. Do they really care if it’s you or I, separate or together?” A touch of anger came into Stephon’s voice, but his hand remained loose.
“You know it’s Matt Mathews and Stephon Cross, right? The keyboard never gets billing over the guitar.” The fingers completely released his neck, causing his own grip to slip away. A swat on the back of his head lightened the tone of the conversation even more.
“No one looks at your ugly mug. After Krispin, it’s me all the way.” Stephon walked around the couch, slipped off his shoes, and heavily plopped down on the couch, turning his body so his feet landed in Matt’s lap.
Matt looked down at his friend’s curling and straightening toes. “You have a death wish?”
“What, it’s not my feet you find sexy?”
“No. It’s only your ass when you pumped into what’s her name last night.”
“I see. So you want my ass.”
“I’d like to spank it, often.”
“Using a whip yes, but there’ll be blood if you even try a spanking.”
“Hmm, what if our next sub thinks it’s sexy to watch my hand land on your ass?”
“No putting ideas in her head or I’ll return the favor. But my feet do need a little TLC right now.”
Matt rose from the couch and the feet in question landed with a thump on the floor. “I’m sure you can find someone at this decadent hotel to give you a foot massage. That’s crossing the line for me.”
Stephon arched his eyebrows and lowered his voice. “I’d pay really well for you to satisfy my foot fetish.”
“For five dollars I’ll put my foot up your ass.”
“Painful and drastically overpriced.”
“You like the pain.”
“Not in my ass.”
They both laughed, and a short time later they left the suite to interrupt Krispin during his favorite past time.
Chapter Four
Jewel
Her feet and back ached. She needed new shoes, but didn’t have the funds for at least another month. The air conditioning bill was fifty dollars higher than she expected due to an early heat spell, and now the thermostat was set at eighty. The old squeaky ceiling fan did little more than move the hot air around, but it was better than nothing.
Pulling bills and change from the pockets of her waitress dress, she smiled over the thought of number eight leaving her more than ten dollars in tip. The rest of her day wasn’t bad either. Separating the bills, she hid them in two locations around the apartment. She didn’t live in a good neighborhood, and she learned the hard way that with her waitress dress giving away her employment even the three locks on the door couldn’t keep the thugs out. Waitress equaled cash and cash equaled a little drug money, or at least she figured that’s why they ripped her off six months before.
After a cold shower, she made herself dinner, un-packaging one of her never-ending supplies of Top Ramen. She received a free brunch at the diner between the breakfast and lunch rush so the Ramen held her over. Without a television cable hookup, her options were limited, so she watched the grainy local news and then a sitcom until her eyes lowered and she passed out on the couch-bed. Around midnight, she woke up enough to shut down the television, but for the next four hours, she tossed and turned thinking about table eight’s liquid brown eyes and rough fingers brushing across her skin. She continued her fantasies until it was time to get up. Another shower and then she dressed in an aqua-blue uniform as ugly as the orange one she wore the day before. Slipping on her old, seen-better-days, graying tennis shoes, she locked her door, went down the rickety old stairs alongside a printing business below her apartment, and walked the half mile to work. It was four fifteen in the morning and she needed to get the ingredients blended for the muffins and have them cooking in the oven by five. She kept a careful eye on the recessed doorways during her walk and her hand rested in the pocket of her dress, holding tightly to her keys as a weapon. She rarely saw anyone out this early, but that made the trip even riskier. She loved downtown Houston, but knew the dangers for a woman walking alone.
Unlocking the front door, she entered, quickly locked it behind her, and walked to the back. Starla encouraged her to bake muffins after discovering Jewel’s hidden talent. She received five extra dollars per day for coming in early and preparing the daily treat.
After starting the large commercial coffeemaker, she hummed the latest Pink single while mixing the ingredients, and then slipped two pans holding twenty four paper-filled baking cups into the large oven. She danced and ground her hips to the beat in her head as she walked to the
front to unlock the door and turn on the overhead sign. Starla and George usually arrived within five minutes of opening. She turned the lock and then uttered a startled scream when the door jerked from her hand.
