Which brings us to today’s meeting with Spencer Calkins.
Calkins is the owner of Sin on Demand, an adult movie studio that specializes in female-friendly porn. I’ve met him at industry events before, and I’ve never cared for the guy. He always manages to come across as a total creep.
Last week, Calkins’ assistant called us out of the blue and told us that his boss was planning to be in New Summit and wanted to meet with us. Normally, we’d have politely demurred, but with the bills piling up, we don’t have a choice. Rehab is expensive, and therapy isn’t cheap, and I’m ready to spend whatever it takes for my dad’s recovery.
Plus, let’s be honest. I’m happy for any excuse to go to Cassie’s coffee shop. Seeing her is the highlight of my day.
It’s my turn to buy coffee, so I head up to the counter. Cassie’s wearing a red checked shirt and white shorts. Her legs are long, lean, and tanned. When she reaches for a cheerful yellow mug on the top shelf behind her, her shirt rides up, exposing the small of her back. My cock hardens.
I clear my throat. “Hey, Cassie.”
She jumps and swirls around. “James,” she exclaims. “You scared me. I didn’t see you come in.”
“You were in the back.”
“I was taking stock.” She gives me a bright smile. “I’m planning a Costco run sometime this weekend. “
The door opens. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a lanky guy in his forties walk in, a baseball cap slung backward on his head. Spencer Calkins.
Calkins doesn’t see me at the counter, but he catches sight of Lucas and raises a hand in greeting. Cassie watches the man sit down on the couch. “Friend of yours?” she asks curiously.
“A business associate.” I grab the two mugs of coffee she hands me and head over. “Mr. Calkins,” I greet the guy. “It’s good to see you.” Setting the coffee on the table in front of us, I shake his hand.
“James Fowler and Lucas Bennett.” He grins widely, rubbing his hands together. This guy is so weird. “I’m in the presence of celebrities.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. Taking a seat, I hide my smirk as Lucas rolls his eyes. The three of us exchange pleasantries for a few minutes, then I lean forward and cut to the chase. “You wanted to meet us?”
“I did.” He crosses his legs. “I’ve been watching your show,” he says. “It’s good. I’d like to make a deal with you. Here’s what I propose. Sin On Demand sponsors your show for six months. Of course, in exchange for the money, I’ll want a certain amount of editorial control.”
I exchange a glance with Lucas, who’s frowning into his coffee. Unease skitters up my spine. Handing editorial control to Calkins? I don’t like the idea of that.
“What kind of control?”
“Nothing major,” he says airily. “We’ll pick guests to appear on your show, suggest topics for you to do, that kind of thing.”
Calkins wants control over everything. “How much money?”
Lucas gives me a sharp look. What are you doing? his expression seems to ask.
“Five thousand per week,” he replies.
Shit. Five grand per week, twenty grand a month. That kind of money will pay for a lot of rehab and therapy.
“James and I need to discuss this,” Lucas cuts in firmly. “We’ll be in touch.”
“You have two weeks,” he replies, standing up. “Make the right call, guys. This is life-changing money.”
5
Cassie:
As soon as I walk into the bar with Stuart Sutherland on Friday night, I have an ‘oh-shit’ moment.
James and Lucas are bartending tonight. and of course, they look gorgeous, and of course, they’re surrounded by giggling women. I never knew how many single women existed within driving distance of the Merry Cockatoo until the two men started working there.
Stuart visibly brightens when he sees the gaggle of women. Good job on the tact, buddy. Way to make me feel special. Mia’s words sound in my head. Instead of taking a chance on something that could be really good, you’re going out with Stuart Sutherland.
Damn it. I hate when my best friend is right.
The Merry Cockatoo doesn’t have table service on Friday nights, so Stuart elbows his way to one end of the bar and waves the nearest bartender over. In this case, it’s Lucas. Inwardly, I cringe. Lucas and James are my friends, and Stuart is treating them like help.
