Ethan crossed his legs and indicated Randy with a nod. “I want you to begin, Lance, by sitting on my husband’s lap and giving him a kiss.”
Lance straddled Randy with a feral look in his eye. Placing his big hands on Randy’s shoulders, he pressed their mouths together.
A thrill raced through Randy as he put his hands on Lance’s torso—God, but the guy was broad. Randy hummed as he opened his mouth and trailed the kiss down Lance’s chin, licking at the stubble of his end-of-day beard growth. When Lance gasped, Randy laughed darkly and ran his hands up the man’s chest, then down again, seeking the hem of his T-shirt.
“Holy shit,” Lance whispered, gripping Randy’s shoulders. He ground his groin against Randy, whimpering as Randy moved his hands over him.
Randy felt the couch sag beside him. He didn’t stop exploring Lance with his hands, but he did lift his head enough to grin at his husband. “You giving me an early Christmas present? I thought for sure you’d want to be the one playing with this fine young man.”
“For the moment I’m content to observe.” Ethan mapped Lance’s biceps, making the man shiver. “Though I’m no Mitch Keller-Tedsoe. That kink won’t keep me occupied very long. Especially not with the two of you looking so delicious.”
Lance adjusted his hold on Randy, hands sliding to his neck and down his back as he melted closer. “Jesus, this is hot. I haven’t done a three-way in so long.”
Ethan rubbed his thumb along Lance’s bottom lip as Randy worked his hands fully beneath the man’s shirt, aiming for a nipple. When Lance moaned, Ethan slipped his thumb inside, then turned Lance’s face toward his with a crook of his finger.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Ethan trailed his wet thumb around Lance’s lips, over his chin, down his neck. “What do you want us to do to you tonight?”
Lance’s gaze was unfocused, his eyes hooded. “I want you to do me. Both of you. I want you to fuck my mouth and my ass.”
Ethan stroked his hair, still studying him intently. “Where?”
“The desk. On your desk. I want you to pound me from behind while Randy fucks my mouth. I want it so hard. I want marks all over my body, I want a swollen mouth, and I want to feel you for the next three days.”
Ethan cupped Lance’s face as he glanced at Randy. “Get him undressed.” Having said this, he rose elegantly from the couch, heading for the door, which he locked with a quiet snick.
While Randy divested Lance of his T-shirt and stood him up to strip him out of his jeans, shoes, underwear, and socks, Ethan cleared off his desk. It wasn’t exactly cluttered to begin with, so it didn’t take long, and the truth was, Ethan had secured the deck for this purpose before. Randy’s ass could happily tell the tale. They hadn’t fucked anyone else over it yet, so this was a fun new thrill.
Lance looked amazing as he climbed eagerly into position. He was so damn fit, all rippling muscle and broad body, planting his feet wide and prepared to bend over. Before he could, though, Ethan stopped him.
“He said he wanted marks.” Ethan put an arm around Lance’s waist and pulled his naked body flush against his suit. “Randy, I believe you know what to do.”
Oh, Randy did. While Ethan claimed Lance’s mouth, kissing him deeply, Randy closed his mouth all over Lance’s neck, shoulders, back, chest, arms, hips, and thighs, sucking hard and fast. He lingered too at Lance’s nipples, and there he made Lance cry out, gasping into Ethan’s mouth.
“This is so good.” His voice was barely a whisper, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. “I can’t believe this is real.”
Ethan stroked his hair, then pressed him gently forward. “Lie on the desk and keep your legs open wide.”
Lance obeyed eagerly, gripping the far side of the desk and burying his face in the desktop as he spread his legs as far as he could, tipping his ass up so his hole was exposed, dick tucked, balls hanging. Randy watched, adjusting himself as Ethan deposited the hickeys on Lance’s backside himself, seeming to quite enjoy the ones he placed across Lance’s ass and thighs. It wasn’t long before Lance was begging Ethan to give him more, to touch him, to fuck him.
Ethan lifted his head and nodded at Randy. “Lube, please.”
Randy produced the vial, and Ethan drizzled a steady stream over Lance’s crack. They both enjoyed the way the man twitched at the cool contact. Far better though was the way he jumped and cried out when Ethan captured some of the slick and pushed his index finger inside.
