by M. Q. Barber
“Oh my God. You’re there.” The spoon slipped from her fingers. “On Sunday? Holy shit. Is it a sex thing?” Ollie ducked, brown hair flying as she dug for her spoon. “It’s a sex thing and I’m interrupting. Jesus, Allie, I know we haven’t talked in forever, but tell me you didn’t check your messages in the middle of a sex thing.”
“I did not check my messages in the middle of a sex thing.” She nailed the blank-faced, deadpan delivery.
“Like I’m gonna believe you now.” Ollie waved her recovered spoon around. “You probably have a guy’s head between your legs.”
“Ollie!” Dropping her face into her hands, Alice knocked her elbows on the table. “Ouch. You want me to stand up to prove I don’t?”
“No, don’t ruin the moment. It’s good to have goals.” Crunching her cereal, Ollie delivered a Jay-worthy grin. “I can be happy you’re having a fulfilling-but-loveless sex life, even if I’m in Droughtsville, population: me.”
“I’m playing the world’s smallest violin for you.”
“I call bullshit. The world hasn’t invented a musical instrument you can play.”
“Funny, smartass.” Also true, but little sisters didn’t get to win sniping contests.
“If it’s not a sex thing, why are you at their place on Sunday?”
“Well—it’s not—” just their apartment or loveless anymore. “I kinda moved in.”
“No fucking way. With smoldering art guy and flirty bike boy? Ms. I Have a Plan for Everything and You Are Not on My List?”
“Smoldering?”
Oh God.
“Is that him? Can your boy-toys see me?” Ollie flailed with maniacal-toddler energy. “Hi, boy-toys! I want you to know that yes, these are my best pajamas, because obviously I knew we’d meet today, and no, it’s not uncool for a twenty-five-year-old med student to wear magic ponies to bed. Also, it’s unfair of Allie to keep your hotness to herself. If you’re there, I demand evidence.”
Standing beside the door to his studio, lips twitching, Henry raised one eyebrow.
“Thanks, Ollie.” God knew what torments he’d devise with a prompt like smoldering. “I’m so gonna pay for that.”
“What’d I say?”
“Nevermind.” Ah well. She’d enjoy whatever he did. “No, he can’t see you.”
“Did you really move in?” Wide eyes filling the screen, Ollie dropped to a whisper. “Did I get you in trouble?” Her teasing tone fled with the color in her face. “Will he hit you because of what I said?”
“Christ, no. I told you, it’s not like that.”
Henry stood remote and still as a lonely mountain peak. Fuck. He’d finally flogged her again, and two days later baby sister jammed her foot in her mouth.
“Henry, I’m sorry, it’s not—she didn’t mean—”
“You’re babbling, dearest,” he murmured. He approached the table and stopped just beyond the webcam’s range. “If I may?”
Vacating the chair, she waved. “Be my guest. Ollie, meet Henry, my smoldering art guy. Henry, meet Olivia, my nosy sister.”
Henry pushed the chair back and sat. “Good afternoon, Olivia. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Alice has mentioned you with fondness many times.”
“I hope not. If my name’s been coming up while you’re fucking my sister—”
“Ollie, cut it out.” She leaned in. Henry smelled of freshly cleaned floor, orange and woody. Murphy’s Oil Soap. He avoided using turpentine or mineral spirits to clean brushes in a closed room. Taking a deeper whiff, she resisted the urge to nuzzle. “I was trying to tell you I’m living with Henry and Jay. We have a relationship. A serious thing.”
“Like”—Ollie squinted—“a long-term thing? With”—who knew what her hand-waving represented—“both of them?”
“A very long-term thing, I hope.” Henry answered before Alice knew how to explain. “I’m deeply in love with your sister, Olivia, and I would like for us to be cordial at the least. Friends, preferably. Family, if you’ll extend the definition.”
“Mr. Sign on the Dotted Line for Sex is in love with my sister.” Flat disbelief emanated from Ollie in eyes and voice.
“I am, yes.” Henry ignored the disdain, as if Ollie were a truculent teenager and rudeness to be expected.
“Do you still hit her?”
