“Don’t bother about clothes, baby,” Sebastian assures me, taking the bundle of garments out of my hand and holding it out of reach. “We’ll be getting naked soon.”
Fine. I can walk to Daniel’s bedroom wearing a bra, a butt plug and nothing else. No problem, right?
It takes more courage than going to Siberia did.
When I’m talking to them, when we are shooting pool and drinking vodka, I can forget how good-looking they are, and how out of my league. It’s a little harder when I’m half-naked, with all of the flab on display, and their bodies are sleek, muscled, chiseled perfection.
“Should you be thinking of anything other than sex right now, Bailey?” Daniel inquires politely as we climb the stairs. Crap. He’s on to me. I can’t allow myself to forget that Daniel’s very good at reading me. They both are.
“No.”
“Indeed. Perhaps another orgasm will help.”
My pussy is puffy and swollen, and the thought of another climax fills me with mingled apprehension and anticipation. Since I don’t like refusing such a kind offer - come on, if a gorgeous guy that you like is volunteering to make you come, you accept! - I just lower my lashes demurely. “As you wish,” I say softly.
“What are you, Buttercup?” Sebastian pushes open the door to Daniel’s bedroom.
“Wait. Guys watch the Princess Bride?” I turn toward Sebastian, surprised.
Neither of them reply. Daniel’s dick is tenting his trousers, and Sebastian’s bulge is clearly visible under his jeans.
They take off their clothes. Sebastian lifts his t-shirt over his head, causing the muscles around his abdomen to clench and ripple. Daniel throws the jacket over an armchair and moves to undo his cufflinks. I watch both of them, almost panting with lust. So hot. So very hot, and for the space of this evening, they are all mine.
There’s a quiver in my stomach as I think about our very temporary fling. Nothing’s been defined, nothing’s been stated, but I know this can’t last.
“Get on the bed,” Daniel growls and I hop to it, glad to leave my gloomy thoughts behind. He’s undressed fully while I was lost in thought, and he joins me, as does Sebastian. Hands unclasp my bra, and my breasts tumble loose.
We position ourselves so that I’m lying on the bed with Daniel behind me. Sebastian’s on his knees in front of me, his cock jutting into my face. “Is this a hint?” I grin as I lean forward to take him into my mouth.
“Mmm,” he groans. “Yes. Definitely a hint.”
It is also a distraction. The mattress shifts as Daniel moves behind me, reaching for the lube on the nightstand. The butt plug is pulled out of me, and fresh lube coats my tight bud. “Relax,” Daniel scolds. “Do you want to get spanked?”
I can’t answer - Sebastian’s cock is in my mouth. The answer is, however, yes. I always want to get spanked.
Sebastian’s hand presses against the back of my head, keeping me in place. With his other hand, he’s tugging at my erect nipples, pinching, pulling, and tweaking them till I’m half-crazed with lust. In the meanwhile, Daniel’s fingers spread the lube all around my asshole. He pushes one finger in, and I moan around Sebastian’s cock.
“You okay?”
I nod. The moan wasn’t one of pain - the butt plug has done its job, and I’ve grown accustomed to its girth. Daniel kisses my shoulder. “Good girl,” he says softly, adding another finger and twisting them in me. “Relax. I promise it’ll be good for you.”
I’m not tense, I want to retort. Though I’ve climaxed only minutes ago, I’m painfully aroused once again.
His fingers leave and I hear the sound of a condom wrapper tear. I instinctively tense up, until I realize what I’m doing, then I force myself to relax. I have nothing to stress about. Daniel isn’t going to hurt me.
“Good girl,” he says once again. Sebastian’s hands tangle in my hair and caress my cheek, while Daniel’s thick cock nudges at my anus. He pushes into me the same way he pushed the plug in earlier - slowly and steadily. I feel stretched, and it’s an odd feeling, but it isn’t painful.
“Oh,” I say through the mouthful of cock. “That’s not bad.”