“Lift yourself up so Randy can stroke you.”
Lance raised his hips, and Randy took hold of Lance’s cock, which he jacked slowly with a bit of lube as Ethan fingered him. It wasn’t long, though, before Lance shook his head and squirmed.
“No, not yet. I don’t want to come yet. I want you both to fuck me. I want Randy in my mouth while you’re in my ass.”
Ethan nodded as he pressed his palm on Lance’s ass cheek to pull him wider. “Go on, then, Randy.”
Randy moved around to the other side of the desk, and he about lost it as he took in the sight of Lance desperate and gasping, with Ethan behind him in his suit, patiently working him open.
Randy swayed on his feet. “Holy hell but this is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
Lance was so far under now he was floating. “Take a picture, show me.” When Randy complied, Lance’s nostrils flared, his mouth falling slack. “Yes. Oh my God, take more. Take one with your cock in my mouth. With me looking up at you. With him fucking me.”
Randy teased his fingers into Lance’s hair. “You’re a deliciously sexy thing, aren’t you? Sure I will, hon.”
They took some photos, and then they fucked him. Randy got lost in the way Lance swam in the sensation, falling into a trance the same as Sam, but in a more aggressive, consciously joyful manner. Randy also enjoyed watching Ethan take Lance from behind—his husband was such an elegant top, Randy never got tired of the view—and when it was done, Randy came around the desk and gave Ethan a long, hot kiss.
Ethan returned it, his mouth and his touch promising there would be more between the two of them later, but then he focused on the blissed-out man draped over his desk. “Are you all right, Lance?”
Lance’s grin was weary but content, his gaze fixed at something off in the distance. “I feel like that’s the first time I’ve had sex in forever. I mean, I’ve been getting laid, but I haven’t been done like that. Thank you so much.”
“It was a pleasure to have you with us.” Ethan rested a hand on Lance’s hip. “But if you felt that was the first real sex you’ve had lately, I think you need to reconsider your partners.”
“Yeah.” Lance’s smile faded a little, and he sighed. “I just…suck at finding them, to be honest.”
Randy leaned closer. “Say the word and we’ll help. Anytime. And I’m not talking about us offering up ourselves.” He glanced at Ethan, saw the nod, and added, “Though I’m not saying no to repeating this.”
Lance shifted to rest on his elbows, staring up at the two of them earnestly. “That would be so great, seriously. Though I wish I could have given you both blow jobs, and for longer.”
“Then I expect to see you in my office tomorrow afternoon before your shift.” Ethan took Lance’s spent erection in hand, stroking it gently as he stared him down. “On your knees.”
Lance shuddered, Ethan raised an eyebrow, and Randy grinned.
And this was only the first day of Randy. Damn. Christmas was going to be fucking fantastic.
DAY TWO DIDN’T have any sex in it, not from any of his gift recipients, which was fine by Randy. He had to turn down Lance’s offered blow job when he arrived at the casino, because Ethan had been in such a mood that morning and done so much to Randy’s dick, the idea of anyone else touching it was a hard pass. Randy didn’t wonder if that wasn’t on purpose—Ethan did take Lance’s blow job, and Randy played cameraman, then showed the film highlights to an eager Lance afterward. Boy did the guy like being filmed when he knew it wasn’t going to be sh
ared.
Randy’s Twelve Days of Randy feature that day had nothing to do with sex, but he thought it was pretty fun all the same. He wore a white outfit, carried a rainbow of Sharpie markers, and invited the staff to write holiday wishes all over his body. One of his favorite dealers had done wonders with a menorah that covered his entire ass.
He’d worried a little about what Crabtree would do, but he hadn’t been around.
On day three, Randy gave Ethan his cake. Randy stood on the karaoke stage in the bar in a pair of red and green boxers and let the staff and interested casino guests lob cupcakes at him. Within fifteen minutes he was off the stage and lying on a table, and the staff were no longer simply throwing cake at him but smearing it directly onto his skin. Ethan hadn’t sent any cake flying, but he did put himself in charge of post-event cleanup. Ethan saw to Randy’s left thigh, and Lance took care of his right.
