O for Two

by Holley Trent

Sweet. Jesus.

  Of course they belonged to each other. Wasn’t that how it always worked? The hot ones paired off? Fucking teases.

  “You picked well. Nice job,” Clint said.

  Ken grunted and chewed some more.

  “I think we have the same taste, but oddly enough, the kinky cupid, Ms. Gibson, suggested I find this Olivia when I told her we’d yet to make a hookup.”

  “You really doubted me?”

  “I should have known better.”

  Ken chuckled and tucked some slipping meat back into his sandwich. “Oh, yeah.”

  “You going to share nice, or are we going to have to fight? You know I love a good fight.”

  Then the men turned and stared at her.

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Wait…”

  “I think you were headed upstairs,” Clint said. “Don’t let me stop you. In fact, I’d like to come with.”

  “Hold on…”

  This was an awful idea. Terrible. She didn’t do threesomes, especially not with guys who seemed to prefer men as a matter of course. Eleven years together? That indicated a kind of commitment she’d never managed and hadn’t known she wanted until recently.

  Ken wrapped his fingers around her shaking right hand and gently pulled her to her feet. “We’ll go easy on you,” he said. “Just come play for a while. Please?”

  His voice took on a pleading quality that made him sound like an adorable little boy, but this wasn’t a game. They were dealing with some very adult feelings, jealousy being one.

  Clint walked over and gave her ass a solicitous grope as he walked past then called back, “Come on up. I’m going to run ahead and make sure we didn’t leave our socks and boxers on the bed.”

  “Olivia?” Ken squeezed her hand. “You coming?”

  She gaped as she watched Clint’s retreating back. Of all the things she’d hoped would happen this week, a threesome hadn’t been on that list. She’d been invited into a few in the past at fetish clubs, but she’d always said no.

  This…was different. They knew her name. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t have much to lose. They both wanted her. With two times the men, she would almost certainly get her hair messed up.

  She pulled her lip between her teeth and worried it. Who’d want her first? Or would they both want her at once? That could be interesting.

  “Okay,” she said, almost without realizing it.

  Ken leaned down to give her a short, but tender, kiss and pulled her along behind him. “Good. You won’t regret it.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Shit, it shouldn’t have been that easy.

  Ken hadn’t come on to a woman in well over a decade. While he’d been fairly proficient at it as a younger man, just before arriving at The Beaudelaire, he’d assumed he’d lost the knack for it. It wasn’t like there were classes he could take to sharpen his unused skills. But Olivia had been accommodating.

  He consoled himself with the knowledge that no Den of Sin participant would ever tell about what they were about to do. Olivia could go back to her life with the same reputation she’d come there with, no harm done, except for maybe a little shame. But he hoped she wouldn’t be ashamed, especially considering what he and Clint had in store for her. They hadn’t come to New Orleans solely to have a discreet threesome.

  No.

  They were looking for a permanent third. A true ménage à trois. Given Clint’s name recognition, it wasn’t exactly something they could advertise on dating sites. Ken had never even done this before. It had been Clint’s idea, and Clint usually got what he wanted.

  As the cranky, antique elevator climbed to the third floor, Ken fixed his gaze on his quiet companion. Just a few moments ago, she’d chatted excitedly with him about the hotel and the city, but now, all was quiet. She stood in the corner opposite him with her fingers laced at her belly as she looked with wide eyes at the floor display.

  If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he might not have noticed the tawny brown of her cheeks becoming gradually infused with red or that her lips disappeared between her teeth. What was going through her head? Anxiety or outright fear? She shouldn’t be afraid of him. The last thing he’d want to do was hurt her, but Clint was a different story. Sometimes he played a little rough.

  “Are you—” Before Ken could get the words all right out of his mouth, the elevator’s bell chimed, and the doors opened.

  She remained frozen there in her corner, so he took her by her hand.

  After a moment of resistance, Olivia stepped out of the elevator. The floor had gotten increasingly raucous since their arrival, but now that everyone was downstairs enjoying yet another decadent feast, it was as quiet as a chapel.

