by Lily Harlem
I stepped out then headed toward my office.
“Hayley, I just heard. Well done,” Derek Lyle called from where he stood at his secretary’s desk. “And well deserved.”
“Thanks.” I raised my hand and grinned. I’d debrief him on Friday. He’d want to know all the details.
“Hayley,” Jeannie said, standing. “Brilliant result.”
I beamed at her. “I know. I’m thrilled. Eight months of hard work paid off and, best of all, it’s justice. She got what she deserved and so did Branston Ltd. You just can’t treat people like that.”
She nodded and handed me several sheets of paper. “I agree and I thank God every day for having such a nice employer.”
“I’m glad you think so.” I laughed. “Anything interesting here?”
“No, not really. They just need signing off.”
“I’ll get on it.” I let my purse fall from my shoulder and caught it in my hand. “It’s nice to have a few free hours now to catch up with paperwork and phone calls.”
“Do you want me to bring you a pot of tea?”
“If you did I’d love you forever,” I said grinning.
I wandered into my office, went straight to the blind and pulled it half shut. The sun streamed in and stretched long shadows in front of the furniture, but it was less glaring.
After placing the papers on the desk and setting down my purse, I put my iPhone on charge. There was no message from Gabe.
“You can’t…you can’t go in there. You don’t have an appointment.”
I turned at the sound of Jeannie’s panicked voice.
“Sir, really you can’t,” she said again.
I stepped toward the door.
“Sir. I have to insist…”
A man—tall, wearing a suit and with dense facial hair—strutted into the center of the room, placed his hands on his hips and set his gaze on me.
“Brent?”
“Please, you must leave.” Jeannie appeared, twisting her hands together and shifting from one foot to the other.
“It’s okay,” I said, not tearing my attention from Brent. His expression was dark, his mouth, usually upturned, a dead-flat line. “I’ll handle it from here.”
“Are you sure? Shall I call security?” Jeannie asked.
I wasn’t sure. He was breathing fast and his eyebrows were pulled low. Something had really pissed him off.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I nodded. “Just shut the door please, Jeannie.”
“Good idea,” Brent said, his voice low and husky.
Jeannie hesitated.
I nodded at her. “It’s fine.”
She frowned then pulled the door up.
The second it clicked shut Brent moved toward me, fast.
I backed up.
My shoulders hit the polished paneling that clad the walls of my office. I couldn’t move any farther.
“What the hell,” he said, coming up close then pressing his palms against the wood either side of my head, “do you think you’re doing?”
“What?” I asked, gulping and looking up at him.
“Jesus Christ, don’t pretend you don’t know.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I managed, flattening my hands behind myself and pulling in fast breaths.
I knew exactly what he was talking about.
“Gabe,” he said, lowering his face. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
I could feel the air leaving his lungs through his nose as it washed over my cheeks. His aftershave invaded my nostrils and laced my tongue. The heat of his body radiated onto mine, blasting through my silky blouse as though it wasn’t even there.
“What about Gabe?” I asked, tilting my chin.
“He’s just asked me to fuck him.” His eye contact was unwavering. “And he told me that it was your idea.”
“What? No, that’s not right.”
“Which bit of that isn’t fucking right, Hayley, because it all sounds pretty fucking not right to me?”
I gathered my strength and refused to be intimidated by him. “You can’t deny you like Gabe.” I gave him a steely glare.
“That’s not the issue.” He narrowed his eyes.
“And he likes you,” I snapped back.
“All of that is irrelevant because he’s married…to you.”
“Which surely means, if there is one person who can give Gabe permission to fuck someone else, it’s me. His wife.”
His mouth opened slightly and he stared at me.
“What?” I asked. “It makes sense. Gabe’s got a crush on you, I suppose that is one way of describing it, and he wants you, badly, he—”
“He’s not even bloody gay.”
“No, but he must have elements of being bi for him to be feeling this way.”
Brent stepped away, turned and locked his fingers on the crown of his head with his elbows outstretched.
“Brent,” I said, pushing away from the wall. “Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad…just…”
“What?”
“Confused, I suppose.” He dropped his hands and turned to me as he sighed. The hardness had gone from his face.
“Why?” I moved to my desk and leaned my behind on it, kept my arms at my sides in an effort to look open and available for him to express his feelings to. It was a tactic I used with clients. “Tell me, Brent. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are.” He sat in one of the two chairs in front of my desk and sighed. “I like you, Hayley, a lot, and I like Gabe too. I care about him.”
“And do you fancy him?”
“I’m not gay either.” He paused and appeared to summon courage. “But I am bi. I have been with a man before.”
I nodded and kept my expression neutral even though there was something electrifying about his admission. No longer a rumor but a solid fact he was able to share with me.
“And would you want to be with Gabe that way?” I asked. Again words were coming out of my mouth that I wouldn’t believe I could utter. This time last month this conversation would be ludicrous.
“Do I want Gabe that way,” he repeated.
I waited for him to go on.
“Yes, in a word. He’s bloody gorgeous and damn sexy too, but I don’t need to tell you that, Hayley. Heck, you married him.”