‘That’s not bad’ is an understatement. Daniel gives me some time to get used to him, then he pulls out almost completely, and slides in again. This time, I can’t hold back my moan of pleasure.
Sebastian pulls back, and his dick leaves my mouth with a pop. “Are you okay?” he asks with a shade of concern.
My nails dig into Daniel’s 1500 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. My face contorts with the lust that’s rampaging through my blood. “Yes.”
“In that case…” he says with a grin, “get your mouth back on me.”
I’m happy to. In the oral-sex balance sheet, I’m solidly in the red, and I too believe in paying my debts.
“Fuck, Bailey, you are so tight, sweetheart,” Daniel grinds out, his fingers digging into my hips. “Oh god, I’m not going to last very long here.”
I pull away. “In that case,” I tell Sebastian bossily, “you should get in there. I think I was promised a dick in both my pussy and ass tonight.”
They start laughing and Sebastian kisses me with passion. “So very demanding.” He obligingly reaches for a condom and shifts so he’s in front of me.
Daniel’s grip tightens around my waist, and he flips me so that he’s lying on his back and I’m resting on him. His dick is still buried in my ass. It’s an impressive feat. I’d normally have something snarky to say, but I’m enjoying the way he feels in me far too much to risk ruining it.
“She’s soaked,” Sebastian marvels. “You like this, don’t you? I’ve never seen you as wet as you are right now.” He rolls on the condom and moves so he’s in the space between my knees. “Hold still,” he instructs, holding his cock in his hand and swiping it up my slit.
My legs are in the air, spread wide apart. “Stop teasing,” I choke out, as Daniel’s thumbs run maddening circles over my tender nipples. “Don’t make me beg.”
“If you insist.” Sebastian’s hands hold my thighs apart, and his dick thrusts into me.
Hard.
Nothing held back.
Long, powerful, unforgiving strokes.
Exactly the way I want it.
I whimper and moan, twist and flail. I’m full - so filled by their hard cocks. When one of them pulls out, the other pushes in, and just like that, they have a rhythm going. In and out. Faster. Harder. More.
The heat rises, molten lava waiting to spill. Their breathing is harsh and labored. Sebastian’s eyes stay on me, Daniel’s fingers run over my body. “Not going to last,” one of them clenches out. Which one? I can’t tell. It could have been Daniel. It could have been Sebastian. It could have even been me.
We aren’t three distinct people now. The boundaries have dissolved in this moment. We are overwhelmed by our desire, by the rising pressure as we tumble toward our climaxes. Then I reach my personal point of no return. My nails dig into Sebastian’s back, and every muscle tightens as my orgasm rips through me.
They aren’t far behind. I hear muttered curses, then their grip on me tightens, and the pounding doubles in frequency. They come within seconds of each other, and we all collapse on the bed in a sweaty, sated heap.
“I don’t think Juliette likes me,” I say thoughtfully, when the fog in my brain clears enough that I can form words.
Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s not you, it’s me. She’s been working with some investors who want to set up a restaurant chain, and I went to meet with them yesterday, but it was a waste of time. She thinks I should give them another chance.”
“I didn’t think you needed outside investors.” I’m almost too tired for conversation, but this is interesting. “You know, because of your resident billionaire.”
“Resident billionaire,” Daniel snorts. “You have such charming names for me, Bailey. This isn’t the sort of project I’d invest in.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t a
pprove of it,” Sebastian answers. He doesn’t sound annoyed by Daniel’s failure to invest in this project.
“Why?” I ask again.
Daniel shrugs. “Sebastian works too hard.”
I roll my eyes. “Pot calling the kettle black much?” I ask him.
He smiles. “Fair enough,” he concedes. “Everyone in this room is guilty of that particular sin. It’s easier to tell your friends that they should relax than it is to take your own advice.”
I snuggle into their bodies, and pull a pillow over my head. “I’m taking your advice,” I say, and my voice comes out muffled. “I’m going to sleep.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Daniel says, affection tinting his voice. Okay. This is the third time he’s called me sweetheart. Seriously weird.