On day four Randy put up a pin-the-cock-on-Randy poster in the break room. Because he was getting kind of tired.
Twelve days was long. And a performance every day stopped it from being wicked fun and more like work. This was saying nothing about the pressure to keep topping himself. At the rate he was going, even strapping himself naked to a mattress and putting fuck me across his ass was still going to be a letdown.
The real issue that haunted Randy was Crabtree.
He hadn’t been around for the white suit and Sharpie, but he had appeared for the cupcakes, and he’d made sure he pressed two right on either side of Randy’s chest in full view of Ethan, then swiped the frosting in deliberate, repeated strokes. He didn’t attempt to pin the paper cock on Randy, but he did critique the paper version and compared it to Randy’s own, explaining the ways it was different, and of course he was correct in every way. Again, he made sure to do this where Ethan could hear and become enraged.
Every time there was an opportunity to fuck with Ethan, Crabtree took it. Every time Crabtree did something with Randy, Ethan went quiet and rigid and generally stopped having fun with the game. Which was why on the morning of day five, over breakfast, Randy announced he was calling it off.
Ethan dropped his spoon into his bowl of yogurt and granola, visibly upset. “Why? You seemed to be having so much fun.”
“I’m not. I can’t keep worrying about how you’re going to react to whatever Crabtree does to me.”
Ethan grimaced. “I’m trying not to be jealous.”
“Yeah, and it’s obvious to everyone how much you’re trying. Especially Crabtree.” He slid Ethan’s bowl to the side and reached around their coffee cups to take his husband’s hand. “Look, Slick. I meant it when I said I don’t mind not doing this. What’s important to me is you.”
Ethan squeezed Randy’s hand in reply and rubbed a thumb against the back of Randy’s hand in a familiar, soothing gesture. God, but Randy loved Slick’s hands. Long, thin fingers, big palms. He’d know them anywhere, and the slightest touch of them could calm him down in seconds.
When Ethan started to withdraw, Randy captured him and held him there. “I’m not kidding. Let’s forget this and go back to our simple Christmas.”
Ethan looked at him for a long time, then squeezed Randy’s hand again. “Okay.” He kissed Randy on the cheek.
Randy shut his eyes and leaned into him. The words swirled in his head a few moments before he let them out. “Love you.”
Another kiss. “Love you too.”
Randy wished it really could be that simple. Despite what his husband had promised, though, he knew it wouldn’t be over, not yet. The shadows were still present in Ethan’s gaze. Randy sighed inwardly. That was fine. He’d wait as long as it took for Slick to finish dancing with his demons.
It wasn’t like any of them could convince him to go anywhere.
Chapter Five
THE NEXT DAY Crabtree came to Ethan’s office. “You’re making a mistake.”
Ethan glanced up from his paperwork. “You don’t want me to have the New Year’s Eve tournament in Billy’s Room? But it was your idea.”
“Not the tournament, obviously. I’m talking about letting Randy cease his pre-party festivities. You’re going to regret this.”
Ethan rolled his eyes and went back to his laptop. “Honestly, Crabtree. You need a hobby. One that doesn’t involve my husband.”
Crabtree snorted a laugh. “Very well. Suit yourself.” He closed the door on his way out.
Ethan tried to leave it at that. He really did.
Randy came to see him at lunch, which was a surprise—though to Ethan’s chagrin the reason for the visit was to ensure Ethan didn’t buckle under Crabtree’s needling.
“He hasn’t come by to fuck with you, has he? Because if he does, you should ignore him.”
“He was by earlier,” Ethan admitted, “but I am going to ignore him, yes.”
Apparently he wasn’t very convincing, since Randy’s frown deepened. “He’s trying to wind you up. He wants to fuck with your head. If you ignore him, he’ll go away. I promise.”
Intellectually, Ethan knew this, and he tried to cling to logic and reason, he truly did. But damn Crabtree if he didn’t know precisely how to push Ethan’s buttons and maneuver him exactly where he wanted him. Despite Randy’s visit, Crabtree’s seed of doubt wormed its way into Ethan’s psyche, and by the three o’clock shift change, he was storming up the stairs to Crabtree’s office.
