Stitches

by Sam Mariano

  Thankfully, she finishes him off before I can get too revved up.

  Seb smacks her ass when she’s done, then drags her against his side and kisses the crown of her head. “See what I mean, sweetheart? No follow through.”

  “I’m going to make you weak-ass coffee in the morning,” she mutters. “Like a teaspoon of coffee grounds and that’s it.”

  Seb grins. I shake my head. It isn’t news that he has Moira wrapped around his dick, so I shouldn’t even be surprised.

  11

  Moira

  I hum to myself as I push my cart through the grocery store. I’m making prime rib for dinner tonight, but I’ve been so distracted this past week, I haven’t followed my usual schedule. It’s different, having two men around the house. Griff doesn’t live with us, but he’s over all the time now. He generally spends the night, and though I’m used to sex every night, I’m not used to being fucked by two men every night, and more often than not, that’s been happening.

  I certainly don’t mind, but it’s making me extra tired. When I should be getting up to go for my morning run, I’m still in bed, lazing in someone’s embrace. By the time I drag my butt out of bed, it’s time to get myself dressed and start breakfast.

  I sail right past the cases of meat and approach the butcher. Sebastian is particular about his prime rib—he wants the better cut, so I order it special.

  The butcher smiles when he sees me. “There you are. I thought you were coming in yesterday.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy this week; I lost all track of time.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” There’s condescension in his tone—like he wants to appease silly little ol’ me, but what could a housewife possibly be busy doing? He’s not the first boob I’ve encountered and he won’t be the last.

  I paste on a fake smile and he goes to the back to retrieve my prime rib.

  “Moira?”

  I don’t have the most common name in the world, so I turn my head when I hear it. It’s Claire Randall from my weekly barre class. I don’t consider her a friend, but we do see each other once a week. “Hey, Claire.”

  “I didn’t see you at class this week. Hope everything’s okay,” she says.

  Obviously I can’t tell her I’m a little tender between the legs due to the two men who fuck me every night, so I offer up a pleasant smile and say, “Yep, everything is fine. Sebastian’s been keeping me busy.”

  “If I had a husband that looked like him, I’d let him keep me busy, too,” she says, winking at me.

  “I’m a lucky woman,” I agree, vaguely.

  Now her smile shrinks and she moves closer. “Did you hear about Ashley and Griffin? Well, he and Sebastian are close, I’m sure you have.”

  Memories of Griff kissing my breasts last night while Sebastian went down on me flash through my mind. A pang of arousal stirs within me, but I ignore it. “Yes, I did hear about that.” I’m not sure what she knows or what’s actually being said, so I don’t offer anything further. If no one knows she cheated, I’m certainly not going to say so and bring Griff further embarrassment. At the same time though, I don’t want people thinking he’s the bad guy for filing for divorce from the faithless hussy.

  “To be honest, I never liked her,” Claire tells me. “She had no class. May have married into money, but the way she behaves, working at that bar.”

  Given the distaste on her face, I remind her, “Yes, my husband owns that club.”

  “Oh, of course, I know. But he owns it. It’s an investment. Ashley only hung around to get attention from lowlife men. Everyone saw that. Everyone talked about it,” she adds, raising her eyebrows like this should matter. “I’m glad Griffin finally came to his senses. He can do much better than her.”

  I’m not at all comfortable with this conversation, but the butcher is taking his time in the back so I can’t even get away.

  “You know, we should set him up with Laura from class,” she tells me.

  “I really don’t think he’s looking to date just yet.”

  “Oh, but Laura’s so pretty.”

  I blink at her, but finally I just nod my agreement. Of course Laura is pretty, but Griff isn’t interested. I can’t tell her that, though. She’s a bit of a busybody, clearly, and I haven’t actually talked to Sebastian about public perception of our arrangement. It hasn’t come up yet, but if people are finding out about Griff’s divorce, it’s bound to now.

  We’ll have to discuss it over at dinner. Does he want to keep it secret? Does he care if people know? I know I’ll get judged hard if any of the more conservative ladies learn that I’m letting two men have sex with me—sometimes at the same time!—but I’m not that worried about it. If I spent my whole life worrying over what people thought of me, I’d never do anything.

  I don’t want Sebastian to look bad, though. We understand it was entirely his decision, that he has no reason to be embarrassed—he’s the one in control of this situation, after all. Griff and I follow Sebastian’s lead—but the rich and the bored live for scandal, and our arrangement would surely fit the bill.

  It will hurt me if people are mean to Griff or Sebastian about it. Jealous, tiny-hearted men who don’t understand having Sebastian’s loyalty, having the capacity to love another man the way Sebastian loves Griff, who could never fathom being secure enough to let Griff have me, too. They’ll say horrible, wrong things about Sebastian not being able to satisfy his harlot wife, about Griff settling for his best friend’s leftovers. Bitter, jaded women whose husbands are “gone” or busy all the time will crucify me if they find out I don’t just get one sexy, desirable, wealthy man… I get two of them.

  Meanwhile, Claire just had to go on a spa weekend to recover from her husband’s latest mistress having a pregnancy scare—and the old bastard still won’t dump her.

