The trigger? That time five months ago, when the two of them were having dinner after work. Another guy had come up to them and laughingly claimed Rory’s lips. Brent had been filled with the strangest sensation as the two locked lips—longing and rage and…jealousy? When the man had left, Rory had waved off the entire matter as a joke, and the two of them had never spoken of the matter again.
Right now, Brent smothered a groan as his wayward appendage stirred when he conjured the image of Rory in his mind, of him and Rory kissing. For the nth time, the incredible thought filtered into his mind: He couldn’t be in lust with his best friend, could he?
No, of course not. He’d never had the inclination, and with the tense situation at work regarding gays, this wasn’t the right time to be exploring his um…sexual identity.
And yet, the longing to see his best friend in a sexual situation had prompted him to reconsider and agree to Lindsey’s threesome fantasy. Not only would his wife be happy, but it would also be an opportunity for him to discover more of what he wanted…without being obvious about it. Nobody would get hurt this way and no friendship would be broken.
Although…he did feel bad about the smidgeon of self-interest that had prompted his decision. Truthfully, he didn’t have any objections to fulfilling Lindsey’s fantasy, just not that soon in their marriage. He’d wanted to make sure their marriage was built on solid foundations before they bring in someone else—whether that someone would be there for a day or a year. He’d thought they’d wait ten years; this thing with Rory just speeded up the timeline.
So last night, when he’d jokingly told his wife that he was inviting Rory to the threesome was more for himself than for her, he wasn’t really…joking.
He sighed and prayed this wouldn’t blow up in his face. Still, he’d already made the first step; he should see it through to the end.
And make sure Rory didn’t get wind about Brent’s sudden sexual disorientation. After all, the guy was undoubtedly heterosexual, as evidenced by his Cassanova ways back in his youth. He didn’t know what Rory would think and do if he knew Brent was…maybe…interested in him.
Brent frowned, remembering the guy who’d come and kissed Rory on the mouth. What was that about? Did Rory welcome the guy’s advances? Brent couldn’t recall as all he remembered were two male lips pressed together and the emotions the image engendered in him. And the resulting confusion.
Could he ask Rory about it? If he did, Rory might ask regarding his fascination. Nah, better just pretend he’d forgotten about the incident.
That decided, Brent clutched the folder in his hand, sprang up from his cubicle and down to the hall where Rory was holding court in an office of his own.
Not that Brent was jealous of Rory’s promotion. He wasn’t as brilliant as his friend; besides, he was more of a follower than a leader.
Waving Rory’s senior secretary Rose back in her chair, Brent gave a perfunctory knock on the door of Rory’s inner office and let himself in. Rory glanced up, gestured him to a chair and returned his attention to whoever was on the line. He was mostly listening, although he did rub a hand over the back of his neck, as though it hurt.
It probably does, Brent thought in amusement. Rory had the look of a man who hadn’t enjoyed a good night’s sleep and his face seemed forever etched in a scowl as he glared at the phone. The muscles of his shoulders were bunched tight under the light blue button-down and he held his body tensely, as though in preparation for giving the caller a much-needed argument.
Placing the folder on one of the visitor chairs, Brent walked around the desk to stand behind Rory and give him a neck-and-shoulder massage. As his hands settled on Rory’s shoulders, the other man jumped a little, then must have realized what Brent was doing and relaxed. Brent took it as a sign to go on. He and Rory had occasionally given each other such massages over the years from the moment they discovered that these much-needed rubs were the best way to prevent tension headaches.
Though not since his enlightening revelation five months ago.
Would it feel different now?
His hands moved in a familiar glide over Rory’s shoulders as he kneaded out the cricks and massaged the taut muscles. Once again he noticed how Rory’s blond hair curled at his nape, how thick his shoulder muscles were and how his light blue shirt fitted his athletic body perfectly. He’d been noticing small things like these ever since—
Yeah, ever since.