“Ollie.” Mortification walloped her ass harder than Henry ever did.
Laying his hand on hers, he tilted his head. “Alice herself has firmly corrected me on the semantics involved, Olivia. No. I do not hit your sister. I occasionally, with her consent and for her pleasure, flog her. Spank her. Tie her down and fuck her.” He spoke with calm precision, thoughtful truths leaping shamelessly from his tongue. “I also, it should be said, embrace her frequently. Kiss her softly. Make love to her tenderly. If you wish for more explicit descriptions of our activities, you would be better served to ask her—and to listen more closely to her answers.”
Mouth hanging open, Olivia sat utterly silent.
Henry pushed himself up and cupped Alice’s face. Rubbing her cheekbone, he kissed her opposite cheek. “Talk to your sister, dearest. I’m pleased you haven’t felt a need to hide our relationship.” As he drew back, he trailed his fingers down her neck. “I’ll just be smoldering in the kitchen.”
Alice giggled.
Henry tapped her nose with his index finger and headed around the table.
“Wait.” The shout came through the laptop speakers loud and squawky. “Wait, Henry, please.”
He halted.
Alice reclaimed her chair. “Stop bugging him, Ollie.”
“No, that’s not—” Ollie winced. “I want to tell him I’m sorry. Henry?” She scanned back and forth. “I’m sorry for being so—me. For thinking you were hurting Allie. I can see she’s happy.”
Eyelids fluttering, Henry drew a deep breath. “You speak the truth as you see it, and you’re quite protective of your sister, Olivia.” He stood beyond the camera’s sight, his voice light and crisp with an amused tang. “For which do you mean to apologize? Shall I apologize for the same? We’ll let it go, hmm? I believe we each understand the other’s concern properly now.”
Ollie hung her head. “Thanks, Henry.” Her baby sister’s grin peeked out. “I’ll try to be less offensive next time we talk. I can share tons of dirt.”
Henry snorted, shook his head, and proceeded to the kitchen.
“Ollie, you have no idea.” Tracking his swagger, Alice revisited the decadent luxury of her morning wake-up call. “My smoldering art guy knows more about me than I do.”
“A challenge. I’ll think up good stuff to share when I visit.” Tongue wagging, Ollie sassed the camera.
“You do and I’ll— You’re coming to Boston?”
Ollie nodded with jack-in-the-box vigor. “Presenting a paper. I assisted on a big case, and now I get to attend the conference. Okay, I’m not the main person, but I’m going!”
“That’s fantastic.” Three years since she’d gone out for Ollie’s college graduation. Lots of missed hugs to make up for. “When are you coming? For how long? Where are you staying?”
“August seventh, three days, and, uhh—” A guilty grimace crept over Ollie’s face. “I kinda hoped with you. Before I knew about your move.” She shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.”
Shit. Mr. Nagel had rented her old apartment. The new tenant would take possession in July, which started tomorrow, and she hadn’t written Henry a rent check or even raised the money issue again. The spare room wasn’t hers to give away. If she paid for Ollie’s hotel and spent the evenings—
Steady tapping drilled into her head. Henry, rapping his forefinger on the breakfast bar. “You’re over-thinking, my dear. You need only ask.”
“But it’s not—” Keenly aware of Ollie’s stare, she refused to initiate a discussion of how they handled sexual requests and whether the rules applied to non-sexual ones. Ollie had heard enough.
�
�This is something you want. Ask.”
She licked her lips and took a breath. “Henry, would it be all right if Ollie stayed with us while she’s in town?”
“Certainly, Alice.” His smile, combined with his direct gaze, warmed her. “It’s no trouble. You’ll have to make sure Jay is aware and able to meet your standards for hosting a guest in your room. I’m sure he’ll enjoy that as well.”
He would. Hell, Jay and Ollie would get on like a house on fire. Prankster babies. She grinned at her sister. “Done deal. You’ll stay with us.”
“Thanks, Allie.” Ollie tipped her head back. “Thanks, Henry.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me regret having you here.”
Ollie stuck out her tongue. “Better hide your kinky stuff from my poor virgin eyes.”
