by Josee Renard
And the whole hangover thing made making decisions impossible.
She followed Big Dave out to his truck after he’d shouted at one of the skinny teenagers hunched over a computer. “Look after the place, okay? I should be back in half an hour.”
She took a deep breath and then another. Dave seemed to understand her discomfort and didn’t say a word as he helped her into his truck and pulled the seatbelt around her. He turned on the radio, heavy metal blasting through the monster-size speakers, and settled into himself.
What do I say? How do I explain what I want? What I think we all need? What if he’s forgotten me? Or he’s not the slightest bit interested?
Ellie shook herself. She knew what she had to do and she was going to do it, because she couldn’t spend another year like the last one. It was time to take the biggest risk of her life.
So she settled back into the heated leather seat and watched the city roll by, watched until the truck turned onto James Street, watched, her eyes getting bigger and bigger, when the truck pulled up in front of 1275.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be so hard after all.
Chapter Nine
Morteza dimly heard a bang on the front door, followed by the doorbell ringing wildly, then another series of bangs, much less dim this time. He wrapped the pillow more tightly around his head and tried to ignore the noises on his front porch.
But it was too late for that.
He’d had almost enough sleep, and though twelve hours ago he could have slept through an earthquake, today he was close enough to normal that he dragged himself out of bed and threw on a robe before he headed for the door.
The only person who knew where he lived was Big Dave, so he wasn’t at all surprised when he threw open the door to find Dave standing on the front porch. The person standing next to him, hiding in the shadow of the bulk of Big Dave, was more than a surprise.
She was a miracle.
Big Dave pushed Ellie toward the door, smiled and said, “She’s all yours. Remember, you have to be back at work tomorrow night.”
He patted Ellie on the back with familiarity. “Go on, little girl. This was your idea.”
Morteza could see the good luck, man in Big Dave’s eyes. But he was too busy worrying over his bed head and sleep mouth and Ellie, oh my God, Ellie standing inches away from him to wonder what Dave’s good luck meant or how in the hell Ellie ended up on his front porch accompanied by Big Dave, the only person—other than himself—who knew where he lived.
And Ellie’s presence quickly translated into another worry, one that made itself perfectly obvious under the light cotton of his robe.
“Ellie,” he croaked, further embarrassing himself. He’d never imagined Ellie showing up on his doorstep. Every scenario had entailed him getting his life—and Eli and Ellie’s safety—organized before arranging some super-romantic way to get the three of them back together.
He’d studied on the romantic. Seriously. On TV. In movies. In magazines and books. His first plan was to basically kidnap the two of them and spend a week in Paris. First class all the way. Morteza wasn’t worried about money—he had plenty of it.
But he’d worried they couldn’t get away from their jobs—whatever they were. He was worried that even the private jet wouldn’t be private enough for the combustion he imagined, that maybe his ever-so-expensive passport wouldn’t pass muster.
So he set his sights a little lower.
A balloon ride over River City. A limo filled with roses and champagne. A private jet to a very private beach just an hour away.
“No,” he finally said, abandoning his year’s worth of plans and trying to explain his voice. “I’m not sick. Or hung over,” he added. “I just haven’t spoken a word in a couple of days.”
He answered the question in her eyes. “I was looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found.”
Confusion remained on Ellie’s face and it took him, in his just out of bed stupor, a while to figure out what the problem was. “I wasn’t looking for you. Or Eli. I did that search first.”
She smiled and leaned in a little. His cock responded.
Morteza wondered, as he took in the sight and the scent of her—and she was as aroused as he was, he could smell it, and that lovely Ellie-scent might just drive him crazy—why he’d been so concerned about finding Ali. Why hadn’t he just gone to the two of them and asked them to run away with him?
His suddenly fever free and accordingly brilliant mind had just figured out that if they moved across the country they’d be safe. As safe as anyone could be in a world of hurricanes and car accidents and muggings and disease—none of which could hurt him. But the others? Ellie and Eli? Too much risk. Too much worry.
But the new Lord of all the demons wouldn’t be bothered enough—if he ever actually started to worry about Morteza’s absence—to chase him across the country. Having thought that through, Morteza realized why he couldn’t find Ali.
He’d confined his search to this part of the country, to a few states up, a few states down, a few states around. He hadn’t even thought to search the rest of the country. And now that he’d figured it out, he wouldn’t need to.
Ali had fled the portal and was likely living as far from River City as he could get—barring the Arctic and the Antarctic. Demons weren’t big fans of cold.
Morteza knew he was drifting along in severe avoidance mode and shook himself out of it. Ellie didn’t looked bored or impatient, but he didn’t want to push it. Whatever Ellie was here to propose—even if it wasn’t the happily ever after for the three of them that Morteza was looking for—had to be better than the hell he’d been existing in for the past year.
And it was already way better than the hell he’d escaped from.
He really looked at Ellie for the first time and smiled at her obvious discomfort.
“Come in,” he said and gestured toward the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee and get dressed.” He added and clean the fuck up, you loser to himself.