But then, of course he had to pay attention to the small details, especially now that he’d decided on making Rory the third in Lindsey’s fantasy. He wanted to make sure his wife was pleased with his choice. Just as the curling heat that was snaking its way through his spine was the result of imagining Lindsey in bed with him and his best friend. He wasn’t lying when he had told Lindsey that he was looking forward to watching another man fuck her. He firmly believed that spice was needed in a marriage to keep it fresh and interesting.
And this subtle tension that was stealing through his body at the skin-on-skin contact with Rory? The interested stirring of his cock?
They were nothing. Just—just—his imagination. Whatever.
Rory spoke, breaking into his thoughts. “Yes, Mr. Mathison, don’t worry, I have it covered.” His voice rumbled up Brent’s fingertips and vibrated in him.
Damn. His cock was hardening. Brent couldn’t chalk that up to imagination any longer. He snatched his hands away and looked down as though he’d seen a snake. To cover the slight tenting of his trousers, he made his way back to his seat and covered his developing pole with the folder.
Apparently, he’d been looking in the wrong area for the snake; he should’ve been looking inside his pants instead.
Rory dropped the receiver into its cradle. “Damn micromanaging bosses.”
Still confused and grappling with his surprising physical reaction, Brent was glad he was able to manage a weak chuckle. He grabbed the first thing that came to mind. “You look tired.”
“I’ll say.” Rory admitted, “I…uh, couldn’t sleep again last night.”
“The same dream?”
“Yes—no—I don’t know.” Rory sighed. “The last thing I remember when I woke up was some woman’s mouth around my cock. I woke to find myself with a hard-on and I couldn’t stop jerking off after that.” Tossing Brent an uncertain look, he continued, “Er, was that too much information?”
“We’ve always been able to tell each other things,” Brent choked out, although he couldn’t take his mind off the image of Rory’s hand wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself. He caught his breath at the painful ache in his cock as he stiffened and grew even more. What the hell—
“Yeah, well, I had to take several cold showers.”
Brent leaned forward, concern for his friend overriding everything. “Rory…” he hesitated. “Is this the first time after…after Lisa?”
Rory groaned. “No. It’s been happening for some time already.”
“You need a woman, someone to hold and talk with and fuck and—”
“I don’t want a woman,” Rory growled.
“Rory, it’s been what—nine years?”
“Brent—” He swallowed hard. “It’s only because you’re my best friend that I tell you this—and don’t you dare laugh at me—but I’ve forgotten. Forgotten what it’s like to go on dates, how to talk to women, how to kiss, to make love—” He broke off and rubbed a hand over his face.
Sympathy and compassion welled up in Brent. “You’ll remember, Rory. Once you touch a woman, you’ll know what to do. It’s like riding a bike, you never really forget.”
An unwilling grin lifted Rory’s lips. “I’d like to hear what Lindsey has to say to that. Anyway, I wasn’t talking about sex. Making love is a whole different animal.”
This was the perfect time. It was now or…later. “Linds and I need your help.”
“Shoot.”
The proverbial flashbulb lit over his head. “I think it’ll be to your benefit as well, i
f you consent to our request.”
“Shoot already.”
Brent glanced behind to make sure he’d shut the door to Rory’s office and took a deep breath. “Linds and I have been toying with the idea of a threesome, and we’d like you to be that person.”
Rory stared at him, stunned immobile. “Come again? No, no, I heard you right the first time. So, um, do you do this every time? I must admit I’d never seen you go this particular bent way back at the university.”
“Don’t freak out on me, buddy,” Brent pleaded. He suddenly realized he hadn’t thought the whole thing through before approaching Rory. He’d been so used to the idea of a threesome from Lindsey and his own selfish need to make it happen that he hadn’t stopped to consider the effect it would have on the monk-like Rory.
“I’m not freaking out,” Rory said, looking back at him over steepled fingers. “I’m just not used to the idea. So, am I your first victim?”
