My legs part for him, unbidden. His fingers tease the edge where the fabric of my panties meet my skin, but he doesn’t go further. Instead, he gets up and sits back on the couch, next to Daniel and lifts his drink up to his lips.
“Take off your panties.” Daniel takes over.
“Are the two of you ever going to take off your clothes?” I pout in complaint. “Come on. I’ve been naked before, and I’m almost naked now. It’s definitely your turn.”
A smile grazes his face at that, and he gestures languidly to his massive, naked, throbbing, cock. “I’m not entirely clothed,” he says. “Stand up, Bailey. Take off your panties.”
Fine. They want a show. I can give them a show. I’m going to give them the best fucking strip tease I know how. Even if all I have to do is roll down a pair of panties to my feet and step out of them, and even if my wrists are tied together with a bra.
I stand up and stretch lazily, sucking in my stomach and arching my tits out toward them. Bringing my tied wrists in front of me, I push my breasts together with my upper arms. My nipples, I’m unsurprised to note, are erect nubs, hard with desire, aching for a touch from either of them. Or from both of them.
Moving slowly and sensually, I position myself so I’m in front of them, slowly sinking to my knees. “I want to suck your cocks,” I murmur throatily, licking my lips. I’m so turned on that I’m not embarrassed by how brazen I sound. “I want to take you down my throat.” I hold Daniel’s gaze in mine. His cock is pulled out, and I reason that he’s more likely to cave first. Throw me down on the antique Persian rug and fuck the need out of me, Daniel. “I want you to come in my mouth. I’ll swallow every drop.”
“Bailey,” Daniel groans, throwing his head back. “What are you doing to us?”
“The same thing you are doing to me,” I reply. I turn to Sebastian. “I’m burning up,” I whisper. “Please don’t make me wait.”
“That does it.” Sebastian sounds like a guy pushed to the edge. He pulls off his t-shirt, and his six-pack abs come into view, as does the ink on his bulging forearms. I want to lick each ridge of muscle. At the same time, I also want to run and cover myself, because he’s in amazing shape and I have a bunch of excess weight to lose.
“What’s wrong?”
“Umm,” I flush. “It’s a little intimidating to sleep with guys in perfect shape. Especially when I look the way I do.”
“What do you look like, Bailey?” Daniel’s voice is dangerous. “You are beautiful. Desirable. Warm and soft. Look at my cock.”
I sneak a peek, and exhale, my throat dry with lust. He’s so thick. So big and beautiful. I want to rub against it, and I want to nestle against Sebastian’s rock hard abs, and trace out each line of his tattoos with my tongue.
Daniel and Sebastian are dangerous for me. They make me want too much.
“Enough with the bullshit.” Sebastian moves in for the kill. One hand yanks up my bound wrists over my head. Another pulls my panties down, leaving me exposed and panting with lust. “The two of us can’t keep our hands off you,” he grits out. “Daniel’s in the middle of a sensitive take over. I’m swamped with restaurant bullshit. And you are in the tenure window. Why do you question this chemistry between us?” His fingers pinch a nipple harshly and I gasp out as a painful pleasure radiates from that spot to the rest of my body. “Can’t you tell how much we want you?”
He pushes me onto the couch, and I land with my face almost in Daniel’s lap. A resounding spank lands on my ass. “Bailey,” Sebastian says to me. “I want to fuck you hard and fast.”
“Do it.” I lean forward, licking my lips, and take Daniel’s enormous head in my mouth. He groans as I maneuver my hands to clasp the base of his thick shaft. As best as I can, given my bound state, I pump and suck him, rewarded by the noises of desire he makes.
Behind me, Sebastian slaps my ass again, and my mouth deepens onto Daniel’s cock. I hear the sound of a condom wrapper tear, then I feel Sebastian’s cock nudge at my pussy.
This is actually happening. Sebastian is going to fuck me while I suck Daniel.
Two guys.
Two unbelievably hot guys.
Are.
Fucking.
Me.
At the same time.
As promised, Sebastian is not gentle. He thrusts into me in one hard motion. His fingers dig into my curvy hips as he fucks me. I grind my elbows into the couch and sink my mouth even deeper on Daniel’s cock. Blood rushes to my head, and I’m overwhelmed in the best possible way.
