by Piper Denna
“Mm.” He pinched a nipple and pulled back. “Sounds fine. Let me jot a quick reply to a couple emails and we’ll be on our way.” He settled at his desk and opened his laptop.
Might as well check her own messages while she waited on him. One new item in her Inbox, from… “Britt? I’ve got an email from David.”
* * * *
Brett stood behind Vic’s chair and read the email on her screen:
Dear Vic,
I’m hoping this message goes directly to you, and not some assistant.
I booked a 5 PM flight to Salt Lake City for me and Griffin–you know, the one who outed your blogger?–to come up to Fantasy Mountain, if possible. He’s interested in discussing a job.
I’d really like to see you and Britt. There are things I need to say. In person. I’m sorry for being such an asshat yesterday.
You said before that you’d get me a lift to your place if I wanted. Does that offer still stand? Please let me know by email, or call me back at the number below.
David.
“You can tell him no if you’d like, love.” He massaged her shoulders, now stiff beneath his fingers.
She melted back against him and let out a little puff of air. “That would be dumb. We could really use Griffin around here.”
And just like that, Vic would avoid the topic of David altogether. Perhaps best to play along, see where it all would go. “Shouldn’t have trouble finding them an empty room to stay in, yeah? At least not until tomorrow night.”
Vic covered his hands with hers. “By tomorrow night, Griffin will be home, giving his two weeks’ notice.” She chewed her cheek and nuzzled against his arm. “You wanta set things up with Gil and reply back? I’m gonna run home and defrost the freezer.”
* * * *
“That’s our chopper.” David shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted from foot to foot.
Griffin wasn’t quite as excited or nervous about this trip as David, but he couldn’t help being a little curious about the resort. The side of the vehicle landing read FM1, in bold orange letters. Engine quieted, blades slowed, then stopped. Pilot stepped out and sauntered toward the building where they stood.
“Fuck my life,” Griffin muttered. No. It could not be.
“What’s your problem?” David shoulder-bumped him.
“The pilot?” His voice raised to a squeak.
“You the guys I’m taking up to Fantasy Mountain?” The pilot pulled off his shades and tucked them into his t-shirt pocket. His brows raised and his mouth opened a little. “Give me just a minute for a pitstop, then I’ll be ready.”
Oh, hell. Some things just didn’t go away.
“Gil’s his name,” David said when the pilot had gone into the restroom. “Lots of talk about him on the cruise. For a while there, he was a suspect in the Great Blogging Mystery.”
“Yeah?” A cold sweat had broken out across his face and the back of his neck. The guy was his worst nightmare, come back to haunt him.
“Yep. Seems he’s got sort of a hard-on for Vic.”
“Yeah?” He couldn’t seem to get much else out.
“Mm-hmm. But Vic swears he’s gay, so…who knows.”
“I’d put my money on gay.”
“What’s your deal, man? You’re all white and your forehead’s covered in sweat. Got a fever? You’re not getting sick, are ya? Don’t even think about pussing out of this interview.”
“Dude. I cannot take this job.”
“Why? What the hell?”
“Remember I told you about the guy who came behind the bar that first day?”
“Yeah. So?”
Griffin had to sit down before he embarrassed himself by getting wobbly. “It was him.” Back to the squeak-toy voice.
“Come again?” David followed suit and sat, too.
“It was him, man. He was the guy who–”
David made an obscene tongue-in-cheek gesture.
“Yeah,” Griffin confirmed. “That. He said he was my next appointment, but bro, only paying passengers could set appointments.”
David snickered. “You didn’t check? If it was me, and a dude wanted his lips on my cock, I’d have–”
“Fuck off, man. I was in shock. I told you. Only way I got through it was by pretending he was a chick.” Meanwhile, he’d kicked himself for not specifying on his paperwork when he’d signed up that he only wanted interaction with females.
“Well, I bet if you want a reference, he’ll give you one.” David grinned.
“It’s not funny, man. I just wanta forget–”
“You guys ready?” Gil stood not five feet away, his head cocked to one side. “Griffin the bartender, right? What brings you to Fantasy Mountain?”