29
Daniel
You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are.
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
My mother’s social life is a lot fuller than I think it is, so it isn’t until Friday that we manage to have lunch. She’s picked a cafe where the smell of incense hangs thick in the air, and every server has multiple piercings. In the custom Armani suit I’m wearing, I feel very out of place.
“You could have warned me,” I tell her with a grin, knowing that she’s secretly amused by my discomfort. “I would have worn my Bob Marley t-shirt.”
“Do you own a Bob Marley t-shirt?” she asks with interest.
“I have hidden depths, mother,” I tell her. “You’d be surprised.”
She laughs. “It’s more likely to be you than your sister,” she says, launching on her favorite rant. “Seriously, that girl and her stuck-up fiancé.”
“Mom,” I say patiently. “Leave Sue be. She likes Graham well enough, and that should be all that matters for us.” I can’t bring myself to believe that Sue could love Graham. He’s young and ambitious, and wants to go into politics. He’s very… straight-laced. “I didn’t ask you to lunch to discuss her.”
“No,” she agrees. “Tell me about the other girl. Did you apologize? Did she forgive you?”
My mother likes to know what’s going on in our lives, and I should have known I’d get an inquisition today. The last time I saw her, we’d had lunch with the president of NYU, and we were too busy discussing the details of the Hartman endowment for my mother to quiz me. Not today. Today, she’s looking for answers.
I find myself strangely reluctant to talk about Bailey. “It’s fine,” I tell her. “I don’t want to get into details.”
She ignores my words with practiced ease. “What’s her name?” she probes.
“Bailey.” My mother is like a bloodhound on a trail. When she starts her line of questioning, my sister and I have learned to fold early. It’s easier that way. “She’s an assistant professor at NYU. She teaches Cultural Anthropology and she’s up for tenure this year in a severely underfunded department.”
“Ah.” She tries to hide her smile. “That explains the grant to NYU’s Liberal Arts departments. I should have known from the grand gesture that you were wooing someone. Remember Natalie?”
“It wasn’t a grand gesture,” I say automatically, wincing as I remember the Natalie episode, as my family likes to call it.
One evening when I was sixteen, I was trying to plan a romantic evening for the girl I had the hots for, and I’d asked JP, the family butler, to set up a fireworks show. He’d tried to protest about the expenditure, but I was a teenager and I didn’t listen. When the bill came in, I found out my fireworks display had cost thirty thousand dollars.
I smile at the memory of how pissed my father had been. “I thought dad was going to have a coronary.”
She laughs fondly. “He was not happy with you,” she agrees.
“That’s an understatement,” I note dryly. “He told me I was burning money, yelled at me for an hour, and then grounded me for a month.”
“You would have been in worse trouble had you not stood up for JP. When you told your dad that JP was not to blame, and you’d accept your punishment, but he wasn’t to take it out on JP, I think your dad almost cried.”
“You’ve never told me this.”
She smiles. “You were a teenager who’d just spent thousands of dollars on fireworks,” she replies. “Your father was proud of you that day. He thought your heart was in the right place.”
My father died seven years ago, and I still miss him. Hearing the muted sadness in my mother’s voice, I know she does too. They met when she was twenty-four and he was twenty five. She was a poster child for the seventies, and he was the son of a billionaire. It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. My parents are the reason I believe in love.
“Why haven’t I met Bailey?”
Because I’m in a pretty unconventional relationship, and I’m not sure what my mother will think about it. Heck, I’m not even sure what I think of it. Originally, it was all about physical attraction and nothing else. But the more time the three of us spend together, the more I’m coming to realize that what we have together transcends sex, and that terrifies me.
I settle for a half-answer. “I’m not dating her,” I reply. “Besides, you hated the last woman I introduced you to.”
“Megan,” my mother says in distaste, referring to a very short-lived relationship, “was not good for you. However, I didn’t interfere, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” I say fondly. My parents have always left me to live my own life, and have only offered advice if I’ve asked for it. “A point in your favor.”