The glow in her eyes made him feel more confident about the outcome of this meeting, and the joy of having one half of his dream in their house blew away all of his misgivings.
Morteza lightly touched her arm and led her into the kitchen. He’d spent a lot of time and money turning it into a dream kitchen, and her breathy “oh” made it all worthwhile.
He couldn’t wait to show her the rest of the house, especially the master suite that sprawled across the whole second floor. He’d completely gutted the space and started from scratch. Three walk-in closets. Two fireplaces. The bathroom boasted an extra-large soaker tub to accommodate Morteza’s height and weight, enough sinks for all three of them, and a shower built to the same specifications.
And where was Eli?
There was no aroma of him on Ellie, not even a trace. And although Morteza had lost some of his demon powers when he crossed over, he hadn’t lost his acute sense of smell. Every time Ellie shifted, her arousal wafted across the space between them and made him even hornier. If that were possible.
Was Eli…? No, Ellie wouldn’t be as excited as she obviously was if anything bad had happened to Eli or if anything was seriously wrong with him..
“Please,” he said, pulling out a stool from the granite-topped island. “Sit.”
Morteza was careful not to touch her. He’d explode if he did. His cock throbbed and, as her eyes drifted down, it grew even longer, even harder, though before she glanced at him, he would have thought that impossible.
Blood rushed through his veins, heading right for his unbearably impatient cock, spreading waves of fuck her now and she wants you and you’ve been waiting for this for a year.
His brain, although just barely functioning through the roar of his cock and his blood, countered with a dose of reality. You haven’t seen her for a year, and you have no idea why she’s here.
He turned away and busied himself with the coffeemaker, pulling cream from the fridge, sugar and mugs from the cupboards.
“Morteza?”
And he realized she hadn’t spoken but a single word before this.
“Ellie,” he said in reply, knowing everything he’d fantasized about was in that single word.
She hopped off the stool and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest where his heart—his no-longer-demonic heart—beat with a joy so deep he felt tears on his cheeks for the first time in his long life. He sighed with contentment.
It had to be lucky that the first tears he ever shed were tears of happiness.
She said his name again, this time without the question mark.
He forgot his hair, his sleep breath, his throbbing cock and concentrated all his senses, all his self, on holding Ellie, savoring Ellie, loving Ellie.
Chapter Ten
Eli had the eerie and unusual feeling that something was happening that was going to change his life. He often relied on his intuition, although he’d almost always figured intuition—in his case—translated to close observation. It stood him in good stead at work, watching for trends, watching his employees and suppliers.
It stood him in even better stead when it came to women. He watched their faces for that first blush of arousal, for their eyelids lowering, for their nostrils ever so slightly flaring.
He watched their posture as it relaxed, their nipples as they tightened. Eli was an expert at observation; it had only been in the past year that he’d had time to quantify it and link it to his so-called intuition.
But this feeling, this intuition, was different. What he felt now had no observable cause, nothing to be seen or heard or felt.
It just was.
And it scared the shit out of him. Because he also couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.
He sat at his desk, door closed, phone on do-not-disturb, computer turned off, cell phone silenced and locked in his bottom drawer.
Eli wasn’t good at analyzing his own behavior, though the past year had changed that. A bit.
So he sat and explored exactly how he felt to try and figure out what it was that was triggering his intuition. Anxious, he thought. Antsy, maybe. Aroused as well, though given that he hadn’t had an orgasm in a year, he wasn’t surprised about that.
He wasn’t scared, he soon realized. Whatever it was seemed to be at the very least neutral. No one was hurt or in trouble—except maybe him. He grinned, thinking about what Ellie would say if she saw him now, sitting in silent almost-mediation, trying to figure out what a feeling—an elusive, air-fairy feeling—meant to his real life.
Thinking about Ellie immediately converted his anxiety into a deep, ringing bong of success. Whatever the not-bad anxiety was about had to do with Ellie.
Eli couldn’t think about Ellie without Morteza.
Another bong.
“Ouch,” he said, as his rapidly burgeoning cock slammed into his too tight jeans.
He’d spent a whole year avoiding thinking about the three of them together and, now, a single chance thought changed everything.
Eli felt it all, relived that perfect night in all its wondrous detail. Ellie’s laugher, her amazingly beautiful body and generosity. The way she touched him, the way she encouraged both Morteza and Eli to touch her. And each other.
Morteza’s big tanned body, the sculpted arms wrapped around Eli’s waist, his lips on Eli’s cock.
He remembered, with every atom of his being, the way he’d felt wrapped around Morteza and Ellie, the way they’d felt wrapped around him. He remembered the way his heart had opened and his eyes had filled with tears.
He felt, even now, the gentle touch of Ellie’s hand as she guided his hand to her breast or his mouth to Morteza’s cock.
The taste of them on his tongue was as clear as if he’d just lifted his head from the ripe crest of Morteza’s cock or the lovely ocean softness of Ellie’s cunt.
He laid back in his chair and closed his eyes, savoring, allowing himself to savor, for the first time in a year, the joy and overwhelming love—finally, he thought, I know what it is—he’d experienced that night.
