O for Two

by Holley Trent

  “If we were at our home,” Clint said, “I’d bind your wrists and lay you out perfectly naked.” He parted her shirt at the belly and splayed his fingers beneath her breasts. “I’d light the room with candles, so I could see the flames glowing against your skin. I have special candles, too. I’d use one to drip wax here.” He circled his fingertip around her puckered right nipple. “And here.” He repeated the action on the left side. “And down your belly. I’d spill it on the insides of your thighs where you’re tender and on the insides of your arms where you’re ticklish.”

  “Sounds like it would hurt.”

  “In a good way,” came Ken’s deep voice right behind her. “You’d like it. I do. You’d be so wet, you’d beg us to fuck you before the wax hardened.”

  Ken slicked the valley between her ass cheeks with his large fingers, and without warning, shoved a finger into her hole. She gasped.

  Ken reached beneath her and bumped her pussy as he primed Clint’s dick with lube.

  They really weren’t going to let her off the hook, and she was glad for it. She wanted to be taken by them. She wanted to take Clint up on his dare that he could make her come again but doubted it was possible. At least if her two boys would get some pleasure out of it, she was willing to try.

  “This is how this is going to work,” Clint said. “Slow and easy. Slip onto my cock, and when you’re all settled, Ken’s going to get behind you.”

  “I—”

  “It’s okay,” Clint whispered. “Trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’ll be uncomfortable at first. You’ll probably feel so full you’ll think you’ll split down the middle, but we’re going to be gentle. If you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

  “What should I say if I want to stop?”

  “Just speak in clear language. Be descriptive. Don’t just say no, because that doesn’t say enough. Tell us what we should stop doing. Tell us what you want us to fix, and we’ll do it. Just keep talking, and we’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want to leave.”

  She chuckled and pulled her right index finger in a zigzag through the smattering of freckles on Clint’s chest. “That’s a tall order.”

  And one she hoped they could fulfill. She really didn’t want to leave them. She wished she hadn’t found them so late in the game. That she’d been adventurous enough to go looking early in the week, when she first arrived. They could have spent the entire week together, getting to know each other. And if they had, when it was time for her to zip up her suitcase and catch that shuttle to the airport, maybe they would ask when they’d see her again.

  Maybe she would have had something to look forward to. Someplace to go besides her lonely, efficiency apartment. Somewhere she could find noise and even a bit of chaos unrelated to airplanes and tired, cranky travelers.

  “It is a tall order,” Ken said. “That’s why you should be pleased there are two of us to fill it.”

  Her spine prickled. Her back was bowed, and the tiny hairs on her neck stood on end due to his proximity. Her heart had taken on a fast beat, and her breath gone thready. She hadn’t felt this uncertain since her early days as a flight attendant. When she realized people were going to complain no matter what happened, and it didn’t mean she was going to lose her job.

  But it wasn’t the sex that scared her. She wanted that. It was what would happen afterward.

  Clint slid his hands up her chest and stroked his thumbs up her neck. “Do you have any hard limits, O?”

  She should know the answer to that because she’d been asked countless times before. Her limits had changed being with these two men, though.

  He must have understood the cause of her uncertainty, because he pressed his palm teasingly beneath her chin and whispered, “Have you done breath control?”

  Oh. She closed her eyes, drew in a deep, steadying breath, she pressed her palms flat against Clint’s hard belly. “Yes.”

  He dragged his thumbs down her neck as she slowly. “May I?”

  She nodded, and descended onto his rock-hard shaft.

  He made a noise and grabbed her ass roughly, which suspended her halfway down. He held her there for so long, her thighs began to quiver.

  “You feel so fucking good, Olivia. Don’t rush me, or I’m going to come too soon.”

  “You’re out of shape, old man,” Ken said. He crept closer and pressed against Olivia’s back. His cock tickled her between her legs.

  She looked down then moaned wantonly when she saw their cocks touching, even that small amount. It may have been the hottest thing she’d ever seen.

  They were so casual with their affection to each other, and it seemed as natural as drawing air. Perhaps Ken hadn’t known he was looking for someone like Clint, but there was no disputing now that they belonged together.

  Lucky them.

  Ken distracted her by placing his lips onto the back of her neck as he pressed his cock head against her.

  Clint was still keeping her in place, and it aided Ken’s access.

  “Ahh.” He pushed in past the tight entrance, and he shuddered behind her as her thighs shook even more.

  God. Her eyes rolled back into her head as pain blurred with pleasure, and her mind tried to process all of the sensations. Clint let her drop slowly onto his cock, and it stretched her wide. He kept up his unforgiving grip on her while Ken pushing up into her, inch by excruciating inch. She felt ragged breaths on her shoulders as he settled in.

  It felt like Heaven and Hell all at once, and they hadn’t even started moving yet.

  Ken shifted behind her, and she made an involuntary gasp, because it increased her awareness of how narrow that membrane between them was. She could feel them both at once, yet when they were very still, they felt like one big, huge cock.

  “Am I… Am I hurting you?” Ken whispered.

  She clamped her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head as Clint finally let her down. Once chest-to-chest, he raked his fingers through her hair as she slowly pulled her knees up at either side of his belly.

