by Sierra Brave
“Trish.” Tommy’s voice stirred her to look in his direction, her eyes widened. “Where’d you go? You were staring a hole through Ken.”
“I was?” She feigned ignorance, blinking through the dawning of her beer buzz.
Ken wiped the tip of his nose. “Something on my face?”
Trisha tilted her head. “No, but you are from Texas.” Ken’s eyebrows lifted and his smile curled high but pinched on the ends.
“Yeah, so am I.” Tommy pointed to his own chest. “What about it?”
“Cowboy,” she offered vaguely, placing a hand over her mouth to shield her hiccupping before washing the diaphragm spasms down with another swallow of booze.
“Me, too?” Tommy sipped from his beer.
“Nope, just Ken.” She wagged a finger at him exaggeratedly while shaking her head. Placing the bottle to her lips, she chugged the rest and smacked the bottle down on the table. “Beer me!”
Both guys laughed raucously as Ken took her second empty. “I’m seriously considering cutting you off.” He contradicted himself, popping the top to her new beer before handing over the bottle.
“Well, you can ride.” Tommy nodded his head, and his gaze looked past them as if he was thinking the nickname over.
“And you can’t?” Ken knotted his eyebrows. “We both attended that particular summer camp.”
Tommy nodded but offered an answer. “True...but by the end of the week, I could trot around and stuff. You could do barrel run type shit.”
“I watched the instructors. I did what they did. It wasn’t that hard.” A hint of irritation lingered in Ken’s voice.
“Says the cowboy!” Trisha squealed excitedly, clapping her hands together. Ken smirked, eventually breaking an actual smile. Truth be told, the nickname had nothing to do with her boys’ home state, but she could hardly admit she came up with the moniker because Ken had the whole sexy, long, lean, strong, and silent rough-rider thing going on. More than once, she had dreamed of saddling up on his lap. She pawed the neckline of her borrowed shirt and fanned herself. Whoa—it’s getting hot in here. She decided to change the subject before she said something mortifying. “Let’s play a game!”
“We have Yahtzee.” Tommy held up the box.
As a new music video started, Trisha pointed to the TV and enthusiastically challenged them. “Montell Jordan—drink every time he says it or it’s!” Ken and Tommy anted up, grabbing their beers and bringing the rim to their lips. Since the name of the song was This is How We Do It, she was off and running, immediately taking her first swig. Not to be outdone, the guys followed her lead. By the end of the video, they all needed a new beer, and Trisha was feeling no pain.
Eyes widening, she jumped to her feet. Ken threw up his hands as if to catch her in case she took a header, and Tommy reclined backward, his head smacking the couch’s padding as he laughed. “What the hell, Trish?”
Dropping back to her knees, Trisha crawled over to the cooler like a little beetle bug and began hunting for a new beer. Grabbing one by the neck, she pulled the bottle out triumphantly, holding her trophy out for all to see. “I beered me!”
Slack-jawed, Ken eyed her with something akin to fear, or maybe he was worried while Tommy clapped. “Fantastic, I give it an eight out of ten.” Ken didn’t comment.
Trisha puffed out her lower lip. Why won’t he pay me any attention?
“What’s that look for?” Tommy cocked his head and rubbed his strong jaw.
“Nothing,” she lied, crawling back to her spot. Tommy’s appeal was completely different from Ken’s. Ruggedly handsome, tall, built, and blond, a virtual demi-god, he put any action hero to shame, while Ken was her delicate-featured beauty. I want them both! A shiver ran through her core even as her face flamed. She pressed her thighs together, attempting to squelch her carnal throbbing.
“Let’s play Shithead.” She handed Ken her bottle. He twisted the cap for her and started to hand the drink back but pulled away. Left hanging with her ready hand raised, Trisha frowned. What was his game? “Gimme!”
“I think she means Asshole.” Tommy pointed at the bottle and then to her as if to encourage Ken to let her have the beer.
“Fucking-A, you are going to be trashed if you keep going at this rate.” Creases formed on Ken’s forehead as he admonished her.
Tommy cackled. “What’s so new and different about that? Give her the damn beer.”
