His Eternal Flame

by Valentine, Layla

  “Oh, God, baby,” he murmured as he tangled his fingers in my hair.

  It was all the encouragement I needed. He was massive—bigger than anything I had ever had in my mouth—but I wanted him. His taste coated my throat, his smoothness teased my tongue, and my tongue teased right back. Stroking and twisting with both hands, bobbing my head, grinding against Joel’s tongue, I grew lightheaded with desire.

  Licks of flame stroked my body, lips to thighs. Dante seemed almost psychic, sensing my impending release, coaxing it along with a hand playing over my breasts.

  My body was in control now as my brain flooded with thought-numbing pleasure. I gyrated and writhed, achingly close to orgasm, working Dante as if I had been doing it for years. I heard his breath catch, felt Joel moan against my clit, and lost myself in the thundering wave of ecstasy.

  Shaking legs and curling toes launched the sweet release, and every fiber of my being followed. Tingling in the aftermath and desperate to be filled, I released Dante’s throbbing cock and met his darkened eyes.

  “Fuck me?” I gasped, my voice shuddering.

  “Oh, hell yes,” he growled.

  He grabbed my hips and flipped me over on my hands and knees, entering from behind. I shuddered as he filled me, stretching me to my limits, pressing against my aching insides.

  I reached for Joel, pulling him in front of me, taking him in my mouth. They moved in synchronized thrusts, filling both openings fully.

  The rush of pleasure left me lightheaded, giddy, primal. Dante slapped my ass, seasoning the pleasure with a shock of exquisite pain. I slammed my hips back against him, taking him in deeper than ever before.

  Joel’s fists were tangling in my hair, shaking, pulling. He tensed, quivering on the edge, and I released him. I laughed when he whimpered, a sound choked out between moans driven by Dante’s powerful thrusts.

  “Control,” I moaned, gazing up at Joel from beneath my lashes. “Patience.”

  He took a shuddering breath, looked over my head, and nodded. I felt the silent communication between the two men and indulged in a private grin. It was working…for everybody.

  I slid my mouth back over Joel’s length, felt him tremble for a brief second, and heard him catch his breath with incredible control. He had it. I had never been proud of someone while their dick was in my mouth before. It was a bit surreal, but I was enjoying every second of it.

  Dante’s hands were suddenly tighter around my waist. The scent of heightened testosterone spiced the air, and his voice shook with a primal groan. His reaction had an effect on Joel; the tentative control he had developed dissolved, and he was thrusting hard and fast into my throat as he held my head still.

  It was more than I could take. I screamed around him as electricity shot through my body, liquefying in a pulsing heat. Dante met each of my pulses with quick, deep thrusts.

  Concentrated lust poured down my throat and up into me as I shuddered and writhed with the power of my orgasm. Joel tasted like heaven, Dante felt like a god, and I…I was left a trembling puddle of sated need on the bed between them.

  A chorus of sighs and groans echoed through my bedroom as we collapsed, happily exhausted, a man on either side of me.

  Dante, tender as the first time, stroked my back with his warm fingers. Joel grabbed a handful of my ass and just held on, as if he were afraid to fall off the bed. I lay there, just breathing, basking in the waves of pleasure still flowing lazily over my nerves.

  The haze slowly wore off, leaving me relaxed and alert in direct contrast to the men, who were nearly dozing. I kissed them both gently and rose, craving coffee and something sweet.

  Wrapped in a silky robe, I crept to the kitchen to brew the coffee and rummage for sugary goodness. I had barely opened a cupboard, though, when someone knocked on my door.

  Chapter 16

  Confused, but still floating on idyllic clouds, I peeked through the little hole. I could almost hear the bubble of my good mood pop when I saw who was on the other side. I kept the chain in place and cracked the door open.

  “Yes?”

  “Let me in,” Luis demanded. “You’re in danger!”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it. With as much muscle as I had in my house right now, danger was the farthest thing from my mind.

  “Stop that! I saw them come in here.” Luis pushed on the door, but the chain held. “Those thugs! They’re hiding in here somewhere; let me in!”

