O for Two Read online

  That was when Clint squeezed his shaft. He hissed and stood on his toes, but Clint only tightened his grip.

  “Having second thoughts, baby?” he asked quietly, but his expression was far from sweet. It held a threat of punishment—the sort of correction that mere thoughts of which made Ken want to be very, very bad.

  “Not at all.” Ken nudged Clint’s hand away and shed his pants and boxers in one thrust, followed by his shirt. “Just wondering what you have planned for later.”

  “For Olivia…” Clint cupped Ken’s sac and pressed his other hand against the small of his back before pulling him close to sandwich Ken’s erection between them. He kissed along the line of Ken’s jaw and ended at his ear where he whispered, “…or for you?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t keep her waiting,” Clint said then slipped his fingers between Ken’s parted legs and massaged his perineum. “She’s being so accommodating, so patient.”

  “God forbid we make her think we’ve never done this before.” Ken looked over at Olivia, who now lay on her side, watching them with an enraptured expression.

  “I’m fine with her knowing we haven’t,” Clint said. He dropped his hands and turned to her. ”There’s one thing you need to know about this arrangement.”

  Ken pulled the condom free from his pile of clothes and climbed onto the bed behind her. He admired her long legs and the round swells of her breasts as he ripped the packet open.

  Olivia turned her attention back to Clint. “And what is that?”

  Clint climbed onto the bed but stopped just short of touching her. His face was mere inches from hers. “We don’t make a habit of trawling for women. You’re the first we’ve shared.”

  “I—” She shuddered when Ken trailed light fingertips down her side. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “You’ll enjoy this.” What should have sounded like reassurance came out sounding matter-of-fact. As if there was no way she wouldn’t enjoy their attentions.

  Clint didn’t wait for her to respond. He rolled her over onto her back and nudged her bra down to expose full, round breasts and milk-chocolate nipples.

  Ken took just a moment to recover from the awe of her perfection then unrolled the condom onto his shaft.

  He picked up her hips, wrapped her legs around his waist, and angled her up.

  Clint dipped his fingers into her slit and spread her wetness along her lips. Then he grabbed Ken’s cock and guided him into her.

  Ken gripped her hips harder as he breached her tight hole then closed his eyes and sighed. He needed some time, just a few seconds to re-acclimate to the sensation. It had been so long, and being in a woman felt just as amazing as he remembered.

  “Ken…” she said and gasped.

  Ken opened his eyes to see her squeezing her nipples and kneading her breasts. Fuck, he could do that for her. He’d been so distracted, but how could he neglect those perfect breasts? He wanted to taste them, draw her nipples out between his teeth until she cried for mercy. But before he could reach for them, she said, “I want you both to come.” She turned to Clint. “Take off your pants, so I can suck you.”

  Clint raised one dark red eyebrow at her.

  “Please,” she said.

  After a moment, he unfastened his pants.

  Ken rolled her over and put her on all fours then started his dizzying rhythm in and out of her.

  Clint resettled on the bed and lied on his back. Olivia serviced him while Ken increased his speed and intensity.

  He knew Clint was in his blissful zone, when he tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

  Olivia’s head bobbed hungrily as she took Clint’s cock into her mouth, and Ken felt that previous pant of jealousy poisoning him again.

  He wanted her attention, wanted her thoughts on him, so he pressed the tip of his thumb into her anus.

  She stilled then stopped sucking, suitably stunned.

  Good.

  She pushed back against his hand and his cock and murmured, “Yes,” around Clint.

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, I like that.” She went back to work on Clint while she tightened her cunt around Ken.

  Well, then.

  If that was what she wanted, he’d give it to her.

  He slipped in more of his thumb to slowly allow her room to stretch, before he resumed his punishing thrusts into her pussy.

  He thrust in and out, in and out, as her moans fueled his vigor and stoked his tenacity. And every time Clint distracted her by shifting or sighing in response to her skillful tongue, Ken went harder and tugged at her entrance with his thumb.