The sexy smirk on his face showed he’d been watching her private dance moment. “Sorry, I thought you released the handle.”
No man should look this sexy in the morning. Heat rushed up her cheeks and she knew he wasn’t sorry at all.
His nose tipped up. “I don’t smell muffins.”
She took a calming breath. “I just put them in.”
He walked several feet inside the door and she backed up, trying to keep space between them. His lips tipped up on the sides. Obviously he noticed her quick steps back. “How long will they take?”
Her mind went blank. “They?”
The tiny smirk turned into a full, luscious grin. “The muffins.”
“Oh, um, twenty-five minutes.” Someone needed to pen the word “loser” across her forehead.
“May I have coffee while I wait?”
He had incredibly kissable lips and she had trouble moving her eyes away. “It should be ready. Let me get the lights and I’ll grab you a cup.” She spoke the words too fast. More than anything she needed control of her breathing.
“I prefer the lighting like this. It adds to the ambience this early in the morning.”
Jewel couldn’t help her unladylike snort.
He continued talking, “Truck stops never seem to have this intimate atmosphere.”
“Is that what you do? Drive a truck?” she blurted.
“I’ve been known to.”
It wasn’t much of an answer. She stepped around him to hit the light switch and he walked to the same booth he sat in the day before. She admired the muscles of his back beneath his dark gray t-shirt, and then when he turned in her direction, in order to sit down, her gaze traveled over the waist of his snug jeans to the bulge at the vee of his thighs. She was stunned when his hand came down and adjusted his erection. Unable to meet his eyes, she turned, and spoke over her shoulder. “Have a seat and I’ll get coffee.” His low sexy laugh followed her from the room.
Behind the kitchen door she took deep breaths, trying to regulate the frantic beat of her heart. Squeezing her thighs together did nothing to alleviate her aching clit. She had no idea she had so little control over her body. Covering her eyes, she couldn’t help but picture his hand adjusting the swell beneath his jeans and wishing there was no barrier covering his obviously well-endowed… manhood, was the term she settled on.
After several minutes, she managed to pull herself together and return with a hot cup of coffee.
He met her gaze as she walked closer. “Join me.” It wasn’t a request, and for some unknown reason her butt hit the seat across from him.
His lips tipped at the corners. “How long have you worked here?”
This man unraveled her stable life so easily and she couldn’t curb her rapid pulse. With a sigh she answered, “Four years.”
His intense gaze drilled her to her seat, but then his sexy voice made her squirm. “Do you enjoy it?”
She didn’t even need to think about her answer, “I love it.”
“Why?” He looked slightly perplexed.
Without conscious thought, she reached for the ridge of her scar and ran her hands over the puckered skin. “At first no one would hire me because of this.” She smiled. “But then Starla gave me a chance and I found a home waiting tables and cooking muffins.”
His eyes followed her fingers as they ran lightly over the marred flesh. He didn’t seem repelled, but then his slight smile disappeared. “Flirting with the men too.”
She almost laughed out loud. “Just the older ones,” she retorted.
His voice took on a stern tone. “The two yesterday weren’t that old.”
She arched her eyebrows, using them to give off a danger, don’t go there signal. He had no right to comment on her relationship with customers. That’s all he was. “I’ve known you one day.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, his fingers drumming on the table, but then a contrite look crossed his face. “That was kind of territorial of me.” His lips quirked into the sexiest grin she’d ever seen and she wanted nothing more than to run her tongue across the smooth contours and… taste.
The sound of the front door opening startled her. It was George and Starla.
The older woman’s eyes took in the atmosphere instantly. “I see they’re coming in extra early for your… muffins.” Starla’s tone made sure number eight knew she wasn’t talking about baked goods.
Jewel jumped from the seat, mumbling that she’d get a refresher for his cup, but she heard his reply before she entered the kitchen.
“I can’t resist fluffy muffins.” Sexy humor laced his voice.
Jewel grabbed the carafe and carried it out before George could threaten to kick his ass, but her admirer didn’t seem to have a problem facing down George’s cantankerous stare. She looked at her two best friends in the world and went for broke. “You both know I’m a grown woman, right?”
