“Because even though it’s on wheels it’s still a little heavy.”
“I don’t…” He frowned, but enlightenment had already dawned on Tyler’s face. He knew. He’d probably already used the mirror for the exact same reason I wanted it ‘in place’.
“It’s got to be facing the bed, Sebbe. First time around? I wore a blindfold. Next time? I want to see everything.”
The smile spread across his face slowly, but when his dimples showed, and he finally laughed, he looked gorgeous. And I knew it had been exactly the right thing to insist on, this clear view of every little detail.
“Jess?” he began, nearing me by a single step. “We are going to have so much fun with you.”
Chapter Eight
I checked my watch with a glance and steeled myself for whatever lay ahead. Bang on eleven o’clock, exactly when Tyler had said he’d want to speak to me in his office. We’d arranged meetings before this, and some had even been official, but I knew this one wouldn’t be.
The giveaway? A phone call at seven o’clock that morning, timed to perfection given that I’d still been wrapped in a towel after my shower and wet in both senses of the word.
I smiled to myself as I walked past the Home Department checkout. The debit card machine was still working, weeks after a humbled workman had shown up to fix it, apologising for the delay. Tyler had later told me the glare I’d given the poor man had nearly made his balls shrivel in fear.
A gross exaggeration, given what he’d gone on to do to me that evening. Sadly, Sebastian had been absent, having family commitments elsewhere. A grandmother’s birthday party or something similar.
They shared me. Sometimes together. And I liked to be shared.
I passed no one in the corridor, thankfully. Not that they’d have questioned me, but I always felt like I was up to something whenever I headed for Tyler’s office for something less than official.
We’d never fucked at work—Christ, no, we weren’t that unprofessional. But occasionally he’d called a ‘meeting’ to inform me he’d decided to visit me at home that evening, oh, and by the way, he’d be handcuffing me to the bed while Sebastian had his way with me. Another time he’d spent ten minutes on the phone to a manager at another store while running his hand over my leg, underneath the hem of my skirt. By the time he’d finished I’d been so turned on I had to lock myself in one of the cubicles in the staff bathrooms to get myself off. For the rest of that day he’d smirked whenever we’d passed on the shop floor. Just like he always did, but there was an extra something that day. An unspoken, ‘I know what you did, you filthy little slut’.
The office door was open, so I didn’t have to knock. Tyler was waiting for me. As was Sebastian.
“Oh.” I paused in the doorway. “So it’s like that, is it?”
“Come in, Jess,” Tyler said, leaning back in his chair. “I wanted to speak to you. We both did.”
“Close the door.”
As always, the two worked so well together. As if the entire scene was planned. And it was.
“Sit.”
He’d only said four monosyllabic words to me all morning, but I still did as Sebastian said. While he turned the latch built in to the door handle, I looked at Tyler.
“Well?” A quick glance over my shoulder, then back. “Locking the door? The phone call this morning? Isn’t that all a bit…?”
“Daring?” Tyler supplied. He pulled a drawer open, withdrew a small box. “Possibly. I have something for you.”
“What is it?”
“Your side of the bargain first.” He set the box down on his desk, slid the drawer shut, and focused his full attention on me. Hands clasped on the desk, he nodded at my blouse.
I sighed, affecting petulance, and unbuttoned it.
“Not good enough.”
I shrugged the blouse off my shoulders, giving him a better look.
“Better. I assume that’s the bra I told you to wear?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” It was Sebastian’s turn to speak. “Front-fastening works best for—”
“Because of course you two would have discussed the details of Tyler’s phone call this morning, right?” I smiled up at him, keeping my gaze level with his as he reached for the box on the desk then knelt in front of me. I knew them both too well to suppose this was anything like a proposal. Nothing so romantic. Something far, far dirtier, which suited me just fine.
“Discussed it?” Sebastian laughed, flipping open the box and looking down at its contents. “This was all my idea. We flipped a coin to see who’d have the honour of calling you.”
“Flipping a coin to see who’d have me, huh? Maybe you should try that some time.”
