“Only kissing,” he agreed, dragging his lips from Calvin’s ear to the corner of his mouth.
Calvin’s phone rang, startling him. He jumped back, shoulders heaving with the rush of breath he pulled into his lungs. A gorgeous crimson had spread up Emory’s cheeks, matching the roses on the bottom of his tie. Calvin adjusted himself, and the phone rang a second time.
Emory looked pointedly at the interruption on his desk, and Calvin leaned over, stabbing his finger onto the speaker phone button.
"Yes?”
“Mr. Silver, you have a delivery.” Clarice, the receptionist informed him.
“What is it?”
“I think it’s best seen,” she offered with a small laugh.
“Can you bring it back?” Calvin glanced up at Emory who was still plastered against the door.
“I’ll send the delivery person back. Thanks.” Clarice hung up and Calvin shrugged.
Emory stepped away and twisted the knob to push the door open. He peeked around the corner and made a sound in his throat.
“What?” Calvin asked.
Emory moved out of the doorway and shook his head as the delivery person came into view, a large vase of flowers in his hand.
“Calvin Silver?”
“That’s me.” Calvin searched out the man’s face behind a cluster of red blooms.
“Where can I put these?”
“Uhm, on the table by the window.” Calvin pointed to a low table that sat below one of the windows in his office.
The flowers were set down, and while Calvin signed for them, Emory wandered over to the spray and plucked a card out. He twisted the envelope between his fingers and held it in Calvin’s direction once the door was closed again.
“I wonder who these are from,” Emory teased. “I wonder if I get some, too.”
Calvin opened the card and immediately recognized Graham’s clunky scrawl.
"To my husband and my new lover,” he read aloud.
“Oh,” Emory mumbled, chewing his lips between his teeth.
“I can still feel you both.” Calvin stopped reading and stared at the ceiling, counting to ten before continuing. He was not trying to stain his pants with precum before he’d even finished his first cup of coffee. “Until next time, G.”
Calvin passed the card to Emory who scanned the words at least four times before returning the card.
“Is he always like that?”
“He used to be.”
“You’ve said that a lot the past twelve hours.”
“Well.” Calvin shrugged and slipped the card into his pocket.
“When are we going to see each other again?” Emory asked. “I know I’m seeing you right now, but the three of us?”
Calvin sat down behind his desk. “Let’s call him and see.”
Emory propped himself on the edge of the desk, and Calvin dialed Graham’s number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Did your flowers come?” Graham’s voice rumbled through the speaker.
Calvin turned the volume down.
“They did.”
“Is Emory with you?”
“He is.”
“I want to know when next time is,” Emory said. He twined his ankle around Calvin’s leg and pulled him closer. Calvin’s chair rolled him into Emory with ease.
“When do you want it to be?”
“Lunch time.” Emory laughed.
Calvin grabbed his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Emory was like magic. He didn’t know how to explain it beyond that.
“I work late tonight,” Graham told them. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“If that’s the best you can do.”
Calvin squeezed Emory’s hand.
“I’ll be thinking about you until then,” Graham countered. “And you, Cal.”
Calvin’s cheeks flamed. Emory reached forward and dragged a finger over his hot skin.
“He’s blushing,” Emory ratted him out.
“Tomorrow then,” Calvin affirmed.
“Do you think we can come to the house?” Graham asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.
Emory stared pointedly at the phone, thankfully not looking up to study the flash of emotion that landed on Calvin’s face.
“It’s your home, G,” he answered.
“Yeah. But…”
“Yes.” Calvin cleared his throat. “We can have dinner at the house.”
“Can we skip dinner?” Emory’s eyes twinkled.
“You’ll need your energy.” Graham’s promise left Calvin’s cock hard against his leg. He shifted his weight and crossed his legs. Emory smirked at him knowingly.
“I’ll eat some protein for lunch,” Emory sassed.