“I agree,” she says. “So why aren’t you dating her?”
Bloodhound.
“Invasive discussions about my personal life are not the reason we are having lunch,” I tell her. “I wanted to talk to you about Cyrus.”
She frowns. “Why?” she demands. “I was quite looking forward to my meal. Why ruin it?”
The waitress finally ambles over to us and hands us menus. It’s a pretty laid back place, evidently, and things like serving us food doesn’t seem to be too high on her priority list. I glance at the offerings briefly and order a lentil salad. My mother orders something with kale in it, which makes me shudder. Not even Sebastian can convince me to eat kale. “It’s good for you,” my mother says, looking at the expression of mild revulsion on my face.
“If you say so,” I tell her and wait for the waitress to walk away before continuing my conversation. After the Piper incident, I’m a lot more careful about paying attention to my surroundings. “So, Cyrus.”
“Fine,” she sighs. “Tell me about Cyrus.”
I quickly fill her in on the Kansas City project, and Cyrus’ abysmal lack of progress over it. “I might have to fire Cyrus if this deal doesn’t come through.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That seems extreme, coming from you.”
“It isn’t just this deal,” I explain. “Cyrus is rude and high-handed to the employees. He treats my admin like dirt. He’s just not pleasant to be around. He’s exhausting my reservoir of good-will.”
“You want to know if I’ll back you up, if it comes to a board vote.”
I roll my eyes. “I expect you’ll back me up,” I tell her. “What are you going to do, vote against your favorite child? I just thought you’d appreciate a heads-up. Besides,” I look dubiously at the salad that the waitress has just deposited in front of me, “having lunch with you is always an interesting experience.”
She chuckles. “I love both you and Susan equally,” she says loyally. “Of course I’ll vote in your favor. But it would look better if you have the rest of the board on your side as well.”
“I’m working on it,” I tell her. “Half the board are granddad’s old golf buddies, and they are ready to believe that I’m letting down the good name of the Hartmans.”
“Yes,” she says dryly. “I’ve heard a few of their grumblings. ‘It’s the mother,’ Alison Strauss said once when she was talking about you. ‘You can tell by the bree
ding.’”
“Alison Strauss is a miserable old hag,” I tell her. “You aren’t bothered by her, are you?”
She shakes her head. “No, Danny, how could I be? This has been my reality for the last thirty seven years.” She looks sad. “When your dad was alive, the two of us could laugh about it. But Graham’s family thinks I’m from the wrong side of the tracks too. It just gets old, that’s all.”
I can’t imagine Graham in this place, but I can absolutely see both Bailey and Sebastian here. Sebastian will want to say hello to the chef. Bailey will order every single thing on the menu, because she likes variety. They’d both fit in perfectly, because they both have a certain kindness and grace and an innate desire to make everyone around them feel comfortable.
The realization strikes me out of the blue. I’m starting to fall in love with Bailey Moore. For the first time, I can see the glimmerings of a future that involves something other than running the family firm. I don’t know her very well, and we haven’t spent a lot of time together, but sometimes, you just know.
“Hey mom,” I say. “You know our Sunday family lunches?”
She raises an eyebrow.
“In a few weeks, once this stupid Kansas City deal is over, I’m bringing Bailey and Sebastian to it.”
Sebastian has come to lunch many times, he won’t be a new addition to the gathering. But she hears the emphasis I’ve placed on the words Bailey and Sebastian, and her eyes widen as she processes what I’ve left unsaid. You have to hand it to my mother. She’s not slow on the uptake.
I realize I’m holding my breath as I wait for her to react, but I shouldn’t have been nervous. She starts chuckling, then, unable to contain her mirth, her chuckles turn to helpless laughter. “Oh dear,” she says, wiping the tears away from her eyes, “The expression on Graham’s face is going to be priceless.” Her hand rests on top of mine. “I cannot wait.”
Ménage in Manhattan: The Complete 5-Book Ménage Romance Collection Page 16