Pounding, burning, pulsing gnawing lust curls at me, tendrils snaking everywhere. There are fingers pulling on my nipples. Daniel? A knuckle rubs steady circles against my clitoris. I close my eyes and focus on the way Daniel’s cock feels in my mouth. Harsh breathing fills the silence in the room, as does the slap of Sebastian’s thighs against my body.
Each thrust stretches me. Each thrust sends an intense jolt up my body. Each muted groan of pleasure from them makes me even wetter. My orgasm is coiling up inside me, preparing to erupt, and when Sebastian grabbed my long hair and pulls, I lose it. With a shouted cry, I explode.
Through my haze of lust, I feel Daniel stiffen, then he is climaxing, and I eagerly swallow every drop. Sebastian’s fingers dig deeper into my flesh, then he too is choking off a cry as he comes.
I collapse on the couch, limp and satiated. My head is on Daniel’s lap, and I feel his fingers stroke my cheek. “Bailey,” he mutters, untying my hands as I lie down, unable to move.
“Daniel,” I reply, frowning at him through sleep-filled eyes. “You still have your clothes on.”
His lips curl into a smile. “Will you spend the night?” he asks me. “With the two of us?”
My stomach growls right then, loud and long. I bury my face in my hands, unbelievably embarrassed by my body’s betrayal. “Pretend that didn’t happen,” I whisper fervently. “Pretend I did something cool instead.”
Sebastian laughs. “I think that’s my cue to feed you, Bailey,” he says, getting up and pulling his pants back on, but not before I get a good look at his dick. Even flaccid, he’s impressively large. My pussy is going to be so tender tomorrow.
A smile breaks out on my face. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I tell them sitting up and reaching for my forgotten glass of vodka. The ice has melted and diluted the strong alcohol, but the taste of it still brings back warm memories of my time in Siberia. This was a very considerate gift. “You,” I gesture toward Sebastian, “two-star Michelin chef, toast of New York’s restaurant scene, are going to make me something to eat.”
“That was the plan.”
I turn to Daniel. “And once we eat something, we are going to sleep in your bed?”
“Well,” Daniel laughs at my expression. “I was hoping we’d do this again, and more, before we went to sleep. If that’s okay with you?”
I feel like Alice, falling down a rabbit hole. Up is down and left is right, and in Wonderland, hot billionaires are interested in me. But hey, as long as I’m immersed in fantasy land, I might as well enjoy the ride. “Oh, it’s more than okay,” I say. “That sounds pretty damn good.”
23
Bailey
Words are easy, like the wind. Faithful friends are hard to find.
William Shakespeare, The Passionate Pilgrim
Daniel Hartman’s bedroom is, as I expected, large. A massive king-size bed rests against one wall. Another wall is covered entirely with floor to ceiling windows. Daniel draws the grey woolen drapes shut as we enter, and flicks on a couple of light switches. A soft glow fills the room from the two pendant lamps, hanging on either side of the headboard. My feet sink into the plush pile of a grey carpet, and I stifle a moan of pleasure.
Daniel notices. “It’s just a rug,” he suggests. “Come here, and I’ll give you something else to moan about.”
I don’t reply right away, and Sebastian grins at me. “Cat got your tongue, Bailey?” he teases. “I didn’t see you at a loss for wor
ds earlier when you were busy yelling at us.”
At that, I have to laugh. “It’s the red hair,” I tell him. “All my life, I’ve tried not to be the hot-tempered redhead, but I actually enjoyed giving you guys a piece of my mind.”
They both chuckle. The sex on the couch has dissipated some of the fierce tension between the three of us. The vodka has played its part as well, as has the excellent tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich that Sebastian made us.
“Come here,” I order Sebastian, sinking on the bed and leaning against Daniel. “I want to look at your tattoos.”
He moves closer and I peer at them, my fingers reaching out to trace the ink on his skin. “A dragon and a phoenix?”
“Mmm.”
“Is there a story?”
Daniel smiles at that. “There’s always a story, Bailey,” he says, his fingers stroking a path on my thighs. “Given your line of work, I thought you’d know that.”
