Brick by Brick

by Maryn Blackburn

  “Almost.” I found my lip gloss and talked around its application. “What was it like, growing up with Gage?”

  “He was just a kid, same as any other kid. Nobody paid him any special attention. Mom was the knockout. She could have gotten herself a real producer.”

  She scrunched her hair in her fingers, rearranging the top. “Know what’s funny? Everybody gushes about Gage being so beautiful, and I simply don’t see it. He’s just my brother, no better looking than I am. Now James, he’s gorgeous, you know?”

  I did something unusual for me: I hugged her. “I know.”

  Back at our table, James had finished his wine and poured himself generous seconds, leaving me only an inch. “Gage has got a problem.”

  “What’s that?” Having to wait to screw my husband, at least until we were out of the building? Some problem.

  “I assumed I could get Rowan a room at the hotel, but they’re booked. They couldn’t even refer me to someplace nice with vacancies.”

  “You’re kidding. What’s going on?”

  “Some convention, I forget the name. Who books a convention in Tucson in the summer?”

  “Somebody in Ohio, I bet. Sure, Rowan can stay with us. I’d be glad to have her.”

  “Well, what I was thinking was she could have my room and I could stay with you. The couch is fine.”

  “So’s the bed,” Rowan said. “I know.”

  James’s eyebrows were separated by the lightning-bolt crease that meant genuine fury. “Goddamn it, Nat.”

  “She didn’t say a word,” Rowan said. “I figured it out. And if it makes you all happy, good. It’s just for however long the convention lasts. Although I’ve got no problem staying in a crummy motel near the highway.”

  Gage’s voice was too controlled. “We’ve been over that. No.”

  “He thinks I’m going to score, or that the paparazzi will find me and it’ll make him look bad.” Rowan’s grin taunted. “Like they did all the time in LA, huh?”

  “Please, can we not do this in front of people?”

  Did he think we’d rescind the invitation because he bickered with his sister? “Gage can stay for as long as he needs to,” I said. In my peripheral vision, James nodded his agreement. “Conventions last, what, two or three days? Maybe four?”

  “Thank you. We hope it’ll be quick,” Rowan said.

  “What’ll be quick?”

  “You didn’t tell them?” Rowan asked. “Duh, we just got in, how could you? He’s buying some real estate. I’m moving here. Hey, if I’m going back to the hotel and you’re not, does that mean I get the Porsche?”

  Gage narrowed his eyes. “You got a valid license?”

  “Of course. You bought me a car, remember?”

  Down came the steel curtain behind the eyes, hiding whatever he felt. “Yeah. I remember.” Nobody had to tell us she’d sold it and used the money for drugs.

  “Gage, I’ve never had a ticket, not one.”

  “You have,” I reminded Gage.

  “Fine. Fine! Take the car.”

  Later, his small eyes narrowed again as she got in, brought the engine to purring life, found the lights, and pulled away smoothly, not too fast.

  “It’s just a machine,” he said to no one. “Meantime, give me the keys, James. You guys have been drinking.”

  James handed them over without a murmur of protest. Then I remembered: we’d arrived in his truck. My car had a mushy right front tire, not spotted until changing it would have made us late.

  Gage’s face remained neutral as we got in. I tried to see it as he must have, noting the cracked vinyl on the dash, the equally decrepit bench seat’s replacement cover, bunched where butts had stretched it beyond recovery, the dash holders for cell and notepad.

  He was lucky not to know what was behind the seat, where James had carefully set the seat console and the aluminum clipboard he used for estimates and orders. He’d literally buried that vital clipboard, tossing empty cups, water bottles, fast-food wrappers and bags, job plans, the paperback I hoped he’d read over lunch, a yellowing newspaper, and, to my amusement, a girlie magazine.

  Gage turned the key, gave it a little gas, and cocked his head, listening to the engine’s halfhearted attempt to start. “What is it I say, ‘bitch-whore’?”

  “Promise it a rebuild,” I suggested.

  “Uncle Olin’s coming out at Thanksgiving. We’ll do it together. I just have to hold on.”

  Gage tried again. Nothing. “Come on, truck. We need you, and I swear Uncle Owen’s coming.”