  Ken planted his knees at the outside of Clint’s legs and leaned over the two of them to suspend himself in what had to be a very uncomfortable plank position.

  “This is your rodeo, O,” Clint said. “You move as much or as little as you’d like. As long as I don’t move, we don’t have to worry about breaking rhythm.”

  She gulped and tried to test her muscles. She wasn’t sure if she could isolate front from back with both of them being in her.

  Clint gasped again when she managed to squeeze him.

  “Just checking” she said and laid her cheek against his chest. Then she closed her eyes and started a slow, grinding swivel between them.

  A moment later, Ken began making small thrusts, only an inch or two in and out of her as she concentrated on riding Clint.

  She’d been right that in that the orgasm Clint gave her with his mouth had numbed her down below, but with both of them being inside her at once, it was hard not to feel, and maybe that helped. Maybe it would have been more painful if it weren’t for that first hard come. Now, everything was waking back up. Her clit rubbed against Clint’s coarse pubes, and it thrummed. Blood surged from her chest and lower, to fill her womb with heat.

  The gliding became easier. Unbelievably, she was wet, and not from lube. Soon, she was greedily riding Clint’s cock. She pulled him in deep and groaned with each tap of his head against her G-spot.

  Ken being in her ass made Clint’s pressure that much more intense.

  If there were a nerve to be aroused in her body, they’d found it.

  “Fuck.” She clawed at the sheets.

  She wanted more. She wanted everything. With shaking arms, she pushed herself upright to change the angle of their penetration and sat back on Ken’s cock. He leaned back onto his heels and grabbed her beneath her thighs as she slid slowly up and down them both.

  Clint pressed his hands up her chest and pinched her nipples hard enough to m
ake her scream, and she grabbed his wrists.

  He kept tweaking and plucking. It wasn’t altogether a bad sensation, but it was all getting to be too much. Too much pleasure, too much pain. The sounds of their labored breathing. Their masculine scents.

  Her head swam, and her teeth clattered.

  “Oh, God.”

  Still, she rode them and didn’t want to get off, because surely this was the route to ecstasy. If her heart were going to stop, at least it would be between these two beautiful men who’d wanted her above all others.

  They made her feel beautiful, and more importantly, included for a time.

  At some point, thoughts and sensations all began to blur. She was aching need, desperate for release. She was electricity bound in skin. She had no words.

  There was tickling at either side of her throat as she rode faster, squeezed around them harder.

  Then, there was pressure, off and on. It stole her air.

  Higher and higher she floated as the band around her neck went tighter.

  Her body was a tingling, quivering mass, fueled by pleasure and delirium.

  So good. So, so good.

  “Olivia,” groaned a deep voice behind her, but she didn’t respond. “Fuck, honey, I’m going to come.”

  Whatever that meant, she didn’t care.

  There were strong arms around her waist, and her body shook hard. Her chest rumbled with her cry of pleasure, and her cheeks were wet with tears.

  There was wetness down her thighs as the fullness decreased. They’d fallen out of her, it seemed, and she opened her eyes to see Clint sitting up. His cheeks were red.

  “Good job,” was all she could think to say before she was on her side.

  Ken threw his leg over hers and rubbed her side as he nuzzled the back of her head with his nose. “Just lie still, honey,” he said, and Clint eased off the bed, carrying a spent condom. Ken’s?

  “Come down slow,” Ken said. “Don’t worry about the cleanup.”

  “Okay.” She snuggled into him, in spite of their sweat. In spite of her sticky thighs.

  He rubbed her, massaged her. Loved her, it seemed.

  How sweet.

  “Ken?” She reached back and tapped his hip.

  He kept rubbing. “Hmm?”

  “Which side of the bed is whose? Do you always sleep on the left?”

  He chuckled. “Of all the things I expected to come out of your mouth right now, I wouldn’t have predicted that in a million years.”

  “I want to know.”

  It was a stupid question, she knew, but at that moment, it seemed critical she know.

  “I want to know everything about you two,” she said and knew that her filter had been well and truly shot.

  Only one thing had ever made her feel that way before, and she remembered now what had happened. Breath play. Done right, it added to pleasure. It could make you high. That pressure had been Clint’s hands at her throat, tricking her into another orgasm.

  She chuckled. “Good show, Clint,” she said in a faux British accent. “Bloody good show.”

  “You are loopy as shit,” Ken said, and his chest shook with laughter. “Just breathe, honey. Take deep breaths.”

  “He’s good at that,” she said then closed her eyes. She yawned, long and wide. “Last guy didn’t get it quite right. He managed to make me cough, and that was about it.”

  “You’ve done that lots before?”

  “Not lots, but enough to know how it’s supposed to work.”

  Ken pulled the covers up over them and held her again while the water ran in the bathroom. “Good to know. Now tell me what you want to know about us. I doubt we’re as interesting as you imagine.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Clint, where are you?

  Ken kept texting, but Clint didn’t respond. Where had he gone? He’d hastily dressed and left the room, saying he’d be back in a bit, but a bit had come and gone. Then an hour. Then two.

