The Renovation: A Reverse Harem Romance

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The Renovation: A Reverse Harem Romance Page 8

by Mika Lane


  So I took the head of his cock into my mouth and sucked until my cheeks hollowed. He groaned loudly, and for a minute, I wondered if any passersby might hear. But I realized I just really didn’t give a shit. I needed to do this, to express myself physically, and to give and receive some pleasure.

  I took him deeper, about as deeply as I could without gagging, and reached a hand under his balls where I gently squeezed. He groaned again, his fingers burrowing into my hair, having pushed my bandana off at some point. I wasn’t sure where the damn thing went. It didn’t matter. I had others.

  “Goddamn…” Wyatt murmured.

  I felt his balls tighten in my hand as they sent cum driving through the length of his cock and into my mouth, where it slammed the back of my throat. I swallowed all that I could, and when I couldn’t take anymore, had to let the overflow run down my chin and onto the front of my shirt. It tasted like heaven.

  Wyatt pulled me to my feet and held me while the life came back into my stiff legs.

  “Fuck baby,” was all he could say, over and over.

  After a great date with Wyatt, I returned to work with a spring in my step. His offer to help with the house gave me a new and badly needed sense of hope.

  I asked the office intern to cover for me on the phones, and I slipped into a quiet conference room. I pulled some papers out of my purse.

  “Hello, mortgage services,” said a perky voice

  My stomach was knotting.

  “Um, hi. May I speak with Mr. Fraser?”

  “Please hold.” It seemed her perkiness was somewhat diminished when she found out I was calling for the banker who dealt with foreclosures. Yep, lady, I just called in on the loser line.

  “Tony Fraser here,” a dull voice said. Seemed Mr. Fraser also thought less of customers who were defaulting on their home loans.

  “Mr. Fraser, it’s Jayma Kersey. I’m calling about my mortgage.”

  Papers rustled in the background. “Oh, hello, Ms. Kersey. Let me pull up your account.”

  I heard lightning fast typing on a computer keyboard and several sighs. My palms were soaked, and a drip of sweat ran down my temple. I kept peering out the conference room door to make sure no one could overhear me.

  “Okay, Ms. Kersey. I’ve got your account up right here. I can see that you’re several months in default on your loan, and you have approximately two weeks before the ownership of the house reverts to the bank.”

  “Yes, I know that, Mr. Fraser. We discussed that last time we spoke. I’m calling you to discuss possibilities. I have some new options.”

  “Oh, right. Great. So what is your plan, Ms. Kersey?”

  “Well. I think I can get some work done on the house and sell it pretty quickly. I just need a bit more time. But, the bank would be paid in full instead of having to take a loss by foreclosing. As for me, it would save my credit rating.”

  “Oh. Well,” he said.

  “You see, Mr. Kersey, I previously had thought I wouldn’t be able to get any of the work done that the house needed, but that has changed.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said. “Uh-huh.”

  Maybe he wasn’t impressed with my resourceful plan?

  “Will this work for the bank? I mean, isn’t it better than foreclosing?” I asked.

  “Ms. Kersey,” he started, “I will take the proposal to my manager and see what she says.”

  “Really? Oh, that would be great—”

  “Ms. Kersey,” he interrupted, “I said I would ask. What I was going to add was that the bank is not usually amenable to arrangements that come in at the eleventh hour. But we can always ask.”

  “Why wouldn’t the bank want to do it this way?” I asked. “That’s ridiculous. You’ve got to work with me on this. It’s a better outcome for everyone involved.”

  “I can see that. I’ll do my best to convey your proposal.”

  “Well, Mr. Fraser, I really want to stress that—.”

  “I said I would inquire,” he interrupted.

  Now, I was starting to get pissed. My voice rose. There was just no stopping it.

  “Look, stop being an asshole and work with me here—”

  “Ms. Kersey, we don’t tolerate abusive language like that. Good day,” he said and hung up in my ear.

  I hated banks.

