“Never ignore your intuition,” Carter responds. “I’ll look into the guy.” There’s a troubled expression on his face. “You asked me yesterday what the endgame was with Ed. Dominic’s been telling for months that I need to bury the hatchet. Maybe I just need to let this go.”
Dominic gets another bottle of Riesling and tops us up. Carter stares into his drink. “Noah doesn’t talk about Chloe any longer,” he says, his voice so low that I can barely hear him. “Not to me, not to his therapist. Not to his teachers. I don’t think he remembers her.”
Understanding blooms. “You think he’s going to forget you,” I whisper. “That’s why you don’t want to give up custody.”
He doesn’t deny it. “The way I feel, it doesn’t make any sense. I know that. But…”
Dominic leans forward. “Carter,” he says gently. “Chloe was your sister, and you loved her. She was also not the greatest of parents. The way she died—can you really blame Noah for repressing that memory? But you are not her. You stepped up. You gave Noah stability. You surrounded him with love. No matter what happens in this damn custody case, Noah’s not going to forget about you. He adores you. He’s called you every single day. He can’t wait to tell you about his adventures. His memories of Chloe might be traumatic, but his memories of you aren’t.”
“Until I got into a shouting match with Ed,” Carter replies glumly. “I don’t know what he told the judge. What if it’s too late, Dominic? What if Noah doesn’t want anything to do with me again?”
“He calls you every single day,” Dominic repeats. “It’s not too late.”
Carter doesn’t respond. He lapses into silence, one he doesn’t break for what seems like a lifetime but is probably less than three minutes. Finally, he looks at me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have involved you in this, Gabby.”
Okay, now I feel like an asshole. I did one big-girl-panties thing today; time to do another. “You didn’t have to twist my arm too hard,” I respond uncomfortably. “I wasn’t doing it for altruistic reasons.” Ugh. Honesty might be the best policy, but it doesn’t make confessing the truth any easier. “Last Saturday, I played poker in New York, and things got out of hand.” I pause and reconsider my words. “I let it get out of hand. I was reckless and stupid. I lost almost a hundred thousand dollars.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I figured that I could win some of it back here.”
I brace myself for their reactions. Shock. Disgust. Contempt.
It’s not there. Carter tilts his head. “Why were you being reckless?” He sounds quiet and contemplative, not angry and judgmental.
“I’m not sure…” But that’s a lie, because I do know. “I wanted to start my own business. I had some savings, but it wasn’t enough. I got greedy.”
“You were close enough to taste it,” Dominic murmurs. “You don’t like asking for help. Your dreams were within your reach, and you forgot to be careful.”
Oh God. “Am I that transparent?”
Carter meets my gaze. “You’re not the only one that wants something so much that it blinds you to everything else.”
“No,” Dominic agrees seriously. “You certainly aren’t. I think we’re all guilty of that.”
He’s Carter’s best friend. He’s probably one of the few people who could make him see reason about Ed. Does he feel partly responsible for this situation? It certainly sounds like it.
“If you need money to start your own business,” Carter asks. “Why are you trying to give me your winnings?”
“Because it’s not mine. I was playing with your money.” I push the envelope toward him. “This belongs to you.”
“Gabby—”
“I called my father earlier and asked him for help. He took care of it. Let’s be honest: I’m pretty lucky. If you called me spoiled, that would be accurate too. But spoiled or not, I know right from wrong, Carter. I’m not going to take your money. Please don’t make this a big deal.”
Dominic cuts in again, ever the negotiator. “It was Carter’s seed money,” he says. “But you won because of your skill. If the two of you agree to split this down the middle, we can move onto more interesting things.”
Carter nods reluctantly. “Fine,” he says. “Half?”
I can live with that. I start to smile. “Deal. What kind of interesting things?”
“The kind where we get naked and pick up where we left off on Wednesday.” Dominic’s eyes meet mine. “If you want to.”
I very much do. When I first slept with Carter and Dominic, they’d been two impossibly gorgeous men. The sex was off-the-charts good, but the men hadn’t become real to me, and our one-night stand had felt very much like a fantasy.
