Luscious Beginnings [Love in Luscious, Kansas 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting ManLove)

by Mia Ashlinn

What had started out as Brett making a point had gotten lost in the heat of the moment, and despite his good intentions, he didn’t care. All his mind was focused on was kissing Ethan. All his body yearned for was the feel of his dick tunneling into and out of his lover’s tight hole as he screamed in ecstasy.

  Brett groaned in desperation. He needed his lover, naked and writhing, and he needed him now. So he drove his hands down Ethan’s back until he reached the hem of his shirt. Then he fisted the fabric and ripped it.

  Ethan attempted to draw himself away. Brett knew his lover wasn’t going to protest his touch, just his disregard for designer clothing. It was a fight they often had. But at the moment, Brett wasn’t in the mood to waste his breath or his precious time.

  Refusing to give Ethan an inch, Brett lifted one hand. In the blink of an eye, he grasped the back of his lover’s head and held him in place. Ethan grunted but complied with Brett’s silent demand. He didn’t struggle. He relaxed, his body curling into Brett’s like a contented cat.

  Brett sighed. The feeling of Ethan’s strong, proud body yielding to his was the most potent aphrodisiac. At the same time, his surrender never failed to humble Brett. Overcome, Brett felt his legs soften beneath him, and he nearly went to his knees. Then a surge of something primal, something powerful took hold of him, and his passion detonated. His control snapped. Everything inside him went haywire. Only passion existed. Only lust remained.

  Ethan seemed just as affected by the carnal passion flowing between them. He was groaning and moaning and, even occasionally, whimpering as he thrust his hips forward and back in a frenzy, mimicking the act of fucking.

  Brett’s unruly hands were everywhere. They roamed Ethan’s skin, exploring the sculpted planes of his back and stroking over the muscles just below the surface. His muscles were hard, stronger than the toughest granite. His skin was sleek, the temperature hotter than was normal. And fuck, Brett loved. He wanted more. And more and more…

  Descending lower, Brett plundered his hands beneath the waistband of Ethan’s jeans, but resistance had him jerking them back out and settling them on the underside of his lover’s taut ass. He cupped Ethan’s beautifully formed globes, squeezing the curve teasingly. The warm, willing flesh was sweet and supple and enough to drive him mad with lust.

  Brett panted. He rocked his lover’s hips forward and held him still. Exceedingly aroused, he pressed his throbbing cock to Ethan’s thick dick, and his hips started to move of their own volition. His frantic thrusts were uncoordinated and even a bit clumsy. But Ethan didn’t seem to mind. His writhes and moans were just as ungraceful, just as awkward.

  The blood in Brett’s veins heated as swiftly as a flash fire and burned as intensely. The molten liquid scorched him as it sped turbulently through his veins. With every degree his temperature climbed, Brett’s mouth grew more unrestrained, his lips more relentless. He kissed Ethan with an unquenchable thirst, an unslakable hunger.

  Abruptly, Ethan wound his hands around Brett’s waist, wrapping him in a tender embrace. Brett smiled against Ethan’s lips, a tiny thrill shooting through him faster and harder than a runaway train.

  Brett tore his lips from Ethan’s without warning. “Naked,” he growled as he started to jerk his shirt over his head. “Now.”

  Ethan didn’t listen. He didn’t even move. He stopped, frozen, and then whispered, “I can’t.”

  It took Brett’s mind a minute to catch up with his body. But when it did, he stopped removing his clothes and gaped at Ethan. “You can’t?”

  Ethan shook his head, his face pale and grim. “I can’t do this. N–n–ot with the way things are.”

  Frustrated, Brett rubbed what little hair he had on his head. He glanced down at Ethan’s crotch rudely. But he couldn’t bring himself to utter the crude words that came to mind. He loved Ethan. There was no point in being cruel because he was upset. So instead, he counted to ten then lifted his eyes to Ethan’s. “Why?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t.” Even as his lover said the words, he didn’t meet Brett’s gaze. And that told Brett everything he needed to know—Ethan was lying. He knew, and he wasn’t telling.

  “E…”

  Panic creased Ethan’s gorgeous face. Still though, he was one of the most beautiful men Brett had ever seen. “Time,” he croaked. “I need time.”