“You really wanna play the virgin card? Because now I think about it, I haven’t told Henry about your adventures with Bobby Sa—”
“Allie!” Olivia’s screech shoved Alice back. “You wouldn’t.”
“You thought I wouldn’t get into a sexual relationship with two guys, either. You definitely thought I wouldn’t move in with them.” Alice flicked imaginary lint from her shoulders. “Who’s to say what I might do?”
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now. First thing when I get there, I’m gonna tell—” An emergency siren blared. “Shit. Hospital ringtone. Gotta go. Love you.”
She called out her love as the connection blipped closed. At the breakfast bar, Henry gathered items from the fridge and cupboards. Her rent money waited in her bank account. You need only ask. He’d asked her, with a straightforward plea, to allow him to provide a home for her and Jay. “If I wrote you a check for July’s rent, right now, would you use the money to pay the rent?”
Henry halted his prep work. Mise en place, he called it. Functional design. His face softened from concentration lines to a slight smile. “No, Alice.”
About what she’d expected, but if her checks sat uncashed in a drawer—in her folder, even—she’d notice the imbalance on her bank statement. “What would you do with it?”
“A trust, in your name. I’d ask Will or my brother to investigate high-yield opportunities while protecting the principal.”
His overprotection wavered between attractive and aggravating. At least he hadn’t lied to her face. “If I hadn’t asked—if I’d just given you a check—would you have told me?”
“No, Alice.” He cradled her name in gentle tones, but he watched her with a heavy, assessing stare.
“Because you wouldn’t trust me with the truth?” No, he trusted her with Jay, his most precious possession. “Because I wouldn’t have wanted the answer.”
“That you’ve asked suggests you knew the answer you’d receive. You are—” He flattened his hands on the counter. “You are conflicted but open to negotiation, perhaps?”
The tremor in his fingers came from her imagination. Nothing made Henry nervous. Except—maybe—the moments when he feared she’d choose some other life. “So this hypothetical rainy day fund. What if I wanted to use it to surprise you with a vacation? Or a new car?”
Years of saving.
As Henry straightened, his chest broadened and his hands steadied. “I’m satisfied with my vehicle, but should we require a larger one in the future, or even a second car, the money would be yours to spend as you like.”
A car. A house. A honeymoon for three. A college fund. Exciting, frightening possibilities glimmered on the horizon. “Would an account earn more money than putting the rent toward my student loans would save?”
“I don’t know.” He extended his hand, palm up in invitation. “Shall I ask Will to set aside time for us to discuss your options with this new flexibility in your budget?”
“Yeah.” She crossed the kitchen. “Let’s do that.” Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed herself to his warm back. “Have I told you I love you yet today?”
He rested his hands atop hers. “You did make incoherent sounds this morning that I might have interpreted as a declaration of love.”
She squeezed. “I love you.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her softly. “I love you as well.” Blowing out a breath, he rocked her along his back. “I was about to put together a hearty casserole for supper. I expect Jay will return with an appetite. Would you care to help?”
She nodded, rubbing her face against his shirt before she let him go. Appetite was one thing Jay had in spades—for food, for sex, for affection and approval. She wasn’t so different.
She and Henry worked together quietly, comfortably, weaving around each other from task to task as if they’d done so for years. Every so often, their gazes met.
Smoldering. Yeah, she’d totally called that one right.
* * * *
The deadbolt thudded into its unlocked position, the sound almost obscured by the radio’s swelling piano. From her perch on the couch, Alice waved toward the kitchen.
Setting his tea aside, Henry nodded. As he strode past the dining room table, the front door swung open.
When Jay stepped inside, duffel slung over his shoulder, he came toe to toe with his immovable master. The slump in his posture disappeared.
Advised not to interfere, she kept to her cozy scrunch, though the article on the benefits of machined springs over coiled wire in lateral bending attracted a whopping zero percent of her attention. The dark, curling strands of hair falling over Jay’s forehead, those merited at least fifteen percent.
“Welcome back. Are you pleased to be home, my boy?” Henry, projecting his neutral dom-voice, fell into the questioning rhythm of a scene opener. “Did you have fun?”
