by M. Q. Barber
“They obviously want to know you. And you want that, too.” His gentle push turned her until Henry filled her vision once more. “Now, the idiot boys were running their mouths about babies who needed to be tucked in and must be afraid of the dark, and our young hero said…”
Henry cleared his throat. “Why? Are you afraid to call your mother? Do you worry bigger boys will call you a baby? I’m sure she’d want to hear from you. I know mine does.” His tone stayed calm and even.
Oh hell. She knew what had happened next. No bully would hear that and not feel patronized.
Jay rocked side to side. “And then?”
William stroked her hair. “Oh, and then they thrashed us both, of course.”
“Only because you wouldn’t stand clear, Will.” Henry hugged Jay to him, kissing the top of his head.
“What, and let my roommate take a beating alone? Absurd. And then Henry calmly pulled out his handkerchief, wiped his bloody nose, and called his mother to tell her about his day.” William laughed. “Everything but the thrashing. It ruined their sport entirely.”
“I suspect your punches might have had something to do with that, Will.”
“Can I help it if my father put me in boxing lessons from the time I was eight? Certainly not.”
Henry made a sound of dismissal, if not disagreement, and gave Jay another hug before patting his ass. “Clear the table, my boy, and we’ll have games before dessert.”
Jay gathered dishes, rose to his feet, and headed to the kitchen without complaint.
Instead of sending her to help Jay clear, William crooked his finger. “Come closer, little Alice.”
She knelt on the pillow, her knees touching William’s hip. He clasped the side of her neck. His thumb brushed her ear. Leaning close, he whispered, “Was that the sort of story you wanted to hear, pet? Do you see things more clearly now?”
She tried to picture the two of them as boys, Henry calm and composed, William throwing punches, but her mind kept returning to the night at the club. Henry. Calm and composed. William. Throwing punches.
“You’ve been friends for a long time.” Understanding clicked. William didn’t feel she owed him anything because he’d been doing what he’d always done. “You’ll always have Henry’s back.”
He pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “And yours and Jay’s, little one, so long as you’re his.” Pulling away, he gave her a slight push. “Now, go and help young Jay clear. I’m eager to see what entertainment Henry has planned for the rest of the evening.”
She scrambled to gather plates. William’s satisfied sigh and Henry’s quiet hum informed her she’d flashed her ass at the former and given the latter a view straight down the front vee of her nightgown. She savored the heady sense of her own power, even now, when she’d technically handed that power to another. The extra sway in her hips as she walked to the kitchen wasn’t an accident.
The games would be fun, though Henry hadn’t agreed to her original suggestion. For the best, anyway. Her mouth had been running on pure bravado when he’d sat her down at the table and asked what sort of thank-you she’d wanted to give Santa.
“You could give me a spanking. The good kind. So I can get it right this time.” Right almost certainly did not involve sobbing like a child.
“Get what right, sweet girl?” Neutral-Henry acted as if he didn’t know what a poor reflection of his training she’d demonstrated.
“Show your friend that I’m not such a baby, that you did train me and I can take it.”
Henry looked at her for a long moment. “No, Alice.”
She leaned in, reaching for him. “But—”
He laid a finger to her lips. “Your response wasn’t babyish. Nothing was shameful in any of your actions that night, Alice. You’ve nothing to prove.” He cupped her cheek. “Neither you nor Jay is ready for that, even in play. Something more entertaining is in order, I expect. We want Will to laugh with us.”
Between Jay’s story about Santa’s wife throwing a hissy fit and Emma calling the woman a harpy, Henry’s reasoning needed no further explanation. “To see our happy home.”
“Precisely. We’ll give Will an evening in a happy home, with a charming companion.”
She shook off the memory as she set her dishes on the counter alongside Jay’s. He was already on his way to get the rest. Santa had been right about one thing, for sure. Jay had one fine ass. And she got to play with it.