  I get it. I’m lucky. It’s no reason to be vicious, but they will anyway. Jealousy is an ugly monster.

  Probably best to keep this quiet.

  Not sure how well that will work out long-term, though. I don’t want Griff to feel shortchanged, and he might if our relationship is so obviously in the backseat.

  We’re all going to have to have a discussion about this arrangement. We’ve spent this first week just enjoying it, living in our little bubble where no one had to know and we didn’t have to worry about any practical complications, but I have a feeling that bubble is about to pop.

  I’m lying on my yoga mat, eyes closed, breathing as I stretch my body out. This is the greatest relaxation there is. Peace flows through my body as I reach my arms as far as I can over my head, reaching my toes as far as I can in the opposite direction. I could lie here stretched out like this forever.

  I might. I’ve finished and this is my last stretch, so I think I’ll just remain here for a while.

  At least, I think that until a pair of hands skate up my legs and I feel a decidedly masculine presence looming above me. I don’t know which one it is. He hasn’t spoken yet and he’s down by my legs, so I don’t catch his scent.

  I smile and keep my eyes closed. I kind of like the mystery, but I ask anyway, “Who goes there?”

  “You could open your eyes and solve the mystery yourself.”

  Griff.

  “Why are you lying here on the floor?” he asks.

  “It’s comfortable. You should try it sometime.”

  “Lying on the floor isn’t comfortable. I’ve done it plenty in my time.”

  I open my eyes, but keep my arms overhead. “You probably didn’t try it with a mat. It feels nice at the end of a yoga routine.”

  “Don’t you run? Why do you have to do yoga, too?”

  “Improves my flexibility,” I tell him. “You know all those positions you guys like to put me in when we’re in bed? Thank yoga for my abilities.”

  Griff smiles, lowering his body until he’s on top of me. “In that case, I appreciate yoga very much.”

  “You better,” I murmur, before his lips brush mine.
I’m reluctant to move, but I finally lower my arms so I can wrap them around his neck and kiss him back. Mm, he’s in a tender mood this afternoon, tasting me, running his tongue along my lower lip before softly invading my mouth. Our tongues tangle and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer. My fingers move through his hair while we kiss. After a minute, he breaks away and pulls back to look down at me, an appreciative smile on his face.

  I smile up at him, running my fingers through his hair one more time. “This is a nice surprise. What are you doing home so early?”

  This appears to amuse him. “Home?”

  “You know what I mean,” I tell him.

  He shrugs, his eyes roving over my face. His eyes are warm with tenderness and I can’t resist leaning up and stealing another kiss. He cracks a smile when I do. “I was just wondering what you were up to. Thought I’d swing by and check.”

  Even though I’m glad to see him, I can’t resist teasing him a bit. “You know, they have these nifty things called phones. You can just type out a message and send it. Within a minute or two, I could’ve told you what I was doing.”

  “Eh, I was between places anyhow. Thought I’d take my lunch.”

  “You want me to make you something?” I offer. “I was just about to have a snack; I could throw something together for you.”

  “You don’t have to feed me all the time, you know,” he tells me.

  “I like taking care of my guys,” I tell him.

  That makes him smile again. I’m hitting all the right notes today.

  I shove lightly against his broad chest. “Let me up, I’ll make you some lunch.”

  “If you insist,” he says.

  I push up off the ground and head for the kitchen. “You’re in luck, I just bought groceries. Are you in a hurry? I can make a sandwich if you are. Otherwise I can cook.”

  He wraps his arms around my waist and hugs me from behind as soon as I approach the counter. I smile and lean my head back against his shoulder. “No hurry. Whatever you feel like making is fine with me.”

  I let him hold me for a minute, then I head for the fridge and gather up some ingredients to make a couple of salads. His gaze follows me as I put hard-boiled eggs, grape tomatoes and cheese on the counter.

  “What can I do?” he asks.

  “You want to help?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Sure, why not?”

  I shrug, watching him open the container of grape tomatoes. “No reason, I suppose, just not used to it. Sebastian doesn’t cook. I’m not sure he can.”

  Griff shakes his head. “Seb’s an ass. He can cook, but he exaggerates how bad he is at it so no one ever asks him to.” Griff grabs a knife out of the block and points to the cabinets. “You got a cutting board somewhere?”

  I eye him up with interest as I walk past. “A man who can cook, huh? I like it.”

  “Most of us are capable. You found yourself a fifties throwback, I swear to God.”

  I grin as I reach into the cabinet for the cutting board. “When I first met him, he sort of reminded me—now, don’t ever tell him I told you this,” I add, realizing Sebastian probably wouldn’t find it as amusing as I do.

  “Of course,” Griff says, taking the cutting board and grabbing a handful of grape tomatoes. “Quarter these?”

  I nod my head. “That’ll be perfect. Okay, so, when I first met him and realized how… helpless is the wrong word.”

  Griff snickers. “If you’re talking about household chores, helpless is exactly the word. He used to make his hook-ups do the laundry if I wasn’t around.”

  “That does not shock me at all.”

  “Sometimes I think he brought girls home specifically because the basket was full.”

  Laughing a little, I admit, “That wouldn’t surprise me either.”