But things feel different now. In the last week, I’ve learned more about Dominic and Carter. They’re still gorgeous. But they’re not fantasies any longer. Just like me, they’re real, flawed people.
And somehow, it’s only made them more desirable. It’s only made me crave them more.
“I want,” I reply.
“Kinky or not?”
“If you have a dungeon somewhere in this apartment, Dominic, that’ll make you the biggest cliché in the world.”
He laughs easily. “Nothing that exciting. You say no, and we stop. It’s that simple.”
A shiver of anticipation runs through me. I take a slow sip of my wine before answering him. “Yes to kink,” I reply. “Yes to you.”
Dominic looks like the cat that’s swallowed the canary. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He gets to his feet and holds his hand out to me. “Shall we?”
20
Gabriella
Dominic’s bathtub is even larger than the one in my bathroom. “Your tub is bigger than my apartment,” I tell him, coming to a halt in the doorway.
Carter chuckles. He brushes the hair away from the back of my neck and kisses me there. “Are you exaggerating?”
It’s a simple kiss, but the back of my neck is one hell of an erogenous zone. The second his lips graze my skin, every nerve ending in my body jolts to life. I bite back my moan of pleasure and answer him. “Only a little.”
He kisses me again, his stubble rasping against my skin. Dominic moves into the bathroom, which is, no exaggeration, larger than my apartment, and starts to fill the tub. He’s brought the bottle of the cold, crisp Riesling with him. “More wine?” he asks me.
“Please.”
He fills my glass. I take a sip and survey the space. Despite its size, the room feels warm and welcoming. The floors are a dark-stained hardwood. The walls are cream, a shade of cream that’s closer to brown than white. Houseplants inject color into the space, and of course, the floor to ceiling window in front of me provides sweeping views of the now-dark ocean.
The view must be spectacular during the day.
The tub itself is nestled in a cedar-lined nook. Fluffy white towels are neatly folded on its ledge. A trio of candles waits to be lit. A vase overflows with more greenery, some kind of ivy. It’s beautiful, calming. Like a very upscale spa.
Dominic’s living room felt hedonistic. The decor in this room hints at another facet of his personality.
I gulp down more Riesling and watch the tub fill. Dominic moves around, lighting candles and lowering the overhead lights until a warm glow bathes the space. “Is this the Dominic Crawford definition of kinky? Sex in a tub?” I wink at him. “Seems rather tame.”
He looks up. “That sounds like a dare,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a smile. “I’ll do my best not to let you down.”
Carter is still behind me. He grazes another kiss on the back of my neck, and then his fingers massage me, kneading the knots of stress out. I let out my breath in an exhale. This feels amazing.
Steam rises off the bathwater. I’ve had a long, emotionally exhausting day. The idea of sandwiching myself between these two men and luxuriating in the tub sounds perfect. For the space of this night, I want to forget all my cares and pretend that the outside world doesn’t exist.
Dominic tests the water and beckons to me. “Tell me if this is too hot.”
It is sauna-level hot. I mix in some cold water until the temperature is just where I want it and add a couple of drops of an essential oil that has notes of lavender, vetiver, and citrus. Then I take another sip of my wine, because it’s time to get naked, and I’m suddenly, inexplicably nervous. Which is ridiculous; it’s not like they haven’t seen me naked before. On Wednesday, Dominic had eaten me out while I’d given Carter a hand-job.
But it feels different today. It feels more real. It feels like I have more at stake.
“It’s a very pretty dress you’re wearing,” Carter says. He sits at the edge of the tub and pats his thighs. “Come here. Let me take it off.”
Desire rises, banishing my nerves. I move closer and Carter pulls me on his lap. His fingers pull the tie holding my halter dress up. I grind against his erection teasingly, and he bites the back of my neck lightly before he tugs down the zipper.
In the meanwhile, Dominic sheds his clothes and gets into the tub. He leans back lazily, raises his wine glass to his lips, and surveys me with dark eyes. “Are you planning on joining me?”
