O for Two Page 5

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Olivia hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly, but now that they were in motion, she sure as hell wasn’t going to stop them. The guys seemed so eager, so desperate to please her, what difference did setting make, really?

  No one else was paying them any attention. People were in their own enclosures, minding their own business, and she could only hope they were having as good a time as she was. And she was having a good time, in spite of her still not being sure what a man of Clint’s stature would want with her.

  While she was online, she’d looked up Ken, too, and while he’d been harder to find information about, he was far from being a ghost. He was an active community volunteer and played upright bass in a jazz band, of all things. He looked damn good in a gold tux, and now she understood why his fingertips were calloused. She’d even found a few pictures of the two men together, so there was no question of their relationship status. Though she still wondered what they were doing at The Den. Guys like these two could pick up a third anywhere. She saw it all the time at the clubs, where it was more anonymous. But she decided not to worry about it for the moment. She didn’t come to The Beaudelaire to worry. She could do that at home.

  Clint rolled a condom down the length of his big cock and eased to the edge of the bed as he reached for her. She crawled after him, keen to her bare ass being on display to Ken and feeling all the more titillated for it.

  As she straddled Clint’s thighs, he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked hard, abrading her flesh with his teeth. She cried out when he dug his nails into her ass and held her just out of reach of his cock. It dizzied her with a combined whammy of anticipation and fear.

  He wasn’t going to be gentle. He was going to mix her pleasure with pain.

  “Come on, Clint,” she whispered as she dug her knees against his hips to firm her balance. “Fuck me, or I’ll fuck Ken. Don’t make me wait.”

  Clint let out a feral-sounding groan and pushed her down forcefully onto his cock.

  She threw her head back and gasped, as she willed herself to turn her panic into exhilaration. He was as big as Ken, but from this angle, the penetration seemed so much sharper. At this angle, he could hurt her.

  He lifted her ass a bit and held her in place with strong arms. Then he began swiveling his hips to work himself in and out of her with a masterful rhythm. He pulled harder at her breast as he thrust forcefully, and the overwhelming surge of sensations made Olivia feel a bit dizzy. Her exposed skin tingled in the night air, and even the sensual music playing out on the lawn seemed to caress her. Mouth, hands, cock.

  There was a new touch at the small of her back and warm breath on her neck. She opened her eyes, but before she could turn her head, a strong, rough hand caressed her left cheek and held her face forward.

  Ken slipped his middle finger into her mouth and said, “Suck it.”

  She took it in deep and wet it from tip to base before she swirled her tongue around it as if it were his cock. He slipped his index finger in as well, and she sucked them both while enjoying the attention of his other hand working her ass.

  He removed his fingers, and Clint swirled his hips to stretch her more and probe his tip against her g-spot.

  “Yes, Clint,” she said breathily. “Right there. Fuck me right there.”

  “You’ll come when I want you to and not before,” Clint said calmly, as if he wasn’t giving her pussy a workout. He lifted her off his cock a bit more, dug his fingertips into her ass a bit deeper to part her cheeks, then just barely fucked her. At this point, he was pleasuring himself more than her. Before she knew it, his teeth were once again on her breast. Clint pulled the bit of skin just beneath her nipple between his teeth and bit, at the same time Ken entered her with his fingers from behind.

  She cried out from all of the overwhelming, competing sensations, but all her body wanted to do was milk Clint’s cock and bear down on Ken’s hand. The biting was kind of nice, too. She liked this feeling of possession no man had ever managed with her before.

  Maybe that was because she hadn’t had two men before.

  Ken snaked a hand around her body to palm her other breast and pushed his fingers into her as far as they could go, while Clint resumed his furious fucking.

  “Oh, God!” she whispered and leaned her head back against Ken’s shoulder. “Please, Clint. I can’t—”

  “Shh,” Ken whispered and nibbled at her ear. He danced his tongue over her earlobe as Clint kissed between her breasts.

  Her legs began to shake beneath her, and if it weren’t for Clint holding her so firmly and Ken’s hand inside her, she likely would have fallen over.

  “Would a little pain hold off the orgasm?” Clint asked then had the audacity to laugh.

  She moaned and dug her fingers into his shoulder, aggrieved that they remained covered by his shirt. The answer was, no. She didn’t think it would make a difference. She was going to come and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It’s not like he was going to punish her for it, and if he did, what would it be? Maybe she’d like it.

  Ken had implied as much about himself.

  “Fuck you, Clint,” she managed to say. Then she let go as she gave into her orgasm and let the hormonal euphoria settle in.

  Clint ceased fucking her and stood with her. Ken freed his fingers from her ass, and the next thing she knew, she was tossed onto her back, and Clint climbed on top of her.

  Through her blissful haze, she could see his handsome features were pulled into a serious expression, and his green eyes narrowed as if daring her.

  “You need to trust me,” he said and shoved his cock back into her.

  “I don’t even know you,” she said as she laced her fingers behind her head. She grinned at him, and he picked her legs up by the ankles and dropped them atop his shoulders.