I smiled. “He is gorgeous and sexy, and also the most passionate, loving person I’ve ever met.” I paused. “His happiness is also my responsibility and right now, him not being with you the way he wants to be is screwing with his mind.”
“Have you had a third person in your relationship before?”
“No, it’s always been just us. We’re strong, our bonds are tight, but…”
“And you’re willing to risk it all.”
“Perhaps it’s a risk for it not to happen.”
“Bloody hell…” He pressed his hands over his face and looked at me from over his fingertips. “You’re really are deadly serious.”
“Yes.” I sat on the seat at his side. “I am. He’s been on edge, preoccupied. I know he loves me, would die for me, we’ve been in each other’s lives for a long time now, there’s nothing that will tear us apart.”
“Except me. Maybe I will.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“It would be my worst nightmare to split you two up. Seeing you and Gabe together makes me very happy. You have something special, something I’ve hunted for, seen glimpses of, but never truly found.”
I reached out and rested my fingers on the sleeve of his gray suit jacket and rubbed my thumb on the smooth material. “Gabe and I are strong. Strong enough to cope with this.” I paused, hoping to hell that we were. “If you feel the same way about Gabe then this can happen. I don’t have a problem with it.”
He stared at me, long and hard, then, “You’re right, I do want to fuck him.”
My belly clenched and I squeezed my internal muscles. This might actually happen for Gabe.
&nb
sp; “But I have one condition,” he said, leaning back and folding his arms. His suit jacket bunched at the lapels.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’re there. You watch us.”
“You can’t be serious.” I knotted my fingers together and gripped them in my lap. “Why would…?” Much as the idea appealed, I’d never thought it would become reality.
“You remember that film, Indecent Proposal? Robert Redford I think it was.”
“Yes. What about it?” I laughed but the sound caught in my throat.
Brent reached out, rested his palm over my clasped hands. “It screws him up, the husband. After his wife has spent a night with another man for a huge sum of money, he obsesses about what they did, how they were together. Was there love or was it just sex? Had she had more fun with the rich guy than with him?”
I nodded. I’d seen the film.
“That’s what causes the problems,” Brent went on. “They had a million in the bank but the husband’s imagination, his not knowing, was a much bigger problem than being poor.”
“And you think I’ll be like that?”
“I don’t know. You seem pretty…cool with the idea at the moment.”
“I am. I’ve given it a lot of thought.”
He lifted his hand from mine and shifted on the seat.
I glanced at his groin and wondered if he was getting hard talking about screwing my husband. “Okay,” I said. “It wasn’t how I thought it would go. But yes, I’ll be there.” A flush traveled over my skin just at saying that. I could hardly begin to think how horny it would make me to actually see them together, for real—fucking.
Brent stood, slid his hands down the front of his suit jacket then straightened his tie. “You can tell him yes for me. I’m afraid I was a little harsh on him when he blurted it out over a cheese panini in Costa. It had been the last thing I was expecting him to say.”
“I will, but…” I hated to think of Gabe being upset, confused by Brent’s reaction.
“Yes. I’ll call him too.” He looked at his watch. “But right now I’m late for a meeting with my bank manager, and I really have to run.”
“Yes, of course.”
He walked to the door.
“Brent,” I called.
“What?” He turned and a long shard of sunlight sliced over his face and down his body.
“Thank you.”
He smiled and swept his tongue over his bottom lip. “I should be the one thanking you.”
* * * *
The rest of the week flew by and before I knew it Gabe and I were heading back toward Henley. This time, though, instead of going for a night in a beautiful house with a nice meal and a game of tennis we were going so Gabe could get fucked by a man while I watched.
A pleasurable fuzz of excitement worked its way through my body. I wasn’t even going to be part of it, just a voyeur, but still, I was getting more turned on as the miles passed.
As we went slowly over the stone bridge in Henley I stared out at the river Thames. It was much quieter than this time last week. There were a few rowing boats meandering about and a bank of swans being fed by a group of children.
One little girl, in a pink flowery dress, was apart from the group. She was throwing in pieces of bread for three signets and each time she threw her long blonde pigtails swung wildly. A woman, her mother I guessed, watched on, barely an arm’s-length away.
Gabe and I had often talked about children in our future and I hoped it would happen for us. I knew he’d make a wonderful father. He was kind and patient yet firm and strong. In quiet moments, I thought about him taking a daughter pony riding or setting up a tent in the woods with a son. Images of his big arms cradling our tiny child could make me quite wistful.
They were only dreams, melancholy thoughts, but even so, they were most definitely there.
The traffic lights ahead changed and Gabe pulled off. He’d been quiet on the way to Hardon Manor. We’d spoken lots all week about Brent’s proposition for us to return the following weekend.
To start with I wondered if the seduction—that’s what we’d come to refer to it as—would be better on neutral territory. But as Gabe pointed out, it seemed silly to pay for an expensive hotel where we couldn’t be guaranteed absolute privacy. Brent had a beautiful big country house at our disposal and no matter what else happened we wouldn’t be disturbed.