  Griff shakes his head. “Anyhow, go on with whatever you were saying.”

  “Okay, so, you never met him because he died a year or so before I met you guys, but I had a grandfather who had married three times. His first wife died and he was living with someone else within a month or so. His second wife died and he got together with someone else just as quickly. Then his third wife died, and he got married three weeks later. It was appalling.”

  “Was he a serial killer? Why are all these women dying?”

  “Well, they were old. Not his first wife, that was just bad luck, she had an aneurism, but the other two… just health issues due to old age, I guess. No, he wasn’t a murderer. But my mom thought it was so tasteless the way he would just get remarried like it was nothing, how he could not live alone.”

  “Seb’s not like that, though. He’s good at being alone.”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” I tell him. “We always assumed Granddad was just bad at being alone, but when my mom asked him about it, you know what he said?”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “He couldn’t cook. Didn’t know how to do laundry. If he walked into a grocery store, he didn’t know where to find anything. He and his first wife got married in a different time; they got married at 18, he went to work, she stayed home and took care of the house and their family. Obviously Sebastian and I do things this way because that’s what we like and it works for us, but back then… it was just what they did. So, from the time he moved out of his mother’s house and into his own, Granddad always had someone to take care of him. When Grandma died, he literally didn’t know how to take care of himself. So he just got remarried.”

  Griff shakes his head. “That’s crazy. Seb knows how to do this shit, don’t ever let him tell you he doesn’t. He’s just an ass who thinks his time is too valuable to waste on shit like this. He’s not much of a cook, but he could chop up some fucking tomatoes.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “It doesn’t bother me. I like serving him. I know it’s not for everybody, but I get a little charge out of it.”

  He quirks an eyebrow and looks over at me. “Out of serving people?”

  “Out of serving Sebastian, not people. It suits our dynamic.” So he doesn’t feel left out, I add, “And you, too. I like this, but I’m happy to do the work myself. It makes me feel good to take care of my loved ones.”

  “Needed?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that it’s something anyone could do?” I frown at him, so he clarifies, “Like, your grandfather needed your grandma. But when she died, he just brought in a replacement.”

  “Well, sure, if literally my only use here was doing chores I could be replaced. Hell, I could be replaced with a housekeeper. That’s not all it is though.” I recall their boorish conversation that woke me up the other night and I narrow my eyes at him with mocking reproach. “I don’t just cook food and drain balls.”

  He has the good grace to grimace. “I said I was sorry for that.”

  “Sebastian has specific needs. It took time for us to learn one another and to be as good together as we are. Now his needs have shifted.” When I took on my need-specific, sometimes rigid husband, I certainly never expected his needs would extend to me having a romantic relationship with another man to keep him in Sebastian’s life. That was a bit of a surprise. I shrug my shoulders, picking up where I left off. “I adapt well to his shifting needs, that’s why I work so well with Sebastian.”

  Griff nods, but he appears introspective as he uses the blade of the knife to move the quartered tomatoes and heads over to the sink to rinse it off. “So, can I ask a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “His needs have shifted to include me now, right? So, what if they shift again? What if he realizes he doesn’t want to share you anymore?”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about that now,” I tell him, partly because this is new and Sebastian really seems to like it, partly because I have no idea what happens if he changes his mind about this. I don’t want to be put into a hypothetical scenario like that. “Obviously Sebastian is fine with this arrangement. It was his idea to beg
in with and given our bedroom activities most nights this week, it clearly does not bother him to see us together. He loves both of us. He wants both of us to be happy. If we’ve found a way for all three of us to be happy together, why would he change his mind?”

  Griff nods, considering this. “You see a future in this, then? You don’t think this is just… an experiment he’ll lose interest in?”

  “I don’t think he would play with you that way, Griff. Obviously if he had reacted differently, if he would have let you have me that first night and then realized he couldn’t deal, that would be a different thing. But he’s fine with it. We’ve talked about it just the two of us, too. He’s not bothered by it. All of our needs are being met; he’s happy with the way things are. I don’t see why that would change.”

  Griff cracks and peels the hard-boiled eggs while I grab plates and get the rest of our salads ready. Once they’re finished and topped with all the fixings, Griff takes a seat at the table and I grab a pitcher from the fridge, pouring us both glasses of ice water.

  As I take a seat, Griff looks over at me. “I like being with you.”

  I smile softly, placing my hand over his on the table. “I like being with you, too.”

  “I don’t want it to only be because of Seb,” he adds.

  I lose my smile, my eyebrow furrowing. I don’t think I make him feel that way, but maybe we talk about my husband more than we should. I’ve obviously never dated Griff, so I’m not sure how sensitive he is to that. “It’s not just because of him,” I tell him. “If I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t. I adore my husband, Griff, but I’m not an escort. I don’t go where I’m assigned if I don’t want to be there.” Drawing my hand away, I ask, “I mean, do you think I’ve been faking all along? We’ve been friends for years; obviously I care about you and enjoy your company. I admitted to having had not-so-pure thoughts about you even before the sharing was a reasonable possibility. I wouldn’t have acted on it because I’m not a shitty person, but I’m also not a sex doll.”