“If you insist.” I get to my feet and my dress falls to the floor. Stripping off my panties and bra, I step into the tub, hissing as the hot water makes contact with my skin. “I’ve always fantasized about two gorgeous guys washing my back.”
Carter’s eyes glint. “I think we can help you out there.” He strips naked, quickly and efficiently, and then he joins us in the water.
They’re both hard, both ready. A secret thrill shoots through me, obliterating the last of my nerves. They’ve made no secret of the fact that they want me, and their bodies bear witness.
For a few seconds, we linger in the tub. This thing really is massive. Jets of water thump against my back, massaging away the stresses of the day. Our bodies barely touch. For a few seconds, we wait, sipping our wine in silence. For what, I don’t know. The pause feels weighty. Like I’m balanced on the knife edge of something momentous.
My nipples harden with anticipation.
Dominic surveys me over the rim of his glass. “Gabby,” he says. “Do you want to play a game?”
I think back to Wednesday night, to Dominic’s smooth, refined dominance, and a sharp burst of lust jolts through me. “I am a gambler,” I respond. It’s starting, and I can’t wait.
A smile flickers on his face. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” He takes my glass from me and sets it on the ledge.
Carter’s hand dips below the water surface and he cups my breast. Meanwhile, Dominic urges my knees apart, and places my thigh over his own. On the other side, Carter does the same, effectively locking me with my legs open.
They’ve hardly touched me, and I’m already on fire. And that has nothing to do with the temperature of the water I’m soaking in, and everything to do with the two men who flank me.
“Put your hands on your thighs,” Dominic instructs. “And don’t move them.”
“I want to touch you,” I pout. Their cocks are stiff and erect. I want to curl my fingers around their thick lengths and feel their hardness. I want to discover how long I can hold my breath underwater when I taste them.
“Are you playing the game?” Carter asks, the tone of his voice lazy and relaxed. “If you are, that was an order, not a request.”
Ooh. Well, well, what do you know? I expected orders from Dominic, but from Carter too? My desire kicks up another notch. I shiver, liquid lust running through my veins. My palms move to rest against my thighs. As ordered.
“Good girl,” Dominic says approvingly. “Want a sip of your wine?”
I nod, and he brings the glass to my lips. I tilt my head back and swallow, closing my eyes as the cool liquid runs down my throat. Without the use of my hands, I feel helpless, but the way he’s feeding me the wine is so strangely intimate. I feel very precious. Cherished. I’m not used to feeling this way.
Except in the last two days.
That’s too heavy a thought for the moment. Right now, Dominic’s stroking my skin under the water, and Carter has, with a grin that bodes trouble for me, leaned forward to adjust the Jacuzzi controls.
Oh. Oh.
With my legs parted, and my hands held captive, I can’t flinch away from the pulse of water that’s aimed directly at my sex. The jets throb against my pussy, and my hips roll and pump as I try to position myself just so. I’m not sure if I’m trying to avoid the stream from hitting my clitoris, or if I’m trying to embrace the feeling of intensity it causes.
“Stop.” Dominic’s voice is calm and controlled. “Don’t move.” His fingers stroke my nipples, his neatly trimmed fingernails scratching my skin. “Stay still, or Carter will turn up the water pressure.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” I snark.
Dominic chuckles. “Not really.” He pets me with his left hand, stroking my breasts, teasing my nipples, whispering over my inner thighs, hovering over my mound, but he refuses to touch my clit. Jerk. Instead, with his right hand, he fists himself.
So bitterly unfair.
So unexpectedly hot.
I’m already ready to whine and beg them to touch my pussy. But when I see Dominic stroke his cock when my hands are right there? When I’m desperate to do anything to distract me from the pleasurable intensity of the water jets? Damn it. It takes all my willpower to keep my hands where they are.
While Dominic seems intent on testing my ability to balance at the edge of pleasure, Carter isn’t as cruel. He scoops some hot water and trickles it over my skin. His mouth follows the liquid, kissing a path from my shoulders to my chest, then to my breasts.
