Hanging On 2: Surreal Neal [Awakenings 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Michele Zurlo

“That’s how I like it.”

  “That’s boring, not at all how I cook.”

  I ground my teeth together. “It works for you, not for me. Newsflash: I’m not you. I don’t want to be you.”

  Sophia held up her hand. “Enough, you two. While I love metaphors as much as the next person, I’m genuinely afraid you’re going to change the subject and start debating spanakopita recipes. I’m hearing Neal say that he likes things the way they are. Drew, honey, we have to respect that. Neal, you can stop freaking out and getting mad because you think we’re going to ask more than you want to give, and you don’t have to pretend to think about dating us. It’s clear that’s not what you want right now.”

  She looked sad, like the words hurt to say, but I was relieved that she’d weaseled out of me what I wanted even though I had initially been less than forthcoming.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’d still like to sleep in the spare bedroom.”

  She couldn’t argue with that, but I could tell she wanted to.

  * * * *

  The next morning, I got up at the crack of dawn. In reality, I’d barely slept at all. Though I had insisted on being alone, I found myself lonely. More than that, I was plagued by demons—guilt, anxiety, and sorrow. I knew I’d leapt on both of them unprovoked. I hadn’t wanted to talk about what was bothering me.

  Truthfully, I did want to date them. I wanted it very badly. Wanting it scared the crap out of me. The last time I’d felt this strongly about anybody, I’d found myself alone and destitute, with too much pride to call my parents and ask for money. I would have died in Rio before I returned a broken loser. While I wasn’t quite broken, I was dented and cracked, used and damaged goods.

  I didn’t want to stay in the suite and wait for Drew and Sophia to get up. In a turn of cowardice, I didn’t particularly relish seeing either of them. I knew I’d hurt them both. While I’d hated doing it, they’d left me with no choice. I couldn’t expose myself again.

  After scrawling a hasty note, I went windsurfing. Drew and I had watched for a little while yesterday morning, but neither of us had wanted to get out on the water. He’d merely checked out the equipment and talked to the proprietor of the excursion.

  I’d teased him about not wanting to mess up his hair. He’d given me a curious look, and that’s when I noticed that he’d foregone any kind of product. The breeze had ruffled his straight blond hair, making him look ten times sexier. I’d run my hand through the softness and told him how much I liked it. He’d preened under the praise.

  I charged the board and equipment to the room.

  After a short lesson, I went out on my own. I’d windsurfed before, though it had been a couple of years since I’d been out on the ocean. The skill came back quickly. I liked the warm, salty breeze whipping through my hair and the splashes of water that soaked my clothes and stung my eyes.

  I stayed out there until wind carried away my worries and the sun blazed high in the sky. Then I returned my rented board and walked along the beach. More people were out today, and the sandy strip was littered with their bodies. Some were nude. Many tried to make eye-contact with me. Without the collar Sophia had given me, I found myself becoming a person of interest, and I didn’t care for that. Five propositions later, I decided I needed to go somewhere else.

  Though I dreaded going back—mostly because I didn’t want to face Sophia and Drew after the way I’d overreacted last night—I went. Eventually I would have to see them. If this all fell apart, Drew was still my boss, and Sophia was still my boss’s wife.

  The building housing our suite was situated about a five-minute walk from the beach. It was part of a cluster of buildings that featured a freshwater pool and lounge chairs in a central square. As I picked my way through the maze of chairs, many of which were occupied, I heard someone call my name.

  I looked to find a familiar face, one I hadn’t seen in three years. I couldn’t recall his name, but he was around my age. He wasn’t someone I’d known very well, but I remembered how I knew him.

  “Neal? I thought that was you.” He peeled himself from his chair and came toward me. His light brown skin gleamed in the sun. Sans sunglasses, he squinted up at me, the hard look of the streets in his eyes. “Yeah. I saw you yesterday with a couple. You here with them?”

  Jaxon. He went by Jaxon. I doubted it was his real name, but it was the only one I knew. I slapped palms with him, gripping hands in a show of camaraderie. “Jax. What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “Some Daddy wants to pay for me to come here? Whatever. It’s a change of scenery.”