  Ken nudged his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

  Olivia knelt in front of her suitcase. She was carefully rolling garments and tucking accessories into pockets and corners.

  Watching her work hypnotized him. She was so efficient. She’d probably packed that same bag hundreds, maybe thousands of times.

  That seemed sad to him, the idea of living out of a suitcase. Having a home in the air instead of on the ground, where people belonged.

  He’d walked her down to her room. It was a small and plain and meant for one or two. He’d hoped to squeeze a few more minutes out of their visit before she had to leave. She had to catch a flight to D.C. where she’d step onto the plane she was due to serve on for the evening. He could see the uniform parts in her bag: nude tights, smart navy pumps, a cream blouse, and a dark-blue suit.

  “What would you do if you weren’t a flight attendant?” he asked.

  She stopped rolling that sundress he’d nearly torn off her a day ago. “Wow, no one’s ever asked me that. Why do you ask?”

  Why? Because her job was inconvenient for him. If this thing between them blossomed into something more permanent, and he hoped it would, he’d want to see her more than her schedule would allow. She said she worked three days on and three days off, but that wasn’t a guaranteed thing. Sometimes she got moved around in a pinch. He didn’t like the idea of missing someone for half the week, but he was getting ahead of himself. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see them again once she departed here. Maybe she’d satisfied her curiosity. He’d answered all her questions and volunteered even more information about him and Clint, but she didn’t have much to share in exchange.

  She said she was just boring.

  He didn’t believe that. Unfulfilled? Maybe.

  “I’m just curious what you’d do if you had the chance to wake up in the same bed every day.”

  “Oh.” She pulled the suitcase lid closed and reached for the zipper. “Freelance genealogy.”

  “That’s a thing?”

  “Oh, yeah. It’s probably a research geek’s dream job. You could do it from anywhere with an Internet connection, but sometimes, you’ve got to put your nose in the real deal—dusty leather-bound volumes. Old archives and vaults.” She giggled, and shook her head. “I’d have to go back to school. I’d like to finish my degree, anyway. I dropped out when I saw I could get a job with the airline and earn the exact same thing I would my first year out of college with a crisp new diploma.”

  “What were you studying?”

  “History. Helps to know what major events happened in the past, so you know why families moved around the way they did and why their names changed and stuff like that.”

  “Would you really do it if you could?”

  Her brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips, seeming to really consider it for the first time. She stood, and righted the suitcase. Then she clapped her hands clean on her dark jeans and nodded.

  “Yes, I would. I don’t know how it’d be possible now, though. I’d have to save the money for tuition and apply somewhere, get my credits transferred. I’d need to find someplace long-term to live.” She scoffed. “It’d be the longest I’ve stayed anywhere for years.”

  “Think you could hack it?” He wrested his phone out of his back pocket and checked the display. No Clint. He sighed. Goddamn it.

  She sank onto the bed beside him and shrugged. “The schooling? Yeah. It’d be just what I need to douse my wanderlust. I think I’ve gotten the bug out of my system.”

  Good to know. His phone buzzed in his hand, and he turned it over.

  Be up in about half an hour. Henri pulled me into a business meeting about sponsoring a farm league baseball team. Looking at numbers.

  Ken had to stop himself from grinding his teeth. Couldn’t that wait? Beaudelaire should have known better than anyone that the magic of these Den of Sin encounters was fleeting.

  “Thanks for hanging out with me,” Olivia said and nudged his arm with her elbow. “Walking downstairs with the bellhop on my
own would have been mildly depressing.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want to hang out?”

  “People don’t generally walk their one-night stands home the next morning. Maybe they’ll walk them as far as the bedroom door to make sure they don’t steal them blind before they get their shoes on, but that’s it.”

  Her voice cracked and broke with strain, and her cheeks bloomed with red. Had she had many of those encounters? And which end of them was she on? The one carrying her shoes to the door, or the one watching a disposable lover leave? Was she tired of relationships like that?

  He would have been. That was part of the reason he’d gone home with Clint. He’d wanted to possess Ken in his own way, and that’s what Ken had wanted. He liked belonging to someone, and he wanted her to have that, too.

  He pulled her close and rested his chin atop her head. She relaxed into his embrace and sighed.

  They said nothing.

  He didn’t know what she wanted from him and Clint, and they had to clear the air. He needed Clint for that. He couldn’t just proposition her on his own. They all needed to be there to lay out their wants and expectations.

  A sharp rap sounded on the door, and Olivia groaned. “Yes?” she called out.

  “I’m here for your baggage, ma’am. Your shuttle’s downstairs.”

  She bolted upright and strode toward the door. “Already? It wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour.”

  Fuck. Ken punched out a message to Clint, barely able to spell the words well enough for basic readability.

  Clint, she’s leaving. Her shuttle’s here.

  Olivia opened the door, and the bellman stepped in, holding a stapled sheath of paper.

  “Ms. Patterson? I’ve got you down for a shuttle, one p.m. central time.”

  “I thought I booked it for two.”

  “Hotel policy. We have to allow at least an hour to get you to the airport, and you were cutting it close.”

  “I’m a flight attendant. I think I know how to schedule a shuttle.”