Chapter 27
“Hello again.” Vic shook Griffin’s hand in the heliport and gave David the briefest nod. “I trust your flight was okay?”
David seemed to give up making eye contact with her, and offered a small smile Brett’s way. Though he found he’d rather bestow an intimidating glare upon him, Brett returned a polite smile.
“Would you like a quick tour of the property?” Vic asked, her back strategically turned to David.
“Er, Vic,” Brett said. “I’d imagine the guys are tired and would prefer to call it a night. Perhaps tomorrow, yeah?”
“Um, no.” David sounded alarmed. “No, Griffin wants to see the resort. You know, before his interview.”
“Yeah.” Griffin nodded. “Sure.”
A tour it is, then. No point putting off this whole circus another day.
They headed toward the outer hangars first, most of them out of use for the evening, deserted as empty soundstages on a Hollywood backlot. Griffin offered the appropriate murmurs of awe and wonder, while David was prone to dawdle, asking the most inane questions of Brett.
“How much more would you say the Beach is used, than the Alps?” and “Do you think the space stage will be used more than the pirate ship?”
Vic and Griffin moved on to the main building, leaving Brett and David at the stables.
“Ever do any fantasies out here?” David asked. “I hear a lot of girls have a thing for horses, and judging by number of clips on the net–”
“They’ve quite left us behind.”
David leaned against the gate, staring into a stall. “So the palomino is Vic’s, and you ride the buckskin?”
“Do you really give a rat’s ass what horse I ride?” He hadn’t the patience for this patter.
David scrubbed his knuckles against his forehead. “Not so much. I just…needed to talk to you. Alone.”
Well, go on, then. He crossed his arms over his chest and hoped for an intimidating stance. Go for DeNiro.
David straightened and drew a deep breath. “Is Vic okay? I mean, after yesterday. She looks okay, but I wasn’t sure–did I hurt her? I didn’t want to, I mean–” The kid was so flustered, struggling in choppy waters of his own making.
“Fuck you. The only reason you’re here right now is because of Griffin.”
David’s mouth dropped open, and he stepped back. “You’re really not gonna tell me if she’s okay?”
“You saw her. What do you think?” He turned away.
“Yesterday I saw her crying. Then on TV she looked gorgeous and all put together again. Now…hell. I don’t know her enough to guess.”
He rounded on David, every muscle tight with restrained fury. “You sure as fuck don’t. You don’t know us, and you expressed a definite desire to keep it that way, didn’t you?”
“Look, I didn’t want to hurt anybody. I just needed to…get away. From it all. It was getting too heavy.”
Escapers, both David and Vic. “Unfortunately for you, David, we now know just what we need to about you. When the going gets heavy, you’ll make your escape, right?” David wouldn’t have the chance to hurt Vic again, not if he could help it.
“No, I won’t. I’ve been thinking, and–”
“I sincerely hope you’ve thought
how you can achieve those goals you mentioned yesterday morning, as you won’t be hurting Vic again.” You won’t walk out on us again.
David puffed up, opened his mouth to speak.
“I’ll show you to your room in the lodge. Tomorrow morning, you can leave.” The sooner he was gone, the sooner they’d be able to move on.
“Leave? No way! I thought you’d help me, I thought you were my friend–”
Slam! He’d backed David against the stable wall. “Friend?” The word became a feral growl. He could feel David’s heart pounding, his forearm against his chest. His own breaths came short and fast, hot and full of that David smell–sport cologne and clean, young male.
David closed his eyes. “Yes. Friends. And then…” A sheen of sweat broke on his forehead, his skin flushing with it. His shoulder and biceps tightened under Brett’s other hand.
Fuck. David wasn’t the only one tightening up–and arm muscles weren’t the half of it. But hey, it wasn’t hard to notice David’s hard-on through those athletic shorts, either. God, damn it.
Brett let his head hang, which put his left temple against David’s right. “And then this,” he finished for David.
“I’m not fucking gay.” David’s words were fierce, but he sounded terrified. “I had to go. I had to.”
A part of him had been relieved–that hetero, scared part of him mirrored by David’s–when David had left. “I know.” He did, and could only imagine the situation would be more terrifying yet for a younger man unsure of himself.
