by JA Huss
I knew they would.
Let the game begin.
“Welcome,” I say, watching them come up the front walk through the open front door.
They are holding hands and I catch a slight tightening of their grip as Augustine says, “Sorry we’re late. I’m hopeless when it comes to being on time.”
Which is a lie. But I don’t care. This whole fucking thing is a lie.
“Let me take that,” I say, letting my fingertips brush against Augustine’s soft skin as I drag the black silk wrap down her arms. Underneath she’s wearing a tight red dress. It hugs her hips and breasts like skin. Silk, like the wrap, and soft, I can tell just by looking at it. I admire the choker of diamonds she’s wearing around her neck, the matching cuff at her wrist, and… her rings are back. Wedding band and the obscene rock Alexander gave her when they got engaged.
Well… I smile at Alexander as the shawl comes loose and then pivot to hang it in the foyer closet.
“Come in, I hope you had a nice evening. Did you dine out tonight? Or eat in?” I direct my question to Alexander. He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit with a light gray shirt and a deep blue tie. And the first thing that occurs to me is they don’t look like a couple. Not that couples should color-coordinate, but there is no cohesion here. A definite line of separation happening.
“We went to that new place over on Stout. The Italian one,” he answers.
“Sure,” I say. “I’ve seen it but haven’t yet stopped in. Was it all you hoped for?” Now I’m looking at Augustine.
“It was good.” She shrugs.
“We weren’t going to come,” Alexander says.
I smile and wave him into the office. “Then I’m delighted that you did. Wine, Augustine?”
“Yes,” she says, rubbing a hand down her arm.
“Are you cold?” I ask, placing my hand on her hip and pulling her into me. I lean down, inhale her scent, then whisper in her ear. “You won’t be cold for long. Don’t worry.”
She backs away from me. Not startled. She won’t startle that easy. But put off a little. They both have that vibe to them.
There was an argument tonight. And it was about me.
“I have a special whiskey for us,” I say, motioning to the Hedonism Quindecimus as I open the bottle of wine and pour a glass.
Alexander picks up the whiskey bottle and studies the label. No doubt admiring the beautiful woman on the front. Or maybe wondering if it’s supposed to remind him of his wife.
“What’s this all about?” Alexander says.
This is the kind of game I love. The one where tables are turned. Game pieces scattered on the board. And the rules, such as they were, are thrown out and new ones made up as we go.
“Your invitation, of course.”
“You put up a fight all this time and now you’re what?” This is Augustine. “Just going to play along?”
Ah. God, I really want to say something like, Well, playing is my speciality, right? But what’s the point of hinting at things to come? It will come whether I hint or not. “You have something I want. I have something you need. We’re making a business deal, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” Alexander says. I slide his glass over to him on the polished bar. He looks down at it, then back up at me.
“And some fun,” I say, shrugging. “Don’t tell me you two are getting cold feet?” I direct this to Augustine, because she’s the instigator of this whole fucked-up plan, not Alexander.
“We know you well,” Alexander says. “And when you suddenly come off as over-accommodating it’s a flashing red warning sign.”
I don’t remark on that. Because they’re right.
Instead I hold up my glass and say, “To the new us.”
And smile.
CHAPTER NINE
I sip, but they don’t. And hell, even though the drinks tonight were put out as prop pieces in the game, the Hedonism was a damn good choice.
“Come on, Jordan,” Alexander says. “What’s this about?”
“It’s me, seeing clearly.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” Augustine asks.
I mean… I should be asking them this question, right? Have been asking, actually. So it feels really good to have them on the defensive.
This is where I belong. On this side of things. The instigator. The master.
The light in here is low. Not because I planned it that way with candles, but because several of the wall sconces have burnt-out bulbs that I was too lazy to change over the past few months. So there’s only two working behind the desk on the other side of the room, and the chandelier over the wet bar. This lighting complements her the way an illusion tricks the eye. Because it makes her look soft and soft was never something Augustine ever was.
The fight can’t be erased. Not by something as fragile as light. So even though her skin is glowing and all her angles are smooth, she is still very hard.
“The change of heart,” I say, repeating her question. “Well, let’s just say I see this game for what it is. I talked the whole thing through with a friend this afternoon and she gave me the insight I needed.”
“Such as?” Alexander asks.
“Look, I get it. You need me to save your marriage. Fine. I’m here to do that. In return”—I look at Augustine now—“you give what I need back.”
“The building,” she says.
“The building.” As if it needs confirming.
“But that was the original deal,” she says. “So what’s different?”
Perceptive, Augustine. “That,” I say, pointing at the camera on the fireplace mantle. “And that one too.” I point to another one on a shelf behind the desk. “I have seven in here. So I want a token of faith.”
“A video,” Alexander huffs. “Didn’t you learn your lesson back in LA?”
“Didn’t you learn yours?” I quip back.
“Why? To use against us?”
“If I have to,” I say, taking a sip of my drink to let that sink in. “I mean… trust, right? It’s a hard thing to come by. And I don’t trust you. And I’m sure you don’t trust me. So… I’m gonna make the movie of us and when you sell me the building, I’ll give it back to you. No copies will be made. I’ll sign whatever you want to make sure no one ever sees it. But that’s my new condition. I need insurance.”