Lucas raises an eyebrow at the gesture, but comes over with a pleasant smile on his face. “Hey Cassie,” he greets me with a wink. “Fancy seeing you here.” He turns to Stuart. “What can I get you two?”
“Two pints of whatever is on special,” Stuart replies, without checking with me.
“Cassie doesn’t like beer.” Lucas frowns and turns to me. “Glass of the house white, Cass?”
I wince at Stuart’s displeased expression. Lucas is right— Mia’s the beer fan, not me— but he’s deliberately pushing Stuart’s buttons. “Beer’s fine,” I reply hastily.
Two hours later, I’m still nursing that pint of beer, which is now warm and tastes like swamp water. Stuart is at the corner of the bar, holding court the way he did in high school. He’s surrounded by the mean girl crew—Tiffany Slater, Amy Cooke, Gayla Jackson and the rest of the cheerleaders, and he’s basking in their attention. If I left, he wouldn’t even notice.
“Want to trade that beer for some wine?” Lucas’ voice sounds in my ear.
Setting the pint glass on the counter, I give him a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
James comes over too. “You’re dressed up tonight,” he says. “You look nice.”
“I can’t believe I wore makeup and shaved my legs for this guy,” I mutter, taking the glass of wine that Lucas hands me. “Fat lot of use that was.”
Lucas’ eyes roam over me slowly. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the room,” he says softly. “With or without makeup.” He leans forward and brushes a finger over the back of my neck. “I’ve never noticed your tattoo.” His voice is low, and his expression is intense and focused. “Dangerous freedom,” he reads.
I feel light-headed. Awareness pounds through my body at his touch, at the way James watches the two of us with a slight smile on his face. “I prefer dangerous freedom over peaceful slavery,” I whisper.
“Thomas Jefferson,” James says. I must look surprised that he’s recognized the saying because his lips quirk up. “Liberal arts degree,” he explains. “It’s good for all kinds of odd trivia.”
“Why this saying?” Lucas’ voice sends skitters of arousal down my spine.
“I was a rebellious teenager.” I swallow. I’m sure James and Lucas have heard a version of this story because if there’s one thing that New Summit loves, it’s gossip. “When I was a kid, my mother entered me in every single pageant in a five hundred mile radius. She dressed me up in sequins and lace and showed me off. When I turned thirteen, I decided I was done being displayed like a show dog.”
James’ eyes are warm with sympathy. “I don’t blame you.”
“My mother didn’t want me to quit.” My lips twist as I remember the screaming, the tears, and the yelling. “She loved the competitions. She lived vicariously through me, and when I stopped cooperating, she didn’t have any use for me. Anyway, long story short, I had fake ID, and one night when I was fifteen, I took the bus to the city, went to a tattoo parlor and got inked.”
There’s far too much understanding in their expressions. I clear my throat. “When they died, my half-sister came to live with me. Things got better once Kelli showed up.”
Stuart is laughing at something Tiffany is saying, his fingers resting on her forearm. So much for my date. Lucas shoots him a disapproving look. “What are you doing with that creep, Cass?” he asks me. “You should be with someone who pays attention to you, who cherishes you.”
“Like you?” All the air seems to have left the room. “Or like James?”
“Or both.” There’s a quiet intensity in James’ voice. “We saw you watchi
ng Mia with Landon and Ben at Sophia’s party. Admit it, Cass. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”
Have I thought about James and Lucas pinning me between their bodies? Why yes, yes I have. Ever since I met the two men, that’s my most persistent fantasy. And last night, when I listened to their show about ménage, I’d been so wound up, so hot for them.
I try and list the reasons I shouldn’t be with Lucas and James, but right now, I can’t think of a single one.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Come home with us tonight,” Lucas urges. “We’ll be done working in a couple of hours.”
I’m tempted. So tempted. I’m almost ready to open my mouth and say yes, consequences be damned.
Just then, the cheerleaders gather their stuff and prepare to leave, and Stuart seems to remember my existence. “Hey Cassie,” he says. “Gayla’s having an after-party at her place. Shall we head over?”