  Ken guided her at a leisurely pace down the hall, figuring that maybe if she had some time to calm herself, she wouldn’t bolt the moment her common sense caught up to her libido. The Den of Sin was a pretty far-out-there concept for a country boy. He would have never imagined this kind of shit went on if it weren’t for his boss, Brent, slipping him the referral. Brent hadn’t come to the Den expecting to form a ménage, but that’s what he’d gotten. When Clint heard about Brent’s arrangement, he said he wanted to give it a shot. “What do we have to lose?” he’d asked.

  At the time, Ken hadn’t had a response for that.

  He let Olivia have her thoughts and loosened his grip as they approached the end of the hall, where the midday sun through the south window bathed them. He knocked on the door and wracked his brain for soothing things to say. Talking to her had been easier when they were around people. She probably hadn’t felt threatened when she was out in the open. Now, she was entering a room with two larger-than-average men, both of whom had one-track minds.

  She was beautiful, worldly, and so damned charming. Hell yeah, he wanted to claim her. They didn’t make girls like her where he grew up.

  Clint pulled open the door and waved them both in, wearing his usual melting smile.

  “Olivia, welcome,” he said and wrapped an arm around her waist before he drew her into the large suite.

  She looked back and offered Ken a small grin. The ball of nerves that had been weighing down his gut abated a little. He followed a few paces behind them, pleased she seemed more comfortable but now feeling a bit extraneous. The last time that particular sentiment had reared itself was when he’d first met Clint, eleven years ago at a concert. They’d accidentally danced into each other during one particularly aerobic song and struck up a conversation. Clint had invited Ken to join him and his baseball teammates for a late drink after the concert, where he basically ignored Ken and forced him to fend for himself. Clint hadn’t meant anything by it. That was just his way. He was a people person and liked to divide his time among everyone.

  Well, he was doing it again, but it was working. Olivia was smiling.

  “Nice room,” she said.

  “Help me place your accent, won’t you?” Clint said.

  “Most people tell me I don’t have one.”

  Clint stopped her in front of the settee positioned at the foot of the bed, where she sat and looked at him expectantly.

  Ken hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets and leaned against the closed television armoire. They hadn’t turned it on since they arrived. The ambience of the place was ripe for sensuality, and they’d been doing a lot of reconnecting. Back at home, they were always so busy. So tired. It was nice to have his boy back, but how was this “plus one” going to affect their long-term relationship? They hadn’t really talked this through much, beyond Clint insisting that Ken trust him.

  He did.

  Clint was the first man he’d ever dated and was his longest relationship to this point. He was happy. Well, he was happy when Clint was happy, anyway. Lately, that hadn’t been the case. Not a hundred percent. And if it wasn’t a hundred percent, then to Ken, it wasn’t enough. He’d always been a people-pleaser, even as a kid. The tendency was probably some lingering s
ide effect of being the middle child.

  “That’s exactly it,” Clint said.

  He was now on his knees in front of Olivia with his forearms draped over her thighs. Her coy smirk indicated that if she wasn’t absolutely at ease by now, she was getting damn close to it. Ken had to give it to his boy. He was good at disarming people. Of course, Clint was used to working crowds. He did it as a baseball star and now as a photographer, he got up close and personal in order to get his shots. He had to be able to put people at ease.

  “You don’t have an accent,” Clint said. “Either you’re from the middle of America, you had elocution lessons for pageants, or…”

  He now had his hands on the hem of her little black dress. She pushed her knees together a little tighter, and that red flush crept up her cheeks again.

  “You’re pretty enough to win pageants,” Clint said as he glided his hands down to her clamped knees. “But I don’t think your hobbies include pageantry, so I think it’s more likely you’re an army brat.

  “Umm…” She pressed her hands over Clint’s but didn’t move them. “You’re right. No pageants. And I don’t have an accent, because I’ve lived all over the country from the time I was a child. My father was in the Air Force, and I’m a flight attendant.”