  Brett was confused. “For what?”

  Ethan didn’t immediately answer. He was already backing away, shaking his head from side to side in tense lurches. “Things are just moving too fast. I have to go…to think…” he trailed off as he spun on his heel and gave Brett his back.

  Brett’s heart stopped. His breathing stalled. And he stood paralyzed as Ethan walked out of the room. Oh God. How could he go after Sam without Ethan? He couldn’t. How could he continue to live without Sam? He wouldn’t. He needed his best friend too much.

  Now what the hell was he going to do? Get a plan and hope for a miracle. And he knew the way to start was to open the folded piece of paper lying on the side table. So he did. He snatched the paper up and unfolded it with butterfingers. Ignoring his inept hands and his nearly knocking knees, Brett read one word, the name of a town, the place where Sam was staying.

  Luscious.

  Chapter 5

  Back in Luscious…

  In the silent aftermath of his curse slicing through the stress-thickened air of Tate’s apartment, Sam felt the walls he’d built around his heart come crumbling down. He couldn’t explain what was going on. But for one second, the tightness in his chest eased, and he could breathe again.

  Then the feeling was gone. Sam banished it. He squashed down the relief pushing its way through his veins. He suppressed the sudden sensation of freedom assailing him. And he re-erected every barrier, fortifying them with fierce determination.

  This was bad. Ethan’s sister, Aly, finding him was a fucking disaster because she wouldn’t hold back the truth. She would run straight to her brother with every detail she knew. From his location to his well-being, she would report it all to Ethan—unless Sam could stop her.

  Sam snorted silently. Even a silver-tongued fox couldn’t convince Aly Bartlett to keep her lips zipped and her nose where it belonged. She was a meddling control freak, just like her brother. And once she knew something, there was no stopping her. There was only damage control.

  Ah, damage control. Sam swiftly clamped his jaw shut. He figured silence was his best weapon against a mouthy busybody. She couldn’t share what she didn’t know. And he wasn’t about to volunteer anything. Not if he could help it, anyway.

  “Well hi there, Sammy.” Aly flashed one of her brilliant but condescending smiles. “Aren’t you going to come and give me a hug? I’ve driven a long way to see you.”

  Sam averted his eyes. Seeing Aly’s smile was swifter and more painful than a kick to the groin. She looked far too much like Ethan for his peace of mind. Although, he seemed to be the only one who thought so. Most people gave Ethan and Aly a pithy once-over then made some random remark about how they couldn’t believe the two of them were related. But those people couldn’t see beyond different eye colors and different shades of blond hair.

  Sure, Aly’s blue eyes were the color of freshly polished gunmetal while Ethan’s were a deep, majestic green that reminded Sam of a rainy forest in the fall. And sure, Aly’s hair was pale, not quite platinum, and it cascaded down her back in perfect, seamless strands while Ethan’s thick hair was shaggy, always disheveled, and the color of pure amber. But it was their strikingly sculpted facial features that were eerily alike—the high cheekbones, the masterfully molded noses, and the proud, powerful lips. It was uncanny or at least, it was to him. Unfortunately.

  “How did you find me?” Sam demanded to know without looking Aly’s way again.

  Aly chuckled, her laugh as haughty as always. “We have a mutual friend, Sammy. You know that, just like you know who it is.”

  “Brooklyn.” Sam expelled the name of his friend and form
er flame as though it were something vile-tasting. “She would be the one to sell me out.”

  When it came to Brooklyn, Sam held no illusions. She was a good friend, one of the best. But she was a psychic, and she followed her visions—to the ends of the Earth, if need be. He’d always respected that about her. Although at this very second, his opinion of her blind faith in her abilities was shifting.

  Aly’s eyes softened. “Sam, she’s worried this has gone on long enough. She’s just trying to help you.”

  This? This has gone on long enough? What planet did Aly live on? This, as she’d called it, had only begun. This was his new life. If she believed any differently, if any of them did, they were delusional. He wasn’t going back, not to the person he’d been, not to the place he’d lived. Not to any of it. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to.

  “I don’t need her help,” Sam retorted, his temper piqued. “Or anyone else’s for that matter. And I think I’ll call and remind her of that fact just as soon as you leave.” Along with several other choice words.