The choices dangle in front of me. Lucas and James, or Stuart? A dangerous freedom or a peaceful slavery?
Am I ready to have a threesome with two vloggers, or should I choose the safer path? Stuart Sutherland doesn’t make my heart beat faster, but maybe that’s for the best.
“Sure,” I reply. “Give me a second to run to the ladies’ room, and I’ll be ready to leave.”
James and Lucas are waiting for me outside the washroom. James’ hands are clenched into fists at his side.
“You don’t have to pick us,” Lucas says, his voice thick with urgency. “But don’t leave with him, Cass. We’ve served him six beers tonight. He’s in no shape to drive.”
I should listen to them. My parents died in a car crash.
But if I stick around, I know, as surely as my name is Cassie Turner, that I’ll go home with them tonight. I want them too much.
Compared to that, Stuart Sutherland driving drunk seems like the safer option. “I’ll be fine,” I whisper. Avoiding looking at them, I run away.
Stupid, stupid Cassie.
6
Lucas:
Three hours later, we close the Merry Cockatoo. I’m tidying up, and James is counting the cash in the register when my phone rings. It’s Cassie.
“Lucas?” Her voice is shaky. She sounds as if she’s been crying. “I tried James’ phone, but it kept ringing.”
“What happened?” My heart beats faster. “Where are you?”
“Highway 7 and Honey Lane,” she replies, naming an intersection that’s on the outskirts of town. “Stuart nearly hit a tree, and we ended up in a ditch. The cops are here.”
“We’ll be right there,” I say instantly, trying to keep the anger out of my voice for Cassie’s sake. How dare that asshole put Cassie in danger? The stupid fool.
Cassie used to live with her sister, but Kelli got a job offer at a hospital in Pittsburg at the start of the year. After we pick Cassie up at the scene of the accident, we drive her straight to our place. It’s almost three in the morning, and Patrick’s fast asleep.
We settle her down on the leather couch in our office, the only room in the house that isn’t a wreck. The rest of the rooms are stripped down to the studs, and we’ve been working on insulating each wall before we put up drywall. It’s a lot of work, and it’s slow going.
I wrap a throw around her shoulders. James, who believes that a cup of hot chocolate is the solution to all of life’s woes, places a mug in Cassie’s hands. “Drink,” he says softly.
Cassie’s fingers tremble, and the mug shakes, sloshing cocoa over the rim. “I know I shouldn’t have got in the car with Stuart,” she says, her voice a monotone. “Mia’s away for the weekend. Otherwise, I’d have called her. Sorry I bothered you.”
“You didn’t bother us,” I reply at once. “You’re never a bother, Cass.” I’d fucking walk across broken glass for this girl, and she doesn’t know it.
James exchanges a worried glance with me. He sits on the couch next to Cassie and puts his arm around her. “You’re safe,” he soothes, stroking her hair. “You’re here now. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
Fucking Stuart Sutherland. Not only did he risk his own life by driving drunk, but he risked Cassie’s as well. We saw him in the back seat of the cop car when we picked up Cassie, and the fucker didn’t even have a scratch on him.
Cassie rests her head on James’ shoulder. I push the envy I feel aside and sit down onto the other side, lifting her bare feet on my thighs. “What are you doing?” she asks nervously.
“Giving you a foot massage.” I run my thumbs over her instep, and she sighs in pleasure. “It’ll help you relax.”
“I very much doubt it,” she whispers, though she doesn’t move away. She closes her eyes and sips her hot chocolate, and I knead her feet until she’s limp and relaxed.
When the mug is empty, James takes it from her and sets it down on the couch. “Want another cup, Cassie?”
She shakes her head.
“Are you hungry?” he asks her. “Do you want me to make you a grilled cheese sandwich?”
She shakes her head again. “There’s only one thing I want right now,” she says, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.
“What’s that, Cassie?”
She sits up, her legs falling to the floor. “Will you kiss me?” she asks us. “Please?”
My heart skips a beat. Absolutely. I can’t think of anything I want to do more.