She picked up the bowl waiting on the counter. No food in this one. She and Jay had spent part of last night filling it with slips of paper. Henry had set down a few rules but otherwise allowed them to write whatever they chose, refusing to vet the slips on the grounds that it would give him an unfair advantage.
Passing Jay in transit, she carried the bowl to the coffee table. She knelt and waited. Jay returned with a tray of two glasses of port, two dessert plates with thin slices of Henry’s chocolate torte, and a plate of truffles that had to be William’s gift to them.
“Lovely, thank you, my boy.” Henry waved toward the open space beyond the coffee table. “Will, if we may borrow Alice for a bit, she and Jay will do some acting for us in a game of charades.” A curving smile overtook his face and lightened his eyes. “There are, of course, valuable prizes to be had.”
“Going head-to-head, are we?” William sank back against his pillow. “All right, then. Bring it on. I’m feeling brilliant tonight.”
“Mmm. I’m feeling motivated to win, myself.”
They haggled over the rules, settling on alternating guesses, with her and Jay allowed to act out their words singly or together, at their option. The first correct guess earned a kiss from the primary actor, with placement at the winner’s discretion. As William was the guest, “his” submissive would be up first.
She drew a slip from the bowl and unfolded it. Jay’s handwriting, not hers. She suppressed a grin. Why am I not surprised?
She beckoned him up beside her, turned their backs to the men, and showed him the slip. After waiting for his goofy grin to subside, she whispered, “Stand still and look happy.” The second part would be easy. The first part would give him fits.
Turning him sideways, she held up a finger toward William and Henry in the universal charades sign for “one word.”
She slid to her knees, trailing her hands over Jay’s bare chest, warm and firm, kissing the skin below his navel. She lacked permission to remove Jay’s shorts, but William wouldn’t have trouble guessing once she brought her mouth in position.
Kneading Jay’s ass, she dragged her cheek up and down alongside his cock and listened to his choked-off moans. Tsk-tsk. No sounds during charades. No climaxes, either. Bet he wished he hadn’t written “blowjob” now.
“Let’s see.” William stretched out his words in a syrup-thick drawl. “I’ve two minutes to figure this out before you’ll have a chance to steal, is that right, Henry?”
She hadn’t factored in William’s sense of fun. Logically, the object of charades was to guess as quickly and as often as possible until coming up with the right word. That’s how she’d have played. Obviously why she’d never played sex charades before. She’d have ruined the fun too fast.
“Two minutes, mm-hmm.”
“I must say, this is a difficult game. I think ‘ways to make a man moan’ would be a good guess.”
“It does run into that pesky one-word problem.”
“Oh, true, one word. Well. That makes things harder.”
She muffled her laughter against Jay’s shorts. No way he could get any harder in this fabric.
“Would you like to pass, Will? I’m happy to make a guess if the game is too difficult for you.”
“No, no, I’ll take my full two minutes. Is ‘ass massage’ one word, Henry? Do you have a dictionary for these tricky problems?”
“I could find one, I suppose. But the search might take a while, and you’ve only ten seconds left to guess, Will.”
“Oh dear. I’ll have to go out on a
limb and say ‘blowjob.’ Do I win?”
“I believe Jay wins,” Henry murmured, laughter in his tone. “Though perhaps it’s more of a torture.”
She stopped her torment and raised the slip to display the word.
Broad smile in place, William clapped his hands. “Excellent. A kiss for me, then. Come here, please, little one.”
She trotted over for instructions.
He pulled her into his lap.
Straddling his thighs, not quite brushing the bulge in his pants, she waited for him to claim his kiss or direct her. Mouth? Neck? Some earlobe nibbling?
He raised his left arm, rolled his sleeve up, bent his arm back, and patted his elbow. “A peck here, pet. My elbow has felt terribly neglected all night. No fault of yours, of course. How were you to know it was crying out for attention?”
Giggling, she bestowed the kiss, the kind a child might give, or a parent kissing a boo-boo.
“Ah, such miraculous healing power in your lips, little one. My elbow feels much appreciated.” He patted her shoulder. “But I suspect your playmate is in need of your assistance now.”