  Clint turned toward Ken and grinned. “Should we ask if she’s a member of the Mile High Club, baby?”

  Baby. And just like that, the little seed of jealousy that had been threatening to sprout went back into stasis. At least for the moment.

  Ken cleared his throat and noticed Olivia was wearing an amused expression. “I think you shouldn’t ask, unless you really want to hear the answer.”

  Clint knitted his brows and grunted. “You’re right. I don’t want to know. Might give me bad ideas, and I’ve got enough of those already.”

  “What sort of bad ideas?” she asked as she turned her attention back to Clint.

  Fuck, her voice was amazing. It had a purring quality about it, and every time her voice dipped, Ken’s nuts tightened. She must have had an interesting effect on all the undersexed men she served during flights. When she picked up that microphone and gave the FAA safety spiel, half the plane was probably ready to hit the head and rub one out. Especially if she wore fire-engine-red lipstick on her full lips, like she was right now. He pictured them wrapped around the base of his cock while she used one of her dainty hands to tug his sac, and it made him curl his toes.

  How ridiculous did he feel? Here he was, hard as a flagpole, five feet away from the action. It wasn’t his hands on her knees, prying them apart. It wasn’t him with the premium view of the juncture of her thighs. That was Clint.

  And he was working his hand slowly up her skirt while keeping his stare fixed on her lovely face.

  “Bad ideas?” he said. “I’ve got all kinds. I don’t want to scare you off, though. Almost made Ken run away, and he’s a big, tough guy, huh?”

  Ken could see a lump traveled down her throat, but he didn’t miss how she opened her legs wider. Nor did she seem to miss how Ken had unbuttoned his pants and had his hand in his shorts so he could adjust himself. She dragged her tongue over her bottom lip and pulled her attention up to Ken’s burning face.

  “What did you do to him?” she asked, apparently not noticing Clint working her dress farther and farther up her thighs.

  Shit. Ken knew exactly what his lover was doing. Olivia wasn’t wearing panties, and now he was putting her on display for Ken’s benefit. One of Ken’s heads didn’t like her being an object of titillation. The other wanted to be buried deep inside her.

  “I’ll let him tell you.” Clint pet her pussy in long, languorous strokes until her thigh muscles clenched.

  She sucked in a breath and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “You’re not into, like, sadism, are you?”

  Ken groaned. Only a little bit probably wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear.

  Clint didn’t answer beyond slipping a hand behind her neck and pulling her toward him for a kiss.

  She seemed startled at first, with eyes wide and tensed body, but she slowly relaxed into Clint’s embrace. She closed her eyes and threaded her fingers through the back of his hair.

  Ken had never seen Clint kiss a woman before, although he knew he most certainly had. He didn’t kiss her like she was some sort of experiment in bi-curiosity but more like the master of seduction he was. He claimed her.

  And when Clint carefully stood while making Olivia rise with him, she hardly seemed to notice. She was so relaxed in his grip. So trusting. She didn’t even flinch when he worked her dress zipper open and nudged the straps down her shoulders. He pulled her free of the garment, and it puddled at her ankles. There she stood in nothing beyond a lacy, pink bra and her sky-high heels.

  “Fuck,” Ken whispered as he tightened his hand on his shaft.

  Where was his place in this arrangement? In all the time they’d been at The Den, it should have come up. They should have had a plan. Instead, Clint was playing things by ear, and Ken had no choice but to go along with it because he didn’t have any better ideas.

  He didn’t want to touch her yet. To risk overwhelming her and sending her running from their room and possibly into some other man’s arms. They had one more day, so if that meant they’d take turns until she asked for both at once, that was fine.

  Ken eased himself over to the dresser while keeping his mesmerized attention on Clint and Olivia. They’d moved to the bed, where Clint was propping her long legs over his still-clothed shoulders. He was going to put his tongue where his fingers had been, and Ken wasn’t sure if his aching need to watch him get her off was typical of these sorts of scenes, or he was perverse. He’d never been a watcher before. He’d always been in the thick of it.