Eli’s nostrils twitched, the sweet combined scent of his mates as real and rich as if they’d just walked out of the room, as if they’d left that part of themselves to keep him company while they had to be apart.
He settled himself more deeply into the past and remembered every sensory detail.
The three of them, their bodies slick with sweat and cum and mango juice, lying in a tangle of limbs, breathing and heartbeats synchronized as if at least those parts of them were one.
He remembered, when he’d been sure his cock couldn’t rise one more time, the twitch when Morteza’s big, warm hand moved across his hip and the almost instantaneous yes, I want you again in response.
He remembered, oh God how he remembered, the feel of moving slowly, oh so slowly, inside Morteza, echoing the slow push and withdrawal of Morteza inside Ellie. The way the three of them moved as if they were one being, patient right up until the end, right up until the moment Ellie’s light moan was echoed by Morteza and then Eli himself. The way each of them stiffened and somehow experienced a single orgasm, the intensity of it still as clear as if it were happening right this moment.
And it was.
“Oh, my God,” he sighed, as his cock screamed for release and his orgasm-free year came to an ignominious end.
Eli hadn’t experienced an unplanned orgasm since he was fourteen, yet just the thought of the three of them together had his boxers dripping with cum.
But that orgasm—late and explosive as it was—wasn’t even close to enough. His cock banged up against his zipper again. It had a mind of its own, and that mind wanted more—much, much more.
It wanted it all.
Eli cleaned himself up, shoving his boxers into a plastic bag and the bag into his briefcase for the trip out to the car, leaving his cock loose and desperate in his trousers.
He knew exactly where he needed to be. Yes, he’d call Ellie in a little while, yes, they’d somehow—calling Big Dave was probably a good place to start—find Morteza. Yes, he had a whole lot of groveling to do, especially to Ellie. His cock twitched at the thought.
But right now he wanted to get his mind and his body around exactly how they were going to make this work.
It couldn’t be hard to find a very tall, very buff, very gorgeous man in River City, and Eli was connected. He had Big Dave. He hadn’t looked before this because—he just now realized—he hadn’t been ready. Finding Morteza shouldn’t take but a few hours.
But the result of that finding?
Not so predictable.
Because it was impossible to know if Morteza felt the same way about the two of them, impossible to interpret Ellie’s complete absence over the past year.
The two of them hadn’t spent more than vacation time without talking, at least every couple of days, since they were teenagers. No matter how busy each—or either—of them had been, they had called to check in every couple of days.
She hadn’t called him once since that awkward walk back to the car after the best night of his life.
Oh, the awkwardness had been all him. He’d been shattered by the experience—not just Morteza, but especially Ellie and the way he’d responded to her. Somewhere deep inside, he’d realized with the first touch that his friendship, the friendship he’d counted on for almost all of his life, was far more than friendship.
And he hadn’t had any idea of how to cope with that change.
Now he knew that he’d spent the past year waiting—as he’d often waited throughout the years—for Ellie to call him and tell him what had happened, just what he was feeling and why he was feeling it.
Without her insight and help, it had taken Eli an entire year to figure out what the hell had happened.
Intuition? Hell, without Ellie, he knew nothing. Hell, without Ellie and Morteza, he was nothing.
Now, though, he’d figured out where he needed to go and what he needed to do before he began his groveling. To
both of them.
He’d have to tell them how scared he’d been, how much he missed them, what an idiot he’d been to waste all this time.
Eli knew, almost as if somewhere buried deep in his mind, he’d been thinking about this for the whole year, how to make the best peace offering ever. It might not eliminate all the hurt, all the anger, but it was sure to help.
He was going to buy the house where they’d begun their life together, and he was going to do it today.
When—in the early part of the year from hell—he’d allowed himself to drive down James Street, he’d seen a For Sale sign on the house. With the economy so bad, he was pretty sure the house had remained unsold.
He just needed the name and number of the agent.
Chapter Eleven
Morteza had finally managed to drag himself away from Ellie for a quick shower and general tidy-up. He headed for his bedroom—the so-called study and the second bathroom—on the main floor.
He had basically wrapped the whole master suite in police tape, only going up there once a week for a complete cleaning and to open up the windows to let the air in. He was obsessive—and he knew exactly what that word meant—about making sure it was ready for his mates’ arrival, even when he was so carefully avoiding finding them.
“Just in case,” he’d whisper to himself as he dusted and vacuumed and straightened the already perfectly straight bed linens that he washed once a week and had replaced twice in the past year. “You never know,” he’d say as he checked the volume on the built-in stereo and the Yo-Yo Ma tango CD waiting on repeat in the CD slot.
“Anything, absolutely anything, is possible,” he’d reassure himself as he buffed the already impossibly shiny fixtures in the bathroom and checked the perfectly aligned logs in the fireplaces.
He smiled at the thought of the space coming to life as soon as he and Ellie found—and convinced—Eli to join them. From the look on Ellie’s face, she had no doubts about their future together.