I’d agreed with the plan then spent the week flitting from thoughts of Gabe and Brent fucking in the kitchen over the island, in the pool, on the patio, in the guest room we’d stayed in and even half way up the grand, sweeping staircase.
I could still hardly believe we were doing this.
But we were.
“Here we are,” Gabe said, turning into the driveway.
I stared at the imposing house as we approached.
Gabe eventually drew to a stop, yanked on the handbrake and turned to me. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Blimey, we’ve been over this a million times. Yes. I’m sure.” I smiled, leaned forward and brushed my lips over his. “Heck, I can’t wait to get started.”
He grinned and I knew he felt the same way.
“Do you think…?” I said.
“It will happen straight away,” he finished for me.
I nodded.
“I don’t know.” He pulled the keys from the ignition. “I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to instigate it or if he will.”
“I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Yes, and you will—”
“I will say if I can’t handle it,” I said. “We’re going round in circles now. I’ve told you, I can’t wait to see you get your cute arse fucked by Brent. See you bent over for him, watch your face as he slides deep and then makes you come.”
A rise of color flooded Gabe’s cheeks. “Fuck, you’ll make me hard right now saying stuff like that.”
“Maybe that’s my plan,” I said laughing.
“Witch.” He grinned then opened his car door.
As I climbed out, Brent came down the steep steps. “Hi, how was the journey?”
“Not nearly as busy today, no regatta traffic,” Gabe said.
“Makes a difference,” Brent said.
He walked up to me and kissed my cheek. “Hayley,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m good, you?”
“Very good.” He smiled, turned to Gabe and grabbed one of the two bags he was holding. “Come in. I’ve made Pimms again.”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, licking my dry lips. I was ready for a drink, and one with a smattering of alcohol was just what my eager nerves needed.
I followed Brent up the steps. He wore cream slacks that hugged his ass and a red polo top that stretched over his shoulders. It looked like he’d had his hair cut too. I wondered if his trip to the barber had been in anticipation of this weekend’s big event—if he’d wanted to look nice for Gabe?
He didn’t need to try hard. He was a seriously handsome man with enough testosterone to counter the posh with the could-be-rough-if-he-wanted-to look. It worked for me, and it clearly worked for Gabe.
Once in the kitchen, Brent poured three tall glasses of Pimms then gestured to the French doors flung open to the sunlit patio. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” I said, wandering outside. It felt as though I’d been here only five minutes ago yet so much had happened since I’d last been at Hardon Manor.
We sat at the table, Brent and Gabe next to each other, me on the end. Brent had put a parasol up and it meant we were in a large circle of welcome shade.
“So,” Brent said, setting down his already half-drunk Pimms. “How are you both feeling?”
“Fine,” Gabe said.
“Okay,” I added.
He laughed. “Come on, guys, I need a bit more than that. We all know why you’re here. What we’re going to do. How are you feeling about that? Excited, regretful, turned on?”
“Definitely not regre
tful,” Gabe said. He turned to me. “Hayley?”
“Out of those three options, excited,” I said. I set my attention on Brent. “I’m excited about seeing you make my husband come.”
Brent pressed his lips together and nodded. He held my gaze steady for a few seconds then turned to Gabe.
I wondered what the hell was going through his mind. Was he planning how he was going to make Gabe come? Was he thinking about Gabe’s body? Gabe’s ass hugging his cock?
“Since you said you wanted me there,” I went on. My voice was a little hoarse so I took a drink and lubricated my throat. “I’ve realized what a good idea it is. How much I want to watch.”
“It’s the safest option,” Brent said, returning his attention to me. “And do you know what?” He leaned forward and folded his arms on the table, a smile tugging at his lips.
“What?” I asked, stabbing the fruit in my drink with the straw.
“It turns me on to think of you watching us, Hayley.”
Beneath the table I crossed my legs, squeezed my thighs together and enjoyed the spark of arousal it gave me. Brent was looking forward to me watching? That added a new, unexpected dimension to the scenario.
“That can only be a good thing,” I said, “I don’t want to hinder your performance.”
“Performance?” Brent laughed. “That word doesn’t add pressure, does it?”
“There’s no pressure,” Gabe said, leaning over and putting his hand on Brent’s arm. “Whatever happens happens.”
The smile left Brent’s face and he turned his arm and gripped Gabe’s hand. “Yes, and I don’t know about you, but I’ll be damned if I’m waiting until night time for this.”
Gabe swallowed. “What are you suggesting?”
Brent tipped his wrist and glanced at his watch. “I say we finish this drink, have ten minutes to freshen up then get this show on the road.”
Chapter Twelve
I stood in the guest bedroom alone. All was quiet, though the sound of the shower was faint through the wall. Gabe had closed the door and I’d respected his privacy to prepare for Brent.
I stared at the four-poster bed. Elegant and indulgent, it dominated the room. Beside it were two dark wooden bedside lockers. On the right one I’d set lube, condoms and a bottle of Evian.