Brushing his bangs to the side, Ken turned up his straight, thin-bridged nose and shook his head as he passed Trisha her drink. “I’m not playing a game where either of you can boss me around and call me an asshole all night.” Ken waved them off with one hand.
“Won’t dance; won’t play fun games. What will you do, Ken?” Trisha snarled at him, scrunching up her face in a childish manner.
“Turn you back over my knee and spank your ass.” Ken’s voice held no indication of a threat, but he wore a sensual smirk.
Trisha’s heart pounded, and her breath hitched. She squeezed her thighs together again in a futile attempt to smother the fire burning between her legs. “Who says I won’t like that?”
Ken sucked in his breath, gazing at her intensely. Brushing a mess of unruly, shoulder-length curls back over her shoulder, she returned his stare, wetting her full, bottom lip with the thinner top one.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s back up.” Tommy narrowed his blue eyes as his brow furrowed, forming angry creases across his forehead.
Trisha drunkenly swayed while pointing her finger at Tommy. “Watch out, Kenny. He’s trying to steal cowboy from you.”
“He can have it.” Ken chuckled.
Trisha turned her face toward Ken and stuck out her lip at him in a full-on pout, but Tommy wasn’t having any of their nonsense. “Wait! What’s all this back over my knee stuff?”
“Nothing,” Ken said, a little too fast to sound believable.
Trisha’s eyes danced as she read the room. This could be fun. “Ken beat me while you were in the kitchen.” Trisha couldn’t keep a straight face, snickering as she fibbed.
“No, I did not!” Ken’s eyes widened as he shouted. “But now I wish I had.” He reached down and grabbed her ankle.
Trisha kicked at him as she squealed. “Don’t you touch me, you brute! You don’t even like the nickname I gave you, and now you’re trying to make me spill my beer!”
“What the ever-loving fuck?” Tommy’s angry tone made Trisha stop the horse-play to look at him. “Ken, didn’t we have an agreement?”
Trisha’s ears perked up. Agreement? About me? “What kind of agreement?”
Tommy stared at Ken but answered Trisha without looking her way. “A gentleman’s agreement.”
“Fuck. Tommy—she’s screwing with you. She’s a klutz! Tripped over her own feet and landed smack across my lap until I hauled her ass back up. That’s all. Stop shitting yourself.”
Tommy’s face softened while turning bright red but his posture remained tense, none of which bothered Trisha in the least as she fell backward while laughing her head off. She pointed at Tommy. “Pooping yourself.”
“Ha, ha,” Tommy sounded sarcastic as he slipped closer to tickle Trisha around the ribs.
“Nooooooo!” She shrieked, turning to run only to be caught by Ken who joined in mercilessly. “Stop!” Trisha swatted at Ken and kicked Tommy.
“Ouch!” Tommy jumped back, grabbing his knee. “Vicious little girl.”
“Okay! Okay! I give up! Whatever I did. Whatever I said, please forgive me!” Trisha squealed, trying her best to break free. Still laughing at her expense, the two ceased their assault. Trisha grabbed the pillow Ken had hit Tommy with earlier, swinging one way to smack Ken right in the face and hurriedly swinging the other way to pop Tommy across the head.
“Hey now! You’re going to mess up my luxurious locks.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair while smirking before he bent forward and snatch the pillow with one hand while gathering her up with his free arm. Trisha squirmed, resistin
g until Tommy pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Settle down now.” He nuzzled the side of her head.
Her chest tightened and her pussy sent shockwaves through her core. Tommy had hugged her before, but he had never held her close in such an intimate way. His hard chest supported her shoulder while his soft, yummy-smelling hair brushed against her neck and cheek. For some reason, he smelled like Ken tonight. She closed her eyes, breathing in his fragrance. Oh! Her eyes flickered open as his cock stirred beneath. He’s getting hard! Trisha’s breath caught in her throat, and she pursed her lips to repress a smile. As her eyelashes fluttered, she caught the expression on Ken’s face. Shit. He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut. Is he jealous? I can’t have these two fighting.
Scooting back into her seat, Trisha used both hands to shove Tommy away. “Unhand me, you troll!”