  Shelle had finished with all her dogs for the day and had agreed to meet me for a drink after work. She glided into the place looking like a million bucks. No one ever would have known that barely an hour ago, she’d been picking up dog shit in little plastic baggies.

  “Hiiiiii!” she screeched, running toward me.

  Oh my god. Her hair.

  “What did you do to your bangs?” I asked.

  Her hand flew to her head, where she started smoothing her bangs into place.

  “Why? Is something wrong with them?” she asked, stiffly.

  Shit. Why did I open my big mouth?

  “No, not at all,” I said, hoping I could backtrack.

  “Well,” she replied, sniffing. “I trimmed them myself. I didn’t have time to go to the hairdresser. I’ve been way too busy with my business. “

  She wouldn’t look at me. Note to self—don’t ever comment on Shelle’s bangs again.

  I waved the bartender over and ordered two beers. When he delivered them, she perked back up.

  “Anyway,” she said, having forgotten about my earlier insult. “What’s up with your house? And all your boys?”

  I took a deep breath. “Well, I might have a solution for the house. Or, at least a partial solution. And, it’s tied to the guys. Well, a couple of them anyway.”

  “Seriously? Girl, you always land on your feet. I swear.” She rolled her eyes, still fingering her bangs.

  “Hardly. How is having a boyfriend dump me, sticking me with a shit show of a house, landing on my feet? You are insane.”

  “Okay, okay. It was just a figure of speech.” She held her hands in surrender.

  “So, two of the guys have offered to pitch in and help with the house. Carter, the contractor, and Wyatt, the plumber. I feel a little weird about it, though. I’m not sure.”

  “Are you nuts? TAKE THEIR HELP. Don’t be an idiot. Swallow your pride and save your future.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know.”

  “If it means you may be able to keep the house, then it’s a no-brainer.”

  “And then there’s the bank.” Ugh, that familiar stomach knot came roaring back.

  “Oh, yeah,” she said with a sneer. I loved her for that.

  “I talked to them, and of course, they’re being dicks. I told them if they could get me more time, I might be able to successfully sell the house at a good price. I mean, that would be better for everyone, right?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah.”

  “But the guy at the bank said I was bringing him my proposal at the ‘eleventh hour.’ I mean, what a dick. I only found out just after Lance left that he’d not been paying the mortgage. Personally, I think I’m moving pretty fast on this whole fiasco.”

  “Not to mention, moving fast with the dudes.” She smiled at me wickedly. She’d always been a big fan of sowing one’s wild oats. I had a lot of catching up to do, but it seemed I was well on my way. “So, do you have any other new guys I should know about?”

  “I do, as a matter of fact. The odd thing is, he’s best friends with my neighbor, Carter.”

  “What? The contractor dude?” she asked.

  “Yeah. He introduced us. The guy’s name is Dig, and he sells real estate. Very handsome in that dark Italian-Stallion sort of way. He called me for a date earlier today.”

  “But wait. How can you go out with two guys who are friends?” She looked incredulous. I couldn’t blame her. I was, too.

  “Right? It’s definitely different. I asked him, what about Carter and wouldn’t it be weird. He said not at all. So, I said yes.”

  Shelle pursed her lips. “It could come in handy that he’s a real estate agent, too, right?”<
br />
  I nodded. “Possibly.”

  She slapped me on my leg. “Things are so coming together for you, Jay. I knew they would.”

  I supposed things looked like they were coming together, but that was only because they couldn’t get any worse.

  Chapter 16

  DIG

  Was I glad Carter introduced me to Jayma. She was just my type, with that luscious red hair, adorable freckles, and tight little body. And she was clearly sharp as a whip, too. I was so over good-looking girls with nothing upstairs.

  It wasn’t surprising Carter hooked me up with her. He knew my type, probably better than I did. We’d shared girls a few times over the years and it worked out great.