Graham countered with something, but Calvin couldn’t make out the words, the blood was rushing so rapidly through his brain he couldn’t make sense of anything. He was jealous and he was grateful and he was desperate to take all of these tangled feelings out on his husband and then his boyfriend.
“You alright, boss?”
He opened his eyes after hearing Emory’s voice directed at him. He swallowed and nodded. “Sorry, yeah. Just got distracted for a minute.”
“Get back to work, Cal,” Graham ordered. Calvin’s cock responded, as it had for the past eleven years, by leaking against the cotton of his briefs.
“Yeah.”
“Seven tomorrow?” Emory chimed in.
“Seven.”
“Bye, G.” Calvin stabbed the speaker button on the phone and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed.
“You sure you’re good?” Emory asked. His fingers drew soft spirals over Calvin’s knees.
“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “You should go before it looks like you’ve been in here too long.”
“Right.” Emory sighed dramatically and stood up. He rebuttoned his jacket and stepped out from behind Calvin’s desk. “I’ll be back, though. To smell our flowers.”
“Anytime you want.”
Emory smiled and stepped out of his office.
No more than two seconds later, Monica was back, a wide grin splitting her lips.
“Are flowers guy and tie guy the same?”
Calvin looked at the roses, then down at his tie. He blinked up at Monica, not wanting to lie, but not sure how to answer.
“Ah,” she mused. “That face says it all, Calvin.”
“What does my face say?”
“That you’re in love.”
Calvin snorted, thinking immediately of Emory.
“The flowers are from my husband.”
Monica looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrow arched. “And the tie?”
“Is not,” he answered with a sigh.
“The plot thickens.” Monica straightened and returned to her office with a smirk.
“Doesn’t it,” he mumbled to himself, logging into his computer and finally getting to work.
Seventeen
Graham
Graham knocked on the door and waited for Calvin to let him in. He manipulated his keys between his fingers, the sweat on his palm mixing with the metal and causing a sharp and tinny smell to fill his nostrils.
The door opened and Calvin squinted at him.
“You have a key,” he greeted.
Graham held them up. “Am I allowed to use them again?”
Calvin shrugged and stepped out of the way to let him inside. “I suppose not.”
“That’s fair.” Graham tossed his keychain on a low table near the door and pulled his wallet from his pocket, setting it beside his keys. “Is Emory here yet?”
“He is not.” Calvin walked into the kitchen. “He had to stay a little late and help Monica with something. She’s a workaholic and would be well served to find a partner or a hobby.”
Graham chuckled and took off his shoes before he followed Calvin into the kitchen, trailing his fingers over the butcher block countertop.
“Do you want some wine?” Calvin asked, picking up a knife and slicing into a red bell p
epper.
“Sure.”
“Alright.” Calvin tilted his head toward the cabinet beside the sink. “Get yourself some. I changed detergent. I didn’t rearrange the entire kitchen.”
Graham stepped alongside Calvin and opened the cabinet, removing a wine glass and reaching for the bottle of red on the counter near the stove. “Is it fair to do things this way?”
Calvin arched a brow.
“Acting like everything is as it used to be?” Graham poured some wine and recorked the bottle.
“Fair to whom?”
“Emory.”
Graham had spent much of the past two days thinking about the development of things between him and Calvin and Emory. He still felt uncomfortable around Calvin, like their dirty laundry was a physical thing hanging between them and somehow twisted around Emory, keeping them both from getting to him.
Emory knew he and Calvin were married, knew about their struggles. He knew things were…better when he was around. But Graham didn’t want to slip back into old habits and find him and Calvin right back where they were three months ago, but now also in love with another man.
The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts.
“Can you get that?”
Graham set his wine on the counter and walked through the house to let Emory inside. When he opened the door, Emory smiled at him, shifting his weight from side to side.
“Hey,” he mumbled.
“Is that how you say hi to Cal when you get to work?” Graham stepped back to let Emory inside.