It takes difficulty to resist the urge to climb on top of him like a horny monkey. “I’m an anthropologist, not a journalist,” I point out, realizing just an instant too late that mentioning the press around Daniel might not be a good idea.
He remains relaxed, and his hands don’t pull away from my waist. “For work, I research the stories that bind us together. But for fun,” my finger follows the flame of the dragon toward Sebastian’s chest, “I ask hot naked guys to tell me about their tattoos.”
Sebastian sits on the other side of me, and I feel his solid warmth at my side. “I got the dragon when I left home,” he says. Something in his expression warns me against prying more. “And the phoenix six months after I opened my first restaurant.”
“No tattoo for the Michelin stars?”
He shakes his head. “The tattoos,” he explains, “are for moments of personal clarity and growth. Michelin stars are great, but not tattoo worthy.”
“You’ve had two moments of personal clarity in your entire life?” I tease, trying to ignore that Daniel’s fingers are climbing higher on my thigh. “How old are you, Sebastian? You seem to be due for another.”
He grins at that, then his smile fades. “What?” I ask him.
“I was just thinking about your friend,” he says. “The chef at Aladdin's Lamp. Piper, isn’t that her name?”
I stiffen. “Sheesh. Yes, I do want to hear that you are thinking about my hot roommate when we are naked in bed,” I say, trying to bury the faint hurt under sarcasm. “Smooth.”
Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’m in bed with the woman I want to be with,” he says impatiently, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling me close to him to press a hard, passionate kiss on my lips. “I was thinking of her restaurant struggles,” he clarifies when we pull apart. “I’d had already had the benefit of apprenticing under several leading chefs when I opened Seb New York, and the first six months were still insanely difficult. But Piper’s fresh off culinary school, isn’t she?”
I’m mollified by his kiss and touched by his concern for my friend. “Yeah,” I confirm. “She had this crazy aunt who left her the restaurant in the will, but it came with a hundred different conditions. Piper’s already sunk all kinds of money into the place.”
“Would she be receptive to some help?” he asks. “I’ve some friends in the industry who are always looking for new ventures to invest in. They could give her some advice, if she’s interested.”
“What about you? Won’t that hurt you if you send potential investors to Piper?”
He laughs. “Bailey, I have no shortage of people wanting to invest in me. Besides, my best friend is pretty fucking rich.”
Of course. I slant a look at Daniel. “You guys have known each other for a long time, haven’t you?”
Daniel nods. “Thirteen years.” He shakes his head in mild disbelief. “That sounds crazy, doesn’t it? Time flies by and you don’t even realize it. I can still picture this skinny kid cooking in a greasy spoon.”
“How’d you meet?”
Daniel rests his head on my shoulder. “Sebastian’s parents threw him out of the house when he was sixteen,” he says.
“Why?” I glance at Sebastian, shocked.
Sebastian looks uncomfortable at this foray into the past. “I couldn’t sit still in class,” he shrugs. “My mind leapt around during lessons. The teachers decided I was a trouble-maker. I grew up in a small town. Once you were labelled a trouble-maker, that was it. So I scraped up enough money for the bus fare, and ran away to New York.”
I’m riveted. I’ve spent more than a few hours Googling the two of them but I’ve never heard this story.
Daniel continues. “So there’s this sixteen year old kid in New York, and he works odd jobs in restaurants to earn money, and sleeps in a studio apartment that he shares with five other people, just to be able to afford the rent.”
“I worked in a diner,” Sebastian picks up. “One night, a bunch of rich kids come in.” He grins, inclining his head at Daniel. “Including this one. By this time, I was nineteen and cooking during the graveyard shift, and anytime the owner wasn’t around, I’d vary up the recipes just a little. A little more spice, a little more creativity. I wanted to get noticed. Create an opportunity.”
“I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich,” Daniel remembers. “I was expecting white bread and packaged cheese slices.” He shakes his head. “Instead, I got a sandwich that had caramelized onions and real cheese, with a dipping sauce on the side that was about the best thing I’d ever tasted.”