“Tell me why I’ll regret letting Randy back out of this of his own free will.”
Crabtree gave him a patient smile and continued to idly leaf through the papers in front of him. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m a silly old man who needs a hobby.”
Ethan made sure only the hand pressed on the outside wall beyond the doorframe and therefore out of Crabtree’s line of sight clenched into a fist. “I apologize for being short with you.” He took a deep breath and let it out again. “Please tell me.”
Crabtree didn’t look up from his papers. “The tension he feels over the party isn’t exclusive to the party. If you don’t face it now, you’ll have to face it another time. And it will only get worse the longer you put it off.”
“If you didn’t insist on flirting with him so shamelessly,” Ethan shot back, “there wouldn’t be any problem at all.”
Crabtree laughed. “If you honestly believe that, I’m very sorry.” He waved Ethan away with an impatient gesture. “I have work to do, as do you.”
Ethan lingered in the doorway longer than he should have, but it hardly mattered. Once again, the former gangster had the upper hand, and as usual Ethan didn’t know how to keep up, much less regain any semblance of an advantage. He felt especially foolish because not only had he failed to keep the man from bothering him, he’d caved and gone to confront him…and let Crabtree spin him on his hook some more.
Ethan went back to his office, taking the long way to stop off at the balcony above the casino, watching the game tables below.
Herod’s was the only casino in Las Vegas where the slot machines were in the back and the table games were prominent both in placement and in play. Their floor workers sought out uncertain tourists and taught them how to play with a soft voice and a smile. They taught poker lessons right on the floor.
They were the only casino shadow-run by a former Chicago Outfit gangster who even the feds thought was dead.
Well, at least Ethan assumed they were the only casino kicking it old school. He decided it was best not to think about that too hard or too long. The feds either.
Herod’s Poker Room and Casino operated on the idea that the game was the most important experience for their customers. They believed gambling was about advantages and maneuvers, and that of all the table games in the world a man could play, poker was sacrosanct. Herod’s believed knowing your opponent was more valuable than a pile full of chips.
Crabtree was an opponent. Crabtree was always Ethan’s opponent. He didn’t own the casino, but Ethan wasn’t fool enough to try to run it without the gangster’s advice and protection
. The gangster was an ally, but he was also sort of a parent Ethan was always striving to outgrow. As far as the casino was concerned, he knew Crabtree wanted very much to be outgrown.
But when it came to Randy? Ethan didn’t know what to think. There was no denying Crabtree had worked to get the two of them together. Did Crabtree still think Ethan was the best choice for Randy, though? Did he think playing matchmaker entitled him to the occasional sampling? Was Ethan hypocritical for denying him? Hadn’t he just played that same role with his own bartender?
And while he was musing, why was Ethan willing for anyone to sample Randy but Crabtree?
He pushed off the railing and went back to his office. He fired off an email to his secretary. He sent a text to Randy. Then he sent him another.
He paused to make sure he wanted to proceed, then he made one more phone call before he shut off his phone and internet. He locked the door, determined not to let anything short of a fire or robbery take his focus off finishing his review of the November earnings sheet.
RANDY HAD NO idea what was going on, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it one fucking bit.
First Ethan texted that he was going to be late, and then he sent another message right after saying, And don’t quit the Twelve Days of Randy. Randy texted back, and then texted again and again, and then he called, and then he called Ethan’s work line directly, which rerouted to Sarah, who explained politely that Ethan had said he didn’t want to be disturbed. And that yes, she knew this was Randy. And yes, she remembered that they were married, since she’d been at the wedding.
Randy was furious. Since Ethan had insisted he continue The Twelve Days of Randy, he did, sending out a mass email for his fifth day of a picture of Crabtree playing a very naughty Santa and Randy as his elf. It wasn’t the wicked costume Crabtree had ordered for him, but it was just about as bad.
Immediately after he hit send, he regretted it, and in a panic he sent an apology text to Ethan. He also called. Then he swore, got on his bike, and drove himself to the Watering Hole. By the time Slick caught up with him, Randy was so drunk he could barely stand, and he wasn’t entirely sure at first he wasn’t hallucinating his husband.
The Twelve Days of Randy Page 6