  “Thugs?” I asked, my brows raised. “What did they look like, Luis?”

  “Big! Tattoos all over!”

  I laughed again.

  “First of all, those ‘thugs’ are my friends. Second, how exactly were you planning to protect me?”

  He jutted his pudgy chin out defiantly, forming fists at his sides.

  “You shouldn’t be associating with their kind. You’re better than that. You need a real man.”

  I granted him a slow, dubious, head-to-toe glance. “You know where I can find one?”

  Luis turned red and began to sputter. I closed the door before he could get any recognizable words out, chuckling to myself as I did so.

  I returned to my moment of Zen, curling up in the spot of sunlight on my crescent-shaped loveseat with coffee in one hand and an apple Danish in the other. I could get used to feeling this way.

  I watched birds flutter through the azure sky, black lace against the puffy white cotton clouds of autumn. I allowed my mind to wander through fantasies, mundane and magical alike, and found myself replaying one over and over again.

  Waking up in the morning nestled in Dante’s big, strong arms. Light banter over coffee. Looking out over the city from his cozy, comfortable apartment. Never having to pass Luis in the hallway ever again.

  Joel hovered on the edge of my awareness, skirting my fantasies. What about him? I couldn’t imagine myself living with him. He was still so enraptured with his newfound wealth and freedom that any kind of relationship would be like living in a frat house. He was still young and immature, though not in a negative way. He simply wasn’t done growing yet.

  I shuddered at the thought of bringing up ‘boyfriend material’. I had made that mistake before.

  “No,” I murmured into my coffee. “I want a grown man. With skin the color of a caramel latte and eyes like a fairy-tale forest.”

  I sighed happily, trying to ignore the nagging little worry in the back of my head. Dante had showed me two sides of himself, and I still couldn’t be certain which was closest to reality. He could be an ice-cold manipulator, or the warm, attentive three-dimensional adult I liked so much.

  Both were probably true, somehow, but in what concentrations?

  “Way to kill your own mood,” I admonished myself.

  My coffee had gone cold as I’d pondered, and my pastry seemed to have lost its flavor. Nothing could be perfect—I knew that—but just how much imperfection was I willing to live with?

  If he was only “Bedroom Dante” a fraction of the time, was it worth bearing the ice and the storm in between?

  “You shouldn’t think so hard.”

  Dante’s smooth, rich voice rolled over me like thunder. I looked up at him with a smile.

  “Good nap?” I asked, scooting over to give him room to sit.

  He was dressed in his jeans now, though his top half was still bare. I found my gaze stuck wandering over his masculine contours and ridges, basking in the aesthetic beauty of him. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head, sending a pleasing warmth over me.

  “I’ve never slept better,” he said lightly.

  I snuggled into him, breathing in his scent. My worries rattled around in my brain, bouncing off of the bubbles of happiness which swirled there, building pressure up in my body. I released it in a sigh.

  “What’s on your mind, darlin’?” he asked, stroking my shoulder.

  “You,” I said vaguely, tipping my head up to kiss him.

  “An excellent subject,” he said with a cocky grin.


  I scoffed at that, amused. My amusement quickly flipped, making me question just how much of his cocky attitude was a joke, and how much of it was indicative of deep-seated insecurity. His behavior with Joel certainly indicated a level of insecurity, which…

  “Or, maybe not,” he interrupted my thought, and I realized I was frowning.

  “You…confuse me,” I explained slowly.

  “Me? I’m a simple man, sweetheart. Simple wants, simple needs, simple pleasures.”

  “Opera?” I asked with a dubious brow.

  “I said simple, not cheap.” He grinned. “Ask me anything; I’m an open book.”

  “Open, and incomprehensible,” I murmured. “All Greek to me.”

  “That’s a little far north,” he quipped, squeezing me. “Give me a chance, darlin’. Let me illuminate the situation for you.”