  She made a gulping noise, and her body clenched beneath him. Clint’s hands were at the back of her head as he held her in place.

  When her distraction had ebbed, and when Clint’s hands dropped and his cock fell from her mouth, Ken pulled his fingers out of her ass, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her hot cheek. “Are you ready, Olivia?”

  “Yes, yes!” she said, and pushed herself up more steadily onto her hands and knees, which forced her delectable ass against his thighs. She gasped when Ken nudged her legs farther apart and lightly pressed her head down to the bed, inches from Clint’s sac. “I only lasted this long, because I was distracted.”

  “I noticed,” he said and looked up and down Clint’s body.

  As if he could feel his lover’s stare, Clint opened his eyes.

  “Was that me making it up to you?” Ken asked as he found Olivia’s clit with his right hand and tugged it between his second and third fingers.

  “No.” Clint sat up and put his back against the headboard then pulled his legs in and draped his arm over his knees. With his fingers falling onto his shins, he highlighted the long surgical scar beneath his right knee. The one that acted as a reminder of the injury that had killed his dream career prematurely.

  “You still owe me, baby. Nice try.” He winked.

  Well, fuck.

  “What is it you owe him?” Olivia asked in a faltering voice as Ken pushed into her again.

  He didn’t answer. He just planted his palms against the covers and stoked her long and hard until she milked him with her spasming pussy and cried out. As he spurted inside her, his thighs quaking from exertion, he lifted his face toward the ceiling and closed his eyes.

  He’d worried that if he took a woman again, he’d like it too much. He’d feared that those years he’d spent with Clint had only been a phase. He’d worried he’d “go back,” ashamed that he’d wasted so many years on with a man in what amounted to just an experiment.

  As he pulled out of her and eased her down to the bed, he realized he was no longer worried. He was still Clint’s, and Clint was still his. That seemed perfectly obvious to him. He understood it better now that they’d brought a stranger into their bed.

  At this point, he had a different worry. As much as he loved Clint and wanted him, he wanted Olivia’s attention, too. He craved it in softer ways than what he knew with Clint.

  He understood now why Clint hadn’t been happy. He’d had his ménage before, and it had given him everything he’d needed at the time.

  Now Ken realized that he, too, wasn’t getting all he needed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When Olivia had stepped back into her discarded, and now wrinkled, dress, her plan had been to set the carpets ablaze with her turbo-charged retreat. She’d planned to hide out the rest of the trip in the hopes of not being spotted until it was time for the shuttle to drop her off at the airport. She’d just been fucked hard by a guy and gave another the most professional blowjob she’d ever managed. Hell, she shouldn’t have been proud of such a thing, and she knew it, but the look on Clint’s face as she’d sucked him off was so awestruck, she felt wanton and provocative.

  They must have thought she was one of those “thirsty” bitches who earned her keep with what she did between the sheets, but she’d just gotten caught up in things, and it had been exhilarating…until she took the time to
think about it.

  She’d gotten as far as the door when Clint caught her by the waist and pulled her against his gorgeous, nude body. The man was shameless and should have been. He was fit without giving off the impression he’d spent hours in the gym cutting himself into a perfect, physical specimen. She didn’t like when men looked like they tried too hard.

  His cock hung between them and was pressing against her dress, but with him kneading her ass the way he was, she couldn’t muster up enough indignation to care. He could massage her into a whimpering, useless lump if he wanted to, and she wouldn’t complain.

  At least not until later.

  “Join us for dinner, O? We missed out on lunch.”

  “And by dinner, you mean…”

  He grinned, and all at once there was a draft on her ass. He’d nudged her dress up in the back. “Eating food. Unless…” He brushed his lips against her cheek and caught her earlobe between his teeth then pulled it. “…unless you were thinking about something else. I didn’t get to finish.”