“It feels good.” Clutching the strap across his chest in both hands, Jay kneaded and rubbed the black canvas. His shoe squeaked on the hardwood. “Peggy had lots of stuff planned for me.”
He’d missed so much this weekend. The return of her flogger, her first games with her new toy, their night at the club. Two days had wrought so many changes in her. How different and unrecognizable might he be after his time away?
With a single soft hum, Henry suggested he believed in Jay’s purported comfort even less than she did. “Do you need the restroom?”
“No, Henry.” Shadows clung to the underside of his eyes. Must’ve been a wild birthday party.
“Lovely.” Henry stepped back. Squaring his shoulders and lifting his head, he completed a simple but unmistakable transformation. His silence held the power to pin Jay in place. No doubt he delivered an intense green-eyed stare. “Strip down and present yourself to me.”
The bag plonked to the floor. Jay hauled his shirt over his head, dropped it, and started on his fly. Obedience came swift and unquestioning, accompanied by a massive smile. A scant three feet inside the apartment, he stood naked and vibrating before their master. His tentative clutching and shifting dissolved into an at-ease pose.
Henry prowled, ruffling the sparse hair on Jay’s chest and rubbing the muscled curves of his arms. “Did you complete the homework I assigned you?”
Jay’s cock jerked. “Yes, Master Henry.”
Henry had been right. Jay’s pull to submit after his time away altered even the way he instinctively responded to a dominant tone. The formal “master,” not often in use at home, suited his need to reconnect.
“Excellent.” Massaging Jay’s shoulders, Henry shot her a slight smile. He’d missed Jay as much as she had, though he’d muted his emotional responses in some dom-certified version of reassurance. “You’ll provide a demonstration for your playmate and me after dinner.”
Breathing deep, Jay bowed his head. “Thank you, Master Henry.”
With a predatory swoop, Henry grabbed his cheeks in a vise grip and snatched a kiss.
Jay topped out on the hardness scale, his cock near vertical. His crooning, submissive whimper escaped their fused mouths. As their liplock ended, he gave a jaunty bounce and wag.
/> “Go and put your things away, please.” Henry pushed hair back from Jay’s forehead, his love no less in the commanding baritone than in the gentle caress. “When you’ve finished, you may set the table. Bring a clean towel from the linen closet to sit on for dinner.”
“No clothes?” Sweet, wide-eyed Jay poured lilting hope into his voice.
“Not for you.” In flattening his hand against Jay’s chest, Henry re-attuned himself to the speed of Jay’s heart and reminded them both of his mantle of responsibility and protection. “I’ve been denied my boy’s beauty for more than forty-eight hours. We’ll require extensive nudity to balance the scales.”
“Thank you, Henry.” Staring at the hand on his chest, Jay grew quiet. He swayed forward.
Henry enclosed him in an embrace, tucking Jay against his neck and stroking his hair. Jay’d get to blow off sexual steam in his after-dinner demo, but bedtime would be a story and snuggling. Maybe part of why Henry had worn her out this morning.
Jay sure needed the TLC. Weird, how a guy who loved his family to pieces and dropped everything to visit home so often returned more ragged and emotionally frayed than when he’d left.
“You’re always welcome, my dear boy.” Henry kissed the top of Jay’s dark head. “However far you go, my arms wait for your return.”
* * * *
A low moan hit Alice as the apartment door swung open Monday night. A second answered—muted, and at a slightly higher pitch. Jay. Apologizing, probably. Good. He ought to.
She allowed the nastiness rather than shoving it down, and recovery came easier. Fading without effort or tension, her anger dissipated in the time it took to lay her phone in the charger and slip off her shoes. Jay was too sweet to hurt them intentionally. If he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready. He knew his family. Maybe they’d flip out about his relationship with Henry. Bringing two lovers along might’ve been impossible to explain.
In stocking feet, she entered the dining room. The table had been set. The thick aroma of tomato and garlic told her Henry had pasta in the oven. Both normal Monday homecomings, neither competed with the unexpected beauty her men presented.