  The words caught in my throat. We weren’t really at that level in our relationship, were we? We didn’t even have a relationship—not really. But then, we never would unless I could figure out just who I was getting into a relationship with.

  I cleared my throat with a sip of cool coffee, then set the cup and Danish down on the little table beside me. I arranged my words while examining my nails, wanting to be as clear as I possibly could.

  “The morning after our night together. What made you behave that way?”

  Too fast, I thought with a wince. I should have built up to that.

  But he didn’t move away or tense up the way I’d expected him to. Instead, he lay a hand on my thigh and rested his cheek on my head, curling around me as if to cushion me from a blow.

  “I woke up that night,” he told me softly. “Found you curled up in my arms, all innocent-looking and happy. I had the urge to keep you there, forever. I wanted to know your mind. Wanted to see you dance. You were the spot of color my home needed to feel complete.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, trying to follow the logic. “Did I do something after that?”

  “Not a thing,” he said soothingly, kissing my head again. “I’m a flawed man, Livia.”

  “Every man is,” I told him, my lips quirking.

  “Yes,” he said seriously. “Every man, every human. No one’s perfect. But the thing about me, Livia, is that I’m very competitive.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked. “That competitive spirit kept you in the game for way longer than anyone expected.”

  “That’s exactly it,” he said, squeezing me gently.

  “The game. I couldn’t let Joel win, and I’d let him talk me into adding this stupid side-bet to the equation. I had two choices. I could follow my feelings and let our dinner date turn into lunch, then breakfast, then…you get the idea. Or, I could shut that down right then and there, pick a fight, and sour the whole thing.”

  He sighed heavily, rubbing a circle on my thigh.

  “I didn’t expect it to be so hard. I know it doesn’t make it better, but I beat myself up for days over that.”

  “So, you went full asshole just to keep yourself free to beat Joel in your woman-bedding competition?” I asked, my eyes rolling.

  A headache was growing between my eyes, and he kissed it. I could have sworn he was psychic.

  “It was a dumb thing to do,” he said regretfully. “I had a great time talking to you that night. I had a hundred places I wanted to take you after that, a hundred experiences I wanted to share with you.”

  He sounded wistful, as if those possibilities had blown away on the chilly autumn breeze.

  “You still can,” I told him. “Once you beat the pants off of Joel, of course.”

  The allowance sent a shock of pain through my heart, surprising me. Dante wasn’t mine to claim; I couldn’t demand that he call it off and focus on me. It was just till the end of the season, right? I could always pretend I didn’t know what he was doing. I was good at pretending.

  “Who’s beating my pants off?” Joel entered the room, groggy voice first.

  “Nobody,” Dante said pensively. “Sit down, kid; we need to talk.”

  Chapter 17

  Joel scratched his belly, yawned, stretched in nothing but his boxers, then finally flopped into my little cream-colored armchair. He scrubbed a hand over his face as if he was trying to rearrange it, shook his head, then squinted blearily from Dante to me and back.

  “You two look good together,” he blurted out. “Like, balanced. All curves and muscles and stuff.”

  He slapped his face with his hands several times, then shook the last of the sleep off. Re-energized, he grinned at Dante.

  “What’d you want to talk about?” he asked.

  “It’s time to call a truce,” Dante said authoritatively, stroking my hair. “I’ll stop giving you shit, you stop acting like you’re the whole team on the ice, and we call off the stupid bet.”

  Joel shot him a sideways glance. “Why? Are you afraid to lose?”

  “Joel,” I sighed, exasperated.

  “No, really, I’m asking. Yesterday it was ‘I don’t care what coach says, I’m wiping the floor with you’, and today you want to call a truce?”

  Dante sighed and nuzzled my head. He really was affectionate when he wanted to be. I hoped that he would want to be for a very long time.

  “We’ve been acting like kids,” Dante said. “I should have put a stop to the hazing before it started affecting your performance. I certainly shouldn’t have participated. I was pissed off because I thought you’d been handed the golden ticket without doing any work for it, and I let that get the better of me.”

  Joel frowned thoughtfully and nodded, running a thumb along his jawline.