Jay, holding a new slip from the bowl, had directed his watch-and-wait intensity at her with William.
“Run along, pet.”
She hurried to Jay’s side. He pulled her in front of him, dropping his arms around her, and showed her the slip. Her handwriting.
“I’ve seen how this works.” He tickled her ear with soft, full lips. “You seem to like it.”
His eager nudges and sultry tone promised he’d pay her back for the faux-job. He took his hand off her long enough to hold up two fingers to Henry, and then he gripped her hips tight and pulled her hard against his groin.
She went to her knees.
He followed, a solid wall behind her ass and thighs.
She about died of cuteness the way Jay imitated Henry, hips rocking against hers and hands skimming up her back. The side effect pushed up her nightgown, which left her bare ass rubbing Jay’s shorts.
Should she? Aw hell, why not?
Henry made a smart remark about whether “rug burn” counted as one word or two. She missed William’s reply as she crossed her arms on the floor and laid her head on them. Back arching, she shoved her ass into Jay’s crotch.
He sang out a groan as quick and automatic as his cock thumping against her. But the way he dropped over her back, his hands coming down alongside her arms, and the kiss he pressed to her spine demonstrated pure intent.
Pure intent to mimic Henry.
She closed her eyes, reminding herself this was just a game of charades.
Heated air coasted across her ear. A breath. Two. And then a growl.
Hips jerking, she shivered and moaned. “Unfair.”
“No talking, remember?” Jay was quick to tease.
“Ah, yes, I recall the term now. ‘Doggy style.’” Henry spoke warm, liquid syllables. “It’s the growl that sells it.”
Henry-style was more like it. Jay kissed her hair and helped her to her feet.
“Vocalization, though, hmm.” William tapped his fingers against his thigh. “That might be a violation of the rules, don’t you think?”
“What would you suggest, Will?”
“This little play did have two actors.”
“It did.”
“We might split the prize. A kiss each?”
“That seems a more than fair compromise.”
Henry and William wore matching grins.
They played several rounds, and she bounced between hovering on the edge of orgasm or collapsing into giggles. Both made for a hell of a good time. Henry and William finally agreed to call the game a draw.
William treated her to a sip of his port—fruity, with an aftertaste like thick caramel on her tongue—and one of the dark chocolate truffles he’d brought, which had a maple syrup center. She kissed his fingertips as he fed her.
He tipped her chin up and kissed her cheek. “Will you come snuggle with me, little one? It’s traditional to sit on Santa’s lap.”
Warmth flooded her face. Traditional conjured memories of the birthday traditions Henry and Jay had celebrated with her.
Though William held his arms open, he didn’t tug, prod, or pressure.
She settled into his lap, comforted to find him flaccid beneath her despite the arousal he’d obviously felt off and on throughout the night. He wrapped her loosely in his arms. Trying to guess his cues, she leaned into his touch and tucked her head against his shoulder when he stroked her arm or hugged her to him. Seemingly content, he made no demands.
From across the coffee table, Henry let out a soft hum. Jay massaged his feet, intent on his task.
She felt relaxed. A little sleepy, even. Santa warmed her back with steady strokes. Nestling closer, eyelids drooping, she glimpsed Henry’s smile.
“Your girl has given me quite a gift, Henry.” William spoke in a low tone, as if he feared to disturb her. “She’s shown lovely poise. And such comfort.” The light touch of his fingers tickled her arm.
“My Alice has taken a liking to you, Will.” Henry shook his head and loosed an exaggerated sigh, his voice teasing and soft. “Heaven knows why. As if you aren’t entirely too jocular, always jumping in without looking, always finding trouble—”
“Oh-ho, I’m the one who finds trouble, am I? I seem to recall—”
“Now, Will, let’s not be hasty. Little pitchers have big ears, and they’ve had their story time today.”
William snorted, waving aside Henry’s words. “If you found my boyhood antics so troublesome, you’d hardly have gone and chosen a joyful pup for your own household. You’re too serious, Henry. You need lighthearted souls around you.”