“What makes you think we haven’t already?” Tyler winked.
“Undo your bra,” Sebastian threw at me, in an instant flipping to the ‘don’t fucking mess with me’ voice I knew so well by now.
“I… You…”
“Now.”
With shaking hands I managed to undo the clasp, but as with Tyler and the blouse, that wasn’t enough—Sebastian told me that with one look. A glare. I moved the cups away from my breasts, leaving myself bare and utterly exposed.
Sebastian reached up and ran the palm of his hand over one nipple, making me think for only a moment he was now in the mood to be gentle, but with a swift flick of his hand, he twisted my nipple hard enough to make me gasp. I stifled a louder cry, and he laughed. “Ever seen these before?”
“I can guess what they are.”
“Ever worn any?”
“No.”
“Hmm. We’ll say ten minutes, then, if it’s your first time.” The metal glinted under the office’s strip lighting and was cold enough against my skin to make my nipple even harder. “Just what we needed,” he murmured with a smirk. “Makes it easier to screw it on.”
“Jesus.” I jerked forward when he tightened the nipple clamp, but gritted my teeth, stayed on the chair. The clamp was circular, lay flat against my breast unlike the style of other clamps I’d seen, but might still have been visible under my clothes if Tyler hadn’t told me to wear a front-fastening padded bra that morning.
“Is that painful?”
“Fuck, yes.” I glared at Tyler but he merely laughed.
“Good. Do the other one just as tight, Seb.”
He got nothing but a quiet laugh in reply from Sebastian and a muted moan from me. I wanted desperately to cry out, but discretion kept me as close to silent as the pain would allow.
“There.” Sebastian studied me like I was a work of art. His creation. His and Tyler’s. “Beautiful.” He inhaled sharply, then, as if he’d woken from a daydream, and perhaps he had been thinking about…later. “Do your bra up again. And your blouse.”
“Fuck…this is…” The sensation nearly took my breath away.
“Sore?”
“No, no… I’m getting used to it.” I winced when I did my bra up again, held my breath for a few seconds, then went on. It was true—the pain gradually melted away to leave absolute, undeniable arousal in its place. Or maybe the pain was still there and that was what damn near got me off. Once I had buttoned my blouse up again, I moved to stand, but Sebastian stopped me with one look and slid his hand underneath my skirt. “This is my leaving present?”
“Leaving the store,” Sebastian said. “You don’t get away from either of us that easily.” And that wasn’t the first time either of them had dropped wholly unsubtle hints that this…this ‘thing’ between us all didn’t end when my temporary position at four-five-three did.
“We want you back here in ten minutes,” Tyler said.
“What? What am I supposed to—? Jesus.” Breath caught in my throat as Sebastian flicked his fingertip over my clit. “You bastards.”
“That’s us.” Tyler winked.
I wriggled in the chair, unsure of whether I wanted Sebastian to stop or carry on, and he slid two fingers inside me. I could have come from that alone if I had
n’t been distracted by the eye-watering sensation on both of my nipples.
“Fan, vad trång du är…”
I already knew from experience he was telling me how tight I was. Much more of that and I wouldn’t have been able to stand.
“Go on,” he murmured, sliding his fingers out again, laughing at the way I gasped in response. He licked them clean, the dirty bastard, knowing what the sight would do to me. “Stand up.”
I did. God only knew how, but I did, and the pair of them laughed as I walked—more slowly than usual—to the door. I flicked the latch but, just before I turned the handle to actually open the door, Tyler said casually, as if it meant nothing much at all, “I do hope your bra isn’t rubbing against those nipples of yours too badly.”
I looked over my shoulder and glared. Or tried to.
“Don’t forget. You come back up here in ten minutes so I can take those off.”
“And I,” Sebastian added, “will tell you exactly what we’re going to do to you tonight.
Oh, God. This was going to be the longest ten minutes of my life.