  “Olin.”

  “Truck, Uncle Olin and James are going to rebuild your engine if you start for us now.” He tried again. It caught. He beamed, put it in gear, and drove.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “I thought I was pretty hungry, and nervous about springing Rowan on you, but all through dinner I couldn’t wait for it to be over,” Gage said, slipping out of his jacket.

  “I don’t know.” James loosened his tie. “I kind of like eating in a fancy restaurant and thinking about dirty stuff. The anticipation is hot.”

  “Plus it beats sitting in a dirty restaurant thinking about fancy stuff,” I said.

  We laughed, but Gage cut it short, speaking to James with the earnest tone of a fired bricklayer trying to get his job back. “It felt like a lot more than a week away. Man, all through dinner all I could think about was you in me. And me in you.” He smiled at me.

  I was an afterthought. It didn’t surprise me.

  “Are you all the way healed?” James asked.

  “Yeah. It wasn’t all that bad, and it’s been a week.”

  “Good. Because I’ve thought about what I want to do to that ass,” James said. “A lot.”

  “Anything you want,” Gage said, his voice huskier.

  “And I’ve thought about what I want him to do to you too,” he said to me, “while I watch.”

  “Oh, are you the boss at home now?”

  “Of me, he is,” Gage said.

  Wow.

  “Only when I have your permission,” James said and kissed me.

  In the bedroom, we didn’t talk or look at one another as we undressed, except for a simultaneous “Excuse me” when James and I bumped butts as we hung up our good clothes.

  “So, do you want to know what I dreamed about us doing?” James asked.

  “Yeah,” Gage said.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “It starts with Gage on all fours.”

  Already he was on the bed, his bare rump facing us. In this light, the scars didn’t show. But something else did.

  “What the hell?” James said.

  I bent closer. Below his buttocks, the back of his scrotum bore two piercings, one above the other, each with a silver ring. “When did this happen, last week?” I asked.

  “No, when I got the others. Two up front, one for each of you, to please Natalie. Two in back, one for each of you, to please James.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, how did I not see it before now?”

  “We always did it in the dark. When you were going to spank me—”

  “I was never going to spank you. I was going to paddle you. Except that I wasn’t, not really.”

  “Whatever. I held my legs closed. It wasn’t the right time to show you.”

  “Damned right it wasn’t. These are to please me, huh?”

  “Yeah. If you don’t like them, I can pull the rings. The holes will close pretty fast, they said.”

  “Keep them. For now. The hole I’m interested in is going to open, when I want it to.”

  “God, yes. Tell us what to do.”

  “While I make you nice and slick, Natalie gets underneath, so she can watch. Her head at your crotch and vice versa. That okay with you, Nat?”

  I wasn’t yet in place when James started with the lubricating gel. By the time my eyes were below him, Gage’s darkest flesh gleamed.

  James stood at the foot of the bed, between Gage’s lowe
r legs. I couldn’t see much of him except his hands, the fingers working the gel over and over Gage’s anus, as if applying it repeatedly to every fold and smoothing every inky hair away from the center were vital.

  “Looks good, doesn’t it, Natalie?” Jamie’s hardness bobbed into view. He rolled a condom over it, the goldish ones that barely showed.

  “Gorgeous.” It didn’t seem possible that the tiny bittersweet rosebud could open wide enough, especially when Jamie’s pink glans poised in position. My eyes no doubt bugged wide when Jamie’s first gentle pressure eased part of the head inside Gage.

  What was it that thrilled me so about seeing Gage penetrated in a way that I had not experienced for myself and would never allow? The men delighted in the one act that still seemed too “dirty” to me. If it was so very filthy, why did it turn me on to see it so close?

  Gage exhaled through his mouth directly on my crotch. “Hold me open, Natalie,” he said to my pubic hair. My hands were so near my face that I could barely focus. That was all right; it wasn’t my hands I wanted to see.

  I pressed my thumbs on either side of his anus, braced the fingers in the hollows of his hips, and spread him for my husband. Ever so slowly, Jamie sank the plum-sized head of his gorgeous pink penis in, accompanied by Gage’s small sounds of excitement and satisfaction, little different from mine except in pitch.