“They are a wonderful comfort, that’s true.” Henry ruffled Jay’s hair and tugged him to lie half atop him in their nest of pillows. “My home is never short on laughter.”
“Would that mine were the same.” William sagged into the pillow, his chest deflating beneath her.
She tilted her head back in question.
He frowned, his eyes distant, before he laughed and chucked her under the chin. “But you say your girl’s taken with me, hmm? I admit, I’m hard to resist. Is that true, little one? Have you been comfortable in my hands for the evening? Speak freely.”
She twisted to meet his gaze. “I trust Henry’s judgment. He chose you as a friend. His best friend, I think.” The evidence suggested it was true. “So when he tells me I’ll be safe with you, I know it’s the truth. He wouldn’t lie. And he didn’t. I’m not uncomfortable, Santa.”
William stared at her. He blinked, twice, sharply. “My God, Henry.” He pulled her in tight and kissed the top of her head. “What I wouldn’t give to have half—a quarter, even—of that trust and devotion.”
His chest expanded beneath her shoulder as he breathed. “The faces that come and go over the years are fun for play, but they’re so focused on short-term needs. All wanting me to be someone or something else for them. I can hardly offer them more, can I?” William laughed. “Emotional connections. I’m not sure I recall how to make them. My wife acts as though my slightest touch will contaminate her with unspeakable desires.”
Henry hummed a soothing melody. “It’s all right, Will. Alice is an excellent cuddler—the consummate lapwarmer.”
He knew how much she enjoyed touch, how she’d come to depend on his in so many ways.
“I guarantee you she won’t tire of it, and she already has affectionate emotional ties to you.”
To soothe the stresses of the day, to comfort her, arouse her, and to make her feel she belonged.
“Her needs are being met.”
She’d isolated herself, afraid to mix love with sex because she refused to risk emotional involvement. William had been isolated by circumstances, wanting love but unable to have it. Along came Henry, determined to fix everything for everyone. She was glad he was so good at it. Be nice to know why, though.
William rested his face
against the top of her head, his breath warm. He didn’t see her as a potential sex partner. Or not simply a desirable woman who might be available to him if she weren’t with Henry and Jay. He could find sex with willing partners at the club. Despite his apparently sexless marriage, what he lacked wasn’t sex but affection.
That explained why Henry had been comfortable allowing her to offer her thank-you to William as a temporary submissive. The subs Santa played with wanted something from him, and they negotiated to get it. She’d only wanted to give him something.
The conversation moved on, Henry asking William about his son. He’d be a senior in high school in the fall. The near dozen years between her age and Henry’s had never seemed such a vast distance. But she had the same number of years on Santa’s kid. If life had worked out different, Henry could’ve had a kid that age by now. Jesus.
“One more year, then.” Henry’s quiet, knowing tone suggested he meant more than the kid and his graduation.
William bumped her head as he nodded. “The marriage has been hell, but I did get an amazing son out of the deal. Her hatred and deceit was worth living with to have a son who knows I love him instead of one who’s been told nothing but lies.” Pain and determination mingled in his voice. He shook it off, patting her knee. “But who knows, Henry? Maybe you’ll have a son of your own soon, now that you’ve finally found perfection.”
A mother? Her? Soon?
“Alice?” Jay echoed her own surprise before he clamped his mouth shut.
“A premature notion, Will.” Henry’s voice was firm. “I’m content with the joyous blessings already in my home. My Alice is young yet.”
“Ah. I’ve overstepped. Forgive me, little one. It wasn’t my intent to startle you.” William kissed her forehead. “I’ve heard nothing of any plans in that direction, Alice, and any such decisions would undoubtedly rest in your hands.”
“As they should,” Henry murmured.
Laughing, William ran his hand down her arm. “Tell the truth, Henry. It’s those sleek muscles you love so much. You want more time to capture them on canvas before trying your hand at beautifully swollen curves.”