  Thank god, we had none of those ridiculous jealousy issues that do nothing but fuck you up. No cock-blocking games like we saw so many other dudes get into. Maybe it was because we were thick as brothers, having stuck together since Carter’s family had pretty much taken me in. And if anything, we were even closer as adults, referring business to each other, loving the same ladies. You name it.

  I’d been thinking about Jayma since we’d sat down for drinks with her. When I’d checked with Carter to see if I could ask her out, he was pleased to say yes. He’d known I’d like her. He told me the guy she’d been living with had made off with another woman. What a fucking idiot.

  It was no easy task getting the evening off. Real estate was pretty much a 24/7 job. You had to accommodate your clients’ schedules. If someone could only see a property in the middle of the night, as long as no one was living there, I’d take them to see it. I did everything I could to take care of my clients. They, in turn, took care of me by sending everyone they knew to me.

  I had a coworker cover for me, and I’d scheduled so many clients for the following day that I was going to be running from dawn to dusk. But it was worth it to have some time to get to know Jayma. The clients would still be there in the morning.

  I had a low-key but classic San Francisco evening planned. We were going to meet in North Beach, the city’s old Italian neighborhood, on the corner of Grant and Union streets, and go from there. I was busting ass to get there early, though, so she wouldn’t have to wait on a street corner for me. Carter’s dad, who’d been more of a father to me than my own, always told us to never keep a lady waiting. When I arrived, I had to wipe my forehead down with a handkerchief—another thing Carter’s dad always insisted on. He’d said hankies might have been old-fashioned, but having one could get you out of multiple jams. Like just then.

  And hell if I wasn’t doubly glad I had one when I saw Jayma bouncing toward me down the street wearing a big, gorgeous smile, and a slim dress showing off her trim figure. For some inexplicable reason, I broke out in another sweat, even though I was standing there doing nothing.

  What was it about this woman? God help me.

  “Hi!” she said in a big, bright voice, throwing her arms around me for a hug. She smelled freaking awesome. I didn’t want to let go.

  Cool it, asshole.

  “Hey, gorgeous. Great to see you again,” I said.

  “I just love this part of the city,” she said, looking around. “It’s so charming. Kind of like going back in time. Although, I don’t know how many Italians live here anymore.” She laughed.

  “No kidding. But at least the place is still full of killer places to eat. The Italians might have moved out of the neighborhood, but they left their restaurants behind.”

  Seriously, I was grateful for that. I lived for Italian food.

  “Speaking of food, I’m starving,” she said.

  “Good, ‘cause so am I. Have you been to Tony’s?”

  “You mean the world-famous pizza joint? I’ve never been, and I’ve always wanted to give it a try.”

  We strolled a couple blocks toward Tony’s, and when we arrived, I placed my hand on the small of her back and guided her in the door. Tony’s was a typical old Italian joint with exposed brick, shelves of Chianti bottles lining the walls, and big paintings of the Roman Coliseum and other Italian landmarks. There was even a fountain in the corner with a little Leaning Tower of Pisa in the middle—tacky and hilarious, but charming in a way that only Italian restaurants could be.

  We ordered a couple different kinds of pizza and a bottle of wine and got to talking.

  “So, you have some work to do on your house, huh?” I asked.

  She sighed. “Yeah, do I. But I think I might be getting some help with it. There’s still hope.”

  “Right. Flipping houses is a hard business. You have to have enough money, and then your contractors, all lined up at the right time. If you don’t turn it around fast enough, you could face a massive loss.” I’d seen it before, having helped people both buy and sell fixer-uppers. It was a tough game.

  “All was going according to plan,” she said sadly. “Then the boyfriend bailed.”

  “Jesus, that sucks. But it sounds like you’ve found some people who can help.” I caught her gaze. “Like me.”

  A pink blush lit up her face. “Gosh, Dig. Thank you. I really appreciate that. Are you sure it’s okay?”

  I reached across the table and took her hand. No use in pussyfooting around.

  “I offered. I would not help if I didn’t think I sincerely could.”

  “Well, thank you. It’s very generous,” she said, gripping my fingers back.