  She didn’t know why she was pushing him the way she was. Maybe it was because he seemed to be trying too hard to be a gentleman, when it was very obvious he had a wild streak. She could tell from the pictures he took that he preferred to capture the messy stuff. They didn’t consist of bats connecting with speeding balls or runners sliding into home base. He took pictures of players before the pitch. He photographed their apprehension, and later, their shock when they did something they hadn’t expected. There were also the non-baseball pictures of men and women with anguished expressions, pulling on their own hair from their inability to process all of their emotions.

  They won. They lost. They felt.

  Clint was a man who understood what it meant to feel things, so why was he trying to hide it? Which was the real Clint? She intended to find out.

  “You will know me,” he said and worked himself deep into her. He stroked her rhythmically as he drove his fingers through her hair.

  “I hope so,” she said and meant it.

  Anguish pulled at his features, and he called out her name when his cock pulsed inside of her. Then he let down her legs and fell onto the bed beside her, breathing heavily. He covered his face with his hands, and just as she was about to reassure Clint everything was okay, Ken held his finger up to his lips.

  She nodded in understanding.

  Ken handed her a warm, moistened towel from the compartment beneath the lounger. They really thought of everything at the Den of Sin. She hadn’t known what the wicker compartment near the opening was, but now she recognized it as a hamper. In the summer, the people who swam in that massive pool probably ditched their towels there.

  “I’d like you to have an actual meal,” Clint said quietly. “Would you let us buy you dinner? We can have something sent to your room.”

  To her room?

  She dabbed at the stickiness between her thighs and cringed when she saw the purple bruise blooming on her breast. That would probably hurt the next time she tried to wear a bra.

  “Nice quiet meal, unmolested,” Ken said and handed a second towel to Clint as he sat up.

  Clint’s expression gave nothing a
way, but Ken’s easy grin gave her guidance.

  “I’ve had a lot of lonely meals in quiet hotel rooms over the past few years. I could do with a little company.”

  Ken’s grin broadened, and he extended his hand. She took it, and he helped her off the large cushion.

  She tugged her stretchy dress over all her scandalous bits and eyed Clint. “Unless you’d like some time alone.”

  He exhaled through parted lips and dragged his hand up the back of her leg before he stopped right at the edge of her dress. It didn’t seem to be a sexual touch at all but an unspoken acknowledgment.

  She let Ken pull her up then looked back once at Clint who was staring back at her with a longing a man who was already paired up shouldn’t have been prone to.

  But what made her even more confused was that that Ken’s expression held the exact same sadness.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ken didn’t know how he was able to keep his hands to himself while Olivia tucked hungrily into her lobster ravioli, but he was glad he’d managed it. He liked having her near him and able to touch her whenever and as much as he wanted. The poor woman had to be practically starved, seeing as how they’d distracted her from both her lunch and dinner.

  Room service had finally brought their meal up to Ken and Clint’s room at around ten p.m. All the sullen attendant had to say for herself was, “Sorry, we got backed up.”

  Clint had tried to argue with the woman that she should take some pride in her service, but Olivia slipped in front of him, folded a five-dollar bill into the woman’s hand, and thanked her.

  When she’d closed the door, Ken said to his lover, “Honey, not vinegar, Clint.”

  Clint had rolled his eyes while Olivia laughed. “I’m a flight attendant. I get yelled at all the time, and it’s usually for no good reason. I know hard days, and it looks like she’s having one. Sometimes you have to be merciful to us customer service types.”

  She’d nudged past the two of them and helped herself to some food, while Clint gave Ken a questioning look.

  “What?” Ken asked.

  Clint mouthed flight attendant?

  Ken nodded. She’d told them that before, but he must have been in a lust-induced haze, and now it seemed the ramifications of her career choice had finally settled in.

  He knew exactly what Clint was getting at.

  In the present, Clint nudged his foot beneath the table and looked toward Olivia, who was buttering her bread in a precise manner. He made a subtle flapping gesture.

  Oh.

  Why couldn’t Clint ask for himself? It was as if he was scared of the woman or something. He’d never seen Clint like this.

  “Liv,” Ken said, barely able to suppress a laugh. Clint narrowed his eyes to warning slits, but Ken soldiered on unaffected. “Where do you live when you’re not in the air?”

  She chuckled. “I move every six months or so, just because I can. I usually lease a furnished corporate apartment or book an extended stay suite. I get to experience a lot of the country that way.”

  “You’re homeless,” Clint said.

  “That would be overstating things. I always have a roof over my head.”

  “You have someplace to stay, but not a home.”

  She set down her fork, and her forehead furrowed. “Well, I guess that’s true.”

  Ken gave her left hand a gentle nudge. “You could live anywhere?”

  “As long as I have easy access to an airport, yes. Why?”

  “Never mind. Why’d you come here?” Clint asked. No one ever seemed too offended by the way he dominated conversations, although he often left his companions feeling a bit yanked around in a What just happened? sort of way.

  Ken had experienced that on the day he and Clint met. In one moment, they’d been discussing batting averages and sponsorships, and in the next, Clint had leaned in, tugged on one of Ken’s ear gauges, and asked in a whisper. “Is your cock pierced, too?”