David gripped his collar, pressed his fingers over that spot. Deliberate? Remembering?
He sucked in his breath, shuddered. “You left a mark.”
“I know.” David’s voice was little more than a hot, husky whisper, tickling against his neck.
It would be so easy, and yet so hard… But what they wanted wasn’t all that mattered. Vic mattered.
David shifted a little–to gain more contact or less? It made him all the harder. His gut ached; he’d broken his own sweat as well.
“And now we’re like some scene out of fucking Brokeback Mountain.” David choked, cleared his throat.
Brett gave the chuckle David had earned, and pushed himself back. “Regardless of your intentions, it’s up to Vic. You’ll pass her muster, or you’ll be on your way. I won’t pressure her so we can sustain this.” The sensation of David pressed rock-hard against his leg didn’t fade, even with several inches between their bodies. “I pressured her before.” And he’d go to his grave regretting her tears. “I’m to protect her, see?”
“I want to protect her too.” David moved away from the wall and smoothed his shorts, looking for all the world like he wanted to stroke himself. Christ, what sweet hell imagining… “…fucked up, though, right?” What was he talking about? “Vic doesn’t really need anybody to take care of her–or at least, that’s what she likes to think. How’s that supposed to work, anyway? It’s hard enough for two people to get along, let alone three.” Cart before the horse. He’d have to get past Vic before anybody worried about who took care of who.
Sometimes David simply talked too fucking much. “Shut up, you blathering bugger. Let’s go see if Vic is done recruiting Griffin, eh?” When they reached the stable door, he flipped the light switch. “Oh, and David?”
“Yeah?”
“If you cause her to cry again, I’ll rip your very smooth balls off.”
* * * *
Gil paused to pop out a piece of nicotine gum from its bubble pack. He hated the taste of the shit, but he’d been chewing it for ten years now, and he did enjoy the little buzz. Hmm. Victoria’s mutt was rooting around outside the stable. Did that mean she’d stopped by to pet her horse? Fucking thing was a menace–how she controlled it, he’d never understand. It was a good-looking piece of horse, though. Weird. He’d have figured she’d be with her guests-slash-prospective employees. Did this mean the visitors were inside with Grant? Maybe he’d score a few minutes alone with her.
He strolled over toward the stable, but stopped when he heard the low rumble of men’s voices inside. Not his lucky night. He turned away, but then…something in the tone of those voices… He edged to the side, close enough to look through an open window. It was dark out; no chance of being seen, but he’d as soon not be heard.
Well, look at that. Grant seemed to be in some sort of wantafuck embrace with that hot handful of Swimmerboy. Fucking hot. Same chunk of manflesh he’d seen on their deck on the boat, from the chopper. And he’d ridden up today with Griffin.
Griffin, who was having an interview for some safety or fireman job. Somewhere with Victoria, alone. He didn’t much like that thought. He couldn’t fault her taste in employees, at least. Well, aside from douchebag lawyers and the occasional fuckwit front-desk girl. Stupid Andrea hadn’t been any help at all, and neither had Peyton. Maybe it was time to quit relying on babes to help him out. He’d have to see about getting a guy on his team. Hmm. Griffin hadn’t seemed too happy to see him back at Salt Lake. Could be homophobic about their little interlude at the Lido bar. Could he use that to his advantage?
Shit. Too bad he couldn’t make out what the two lovebirds in the stable were saying. Body language said plenty, though. Especially when they broke it up, and both of them had wood. Fuck. Now he did, too.
Well. Didn’t this open up a whole new world of opportunity?
Were both of those passengers he brought up tonight fucktoys for Victoria and her dink husband? Hey, if she suddenly had an open marriage, he’d be at the front of the line to go in.
And on another note…how far would Grant be willing to go, to keep his homo affair on the downlow? Did his wife know about it, or was he keeping dirty secrets from her?
What was Swimboy saying? Something about taking care of Vic? And Grant…some threat about hurting her, and ripping the kid’s balls off.
He watched them saunter off toward the main building like a couple of football pals.
Shit. Were there two men between him and Victoria now? Or three? Might complicate his plans, but it would only slow his progress. Nothing would stop him.