  I didn’t want to tell him about Sophia and Drew because I knew he already thought I was here as a paid companion. “That’s great. I’m not into that scene anymore. I’m cooking full-time. This is just a vacation with friends.”

  His entire demeanor shifted. He lost the hard glint, and his entire posture softened. “Me neither. I’m here with a Daddy, but he’s mine, ya know? He’s good to me. He got me off the streets, told me I was worth more than I’d ever get selling myself. It’s, you know, a relationship.”

  We talked for a few more minutes before his lover called to him from the pool. The older man eyed me suspiciously, probably thinking I was trying to hit on his much younger piece of ass. I slapped palms with Jax again and waved at the old man. Jax slipped into the water and wrapped his body around his lover. The smile on his face was genuine, and that’s not an expression I ever saw on Jaxon’s face before. Perhaps that’s why I hadn’t immediately recalled him. That look was transformative.

  I wondered what Sophia and Drew saw when they looked at me?

  I entered the suite quietly. From the door to the larger bedroom, I heard Sophie calling to Drew. “Honey, hurry up. You look fine, and I’m hungry.”

  Though it could have been a suggestive line, it wasn’t. Her direction was laced with impatience.

  She came out of the bedroom wearing a strapless sundress that hugged her curves. It had some kind of red floral print. I liked her in red. It looked good against her olive skin and dark hair.

  She stopped short when she saw me. A tentative smile curved her lips. “Neal. You’re back. Have you eaten? We were just about to head to the restaurant for lunch.”

  I wanted to kiss away the uncertainty. Instead, I shook my head. “I grabbed a bagel for breakfast, but that’s all.”

  She looked me up and down, her eyes traveling with sinful indolence. “Go jump in the shower. You have ten minutes. Drew should be ready by then. Wear shorts, no shirt.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Tension left her body at my use of her title. It looked like nothing had changed, just as they assured me would happen. Ten minutes later, I joined Mistress and Chef on the balcony. They both took a few moments to study me. I’d dressed in a pair of red jockey shorts that matched Mistress’s dress, and though she hadn’t mentioned it, I’d put the collar back on.

  Chef was the first to move. He crossed the short porch and locked his lips on mine, taking me prisoner with a dizzying and possessive kiss. When he ended it, we were both breathing hard. He grabbed the hair just above my nape and pulled until I looked into his eyes.

  “Thanks for leaving a note. We would have worried otherwise.”

  From the expression on Sophia’s face, I think they had worried anyway, and that made me feel like shit again. She linked her arm through mine and steered me toward the door. “Let’s eat, gentlemen, and then we’ll play.”

  The meal turned out to be huge—we were all famished—so we went for a walk afterward. We ended up in the playhouse. The curved staircases leading to a verandah actually contained people, as did some of the lounge chairs on the uncovered porch.

  “Looks like more people got here,” I said.

  Sophia nodded. “Sunday and Monday are the slower days. We’ll have to price the rooms a little less expensively for those nights. Still, the resort will only max out at about forty percent capacity, and this is the season when things are supp
osed to pick up. They’re not.”

  Drew put his arm around my waist, splaying his hand over my hip, and pulled me closer. “We’re here to tour the facility, and you’re going to model some of the amenities for us.”

  I didn’t know what that meant until we got to the first room. The playhouse wasn’t technically open to the public until six in the evening. No doubt they’d cut back the hours because they couldn’t afford to pay monitors. I mentioned this to Sophia, but she merely shook her head.

  “If it’s always open, it loses some of the mystique. Keeping the hours limited makes it a feature, a special night.” She inserted a key into the lock and opened the door. We went inside, and she locked everything back up. “Take off those shorts.”

  Drew took a double ring from a zippered pocket on his cargo shorts. I recognized the device. One ring would nestle against the base of my dick. It was a cock ring. The other would require my dick being bent in half to slip through again. It would be uncomfortable when I wasn’t aroused and blissfully painful when I was.