  Aly lifted one thin shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Whatever,” she muttered.

  “I think I’ll take my leave,” Tate announced, speaking up for the first time since they’d entered his apartment. He’d been so quiet that Sam had honestly forgotten he was even there.

  Caught off guard by the unexpected voice, Sam whipped his gaze to Tate. “You’re leaving? It’s your apartment.”

  Tate chuckled. “Hell no, I’m not leaving my apartment. I’m going to the kitchen to eat pizza and drink beer while I eavesdrop on the show that’s about to start between you and Blondie.”

  Aly sniffed. “I resent that. My name is Aly, not Blondie.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You resemble that.” Tate smirked then swaggered across the living room. “Now don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…until I return,” he said with another smug grin before disappearing into the door next to the bar separating the living room from the kitchen.

  As soon as Tate was gone, Aly grumbled, “What a donkey’s ass.”

  Sam immediately went on the defensive. “Hey, he’s my friend.”

  “Sucks to be you, Sammy. I’ve only talked to him twice, and he makes me want to pull out his teeth with a pair of tweezers. Ick. Then what would I do about plucking my eyebrows?”

  “I’m sure he loves talking to you, too,” Sam muttered under his breath. Not. Shit, if Sam were a betting man, he would be willing to wager serious money that Tate mixed with Aly about as well as oil did with water.

  Now wait a damn minute. How did Aly know Tate in the first place? She wasn’t exactly one to associate with people outside her social circles. And God knew she wasn’t about to hang out in southeast Kansas. Unconventional towns like Luscious, Kinky, and Serenity weren’t her scene. And she swore that ménages, Dom/sub relationships, and same-sex partnerships gave her hives.

  Sam frowned. “How is it that you know Tate anyway? He’s not your normal type of…” Shit, what’s the politically correct term for person you party with who talks smack about you when you’re not around, bangs your boyfriend whenever you’re at work, and stabs you in the back with their designer shoes—over and over again? To Sam, that wasn’t a friend. He had friends, real friends. Poor Aly didn’t, not really.

  Aly seemed offended as her back went ram-rod straight. “Don’t sound so shocked. I do have friends. Some of them live around here.”

  “Oh really? Who?” Sam held his breath as he waited for her to answer. He was dying to know who else had double-crossed him because that person’s name was going to the top of his blacklist, along with Brooklyn, Aly, and Tate’s.

  Aly cleared her throat. “Katie-Anne gave me his number after I talked to Brooklyn.”

  Duh. Why hadn’t he thought of Katie-Anne? She and Aly were friends. So maybe, she has a couple of friends. “Oh.”

  “Happy now, nosy?”

  Not really.

  “Are you through with the Inquisition? If so, you should come in and join me.” Aly lowered her eyes to stare pointedly at the duffel bag in one of his hands then the suitcase in the other. “Or would you prefer to spend the night in the doorway with your hands full?”

  Sam grimaced. He hadn’t even realized that he’d never fully entered Tate’s apartment. At the moment, he was standing with one foot in the living room and one foot out in the hallway. And now that she mentioned it, his hands were full, uncomfortably so. “Maybe I like it where I am,” he lied without making a move. “From what I hear, it’s safer here.”

  Aly rolled her steely blue eyes. “Yeah, I guess it is—in an earthquake.”

  Every instinct Sam possessed screamed that Aly was far worse than any earthquake. Every part of him demanded that he turn around and walk away. He could find another town to start over in. Truly, he could. But still, he didn’t move. No muscle twitched. And no unnecessary breath was taken. He stood his ground.

  “Aw, come on,” Aly cajoled. “I don’t bite.”

  Sure, she didn’t. Aly was the type of person who’d see biting as vulgar, uncouth, and beneath her. But that didn’t make her any less dangerous to him. “It’s not your bite I’m worried about, Aly-bear.”

  Aly’s face reddened. “You know how much I hate it when you call me that.”

  Of course he knew. That’s why he’d used it in the first place—to annoy her. Sam shrugged. “It’s what I’ve called you since I was five, and it’s what I’ll call you when I’m ninety-five. There’s no changing me.”