  “I’ve helped folks with houses like this before. There are plenty of people out there looking for a turnkey house to get into, one where they don’t have to do anything. I can find buyers for you once the place is all fixed up.”

  I could swear her eyes were looking extra-shiny all of a sudden. Was she going to cry?

  She cleared her throat and let go of my hand, grabbing her napkin to dab her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I get emotional about this stuff. It’s been a real rollercoaster.”

  “You won’t lose the house. Not if I have anything to do with it. And I know Carter feels the same way.”

  She took a deep breath and a smile returned to her face.

  “What’s up with you guys, anyway? Both wanting to date the same woman?”

  I’d been waiting for this part of the conversation. It was inevitable.

  And she deserved answers. After all, Carter’s and my tastes were more than a little unconventional.

  “Carter and I have been in relationships with the same woman before. It’s not like we set out looking for an arrangement like that. It just sort of evolved.”

  “Really?” she asked, diving into her first slice of pizza. Man, did I love a woman who could eat.

  “Carter and I, we have amazingly similar tastes. Maybe I should say identical tastes. It started a long time ago, when we fell for the same woman. She suggested we both date her, so we did. It was fantastic. When one of us was busy, the other could be with her. And sometimes all three of us would go out.”

  She put down her fork, looking uncomfortable. “Um, well, do you guys…you know?”

  “What? Oh, do Carter and I get it on?” I had to laugh. That question always came up. “No, that’s not our thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” I added with a wink.

  “Oh. I was just wondering,” she said, going back to her pizza.

  I smiled quietly, drinking her in.

  “Jayma, I gotta tell you, I’ve wanted to take you out since the first time I met you.”

  There was that blush again. Shit, I was in trouble.

  “Thank you. That’s really sweet. I’m so flattered. And I’m interested in you, too. But Carter had already asked me out, and since you were his friend, I figured it wasn’t kosher.”

  “Oh, it’s kosher,” I said, unable to tear my gaze from those eyes.

  “Okay. Wow,” she said with raised eyebrows.

  Thank god, the white tablecloth covered my lap. It did an excellent job of hiding my growing erection.

  “Jayma?”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you ever been sh
ared?” I asked her.

  “Um, no, no I have not.”

  Shit, she looked scared.

  But that was okay, because I was ready to teach her there was nothing to be scared of.

  Chapter 17

  JAYMA

  Good lord. Shared?

  Dig sat across the table from me with his gorgeous black hair, dark eyes, and perfectly chiseled jaw, and he not only wanted me, but it was okay with him that his friend Carter did, too.

  What. The. Fuck.

  First, I wasn’t sure I got the whole sharing thing. Nobody did that. Did they?

  But I’d work all that shit out later. Tonight was my night with Dig, and damn if the food at the world famous Tony’s wasn’t completely amazing. Pizza with a delicate thin, crunchy crust.

  I was in heaven. And it didn’t hurt that we were on our second bottle of red.

  Slow down, girl.

  But seriously, how often does one sit across from a freaking god of a man, consuming mind-blowing pizza and wine, and have him offer not only his real estate services, but also himself and his best friend?

  Was Shelle right? Maybe things were beginning to go my way.

  “Well. This is…kind of amazing,” I told him. I couldn’t find words to explain how weird his proposal was, and yet how much it turned me on.

  He nodded as he handed the waiter his credit card.

  “If it’s too much, I understand. We understand. It has to work for all parties involved.” Good grief, it sounded like a business transaction. And then he flashed me his stunning smile. Damn him, he’d made me all gooey inside. I’d thought men like him only existed in the movies. Little did I know they were walking the streets of San Francisco, brokering real estate deals. And eating pizza.

  “What happened with your family?” I asked. It was really none of my damn business, but I’d told him my dirt, and if he was comfortable talking about sharing a woman with his best friend, well, anything and everything was on the table.

  “You mean why did Carter’s family basically take me in?” he asked.

  “Yes. If you don’t mind my asking,” I added, to be polite.

 

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