“Troll!” Tommy scrunched up his nose and twisted his lips.
“Well, when you make that face.” She pointed and laughed. “I saw a deck of cards over by the snacks. Let’s play poker.”
Tommy grinned and nodded. “Sure, but Ken will wipe the floor with us.”
Trisha shot a look Ken’s way, offering him a smile and a wink before awkwardly looking away while playing with her hair.
Ken stretched in his seat. “As much as I’d love to rake you two over the coals, we don’t have any chips.”
Well, here’s my opening. Hope my voice doesn’t crack. Trisha lifted her face, batting her lashes at him. “Who needs chips when we have clothes?
Chapter Four
4:00 p.m.
TRISHA slapped her cards on the table and gloated. “Read them and strip!”
“Ugh.” Tommy groaned as he peeled his shorts off and dropped them beside him. He was down to his underwear now.
Saliva swirled inside her mouth as her gaze clung to his rippling arm muscles, hard chest, and the hell of a bulge in his navy-blue briefs. She smacked her lips. Yum, yum, yum! I need some of that! Turning her attention to her other opponent, she lifted an eyebrow. “Ken, I think you need to pay up, too. What will it be? The shirt or your shorts?”
Ken answered wordlessly, pulling his shirt off over his head. As he raised his arms, the smoky intensity in his eyes bore into Trisha’s consciousness and threatened to melt her clothes right off her quivering body. She smiled, feasting on Ken’s sinewy, upper body like he was a prime cut of meat. His toned arms and shoulders framed his hard, well-built chest, showcasing his small, round, russet-colored nipples as they contrasted against his smooth, honey-tinged flesh. She pursed her lips, struggling to keep from coming undone as the image of her tongue gliding over his navel popped into her mind. Trisha sucked in her breath as she wrestled back control of her senses.
What luck! Ken losing to her was a near miracle, but she couldn’t expect him to focus on the game while they were hiding out from a big, bad hurricane. As she glanced toward Tommy, she gauged his reaction. Why does he look so pale all of a sudden? Something more than bad weather jitters was boiling under the surface between those two. Trisha held her tongue. Voicing her suspicions of discord without having any idea what had disrupted the balance between Yin and Yang, as she sometimes called the two, would be premature. Instead, she hid her concerns behind the long neck of a beer bottle, taking another swig. Ken gathered the cards to shuffle for another round. Trisha put aside her concerns to focus on her own game. She had already lost Ken’s shirt in the first round. Luckily, Tommy’s tank offered decent coverage.
After picking up her cards, she checked out the hand she had been dealt. She tried not to react to the unpromising situation. What a shame. Judging by the goofy grin Tommy was wearing, she didn’t have a chance of seeing him in his birthday suit this time around. Geez, Tommy—you have no poker face at all! Ken didn’t look especially thrilled with his hand, but she never could tell with him.
*
Ken brushed his bangs out of his eyes as he perused his cards. Not bad—he could probably win with these, depending on just how lucky Tommy’s hand was. The big dork obviously had something good. His gaze drifted toward Trisha, looking for one of her tells. She had a few. Letting her win again wasn’t an option. Neither was allowing Tommy to lose. Trisha needed to shed some more clothes, but Ken did not want Studly McBlond to sit around with his gigantic wang bobbing in front of her. He would have to play like a shark and make her fold.
He reached into the cooler and wrapped his hand around the neck of another bottle. The glass, cold and dewy from the melting ice, chilled his fingers as he twisted off the cap. Trisha still had a little less than half a bottle left, but as buzzed as she already was, she wouldn’t back down from a challenge. “That one is probably hot by now.” Ken pointed to Trisha’s half-drank beer, throwing down the gauntlet. Trisha’s nose scrunched as she looked at the bottle. He had her—she was too proud to waste booze.
Alcohol abuse—Trisha’s term for when perfectly good beer or liquor was spilled or discarded. Without even looking at how much she had left, she mouthed the rim, turning the bottle over and gulping down all that remained inside before accepting the one he was offering to the tune of Tommy whistling through his teeth and pounding a drum roll on the coffee table with his bare hands. Ken smiled to himself. Excellent—he would have no trouble manipulating the win for Tommy now.