  Aly glowered at him. “Whatever,” she snapped as she crossed her legs primly. “I’m not here to discuss nicknames anyway.”

  “Then why are you here?” he asked, even though he suspected he already knew the answer.

  As he’d expected, Aly replied, “I’m here to take you home.”

  Sam shook his head. “This is my home now.”

  Aly uncrossed her legs and anchored both her feet on the carpeted floor before leaning forward and searing him with a fiery glare. “No, it’s not. Serenity is your home. This is just a place for you to hide from the real world.”

  She was partially right. Serenity was his home. But that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t live there any longer. And it didn’t mean that Luscious wouldn’t be the place for the new him. “I’m not hiding,” he declared with as much conviction as he could dredge up, which wasn’t saying much. “This town is the real world.”

  Aly tilted her head to the side then tipped her chin down and gifted him with the Are you kidding me or do I need to call the psych ward? look she was famous for. Her big blue eyes, thick non-blinking lashes, and thinned lips were very telling about her opinion on the state of his sanity. “Samuel Luke Carrington, Luscious is not the real world. It’s…” He heard her nearly choke on her words before continuing on. “It’s…I don’t know what to call it.”

  Sam wasn’t surprised by Aly’s response to Luscious. She’d nearly had a kitten when she’d visited him, Ethan, and Brett in Serenity for the first time. And God knew Luscious made Serenity look normal.

  “Luscious is different, Aly. I know that.” Boy, did he ever know it. “But right now, I want different. That’s what I need.”

  Aly arched a sculpted eyebrow. “You want different? I saw you more as a cookie-cutter kind of guy.”

  Okay, that pissed Sam off, and his pulse picked up speed. “Aly Marie Bartlett, you’re a snob.”

  Shrugging, Aly eased herself back then made a grand show of getting comfortable on the chic couch. She shifted one way before turning the other then threw her arm across the top of the couch and reclined into the beige cushions behind her. “Nothing wrong with being normal.”

  Sam wasn’t going there. After living in Serenity, he didn’t like normal. He liked unconventional and unique. Not boring and lackluster. “Look, Aly, I don’t have time to stand here and shoot the shit with you or fight with you or whatever it is you’re jonesing for me to do. If you want to talk, then talk. If not, I’m going to go and unpack.”

/>   Dropping her eyes to his bags again, Aly’s lips quirked. “That would involve you coming in, closing the door, and walking by me.” She wiggled her fingers like a ghost attempting to scare someone. “Ooh, can you survive the scary monster possessing my body?”

  Shit. He might as well go in and get comfortable. Aly wasn’t leaving, and neither was he.

  With a grunt, Sam slung his duffel bag to the left, just inside the door. Then he lugged his suitcase a few feet and deposited it there. “I’m not particularly scared of you or the scary monster inside of you,” he informed her as he shut the front door. “Remember, Aly-bear, I know your weaknesses.

  “And I know yours.”

  Sam didn’t dignify her remark. It wasn’t worth it. Instead, he kicked off his sneakers and trudged through Tate’s living room before settling in the oversized chair across from the couch where Aly sat. “Just talk,” he ordered as he slouched back against the cozy cushions and propped his long legs on top of the linen ottoman in front of him.

  “I am talking,” she retorted, her face reflecting her obvious annoyance.

  Sam gritted his teeth in frustration. “Aly.”

  Aly must have heard the warning in his tone because she muttered, “Okay, okay. Ethan and Brett miss you. They’re worried about you.” She sighed. “For that matter, so am I. And so is Katie-Anne. She loves you, you know. She misses you dreadfully.”

  Sam wanted to roll his eyes. But he managed not to. “So you’re here to check on me?” Yeah, and pigs fly, too. “Or are you here to guilt me? If so, you need to lay it on a bit thicker, Aly-bear.”

  In all honesty, she didn’t need to say another word. She was already doing a damn fine job of making him feel like the worst sort of heel. After all, he loved Ethan and Brett more than life itself. And he was close to Katie-Anne Jacobs. He was closer to her than most brothers were to their sister, and they weren’t related by blood. Even Aly was important to him. Despite her nosy, whiny, pain-in-the-ass ways, he’d never purposefully hurt Ethan’s sister.