New from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Stay the Night
Scarlett Parrish
Released 17th October 2011
Excerpt
Chapter One
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I was the only one standing and the only one with the balls not to come out with some congratulatory bullshit. I wasn’t going to lie about being happy for the guy who was leaving us all in the lurch just because his girlfriend had a goldmine in her pants.
“Kit.” Gary widened his eyes and looked from me, to Ben and back again.
“What? What?” Okay, so I probably hadn’t given Ben the reaction he’d hoped for when he’d announced his intention to break his third of the lease to move in with his other half, but it was no more than he’d deserved. How the hell we were going to make the rent now I didn’t know. The whole point of having three guys living together was so we could afford a roof over our heads and beer in the fridge and now we were losing one third of the budget.
I grimaced and looked at the label on the bottle I clutched like my life depended on it. No more Miller, then. Supermarket own-brand crap from now on. Or paint stripper and aftershave if things get bad enough.
“It’s good news. Right?” Gary looked at Gemma for backup. She didn’t live here, but visited often. And thank God, he didn’t seem as pussy-whipped as Ben obviously was. In his case the boss had instructed him to announce his imminent departure on his own, claiming she ‘had to work’ or something. Meanwhile, I was left standing in the kitchen staring at two housemates, one of said housemates’ girlfriends, and a prospective life of penury living on beans on toast and supermarket beer.
“It’s good. It’s cool.”
I couldn’t share Gary’s optimistic outlook. “What’s good about losing one third of the rent?”
“Kit, for God’s sake.” Gemma had that look on her face only women could perfect. It must have been something she was born with. Ovaries, breasts and the ability to smile while disapproving with her eyes. “For Ben.”
“Oh. Oh, right.” Fuck, Blackman. She’s a human being, not the devil. Don’t you dare shudder. I took another gulp of beer to fortify myself but the way she tapped her fingernails on the kitchen table made me jittery. “Good news for Ben. Of course.” It was easier just to agree with Gemma when she glared at me like that.
“Look.” Ben eased his chair away from the table and leant back, probably much less anxious now he had Lady Macbeth’s overt support. “I realise this’ll put the pressure on you two guys, but—”
“No, no, it won’t.” Gary waved away Ben’s concerns and shrugged.
“Yes it will.”
The three sitting at the Formica table—no way was it in any fit state to be called a dining table—turned their heads to look at me in such coordinated censure I almost laughed.
Almost, but not quite.
“What?” I shrugged. “It will. We’ll be down a third of the rent each month and that’ll leave us less money for…”
Gemma lifted her eyebrows and I lowered the hand that held the beer bottle to my mouth.
“…food. And beer.” My voice got quieter. “And…stuff. Look, anyway, these are valid concerns. I hate to be the only pragmatic one here, but bills have to be paid.”
“Oh, you’ll get by,” Gemma said, her voice just a shade away from an outright snort or “Pfft”.
“How would you know? You don’t even live here.”
“I spend enough time here to—”
“Yeah, ain’t that the truth?” I muttered.
“Kit.” This time there was enough steel in Gary’s voice to make me think again.
“Sorry.” I rolled my shoulders slowly, more to shrug off the guilt from being such a bad-tempered bastard than work out any stiffness or kink. I liked Gemma, but the bottom line was, she didn’t contribute to the Blackman-Lacey-Taylor household beyond whatever favours she privately showed Gary, and even if she did give me the glad-eye, her womanly wiles wouldn’t have worked on me.
Actually, pretty soon it looked like being the Blackman–Lacey–Who-the-fuck-ever household.
Not that that was an entirely unfeasible idea…
“Hey, listen…” I murmured, turning my back and draining the bottle. First stop, the bin to bury the dead soldier. Second stop, the fridge, to get a refill before—“What the fuck?” I let the fridge door swing open and looked over my shoulder at Gary, Gemma and Ben.
“What?” Ben sat up straight. “Something wrong?”
“That was the last fucking bottle you gave me.” When I’d walked into the kitchen, he’d had it opened and ready. A peace offering before war broke out.
“Um…yeah…?”
“There’s no fucking beer left.”