Starla glanced at Jewel. “Yes, I know, sugar, but this man here has a few rough edges and we want to be sure his intentions are good.” She didn’t give Jewel a chance to argue before she continued, “After chasing your last stalker off with my shotgun I thought we needed to make our café guidelines crystal clear.”
Jewel had to fight not to roll her eyes. “You did not chase anyone off with a shotgun.”
“You’re right, but I intended to if the jerk didn’t stop bothering you. But, I did unload the bird shot and switch to buck. I haven’t changed the rounds either.”
Number eight started laughing and with the sound, Starla’s posture relaxed and she smiled. When the laughter died, he stood and put his hand out to Starla. “My name’s Matt and I promise to follow the rules and ask permission before taking her out on a date.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Jewel sputtered.
“I’m afraid I’m outnumbered, and family is family.” Matt turned and shook George’s hand.
George’s gruff warm voice showed his affection for Jewel. “She’s adopted. That’s why she’s cuter than us.”
“Thirty years doesn’t hurt either,” Starla said as she walked away, but then she turned and looked back at Jewel’s annoyed face. “Join the man until the buzzer for the muffins goes off.”
George followed Starla into the back.
She looked at Matt in dismay. “How’d you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Convince them you weren’t after me for nefarious reasons.”
“I didn’t.” He widened his eyes in simulated innocence.
“Yes, you did.”
Now his sexy grin reappeared and his eyes swept over her breasts before returning to her eyes. “I promise I’m imagining many nefarious things to do with you.”
Heat traveled up her neck, and she grasped for something to say, and how to say it. She decided on a smart-ass comeback, “Men like you don’t usually even know what ‘nefarious’ means.”
His lips formed the perfect pout. “Well, that hurt. I can read, you know.”
Wetness pooled in her panties and she couldn’t stop staring at his outrageously frowning lips. “What do you read?” She barely had enough air in her lungs to get the words out.
“Stephen King.”
She gave a small giggle. “Well that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“That’s where I learned my despicable vocabulary.”
“So you’re a synonym expert too.”
“Only when it comes to your lovely, attractive, and dazzling splendor.”
Her hands rose to her cheeks and she laughed out loud.
Chapter Five
Matt
The sound of Jewel’s laughter made Matt’s cock stand at attention and press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans.
Stephon would love her.
The thought m
ade him realize that this relationship wouldn’t work. Women at the BDSM clubs knew what to expect with a ménage scene. This lovely babe would run the other direction if he even asked her on a threesome date. She turned bright red every time he even looked at her body. She was just about as vanilla as they came, but the thoughts of not seeing her again caused an unexplained queasiness in the pit of his stomach.
“Are you okay?” Her laughter died away.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He knew he didn’t sound fine.
A buzzer sounded from the back.
He watched her hips sway across the room as she entered the kitchen. Lord, she was perfect. He’d love to see her decked out in a skintight leather corset with black thigh highs. Silver four-inch heels would set off her gorgeous legs.
Not going to happen.
But Matt decided to dream a little for the rest of his time in the café. She brought a plate with two muffins and another cup of coffee for herself.
“I’m joining you, Matt, and it’s nice to have something to call you besides number eight.”
“Number eight, huh? I’m at least a nine, but thank you.”
She shook her head and refused to give him an undeserved compliment. “Let me know what you think.”
For a moment he had no idea what she spoke of and then realized it was the muffin she asked about. He’d love to tell her what he really thought. He wanted to watch her delectable lips suck his cock and her pink tongue circle the head. He took a bite, not really tasting, because he could only think about sinking his hands into her ponytail and pulling strands of hair down before wrapping them in his fist and pumping deep into her throat.
“And?”
He swallowed the too-large bite. “Exquisite.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean superb?”
“Meritorious might work better.”
“You got that from Stephen King?”
“I have no idea where it came from. What do you like to read?”
“The classics—fiction, non-fiction, the phonebook.”
Her eyes almost melted his resolve. “You read everything, I take it?”
Loving Two Doms (Club El Diablo) Page 2