They both inhale. Exhale. Look at each other. Look away.
“Fine.” Augustine shrugs. Then walks over to the leather couch and sits daintily. Which I love. Because it’s an act. Her legs are long and they fold up and tilt to the side a little. A very sexy sitting position, if I do say so. “What do you have in mind tonight?”
“Sex,” I say. “What else is there between us?”
She and Alexander exchange another look. These looks, they only come from a couple when they know each other so well, words go unspoken.
Then Alexander says, “There’s some rules first.”
“Shoot,” I say. “Games always have rules.”
“First,” he says, “she’s mine. We’re here for us, not you.”
“Harsh.” I laugh, hand over my heart like I’m wounded. “But OK.”
“Second,” he says, “you’re here for me.”
“What’s that look like?” I ask. “Seeing as how you’re the one out of control and I’m the one here to control you.”
“It looks exactly like that. You back off unless I need help.”
“You need help?” I ask, squinting my eyes at him. “Or she needs help?”
“It’s the same thing,” Augustine interjects.
“You two are combative tonight. Which is surprising since you’ve been pursuing me for weeks. What’s that about?” I ask, mimicking Alexander’s earlier bluntness.
“It’s caution,” Alexander says. “This turnaround of yours is unsettling.”
“Why? Because you suddenly feel out of control? Well, here’s a fucking newsflash for you, Alexander.” I change my tone now, the words coming out like a s
narl. “You’re already out of control. That happened when your wife upended your life and dragged you here. So I can tame you. Shape you into something she can deal with.”
“That’s not true,” Augustine says, voice raised.
“It is true,” I say, my eyes locked on Alexander.
“We’re still in love,” he says back. Meeting my intense gaze.
“Obviously,” I say, shrugging with acceptance. “And I’ve moved on. I’ve told you that. I’m not interested in the two of you beyond how I can use you to get what I need. So don’t forget that.” The last few words are directed at Augustine.
“Noted,” she whispers. But her body is stiff now. Rigid with tension.
It’s dumb. This whole game is dumb. I mean, the animosity in this room is so thick, we’re stuck in place. How that translates to life-altering sex, I have no idea.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m a defense lawyer. My job is to lie without lying and I do it well. They will get what they came for, even if it’s not real, and we’ll all come out the other end satisfied the other side got screwed.
I count the seconds of awkward silence and when I get to eight, I’ve had enough. I unknot the tie at my neck, pull it through my collar with a soft whoosh, and toss it on the ground.
My suit coat comes off next, laid carefully over the back of a chair, and then I’m walking towards her, tossing my platinum cufflinks to the floor and unbuttoning my shirt as I go. I’m getting hard. Harder with each step forward. I don’t bother glancing at Alexander, but I know she’s watching me because he hasn’t moved.
I stand in front of her as I unbutton my shirt. I let it hang open. Let her gaze wander to the lines of cut muscles running across my hips and disappearing inside my pants. They’re like an arrow pointing to my cock and there’s no way for her to miss this.
She exhales, then drags her eyes away from what she wants and up to what she needs to do to get it.
I take her hand in mine. Stroke it gently. Then place it on my lower stomach. She presses against the tight ripple of muscles. Exhales.
I smile. “Don’t move,” I say, pointing at her. “And I’m dead fucking serious about that, August.”
She swallows. Unsure of exactly what’s happening here tonight, but very sure it’s something she wants to be part of. Because she nods her affirmation.
I remove her hand and let go. It hangs in the air, like she can’t move. Can’t do anything without my permission.
God. I’m really good at this mind-fucking these days. These two better have game or they’re gonna lose pretty bad.
I turn, unconcerned with what she does with her hand once I can’t see it anymore, and give Alexander my full attention.
He’s still across the room, arms at his side, mouth slightly open, eyes on me, then darting to her, then back to me as I walk towards him, slipping my shirt down my arms as I approach.
Alexander is like me. Not gay, not even quite bi, but… more than curious. Open, I guess. To whatever feels good.
I feel good. He knows this. We had fun back in LA. Even if it was more about hate and jealousy than anything approaching love or affection.
It’s not about hate and jealousy this time. Not about love or affection, either.
It’s about greed.
My gaze bores into his. I can almost feel the anger coming off his body. “Relax,” I say. “This is gonna be fun.”
“I don’t—”
But he doesn’t get any farther than that, because I lean in, take his face firmly in mine, and kiss him on the lips.
He’s muttering protests past my lips but I don’t give a fuck. I just push my tongue inside his mouth, grip his head so he can’t back away, and kiss him. Open-mouthed. Lots of tongue. Eyes closed. And the second he softens and begins to kiss me back, my hand reaches down for his cock.
He’s not hard, but he’s close.
I massage him as our kiss becomes less angry and more passionate.
My hands go to his suit coat and slip it down his arms, mouths still locked. Then I back away, smirking at him like I just won a very crucial battle. It’s a Bunker Hill kind of win. It’s fucking Normandy.