  Ken crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned his head to the side. “You are so brazen, Clint.”

  “If you don’t ask, how are you supposed to get what you want? Besides, being brazen is how I got you, isn’t it?”

  Wait. The guys were good company, but she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be gotten.

  “Uhhh…” She nudged Clint’s roving hands free of her ass and cursed herself for the evidence of her arousal dampening her thighs. She hadn’t lied when she’d said she couldn’t go twice, but that didn’t mean the touch didn’t feel nice. She wouldn’t mind him exploring her, but not if it meant she was some gay guy’s object of curiosity. Still, most who were only experimenting probably didn’t eat pussy. She turned to Clint. “You said Clint was your first, so are you gay or bisexual?”

  He shrugged. “Neither.”

  “You’ve got to be one or the other.”

  “Why bother with labels?” Clint asked, and his hands where there again, cupping her ass as if he couldn’t get enough of it.

  Looking up at his face from that angle, she realized there was something familiar about him she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

  “So…you like women? Both physically and emotionally, I mean.”

  “Hmm…” Clint said then nudged her right knee up and wrapped her leg around his. He ground his pre-cum-slicked cock against her belly.

  Ken was right. Clint was brazen, and for some reason, she wasn’t all that put off by it.

  “I’m pickier with women,” he said.

  “Thanks a lot,” Ken grumbled. At least he’d put his boxer shorts back on. She didn’t know if she’d be able to think straight if both of them were walking around naked as jaybirds. She felt a bit like a porno fluffer. She wanted to arouse them, just because she could.

  But it wasn’t just that. She wanted to play connect-the-dots with the freckles on Clint’s chest and shoulders. She wanted to sit on Ken’s lap and carefully examine all the intricate tattoo work on his neck, shoulders, and arms.

  She shouldn’t want to play with two boys at once, but she couldn’t shake the idea of having them both at once as they took her to her brink and pushed her beyond it.

  And because they were at The Beaudelaire, no one would ever have to know.

  Clint chuckled and let Olivia’s leg down. “Don’t be mad, Ken. All I meant is that men hit my radar harder.”

  Radar. Why did that word seem to have such a strong connection to Clint? It had something to do with his familiarity. God, she hated not being able to put two and two together. She was smarter than this.

  “A woman’s got to be spectacular for me to pay attention to her,” Clint said.

  “Huh.” She nodded, though she wasn’t really listening. She was going to figure out from where she knew this guy before her brain exploded from the curiosity.

  “So, dinner? We can dine under the stars tonight,” Ken said. “I think they’re providing togas. You should probably wear as little as possible to accommodate for it.”

  She scoffed. “Easy access to go with all that wine on the menu, huh? Nice try. Bacchanal was a Greek thing. Togas were Roman.”

  “I do love a smart woman,” Clint said.

  “I have a lot of free time to read, and a brain that tends to vacuum up useless trivia,” she said.

  She fiddled with her dress strap and nibbled her bottom lip as Ken looked her up and down. It was as if he was plotting a course of attack, but the truth was if he just asked nicely, she’d let him in. Saying he was an amazing screw would be an understatement. It’d be like saying the Grand Canyon was simply a ravine.

  “Come on,” Clint said, and he ran his hands up her spine before he let them rest at the crook of her neck. He drew her in close, thus enveloping her in his spicy male scent, and her reflexive response was to sink her teeth into his shoulder to mark him.

  The sound of his hiss cleared her head. She pushed back from him and covered her mouth. “Sorry,” she said from behind her hand.

  Clint’s eyes narrowed, and slowly he gave her a knowing grin. He looked down at the bruise on his chest and rubbed it. “See. You are hungry.”

  She chuckled nervously and backed toward the door.

  “It’s all right,” Ken said. “He bites back.”

  Oh, shit.

  Clint was either a little scary or a lot dominant. Maybe both. She didn’t mind a little pain, enjoyed it even, but not from one-night stands. Shit. It wasn’t even night yet.