  I shed my jockey shorts. Drew tucked them into his pocket, regarding me with a sexy twist to his lips. He handed me the double ring. “Put this on.”

  “Yes, Chef.”

  The device had a quick-release button, and for that I was grateful. Having one of these permanently stuck did not appeal to me.

  Mistress watched, no doubt noting how I handled myself. When I finished, she checked the fit, running her fingertip over my flaccid, bent member. I trembled as blood tried to rush to my cock. It throbbed.

  She glanced up at me. “Comfortable?”

  “No, Mistress.”

  “What’s your color?”

  “Green,” I assured her.

  “Great,” Chef said. “Let’s have a look around.”

  We wandered through a few rooms—two different dungeon setups, a doctor’s office, and a room full of pillows.

  Mistress observed the pillows with a puzzled frown.

  I spoke up. “A harem scenario, I think.”

  She nodded. “Hmm. This can’t be sanitary.” She picked up a pillow. It had water stains on it, the kind silk gets when it has been cleaned the wrong way. “Ugh. Drew, we are definitely shutting it down if we buy this place. Anywhere people are going to have sex needs to be a place that can be sanitized and cleaned.”

  We wandered the building, which I realized was an old plantation house. Whoever had remodeled it hadn’t bothered to try to make it fit with the ancient Greek theme. Considering that it was a place full of themed rooms, I guess it wasn’t meant to fit in. They could have at least matched up the architecture. No matter. Once Mistress took it over, she would make everything work.

  We wandered for a while longer. None of the rooms had anything out of the ordinary—as far as BDSM was concerned—that I could find. Finally, Mistress stopped at one. She stared at an hourglass-shaped bench that curved up a few inches at each end and tapped her fingernail against her bottom lip.

  “I’ve always wanted to try one of those.”

  Head tilted to the side, Chef stared at it. “What is it?”

  “A low-maintenance lover.”

  We both gave her a dry look.

  “You attach a dildo or vibrator to it—depends on the model—and ride until you can’t move anymore.”

  Chef opened a cupboard to the left of the door. “Looks like vibrators.” He opened one of the packages and wiped it down with the disinfecting wipes that were also in the cupboard. Then he tossed the wipes to me. “Clean that thing for your Mistress.”

  “Drew,” she protested, “I don’t have to do it here.”

  He hooked his arm around her waist. “Oh, honey, you can’t tease me like that. I want to watch, and so does Neal.”

  I wiped the surface extra vigorously. Yes, I did want to watch her masturbate on the device. I wanted to kneel at her feet and take care of her when she finished. Then I wanted to lick her clean and fuck her until we were all drained.

  “It’s nice and clean, Mistress.”

  Chef slid the attachment into place and unrolled a condom over it. “It’s ready, Sophie.”

  Mistress stood between us, looking at the machine. Impulsively, I leaned down and kissed the curve of her neck. She sighed and tilted her head to give me better access. I took advantage of it.

  On the other side, Chef took possession of her mouth. His hand disappeared up her dress. I stroked up and down her arms and licked a path down her spine. She shivered and moved her hips against Chef’s hand.

  We primed her, taking her to the point where she moaned out loud. Then Chef guided her onto the device. The hourglass shape made it conform to her body. She sank down on the vibrator. Chef reached under the machine and turned on the power.

  As she tested out her rhythm, Chef led me to a padded spanking bench. I knelt on the lower level and rested my upper body on the higher level. I didn’t know if he would spank me or not, and he didn’t do or say anything to give me a clue. He buckled cuffs around my wrists and calves.

  My cock throbbed against the restriction of the double ring, sending pleasurable bouts of pain through my balls and up my spine. The bench put me in the perfect position to watch Mistress. Her mouth opened in the O shape she got when she was really enjoying herself. She undulated against the vibrator, moving her hips in a sinfully delectable motion.

  “She’s so hot.” Chef murmured in my ear. His body was bent over mine, owning my personal space and crowding me against the bench. He nipped my lobe and licked the place on my neck that made me tremble. “I could watch her fuck that thing all day.”

  I gulped and nodded. She was definitely hot and giving off so much heat that I was being scorched.