  At first, Ken had been embarrassed by the brazen question, and then he realized no one else at the bar they’d retreated to after the concert was paying any attention to them. With Clint’s hand inching toward his crotch under the table, he’d grown impossibly hard, and answered the question right before Clint could grab him to learn for himself that Ken’s dick was perfectly intact.

  Clint had pulled his hand away and leaned back, grinning before he put his beer up to his lips. Then he went right back to his previous conversation with his teammates, discussing the upcoming lineup and how much they all hated the new trainer.

  Ken had sat there reeling.

  Olivia set down her fork and folded her arms atop the table. “Why’d I come here? The same reason as everyone else, I guess.”

  “You presume to know everyone’s reasons?” Clint asked, and he leaned his elbows onto the table, as well. He didn’t bother suppressing the look of incredulity on his face, but that was Clint.

  “No, I don’t, but I imagine most people are here to have a no-strings-attached good time. That would be a huge draw to a lot of people, don’t you think? They could come here and play and not worry about being judged. They could give as little or as much information as they wanted, in order to protect themselves and their reputations.” She smiled. “I’m pretty sure I saw one of those television court judges this morning at breakfast. She was pulling a much-younger man through the buffet line behind her. He carried her plate and wore a collar and leash.”

  “So you’re saying she can indulge in her fantasies then go back to her life?”

  “Exactly. The woman doesn’t feel any affection for him.” She shrugged and picked up her fork. “He’s just a toy.”

  “Then you’re here looking for a toy? Or toys, rather,” Clint asked.

  She pulled her fork tines through the dregs of her sauce and stared at her plate. “No. I just wanted to shock myself a little. Jumpstart my passion, I guess.”

  “Why shock? Isn’t that for people who have problems feeling emotion?”

  “Maybe it is,” she said quietly. “Or maybe I expect things that no man can give me.”

  “Like what?” Ken asked. The conversation had taken a decidedly downward turn, but he wanted to squelch his curiosity. If it were a matter of standards, perhaps neither he nor Clint met them. If that were the case, they needed to know it now before anyone got too attached. He feared he was already too late.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not even certain it’s something I can easily put into words, but I think I’d know it when I see it.”

  She looked from Ken to Clint then down to her nearly empty plate again. She really had been hungry.

  Clint pushed back from the table and cleared his throat. He moved a hand toward Olivia’s shoulder but pulled it back at the last second. She hadn’t even noticed the breach of her personal space.

  Ken hated that in this place of impersonal interaction, it may have been pushing the limits of propriety to simply ask what was wrong. She wasn’t here for emotional entanglement. But he was already emotionally involved, and judging by Clint’s pained expression, Ken guessed he was, too.

  They didn’t want to see her hurting.

  Clint got up and went to the door. “O, would you like something for dessert? I was going to go downstairs for some air, and I can bring you something back. Or maybe I can call room service again before I leave.”

  She gave him the barest grin. “I’m not sure Miss Burke would be so keen to see us again in such a short period.”

  “You’re probably right.” Clint wrapped his fingers around the doorknob and pursed his lips contemplatively. What was he up to? Clint wasn’t generally the kind of man who needed to go off and think, so he had to have something else up his sleeve. “If you’re all right with hanging out with Ken for a while, I’ll bring something back up.”

  She turned toward Ken. “Are you sick of playing host yet?”

  “To you? Never. What’s the alternative? You go back to your room or down into the mass of bodies drinki
ng and writhing down in the ballroom?”

  “One of those sounds better than the other,” she said.

  “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Clint said and left. His words were probably intended to be a suggestion, but they came out sounding like a command.

  Olivia looked confused, but before she could think too much on Clint’s actions, Ken grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

  “Hey, let’s check out the balcony. We’ve got a view of the lawn and pool. I bet there are still folks out in the cabanas.”

  She followed him wordlessly to the door, and he loosened his grip as he unfastened the lock. He didn’t want her to think she was being manhandled. He held her hand because he wanted to. It was delicate and small and fit perfectly in his. When they parted ways later, he’d remember her softness and carefree femininity. Everything about her, from the top of her impeccable hair down to the soles of her feet, was perfect. She was exactly his type, and he knew it from the moment he’d spotted her. He’d been watching her for days and had hoped Clint would drop a hint as to his interest. He thought Clint hadn’t even noticed her. When they decided to divide and conquer, Ken had made his move and was happy Clint was pleased with Ken’s discovery. No other women had stoked his fire in the same way.

  He let go of her when they approached the railing, and she wrapped both her hands around the iron as she peered out at the dusk-shrouded lawn. “They’re still going at it down there,” she said reverently. “What do you think they’re doing?”

  “Hmm.” Ken wrapped an arm around her back and put his hand on the railing next to hers. Their hips touched, and her shoulder grazed his chest. She put her head back to look up at him, and there was an unasked question in her expression that seemed to be, What are we doing?

  It was a question he’d have to leave unanswered for the moment.

  “I imagine they’re getting their fill of fancy wine and highbrow music. Probably some kissing going on as well.”