  Seemed like these two guys wanted to play some more, and she was curious enough to see what would happen. But she needed some time alone to find out what she could about them. Ms. Gibson may have nudged Clint in her direction, but Olivia didn’t know shit about why they were at the Den. Changing clothes would be a good enough excuse to slip away.

  She put her back against the door and looked from one man to the other. Both of them had a curious expression on their faces. “Okay. I’ll go shower and meet you downstairs on the lawn.”

  “So, under the stars like Ken said. It’ll be a cabana orgy.” Clint’s voice took on an ominous burr that had her clenching her pussy. He pressed his hands on either side of her face next to the door and leaned in close to skim his lips across hers. “We’re not going to share you, not with anyone else.”

  “I hoped you wouldn’t.”

  “You like showing off?”

  Actually, until she came to this place, she hadn’t thought she did. That had always been her least favorite thing about fetish clubs. She liked a little extra attention but not too much scrutiny. She skimmed her hands down his naked sides to his hips and barely resisted the urge to grab his hard shaft. She wanted to drop to her knees and properly worship him. Again.

  Her brain was a fucking mess, and it was because Clint was in her space, weaving some sort of magic spell she couldn’t break. She took a deep breath and nudged him back.

  Ken was pulling on a T-shirt on and covering all that ink.

  “I just don’t want to waste hours at a formal meal. I want to be able to move around.”

  “Fair enough. What time are you meeting us?” Clint asked.

  “You really do have a one-track mind, don’t you?”

  He shrugged and pulled that damned smirk again. She wanted to kiss it right off his face.

  “How about we formally introduce ourselves, before any more so-called meals transpire?” she asked.

  He pressed a hand to his chest and gaped in feigned outrage. “Our full names? That implies a level of commitment I’m not sure you’re ready for.”

  She rolled her eyes but had to laugh. “I’m Olivia Patterson.”

  Ken said, “Ken Brook, like a stream, and not with the extra E like the girl’s name.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Ken.” By now, almost every part of them had met, so swapping last names shouldn’t have seemed so damned intimate. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

  Clint picked up her weak right hand and gave it a squ
eeze she barely felt. He kissed the back of it, and she became enraptured in his sea-foam stare. “Clint Morstad.”

  “Morstad…” she whispered as he turned her hand over and kissed the tender underside of her wrist. Morstad… Radar…

  She did know those names, just not how. She really needed to spend more time out in the real world, and not just in planes or holed up in her apartment with her nose in books.

  “Okay, Mr. Morstad.” She stretched up on her toes to give him a quick peck on the lips, which quickly escalated into a smoldering French kiss that had her nipples taut beneath his crush, and her knees shaking.

  She gasped and pushed him back a few inches.

  He winked.

  Damn him.

  “See you for dinner,” she said, nearly wheezing.

  She stepped away from the door, and he pulled it open. She strode toward the staircase like a woman on a mission and whispered Morstad over and over, afraid she’d forget it.

  Maybe Clint was someone famous. There’d been a non-disclosure agreement in the contract she’d signed for the Den of Sin weekend, which was to protect the wealthy and famous who sometimes played there.

  If Clint fell into either of those categories, she’d know he was probably just looking for a weekend toy. She was under no illusions these trysts should mean anything, and she hadn’t come here looking for a relationship, but she didn’t want to think she was some disposable thing they’d both forget about the moment they returned to their home.

  She was sick of not being remembered.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Clint nudged one of the numerous bolster pillows toward the edge of the cushioned bench and pulled the cabana’s curtains open all the way around. After going through all that trouble convincing Olivia, it would be a shame if she were unable to locate them.

  Ken stepped barefoot into the cabana carrying a tray of three fine crystal wine glasses and two magnums of wine, one white, one red. He set them on the table.

  “Think she’ll stand us up?” he asked and sank onto the edge of the extra-wide cushion.