* * * *
David paced the living room of Britt and Vic’s apartment, while they finished down the hall with Griffin. He ran his fingers down a glistening silver picture frame on an end table. A wedding photo, Britt carrying her down stairs in front of an old building–in England?–with the end of her dress trailing along beside them. Looked like she was squealing, and Britt was cracking up.
He looked around the room. No formal photos–all snapshots, glimpses of their happiness. A picture with some skinny little boy Britt held in front of them by his ankles. Must be Joey. Another of the kid giving the scruffy dog Jake a big kiss on the mouth. Eww. Well, Joey didn’t seem to mind. The dog seemed completely out of place with everything else in the apartment–he was the anticlean. But actually, a kid was pretty out of place at Fantasy Mountain too. What a place. If he lived here, he’d have a perpetual hard-on. Kinda surprising that Britt and Vic hadn’t done any swinging or threesomes before, really.
Britt was right; he hadn’t given himself time to learn much about them. One thing he could tell, though, their marriage reflected the unconventional lifestyle their business required.
Maybe he could fit into their lives.
He sat down on their very clean couch. Shaggy Jake flopped his head into his lap. Fuck. How much longer would they be with Griffin? His hangover was about gone, but damn. He must’ve not slept very well last night. He was bushed. Maybe he’d watch some TV while he waited. Or just chillax here…
He woke with a start. The door had just clicked shut.
“Care for a drink, David?” Britt headed straight to the kitchen.
“Uhm.” God, no, not after last night. “I’m good. Thanks.”
Vic swept by behind him without a word. Well. He probably deserved that.
“You’re certain? No hair of the dog?” Britt stood in the kitchen doorway, a flute of wine in hand and a know
ing look on his face. “Settle your nerves?” His voice had lowered.
Nerves. Britt thought he should be nervous. Did that mean he thought Vic might turn him away? “Did Griffin go back to his room? Our room? The room?” Fuck.
Britt shook his head. “Some of the kitchen staff were having a night sled party over at the Alps. He got invited while touring with Vic. I’d imagine he’ll be occupied for the night.”
“So he took the job?”
“After some tough negotiating. Don’t mind saying, I gave him a run for our money, though.” He grinned, but then his right brow shot way up.
Warm hands, soft hands, gripped around David’s neck, slid down his chest inside his shirt. “Back for more fun?” Vic whispered in his left ear.
“Fun?” came out a croak. “I wanted to explain–”
“Shh. No talking.” She slid a silk scarf from her neck to the sofa beside him. “If I have to, I’ll use it.”
He swallowed hard and looked at Britt, who’d taken a seat with his wine, a second glass on the end table between his chair and the sofa. He smirked and sipped.
Vic’s hands worked magic down the front of his shirt, teasing his nipples, caressing, and just like that…boner. She was so fucking good, so hot. So…Vic. He turned his head enough to catch her lips for a kiss. She stiffened and pulled away. What, she didn’t want him to kiss either? Well, that wasn’t–Ah, her lips, hot and wet, on his neck. Gave him goosebumps, made him squirm. She moved away from his neck, pulled his shirt over his head. Let out a moan of appreciation. No pain to his pride there. Whoa. Did she actually sniff his shirt, and close her eyes? That had to be a good thing, right?
She came around to the front of the couch, still wearing her dress slacks, but no more sweater, just some lacy undershirt thing her nipples jutted under. Oh, those nipples. He needed one now. When she straddled his lap and bent back to his neck, he reached for her breasts, palming them, and she arched into it, at the same time grinding her pussy down against him. Oh, fuck. This wasn’t going to be a long lasting event.
He wanted to say her name, but she’d gag him–would it be all that bad? Yes, because then he couldn’t suck her, lick her, kiss her–so he thought it. Vic, Vic. He was with her again, and wouldn’t mess it up this time. And Britt… Britt had slouched in his chair, was loosening his belt. Oh, fuck. He shouldn’t want that, shouldn’t enjoy seeing another dude’s cock, but it made him so fucking hot, the raw wrongness of liking it, of needing it. Britt’s gaze met his and he knew.