“Ah. Yeah, I…”
“You polished off the last of it?”
“Technically you did. I had the penultimate—”
“Motherfucker. You’re welcome to move out now, you beer-stealing bastard.”
“Kit. Your language is a bit…” Gary began, then swallowed nervously when I shot him a glance.
“Fruity?” I suggested, daring him to say that about the only gay guy in the room. “Not in front of the lady, am I right?”
“Her?” His laughter, though forced, went some way towards lightening the atmosphere. “Don’t make me… Anyway. You were saying…?”
“I was?” Frowning, I looked back at the fridge and kicked it shut. “Fucker. Right, yeah. If the littlest hobo over here’s moving on, we better do something about it.”
“A moving-out party?” Gemma grinned, defining the word ‘perky’. If I’d been a boobs man—as opposed to favouring pecs—I would have grabbed myself an eyeful.
“Fuck no.” I shook my head. “I’m gonna put an ad in the paper to see if we can’t find someone to replace him.”
“At least let my grave go cold, why don’t you?” Ben slapped a hand on the edge of the table, perhaps in anger. Perhaps because he was pissed off I wasn’t begging him to stay. I didn’t do that with ex-boyfriends—anymore—I sure as hell wasn’t doing it with ex-housemates.
“I’m sorry, dude—but, you know, gotta be pragmatic about these things.”
“There’s that word again,” Gary muttered.
“It’s true. If Ben’s hitting the road, we need to cover our asses.” I fucking wished. It’d been so long, if I got laid again any time this millennium I’d need a flashlight and an Ordnance Survey map to find my own prostate. “I mean, look out for ourselves. Right?”
“Excuse me? Excuse me, hello? Am I invisible or something? Am I not even here?” Ben drummed his fingers rapidly on the tabletop and raised his eyebrows in a ‘go on, I’m waiting’ expression.
“Pretty soon you won’t be so I’m not sure it makes much difference.”
Gemma groaned and buried her face in her hands, resting both elbows on the table. Her ponytail bobbed
or swung or whatever it was ponytails did when women shook their heads while groaning through their fingers. “You know…” Her fingertips dragged at her skin as she lifted her head again, and she looked like she was trying to pull whatever annoyed her out of her own face.
Funny. I had that effect on a lot of people.
“It’s true. Ben hasn’t gone. Yet,” she added pointedly. Giving me that look again.
“Stop glaring at me.”
“I’m not glaring—”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not! Am I? Am I glaring?” Gemma’s voice rose about seventeen octaves and if it got any higher, only dogs would have been able to hear her. Maybe not such a bad thing if it gave me peace and quiet.
“Yeah, you were glaring,” Gary said. “You were a bit. But…” He shrugged. “Kit was being a twat-monkey again, so…”
“Hey, fuck you, pal.” I scowled, no longer sure if this was all ‘ha ha, very funny, friends insulting friends’ or something a bit more sincere.
“Sorry. Not really your area of expertise, is it?” he threw back. “You’re an arsehole. Put it that way.”
“How am I the arsehole? He’s the one who—”
“Christopher Blackman.” Gemma made herself sound like someone’s grandmother when she called me that. Sure, it was my name, but I still didn’t like to hear it. “Ben is moving out to be with his girlfriend. Yes, he’s breaking the lease, but you will manage.”
“Yeah, by getting someone more reliable to—”
“You. Will. Manage. Have you no romance in your soul?”
Gary snorted. “Him? Romance?”
This time it was me who glared. Trouble was, I couldn’t contradict him. Romance had died off around about the same time my sex life had packed its bags and left town on the Queen Street express.
“Nah, you’d be hard pushed to find a soul, let alone any romance there,” he added and I raised my middle finger, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, or doing a pretty good impression of its sleep-deprived, crack addict cousin with homicidal tendencies.
“When were you planning on dropping us in—I mean, moving out?” I asked, catching Gemma’s eye but ignoring the warning therein. Kind of. I’d amended my wording but the enquiry was the same.
Temporary Position Page 6