Everyone took their turns, bantering, and trash-talking as they drew and discarded. Soon Trisha was halfway through her new brew and barely focusing on the game. Unfortunately, she seemed far too intrigued by the protrusion in Tommy’s underwear. Ken’s gaze skimmed her lower body. The shorts he lent her were riding up on her long legs, exposing her soft flesh nearly all the way up to her hip. He ached with the rhythmic pounding of his heart knocking against his chest as if someone was playing the xylophone with a sledgehammer. Attempting to regain his concentration, he banged a fist against his chest as if settling heartburn after a greasy meal while giving himself a mental pep talk. Get it together. You have to get that damn shirt out of the way.
“You folding, Ken?” Tommy smirked.
Could he be any more obvious? Ken hoped Tommy wasn’t being overconfident. “Not a chance,” he bluffed. His pair of queens was unlikely to beat what his best buddy was gloating over. “How about you?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stay in.” Tommy grinned. “Trisha?”
She frowned. “Whatever, let’s just lay them down.”
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Tommy chuckled. As Trisha cracked a smile, a light blush brightened her pretty face. Ken’s stomach simmered with anxiety and his neck and shoulders tensed. Why can’t I be the one capturing her attention? Tommy had the advantage of being funny. Humor wasn’t Ken’s thing...at least not intentional humor.
Trisha showed her hand. “Straight.”
Sticking his tongue out, Ken raspberried his cards, folding his lousy hand. “I’m out.” His breath hitched and his pulse raced. He couldn’t handle a buck-naked Tommy right now. Please win, dumbass...please win.
Tommy laid his hand down deliberately slow, allowing Trisha a chance to groan before he gloated. “All I have is a royal flush.”
“Ugh! You’re a royal flush!” Trisha stuck out her lips in another of her precious pouts as she complained. Silently, Ken stood, removing his shorts to reveal his gray, boxer briefs. He shivered as Trisha followed, standing a foot away, her cheeks flushing as she unrolled the turned-over waistband and pulled the string of his shorts. Shit! I thought she would shed the undershirt first. His breath caught in his throat as he watched. He licked his lips as she scooted the shorts down at a snail’s pace before allowing the bottoms to fall and pool around her narrow feet. Gripping the hem of Tommy’s tank top with both fists, she pulled the undershirt down like an incredibly short dress. Her high cheekbones resembled two cherry tomatoes now. Should I remind her that this was all her idea?
Trisha dropped down to sit on her knees, strategically placing her top to cover most of her rear while the hem sett
led far enough down her café mocha thighs to cover the sweet triangle between them. She averted her eyes, looking down at the cards that had betrayed her. Sexy, blonde, spiral curls framed her super cute, bashful expression while the outline of her hardened peaks jutted out beneath Tommy’s shirt as the ribbed material clung to their form. Uncharacteristically still, Trisha had to keep her arms glued to her sides or the T-back undershirt’s large armholes would leave her breasts completely exposed. Ken suppressed the sigh hung in the back of his throat. When the shorts came down, he had been so focused on her toned and tanned stems he missed out on a quick gander at her short and curlies before she covered them.
Ken’s underwear felt considerably more constrictive when he sat back down on the floor beside Trisha and across from Tommy. Peeking down, he noticed the embarrassing bulge straining the fabric. Tommy was sporting wood too, so he had no room to criticize, but Ken worried about what Trisha thought of their obvious lust. Maybe I should place my hands in my lap? No, trying to cover up would draw more attention.
Fuck it, maybe I should take a different approach and stoke the fire. I might never have another opportunity like this one. While dragging his line of vision downward, his gaze settled on the thin piece of material separating his eyes from her pussy. Try as he might, he couldn’t see between her legs, but Tommy’s wife-beater wasn’t long enough to shield all of her plump ass from him. As nonchalantly as he could, he inclined his head to gawk at the southern hemisphere of her sexy globes as they peeked out from under the hem. He licked his lips, spying the rounded curvature where her bouncy backside met her firm thighs. His cock twitched in his pants as he pictured what it would be like to knead those scrumptious balls of flesh, one in each palm.