My fingers are on his tie, unknotting it the way I did mine a few minutes ago, only in reverse. It slides through his collar with that familiar sexy sound and goes sailing down to the floor.
“Jordan,” Augustine says, behind me.
“Quiet,” I say, not bothering to look at her. He’s the only thing that matters right now. “Don’t fucking move, Augustine. Or this ends, and I do mean ends.”
“You think you’re in control here, Wells?” Alexander asks me.
“Sure looks that way,” I answer back. I’m already unbuttoning his shirt. And he’s letting me, so…
I release him from my gaze and look down at his chest as my fingers work the buttons. The muscles beneath are revealed to me four inches at a time and when I get to the waistband of his slacks, I pull the shirt out and finish. Only then do I look back up at him and smile.
I reach for his hand, and he fights me a little, but I grip him hard with both of mine, and then release the cufflink and slip it inside his pocket, my hand purposefully brushing against his now fully erect cock. I do that again with the other hand and this time he puts up no fight.
Jesus. His first surrender comes quick.
Then I have the edges of his collar and I’m slipping his shirt over his shoulders. Letting my fingers graze his skin as I pull the starched cotton down his arms.
His breathing has quickened. It’s not heavy and fast like it will be very soon, but there’s no denying his heightened arousal now.
I throw his shirt to the floor and we stand there. Two shirtless, half-naked men. Similar build, similar height, similar objectives.
We both want to win. His win is… fuck, I have no idea. I don’t really understand these two. But you don’t always need to understand a person’s motives to catch them off guard and take control of their own game.
“I want to touch you,” I say, looking him in the eyes.
Behind me I hear Augustine let out a breath.
“So do it,” Alexander says. Impassive. Well, trying to be.
There’s only inches separating us, but a moment later those inches are erased. With one step my bare chest presses against his. My face tilts one way, his face the other. My hands on his belt, his hands on mine. The jingle of two sets of hands unbuckling two belts fill the room. And then there’s the sound of zippers being released. And breathing, absolutely heavy now, as his hand grips my cock and my hand grips his.
I close my eyes because it feels like the right move. But I open them quick enough to see he did the same.
He’s mirroring me. Unable or unwilling to lead when it comes to homoerotic moments. But I got this.
I lean in and kiss him again. This time his mouth is eager. He’s waiting for me to guide him, but then he’s compliant and malleable. His tongue twisting against mine. The slight stubble around his mouth scratching against the slight stubble of mine.
“You don’t get her tonight,” I say, still kissing him.
“Fuck you,” he whispers back.
“I get you, you get me, she gets us.”
He smiles. I can feel it, even though I can’t see it. “Sounds good to me.”
“It should,” I say. “It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“Fuck you,” he says again. “I never needed you.”
“But yet you’re still kissing me.” I grab his cock, pulling it out of his boxer briefs.
“Suck me,” he says.
“No.” I laugh, pulling fully out of the kiss now. “No. You will suck me, Alexander. You will suck me until I come. But I’m not gonna give you that pleasure. Not unless…”
“Unless what?” he asks.
“Not unless you can control yourself.”
“That’s why you’re here,” he says back.
“No, wrong again. I’m here for her.” I nod my head back towards Augusti
ne, who’s been a very good girl while Alexander and I sort through this little power play, because when I look over at her, she truly has not moved. “Now get down on your fucking knees and do your job.”
“Fuck you.” He laughs.
I do a one-shoulder shrug. “Either you do as I say or you can leave.” I look back at Augustine. “You can both leave.”
“Do it,” Augustine says. “I want to see it, Alexander.”
Augustine understands, even though Alexander is still having trouble. I turn my body to look at her properly, because she’s slipped her hand under her dress, dragging the silky fabric up to expose the fact that she isn’t wearing underwear. Her fingers begin to play with the pink folds of bare skin between her legs.
“You’ll make her hot,” I say, leaning into Alexander’s ear. “You’ll drive her crazy. We,” I say, stressing the word, “will drive her crazy. Together. And then we can make her scream. Then I’ll let you lose a little control. You want that, right?”
He’s silent. My whisper is so soft, I’m not even sure he hears me.
“Yes,” he finally says. And when I look into his eyes, I see the hunger inside him. A dangerous, voracious appetite that might have slipped into addiction a few years back.
“You want to fuck her?” I whisper. “Hard? Put your hands around her throat? Choke her until she collapses? While your cock is buried deep, deep inside her pussy?”
I can hear him swallow.
“Don’t you?” I whisper again.
He nods.
“Then get on your knees and pay for the privilege.”
I have had many moments I’m not proud of. It comes with the job of game master. Many moments when I have stopped to ask myself existential questions. Who am I and what am I really doing? Am I good? Am I evil?
Alexander drops to his knees, pulling my cock out of my pants, and leans his face in.
This isn’t one of them.
Because I do not care.
I grab his hair with both hands. Fist it, and the moment he opens his mouth, I force my way down his throat.
I do not hear his gagging, or his whimpering, or his choking.