“You’re our only victim.”
“I’m flattered. Lindsey is one smokin’-hot woman.”
At Rory’s comment, the tension in Brent relaxed somewhat. Rory wouldn’t say that about Lindsey if he weren’t considering the proposition. He sent Rory a wry smile. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Oh, I do—did—in an objective way.”
“You’re the only man I trust enough to invite to the triad and, Rory, don’t you think this would solve your problem? You talked about having problems talking to women and making love—well, practice, with Lindsey. I’ll be there to coach you—or show you.” He aimed his best friend a wicked grin.
“Let me think about this, Brent. Give me a couple of days.” Rory then stared pointedly at Brent’s lap. “Want to show me something?”
Just like that, Brent felt the world tilt as his cock hardened some more and ached with painful intensity. For a moment there, he thought Rory was asking him to drop his pants and show him his cock. Before he followed Rory’s gaze and saw the folder.
Several seconds passed before Brent’s world steadied, enabling him to glance up. Rory was frowning with concern. “Brent, are you okay?”
He smiled weakly. “Yeah, just that these figures made me feel faint for a while. Here.” He opened the folder and spread it on Rory’s desk. “You were already handling this product last year. Maybe you can shed some light for me.”
*
A beguiling, naked woman with sea-green eyes sashayed toward him, where Rory lay on the bed half-asleep. He couldn’t believe his eyes and sat up. “Lindsey?” he croaked.
She didn’t say anything, merely smiled seductively. With a soft, scented hand, she pushed him back down on the bed and climbed in between his knees. She sucked his cock, while her hand fondled his sac. He groaned and rolled his head back on the pillow, welcoming the sensation of his flaccid cock growing hard and erect and the subtle tightening in his balls. Her mouth was hot and moist and tight…ah God, so tight as she sucked on him with deep, solid strength. Her tongue swirled deliciously over him and he couldn’t believe how hard he was getting, harder than he’d been the previous nights, certainly.
Holding his cock in one hand, she ran her tongue up and down his now-rigid length before cradling his balls in her mouth and rolling them around and gently sucking. His pain meter escalated to the top range and his body moved restlessly on the bed as he arched and writhed. He ached so damn much he wanted to explode—into the air, onto his stomach, into her heated-like-a-furnace mouth.
And in the background, a man…
Rory grasped her dark blond hair and tugged her mouth back to suck his cock again. He held her head steady while he fucked her mouth, pushing over and over into her heat until he erupted…
He jerked awake, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, wet with his cum.
Damn, a dream. A damn, fucking, hot wet dream.
He went to the bathroom, washed his hands, then lay back down on his bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep again but he had to try. He sneaked a glance at the bedside clock. Damn, only three thirty in the morning. He’d slept for like, what, two hours?
For the past five nights, ever since Brent had come to him with his ridiculous proposition, the woman in his dreams had assumed a face. What was even more ridiculous was that he was actually considering it.
Lindsey was beautiful and hot and sexy. Any red-blooded man would be attracted to her and he was as red-blooded as they come. But as he’d told Brent, it was an objective attraction, an appreciation for an object of beauty. But ever since Brent had approached him with his ridi—okay, serious—proposition, his objective appreciation was becoming more and more subjective and intimate and up close and personal. Sometimes, he’d even caught himself thinking about Lindsey and wondering what she tasted like, how she kissed, how—
And all the while, Brent was there in the images with Lindsey and having him there heightened—instead of dampened—his arousal.
Which wasn’t really all that unexpected.
Rory ran a hand down his face. He’d never told his best friend, but he’d always been attracted to Brent. Maybe since puberty. He’d since learned he was bisexual, and his relationships with women had helped screen his attraction to men. He hadn’t wanted Brent to freak out should he learn of Rory’s sexual orientation, since Brent had always been straight.
So why was Rory considering it now?