  Finally the whole glans disappeared, squeezed tight in Gage’s willing anus. Now he panted. Hurting?

  I wished I could see his face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Wait a second; let me get used to it.”

  There’d be no getting used to it for me; the sight of Jamie’s bubblegum-pink cock stretching Gage’s coffee-colored pucker inflamed me. I couldn’t help myself. I licked the underside of Jamie’s distended cock and the lower rim of Gage’s taut sable anus, not tasting and barely feeling the gel.

  “Oh, God! Natalie, lick it when he’s in. Yeah, push a little; give me some more.” As I lowered my head to watch, Jamie pushed. Gage froze, sucking in through closed teeth judging by the sound. “Wait. Don’t push.”

  I recognized the difficult moment when Jamie might hurt him, had hurt him in the past.

  Something warm touched me between the breasts. By doubling my chin, I saw that Gage’s rigid cock had leaked so much precum that a string of it connected him to my heart.

  “Are you all right?” My husband sounded worried. “I can pull out.”

  “Don’t. I’m good.” The answering laugh was nervous.

  Closer than close, I watched as Gage tightened around Jamie’s penis, squeezing so hard I bet it hurt, then loosening to mere snugness. When Gage did it again, I felt my own muscles contract and release in empathy.

  “I’m ready,” Gage said. “Give me all of it. Slow, yeah, I love that, so slow. You feel so long!”

  “A little more than average.”

  “Maybe a foot more.” Gage panted louder now. “It’s going on forever, so deep. Oh God, Jamie, yes. Do it, do anything, as hard as you want. Just start slow.”

  Inches from my gaze, Jamie began, jabbing deep into Gage’s body one time, shallow the next, all in slow motion. Gage moved slightly to meet him. I released my grip on Gage’s buttocks and let him.

  The two sped up almost immediately, although Gage’s frenetic wriggles sometimes misaligned with Jamie’s lunges, stretching him at unlikely angles.

  When had Gage buried his face between my legs? For that matter, when had I spread them? He sucked and even lightly bit my clitoris in time to Jamie’s thrusts. The throaty grunts from above meant Jamie was close.

  I assumed he’d approve if I helped him get there. Again I spread the golden-white halves for him, inviting my husband to a new depth. Both men groaned as James pulled back only an inch or two, then rammed himself in to the balls, making Gage’s jeweled sac swing forward.

  Jamie retreated an inch. Gage’s moans vibrated my clitoris, but he pressed me there too hard when he jerked his hips back, begging James for more.

  “You like that, don’t you?” Jamie grunted and shoved himself deep.

  “Yeth!” My wet lips muffled Gage’s reply.

  My husband pulled himself free in that teasing way that I hated even while it excited me. Gage’s chocolaty O gaped open for the briefest instant. Pink-red inside.

  He closed at once, of course, and lifted his mouth from me. “Come on, Jamie, give it to me.”

  “Give what to you?”

  “Give me your cock.” He tilted his hips, presenting himself.

  Jamie laughed. “Where did you say you want it?”

  Gage groaned. “Back in my asshole. Come on, Jamie.”

  “And once I—if I—give you my cock, in your asshole, what do you want me to do?”

  “God, I’ll say whatever you want, just quit teasing and fuck me.”

  “All you had to do is ask.” Jamie grabbed both Gage’s buttocks roughly, separated them, and drove himself in, too fast to have stopped if it had hurt Gage.

  It must not have. “Again.”

  Complete withdrawal, then a full-depth plunge.

  “Again, harder.”

  Jamie must have taken Gage’s wordless pleasure noise as permission to move freely. Inches above my eyes, Gage bucked as Jamie gave it to him with everything he had.

  “Hunh!” my husband said, as if he were lifting a full hod of bricks instead of thrusting with force.

  Their balls clanged together, apparently painlessly.

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Hunh!”

  “Yeah.” High, almost a meow, but not the I’m-coming one I knew.

  I lay watching, closer than either of them could, as their chorus went on and on. I’d seen enough to arouse my sexual hunger. How much more could I take before demanding a turn?

  “Oh,” Jamie said. “Oh oh oh.”