“No.”
“How do you say hi to him?”
Emory closed the door and spun Graham so his shoulders were against it, then he raised onto his toes and dragged his mouth across Graham’s.
“Like this.” Emory’s tongue darted out and slipped between Graham’s lips, licking him from left to right before he tucked it back into his mouth and landed on the carpet with a silent thump.
“That’s better,” Graham informed him.
“Mmn. Where’s your husband?” Emory took off his shiny work shoes and pushed them under the side table.
“In the kitchen.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Emory took him by the hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen where he greeted Calvin with the same kind of kiss he’d given Graham, all the while keeping their fingers twined together.
“You’re fine,” Calvin assured him, sliding the chopped bell peppers into a pan.
“Did you want some wine?” Graham asked, picking his own glass up and taking a drink. “Is this the one from Mallory?”
Calvin turned and glanced at the label before he answered. “It is.”
“Who’s Mallory?” Emory asked, picking up the bottle and studying the label.
“Not a person. Well, I mean, a person obviously. But it’s Mallory Vineyard. We went there last spring.” Calvin opened the cabinet and pulled down two glasses, passing one to Emory and the other one to Graham. “Can you pour some for me?”
Graham took the glass instinctively, already slipping into old routines.
“That sounds romantic,” Emory mused, pouring some of the wine into his glass.
Calvin made a noise and yanked open a drawer. He pulled out a spatula and lowered his head to focus on the cooking. Emory held the glass up to his mouth and took a sip while staring at Graham over the rim.
“It was meant to be,” Graham told Emory, pouring a glass for himself. “But we fought.”
“Oh.” Emory scrunched his face and looked away. “Sorry.”
“We fought a lot,” Calvin said, not turning to face them. “Please don’t apologize for our shit.”
“Isn’t your shit my shit now?” Emory rested his elbows on the counter and propped his chin in his hands.
Calvin looked at Graham, eyes wide and helpless.
“It shouldn’t be,” Graham answered, eyes steady on Calvin.
“Well, that makes this terribly unbalanced, doesn’t it?” Emory pursed his lips.
“Are you sure you want to get involved with an estranged married couple?” Calvin turned back to the stove and flipped the burner off. He pulled a casserole out of the oven and drizzled the bell peppers over the top of it. He tossed the pan into the sink and moved the casserole to the dining room table. “Dinner is ready.”
There was already a basket of rolls on the table, and Graham picked up his wine, following Calvin into the dining room. Emory followed, taking the seat Graham had always considered to be his. Calvin chuckled and lowered himself into the seat across from Emory. Reluctantly, Graham pulled out the chair at the head of the table, leaving him with one man on either side.
Calvin handed him a large black plastic serving spoon.
Another habit.
Graham served the three of them some of the casserole Calvin had made, blowing on the steamy pile of chicken and cheese before he took a bite.
“I am sure,” Emory said after a long pause. “I know you think that I’m not, that I don’t understand what I’m getting myself into, but I promise you I’m going into this with eyes wide open. I know it won’t end well.”
Emory shoveled some food around his plate and took a bite.
“You keep saying that and it’s getting annoying. It’s so fatalistic,” Calvin offered.
Emory looked up at him and shrugged. “I’m a realist.”
“I want to prove you wrong,” Graham blurted.
Calvin and Emory both looked to him, wide eyed and disbelieving.
“Do you now?” Calvin asked.
Graham narrowed his eyes.
“You especially. I want to prove to you we can have what we lost.” He looked to Emory. “And I want to prove to you that this isn’t a mistake.”
Emory smiled and twisted his fork through his food. “Sure thing, tiger.”
“He doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean,” Calvin said.
“Okay.”
“You’ll see.” Calvin finished his wine.
“So will you,” Graham said, staring at Calvin, even though he wouldn’t look in Graham’s direction.
“Well, fuck.” Emory threw his napkin onto the table. “I didn’t mean to make things weird and tense.”