My nipples engorge even further, if such a thing is possible. Carter releases my thigh from his grasp and moves in front of me, cutting off the jet of water that’s been massaging my core. I breathe a sigh of mingled relief and frustration. Then he pushes my breasts together and bends his head over them, and I moan and forget all about the water, because oh my fucking God.
As he bites and nips those tender buds, sending sharp spikes of intense pleasure through me, Dominic’s fingers grip my chin, and he tilts my head towards him. As Carter plays with my breasts, he kisses me slowly, leisurely, as if kissing is the goal itself, not a prelude to the heavier action. Any other time, I’d admire his restraint and his willingness to engage in foreplay. But desire coils tight in my belly. There are two guys with erections next to me, and I’m impatient.
Yet I obey, keeping my legs parted and my hands on my thighs, because it also feels good to see how much I can take. I’m masochistic enough to want to see how hard I can be wound up before I can’t hold back my need.
Carter takes a deep breath, then lowers his head below the water, diving for my pussy. I squeak in surprise. “How long can you hold your breath?” I feel compelled to ask. “It’s a mood-killer if you drown, you know.”
He spanks my pussy to quieten me. The water muffles the spank to a dull thud, one I want to experience again. “So good,” I breathe. “Do that again.”
“No talking,” Dominic chides gently. “Don’t control this. Let go. Put your head back and let us pleasure you.”
You do pleasure me.
They’ve given me more than any guy I’ve ever dated. Freely and without expectation. This might be a short-term thing, but they haven’t ever made me feel like I’m just a warm body to them. They’ve asked me questions about my work. They’ve listened. They’ve offered to help, and they’ve backed off when I’ve asked them too.
They’ve treated me with respect, and it’s a heady, addictive thing. I’ve told myself repeatedly that nothing can come of this. Tonight, for the first time, anchored between them, their hands running all over me, teasing me to greater and greater heights of arousal, I allow myself to admit I want more.
And then I let the thought go.
Nothing can come of this. This affair has a defined beginning and a defined ending. When Nicky�
��s show ends, I head back to Manhattan. Carter and Dominic live in Atlantic City. Carter has Noah to be responsible for. The Grand River anchors Dominic. Both men have deep ties to their community. Even if Carter and Dominic were interested in something more, society does not look kindly on unorthodox relationships.
Carter’s mouth closes over my clitoris and my thoughts evaporate. He sucks the tender, engorged nub between his teeth, and I come off the bench. “Oh my God,” I moan. “Please…”
As Carter comes up for air, Dominic has a wicked gleam in his eyes. He tops up our glasses with the last of the wine, then he moves the bottle towards me, rolling the cold glass over my nipples. Again, I almost buckle at the sea of sensation that I’m swimming in. The contrast of the cold against the hot water, the dull throb of the jets of water that continue to pulse towards me now that Carter’s no longer in the way—it’s all too much. Is it possible to die of pleasure? Because I’m at a serious risk of it.
Then Dominic immerses the bottle into the water, and moves it towards my pussy, and I realize what his intent is. There’s more pleasure ahead. More toe-curling, full-body-shiver pleasure.
“Keep your hands on your thighs,” he whispers into my ear. “Okay, sweetheart?”
I nod my acquiescence, appreciating the subtle check-in. The neck of the bottle enters my overheated sex, and I groan. It’s still a little cool, but warming rapidly. Both Carter and Dominic look at me, never taking their eyes off my face. As Dominic fucks me with the neck of the wine bottle and I shudder and writhe my way to an orgasm, their gazes sear into me. Carter’s fingers pluck at my nipples, strums of desire that burn through me. I feel their need, and it sends me over the edge. I climax hard, muscles clenching, limbs flailing, every inch of my body surrendering to pleasure.
When the waves of lust slowly recede, Carter holds my wine glass to my lips. I gulp down the cool liquid, spilling some of it down my chest. His fingers scoop up each droplet, and he feeds them to me, and I suck his fingers as if they were his cock.
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