In their conversation that day in his office, Rory had implied there had been no other woman since Lisa. What his best friend didn’t know was that right after Lisa’s death, Rory had been mad with grief. Well, okay, Brent knew that, but not what came after. A well-meaning cousin had told him about the club No Holds Barred, where fantasies—any fantasy—can be fulfilled. He’d rushed to the place as soon as he had cleaned up and ordered a fantasy involving a woman with Lisa’s face and body. He had thoughts about having a final night with his wife, holding her close, loving her, telling her all the things that the accident had robbed from them. Closure.
However, the moment he entered the room and saw the woman, grief overwhelmed him and he could do nothing but sink to his knees and cry. To her credit, the woman didn’t shriek and flee; instead, she’d wrap her arms around him and rocked him. He hadn’t done a single thing that he’d originally intended, but the pouring out of his grief in her presence proved to be cathartic.
While he continued to eschew relationships over the years, a year after his first visit to No Holds Barred, he visited the club again and made it a monthly thing. To fuck.
Men or women, it didn’t matter, as long as the women looked nothing like Lisa.
At least, he hadn’t completely lied to his friend. He truly didn’t know how to kiss or make love to a woman anymore, but fucking? Yeah, a man couldn’t forget how to do that.
But it was his latest visit to the club that threw him for a loop. Instead of having “no preference” when asked for the woman’s description (all sexual situations were consensual and didn’t involve monetary compensation), he started describing the image on the forefront of his mind—a woman with green eyes, dark blond hair, full breasts—
He’d broken off when he realized just who it was he was describing and he fled as though demon hounds were nipping at his heels.
Now, in his darkened bedroom, he sat up and buried his face in his hands, surrendering to the inevitable. He wanted Lindsey and Brent, and he was going to take up Brent’s offer.
But on his terms.
Chapter Two
At about two in the afternoon, close to three weeks after Brent first brought up the topic of threesome, the doorbell pealed melodiously throughout the house.
Lindsey hurriedly clipped on her favorite star earrings, wondering why Brent had forgotten his keys, today of all days. She cast one last glance in the mirror, noted that she looked professional and elegant in her matching blazer and skirt. The fluorescent light picked out the red highlights in her dark blond hair, which was piled on top of her head and which also provided a sharp contr
ast to the flawless fair complexion of her face. Little tendrils of hair curling on both sides of her face lent a softened overall effect. Satisfied, she hurried out of the bedroom and down the stairs. The bell pealed again just as her fingers closed around the knob. She opened the door and frowned, unsurprised, at her husband. “Brent, honey, you forgot your keys again?”
He bent his head and engaged her in a long, apologetic, involving-the-tongue kiss. Before passion could cloud their minds, he broke it off. “Sorry, sweetie.” He grinned sheepishly. “I was in a hurry and left them in the office.”
She looked past him and smiled at the man who was just coming up the steps. “Hey, Rory.” Whenever she caught sight of her husband’s best friend, the woman in her always responded first. Today was no different.
Clad in a light blue button-down that enhanced the sapphire depths of his blue eyes, Rory Chandler’s rugged attractiveness hit her like a punch in the solar plexus. Especially when he smiled, as he was smiling right now. She blamed the blow for the increased beating of her heart and shallow breathing. Rory had always had that effect on her, ever since the day six years before when Brent had first introduced them.
When Rory drew near, he held her by the arms and bent his head for his kiss. She caught a whiff of his woodsy aftershave that made her head spin, so she closed her eyes even before his lips touched hers. He began his usual gentle exploration, licking and nibbling her lips up to the corners of her mouth. She moaned when his tongue traced her lips and, taking advantage of her parted mouth, he slipped inside to play with her tongue, caressing with fierce strokes. However, she was caught by surprise when he sucked on her tongue, as this was the first time he’d done so and she found that desire was turning all her bones to Jell-O.
Lust on Camera: A MMF Bisexual Romance (No Holds Barred Book 2) Page 2