“You didn’t,” he and Calvin countered at the same time.
“I don’t know how to make this not awkward,” Emory laughed and rubbed the back of his neck with one of his hands.
Calvin barked out a laugh. “Welcome to the past two years of our marriage.”
“Can we do the sex?” Emory asked, drumming his fingers on the edge of the table. “Will that fix it?”
Graham laughed now. “It won’t fix it.”
“We can still do it,” Calvin suggested, pushing his chair back from the table. “It is, after all, patently unfair that only one of us has been inside of you.”
Graham’s nostrils flared, his mind playing a now familiar fantasy slide show that involved Emory and Calvin writhing and covered in cum. His cum, specifically.
“So you do top.” Emory smirked.
“I’ll top you.”
“Point me to a bed.” Emory loosened his tie and looked around.
“Down that hall. Last door on the right,” Graham answered.
Emory dropped his tie onto the floor and spun on his heel, walking backward and gesturing with his fingers for him and Calvin to follow. The two of them were too broad shouldered to walk side by side down the hall, so he let Calvin go a step ahead.
He stalled when they reached the bedroom. His bedroom. Their bedroom. Whatever it was, this was the first time Graham had stepped foot in there in months. Calvin, as though sensing his hesitation, reached back and grabbed his fingers, pulling him over the threshold.
Graham used the momentum and kept walking, his chest pushing into Calvin’s back until Calvin’s chest bumped Emory’s. He walked them farther until Emory’s knees hit the bed. He landed on the mattress with an oomph and a cloud of fabric that puffed out around him.
“What now?” Calv
in asked, reaching behind him and tugging his shirt over his head. He tossed it on the floor as he encroached on Emory’s space, knee-walking them both down the bed until Emory’s head was on the pillows.
“Kiss him.” Graham stripped and followed Calvin onto the bed, skating his hands up the firm muscles of Calvin’s back. He tangled his hands into Calvin’s hair and pushed his face toward Emory’s, who met him halfway for a sloppy and wet kiss.
Graham had always loved kissing Calvin. He had gorgeous, full lips and a thick tongue that filled Graham’s mouth and stole his air. When he kissed Calvin, he felt alive. He yanked Calvin away from Emory and crashed their mouths together, pushing his tongue between Calvin’s lips and sucking on his tongue.
Calvin bucked, and Emory groaned, and Graham kissed him harder, grinding his erection into the crack of Calvin’s ass.
“Tell me I can,” he whispered into Calvin’s ear. He rocked his hips forward.
“You better,” Emory groaned from beneath them both. His fingers scrabbled over Calvin’s body, digging and pressing into his skin. Calvin’s hands worked between his and Emory’s bodies, divesting Emory of the rest of his suit and his bright blue briefs.
Emory’s cock sprang out from the confines of his underwear, slapping against his stomach, and Calvin turned his attention to his own pants, pushing Graham off to kick his jeans down and off.
As soon as Calvin was naked, Graham grabbed condoms and lube from the drawer and was back, covering Calvin’s body with his own and pressing Calvin into Emory.
“Are you sure this doesn’t fix things?” Emory whimpered, shoving the bottle of lube into Calvin’s hand.
Calvin opened the bottle and slicked his fingers, returning his hand between their bodies. Graham couldn’t see what was happening, but he saw when Emory’s eyes rolled back in his head. He saw when Emory swallowed before his mouth fell open. And he saw when Emory arched off the bed, sheets fisted in his hands.
Graham poured some lube in his palm and swiped his hand between Calvin’s ass cheeks. Calvin dropped his face into the crook of Emory’s neck, his hand still pumping between their bodies.
Graham pushed a slick finger into Calvin’s ass and quickly another, and a third, giving him little time to adjust to the intrusion. Calvin had always liked when it hurt a little too much or when it burned a little too long.
Secrets in Edgewood: The Complete Series Page 61