“The next thing I know, I’m getting invited to meet Daniel’s parents.” Sebastian smiles. “The rest is history. Real restaurant jobs, opportunities to learn from top-flight chefs. And when I was ready to open Seb New York, Daniel opened his purse strings.”
I pull Sebastian in so he’s leaning on me, and I’m held tight between them. His story has awed me. He’s achieved so much in such a short time. Unlike Daniel, he wasn’t born into money. Everything Sebastian has now, he’s achieved with hard work.
The story also reveals a side of Daniel that I didn’t know. Even when he was young, he’d realized he could use his money to help others. He didn’t give Sebastian a handout - instead, he offered him a hand up. He was thoughtful enough and insightful enough to do that for Sebastian.
He’s just done the same thing for me with the Hartman Foundation endowment.
“And look at him now,” Daniel beams. “The best chef in the city.”
Sebastian looks faintly embarrassed by that. “I’m not there yet,” he says. “What’d you think, Bailey?” His big hand strokes my thighs lazily, and desire rises anew in me. “Daniel reached out and helped me when he didn’t have to. Even with all the support I had, the first six months of running my own restaurant were among the toughest times in my life. I’d love to help your friend.”
I think about Piper’s sadness earlier today, about her eyes, swollen from a crying jag. If Sebastian can help? If his friends can give her some pointers? I can’t think of something that’d be better.
I kiss him, then turn to Daniel and kiss him too. “You guys are awesome,” I tell them honestly. “What’s the catch?”
Daniel grins lazily. “We might spank you a lot,” he threatens. “And I have a plan for Wednesday’s pool game.”
“Really?” His voice has turned smoky, and I can tell that whatever the plan is, it involves sex. And I’m turned on by that idea. Who am I kidding? I’m turned on by anything these two guys propose.
He gives me a half-smile, but doesn’t offer up any additional detail. Instead, he nudges my legs apart. “I want you now, Bailey,” he says. “I want to sink into you. I want to pound you hard and make you cry out as you come.”
I’m on board with this idea. There’s a wooden side table on either side of the headboard, and Sebastian opens the drawer and pulls out a tube of lube. “Still on board with anal?” he asks me, with a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Now?” I squelch my little prickle of worry. So far, everything they’ve done
has been amazing. I have every reason to expect that anal sex will be fantastic as well.
“Just my fingers for the moment,” he says. “But soon, impatient one. Soon it’ll be our cocks, one in your pussy, one buried tight in your ass. Would you like that?”
My nipples are bullets of need, my pussy is dripping with the proof of my desire. The answer to Sebastian’s question is yes. Yes, yes and yes once again.
24
Sebastian
One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
William Shakespeare, Hamlet
It feels amazing to wake up Tuesday morning with Bailey’s soft body curled up between Daniel and me, naked and very tempting. Morning sex is phenomenal as well, and the simple pleasure of making her a plate of scrambled eggs makes me realize how personal the act of cooking is when you feed someone you care about.
She rushes away after breakfast, back to her apartment to get changed before heading to work. Daniel leaves as well, leaving me sitting at the kitchen table, filled with a sense of contented well-being, until I make the mistake of checking my email on my phone.
Then my good mood evaporates. A scathing review of Seb New York, a note from Helen that she thinks someone’s stealing from Seb II’s kitchens, and worst of all, Juliette’s set up a meeting with the franchise investors at ten-thirty, and it’s nine-thirty now. I’m going to have to hustle to get there on time.
I call her, wondering why I’m so reluctant to move this deal forward. Juliette’s absolutely right - time is of the essence in these kinds of deals.
“I might be late,” I warn her when she picks up. “I’m juggling multiple crises, Juliette. This is a horrible time for this meeting… Next time, give me a bit more of a heads-up.”
“I admire you for making time for what you think is important,” she says snidely. I frown for a second, wondering what on earth she’s talking about, and then my attention is distracted by another incoming call. It’s Katya, the restaurant manager at Seb New York. I quickly promise Juliette I’ll be there, and switch to Katya, muttering a curse under my breath. Ever since I promoted Ben to be the sous-chef at Seb II, we’ve been lurching about from one crisis to another, and I don’t have the time to baby my chefs.
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