  I smiled, recognizing one of many of his orgasmic sounds.

  “I feel it. I feel you coming, oh, man,” Gage murmured into my bush, and sucked my clit so hard it hurt a little. Caught up in their passion, I pushed my pelvis up, pressing it to his mouth.

  Above me, Jamie slumped, his balls touching the bridge of my nose like reading glasses. “You didn’t come?” he asked Gage.

  “Not yet. I’m real close.”

  “I think I am too,” I offered.

  Jamie pulled free, his limp penis gleaming until he peeled off the condom. “Off her, Gage.” He sat on the floor in front of the dresser. “Nat, come lie on your back, while I hold you.”

  A moment later I nestled against my husband’s belly, lying on him as if he were the rug. Gage rolled a condom over himself and mounted me, missionary style, on raised arms. I saw him smiling at Jamie, and something special pass between them. Was it over what they’d just done, or recognizing Gage imitating Jamie’s position above me?

  I stopped wondering as his glans spread my vaginal opening. Jamie stroked my hair from my damp forehead and squeezed my shoulder twice, extra love.

  “Put it in,” he told Gage, “while I watch.”

  Although Gage’s cock was thick and straight, it felt as curved as a scimitar, piercing me keenly as it pulled at my lips and clitoris. As he withdrew it most of the way, the sensation of its bowed shape was so strong that I glanced down to verify my memory of it.

  Again it glided in on an arc, nudging my insides and tugging at my clit wonderfully.

  Jamie naturally recognized my passion and snaked his hands between us to pinch my nipples.

  I felt my vagina contract when he did it hard enough. “Oh, yes.”

  Again the men shared a look. Jamie shifted, lying down as he cradled my upper body, and tweaked my nipples when Gage was in deep.

  “Oh…”

  “I felt it too.” Gage kissed me.

  “Let me see you make her come. You too.”

  I locked my legs behind Gage’s hips as we screwed for all we were worth, slamming together, bellies slapping, both of us gasping for air one moment, the next with our
mouths pressed together, tongues digging deeply.

  “Gage,” I said, then thought better. “Jamie, I’m going to come.”

  “I know. Do it, baby, do it, come for us. Go, Gage, do it now.”

  He moved in me as fast and hard as he ever had. I froze, only my hips gyrating against Jamie’s body. Gage pounded my orgasm into something bigger as Jamie pinched my nipples and twisted the nubbins of sensitive flesh, prolonging it.

  My climax was in its death throes when Gage’s arrived. He yelped wordlessly too near my ear. Through my hands on his back and my thighs pressed to his hips, I detected unexpected motion in the powerful muscles; his legs were moving as if he were climbing a hill, pushing himself in with all his strength. Behind Jamie, the dresser rocked in place, my everyday jewelry softly chattering in the porcelain box that had been my mother’s. Something larger fell behind the dresser. I knew the sound. This wasn’t the first time the framed picture of James and his father in front of James’s new truck had fallen.

  When Gage had throbbed in me one last time, he lay still, his muscles soft as pudding. He kissed my cheek.

  “Everybody happy?” Unwilling to break the spell, I kept my voice soft.

  “I am,” Gage said in a hushed voice, pulling himself from my body. “God, thank you both, so much…”

  Moisture leaked from me, slithering from my vagina onto my anus. I moved my legs together a little. The small motion spread the slick, making me realize I’d gladly go again. Not that either man could.

  Jamie, unaware of my let’s-do-it-again frame of mind, smiled back. “Me too. Very happy, equally sweaty. Gang shower?”

  We washed quickly, doing one another’s backs but not in a sensual way. “Dry sloppy,” James said. “If your skin’s a little damp, the fan blowing on you feels great and you’ll fall right to sleep. Which is what I need to do.”

  Over my protests of always needing to use the bathroom during the night, I got the middle. We lay quiet in the dark so thick I felt its weight on my eyes.

  “Do you two have any idea what this is like for me?” Gage said. I turned my head but couldn’t really see him.

  “My general impression is that you like it,” James said.

  Just because James wasn’t at ease with sentiment didn’t mean he should joke it away. “Tell us.” Beneath the sheet I groped for Gage’s fingers.