  He tore a condom off the strip for Clint, just in case, and settled into the armchair near the foot of the bed. It offered him a perfect view of Olivia and everything Clint was doing to her.

  Clint bent low as he used his tongue to probe her. She gasped and opened her eyes then turned her head to the left and seemed startled by the figure in her periphery. It was as if she’d forgotten Ken was even there.

  “Mind if I watch?” Ken asked calmly with his hand over his cock to cover the evidence of his arousal.

  In answer, her eyes rolled back, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she clawed at the bedspread. Clint had a thumb over her clit and was apparently eager to build her up to a quick peak. Well, that was one thing he didn’t change from men to women. Clint liked to get that first loud, hard come out of the way fast, so he could play while his lover recovered.

  “Clint, stop teasing her so she can answer.”

  Clint’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, but he slowed his swirling thumb all the same.

  “Olivia?” Ken said by way of nudging. He stroked his himself through the opening of his shorts. He wanted her to see what he was doing while she got off.

  She unclamped her lip from her teeth and nodded. “Of course.”

  He pushed his fist down to expose the now-sticky head and pulled himself free. “First time for everything,” he said and looked at Clint, who dipped his face low again and resumed his former task of licking and sucking.

  “I didn’t say it was the first time.” She gasped, blinked a few times, and her shallow breaths indicated she likely wouldn’t take long. Ken recognized the signs. He’d had lovers like her in the past, but it had been “B.C.” Before Clint.

  “Don’t over-stimulate her, Clint,” he said breathily while rubbing himself in earnest for her entertainment. She didn’t seem to be able to take her eyes off him or his cock. “I don’t think she has the tolerance to come more than once.”

  Clint paused again between her legs, but this time he pulled his hands completely clear of her. “Is that true, sweetheart?” he asked.

  She sighed then closed her eyes and turned her face away. “I guess it is. I go numb for a while afterward, assuming it’s a good ‘O.’ I won’t be ab
le to feel anything beyond friction.”

  “So, what do you want?” He let her legs down to do the bed gently and worked his fingers over his shirt buttons. “How do you want to come first?”

  “What you’re doing feels really nice.” She trailed her fingertips down Clint’s chest then swirled them over his pink nipples. “I like freckles.”

  He grinned. “You can play with them as much as you want, but tell me what you’d like.”

  “I…” She moved her hands down slowly, past his navel, and rested them at his still-fastened waistband. “If I have to choose, I’d ask for…”

  Ken wanted her to finish. He wanted to know what she’d say. Was she an oral girl? He suspected he was nowhere near as good as his partner, so he’d always be at a disadvantage there.

  Clint moved backward and off the bed then pointed to the spot he’d abandoned. “Do it, Ken,” he said. “Fill her up.”

  Clint’s words didn’t make sense. They settled into Ken’s brain in pieces. Clint wanted him to step in? Why? It was obvious now that he wanted Olivia as much as Ken did. Clint’s cock strained the fabric of his slacks, and his usually pale cheeks bore a familiar flush of arousal.

  “Why?” Ken asked, but as if involuntarily, he stood and took off his shoes.

  Clint’s lips turned upward into a daring grin.

  Oh, shit. Ken knew that grin all too well.

  “You can make it up to me later,” Clint said.

  Ken’s body tensed in fear of the unspoken warning, and he got more excited in anticipation. Clint’s bite was definitely worse than his bark, and Clint wouldn’t just be biting. He’d left his trunk of tricks at home, but it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to borrow candles or whips, considering where they were. He wouldn’t even put it past Clint to book them for a couple of hours in one of the hotel’s high-end black rooms, for the guests who wanted to indulge in edgier kinks.

  Clint would probably have him tied to a table, face down, while he dripped hot wax all over his back and withheld his addictive cock.

  And where would Olivia fit in to that? Would Clint have her on her knees, torturing Ken’s tight sac with her tongue while rubbing him off?