  Chef ground his cock against my ass. “Maybe not watch.”

  I heard his zipper unknitting, and I exhaled an unsteady breath. He rubbed lubricant into me, and then I felt the familiar pressure of his hardness seeking entrance. My cock jumped and throbbed, fighting its restriction. I exhaled, and did my best to relax. However the combination of the show Mistress was putting on and the feel of Chef was too much. He breached me, forcing his way past my defenses. It smarted, but I think it hurt him more than it hurt me.

  Mistress gripped the edges of the curved platform and rocked back and forth. She watched Chef fuck me, and she slowed to match her pace to his.

  “Neal, you look positively gorgeous,” she said. “You’re in such exquisite agony.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.” Unable to make myself coherent, I grunted the words.

  She lifted her gaze, meeting Chef’s, and they both sped up. Chef reached under me and caressed my cock. Just when I thought I would die, he pressed the quick release, freeing me. Blood rushed in, and I was instantly hard.

  I gasped at the pins-and-needles sensation. It felt so good and so bad at the same time. Immediately my mind floated away, hovering just above my body. Bliss rolled through me. Mistress threw her head back and let out a long, low moan as she climaxed. Chef slammed into me and shouted his release.

  Though I don’t remember having an orgasm, when consciousness returned, Chef was cleaning semen from my leg.

  Mistress stroked my hair back from my face, caressing near my temple. “Shhh,” she said. “You’re safe. You’re all right. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  I looked up at her, at her soft dark tresses falling over her red dress where it covered her breasts, and didn’t speak. Hot tears leaked from my eyes. It tried to stop them, but I couldn’t.

  When Chef finished cleaning me, he situated himself on my other side, the warmth of his thighs and hip cradling my body with affection. He stroked my shoulder and arm, adding to Mistress’s calming effect.

  The room lacked a bed, and so the three of us sat on the floor in silence. They didn’t press me to talk about what had happened, though they both made it clear they would listen if I had something to say.

  * * * *

  For the rest of the trip, neither of them brought up the idea of something
more permanent between us, and I was thankful for that. When Master Geordie had wanted something that I hadn’t wanted to give, he used to find some way to throw it at me or wear me down until I gave in. The fact that my decision was being respected—and nobody seemed inclined to retaliate—made most of my anger evaporate.

  After my experiences with neediness and subdrop the mornings after a scene, I spent the rest of the trip rising before they did. Each morning, I left before they were awake, spending several hours on the water fleeing from my past and running from the future.

  When I arrived home, Aunt Danielle was waiting for me. She leaped on me the moment I got out of the car, forcing me to drop my bag. Thank goodness I didn’t have anything breakable in there.

  Drew had been called into work. The chef who had taken charge for the five days he’d been gone had come down with a nasty case of the flu. Sophia had dropped him at Sensual Secrets, and then she’d taken me home.

  Sophia stood behind the trunk, my smaller bag slung over her shoulder. She looked beautiful, a goddess in jeans and a pink jacket.

  “Hi,” Aunt Danielle said as she eyeballed Sophia.

  They hadn’t yet met, so I introduced them.

  “It’s good to meet you,” Sophia said. “Neal has told me about you.”

  I noticed that she stated a careful truth. I had told Sophia about my aunt, but I hadn’t talked about her all that much. It was another way I was keeping her at arm’s length.

  “Yeah,” Aunt Danielle said. “I’m sure.” She knew me pretty well, so she knew I hadn’t said jack to Sophia.

  Things were growing awkward, so I took my bag from Sophia. My intention was to herd her back into the car. She had other plans.

  She stepped around me and beamed a friendly smile. “Drew and I are having some people over Sunday afternoon. We’d like it if you could join us.”

  Aunt Danielle looked at me, speculation and curiosity bubbling in her eyes. “I’d love to. Neal can bring me.”

  I crushed her plans. “I’m working Sunday.”

  Sophia had her phone out. “If you give me your email address, I’ll send you directions to our place. People will start arriving around four, but we won’t eat until closer to six.”