  “I guess I should have been trying to learn from you instead of trying to outdo you,” he said. “Probably should have come to practice.”

  “Yeah, you should have,” Dante said with just the slightest hint of frustration. “The only way you’re going to make it is if you have the team behind you. The whole team, respect and all. Can’t get that if everybody thinks you’re passed out, hungover in a gutter somewhere while they’re skating their asses off.”

  “Yeah,” Joel said ruefully. “I mean, that makes sense. But…”

  He shook his head and looked out the window, brushing a hand over his short crop of hair. Dante waited patiently for him to speak, absently running his hands over my shoulder and thigh, sending a curl of sleepy desire twisting in my belly.

  “They’re going to hate me,” Joel finished finally. “They’ve been waiting for me to get kicked off the team for months. Longer than that, maybe. I don’t think anybody wanted me there to begin with, and I think I’ve kind of screwed it all the way up.”

  “Doesn’t work that way,” Dante said, shaking his head. “When you’re part of the team, you’re part of the team. The Harriers are family. Beyond family. We’re a single living, breathing organism. You’re part of us for as long as you’re with us, period.

  “It’s going to be a little awkward at first, and you’re going to get hassled. Be straight with them. Clear up the rumors they’ve been spreading around. Don’t take any shit from any of them. I’ll back you up.”

  Joel whipped his head to look at Dante, surprise written all over his face.

  “You will?”

  “Yeah,” Dante said with a slightly uncomfortable shrug. “You’ve got the most potential of any player I’ve ever seen…apart from yours truly, of course. I would be betraying the Harriers and the game itself if I didn’t bring you up right.”

  He spun his words with deflective, humorous pomposity, but his intentions were clear. Joel’s surprise faded into a pleased grin.

  “Well, all right,” he said. “If I’ve got the legend at my back, I figure I can do pretty much anything.”

  “Good,” Dante said with a satisfied nod. “So the bet is off.”

  “Nah,” Joel said with an evil grin.

  I snapped my head around to glare at him, words of fury ready to launch in my throat. He held a hand up quick
ly.

  “Hold on, hold on,” he laughed. “Okay, the bedding bet is off. Bedding bet…that’s fun to say. Bedding, betting, bed bet. Anyway. Yeah, that’s done, that’s over, no bet. However…” He crossed his arms and lifted his chin, his eyes flashing a challenge at Dante. “I still say I can hit more goals than you can this season.”

  “Oh, really?” Dante laughed, straightening his shoulders. “You’re on. Preferred terms?”

  Joel started to shrug, then stopped.

  “All right, here. Better than some humiliating forfeit thing. Loser buys lunch for the team.”

  “Oh, come on—that’s not even an incentive,” Dante protested.

  “At Thai Palace,” Joel finished.

  “Ah,” Dante said, drawing the syllable out in understanding. “You’re after my spot on the wall!”

  “Maybe,” Joel joked, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Can you imagine the look on the poor guy’s face when he sees you come in, head hung in shame, with me marching ahead of you as the new reigning king?”

  “Not gonna happen,” Dante shot back.

  He unwound from me to crack his knuckles and neck, as if he were ready to prove himself right there and then. I never thought I would be glad that I didn’t have an ice rink in my building. I never thought I would be thinking about ice rinks in my building, for that matter. This article had turned all of my expectations upside down, and I was loving every second of it.

  “Then we have a deal?” Joel asked, putting his hand out.

  “Deal,” Dante agreed, shaking his hand.

  They held the grip for a long minute, each of them turning darker shades of red with each passing moment.

  “Oh for the love of God! Enough, enough,” I scolded, slapping their linked hands. “How are either of you going to play with a broken hand? Men, I swear.”

  Dante laughed and kissed me, and Joel furtively massaged his aching hand. It occurred to me that I should probably feel self-conscious or something, hanging all over Dante with Joel right there, but I didn’t. Nor did either of them seem to expect me to. Maybe we had all miraculously managed to land on the same page.