James is the first to react. He puts his hand on the back of Cassie’s neck, and pulls her toward him, claiming her lips in a slow, deep kiss. While he does that, I press my lips over Cassie’s bare shoulder. A pulse beats at the base of her neck, and I caress that spot with my thumb.
“You taste like honey,” James says hoarsely, pulling back and looking dazed. “Sweet and warm.”
I want to taste her. I want to feel her body quiver at my touch. I want to hear her moan my name as she comes.
I cup Cassie’s chin in my hands, leaning in, looking into her smoky gray eyes. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” I ask her. There’s a part of me that’s wondering why I’m cock-blocking myself, but I care about Cassie too much to take advantage of her. I don’t want her to regret kissing us in the morning. “You know both James and I want you, but you’ve had one heck of a night.”
“Lucas?” She grabs my shirt in her hands and pulls me closer to those pouty red lips. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Chuckling, I press my mouth against hers. I kiss her lightly at first, running my tongue at the seam of her lips until she parts them with a moan. James is right. She does taste like honey, and it’s fucking addictive. I think I could kiss her all night long.
James cups Cassie’s firm breasts in his palm. “I want you naked,” he says, his voice hoarse with arousal. Her nipples pebble into hard nubs. He moves his hand to her zipper. “Okay?”
She nods, her eyes glazed with heat.
James works his magic, and Cassie’s dress falls to her waist. She’s wearing a sheer pink lace bra, and when I see her firm breasts, her nipples dark under the lace, I swallow hard. She’s a vision, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her body.
My dick is rock hard. I want to take her to bed, rip the rest of her clothes off and bury myself in her body.
Reaching behind her, I undo her bra clasp and peel the fabric off her. “So fucking beautiful,” I groan. “Stand up, honey. Take that dress off.”
“Here?” She looks around the room, then she stiffens. “Shit, this is your office,” she blurts out.
“Yeah?” My voice is laced with confusion. “So what? It’s the only room in the house that isn’t a disaster.”
“This is where you film the show.” She jumps to her feet, her fingers clutching at her dress. “Oh my God, you guys were sitting here when you were talking to your friend about ménage.” She snatches her bra from the couch and puts it on. “And there are cameras,” she squeaks, her eyes wide.
“They’re not on.” James surveys Cassie with a look of concern. “Cass, what’s the matter?”
“No, of course not.” I don’t know what just happened, but there’s no way I’m letting her go home alone in the middle of the night. “I’ll drive you.”
And maybe when I come back, James and I can figure out what we did or said to drive her away. Because I know one thing. I’ve had a taste of Cassie. She’s like a drug in my veins, and I’m not going to walk away from her without a fight.
7
James:
The next day, I wake up in a bad mood, one that only gets worse when I see the stack of bills waiting for me on my desk.
I need coffee before I can deal with this.
To my surprise, my dad is already at the kitchen table when I get there. “You’re up early,” I remark.
He nods. “Got a call from a friend of mine. You remember Thomas Jobin? We were in the same unit in the Persian Gulf.”
Listening to him, I’m in awe at how much progress he’s made. When he first regained consciousness in hospital, he couldn’t speak at all. Slowly, he started forming words, but he was difficult to understand. His voice was slurred and his thoughts disjointed, and I was afraid he’d never speak properly again.
Almost six months later, he’s speaking whole sentences and communicating complete thoughts. It’s an impressive recovery. His right arm is still paralyzed, his right leg is stiff, and he needs a walker to get around, but given the severity of his stroke, his progress is miraculous. There’s still a slight slur to his speech, but it’s only noticeable if you’re listening for it.
“Vaguely.”
“He asked if I wanted to go spend the weekend with him. I said yes.”
I look up at that. “You did?” My dad has avoided all his mechanic buddies since the stroke. Because he’s lost dexterity in his hands, he can’t work anymore. He’s become something of a recluse, spending hours in his room, brooding about how easy things used to be before the stroke. For him to respond to Thomas Jobin’s invitation is a major deal.
Dirty Talk (A MFM Ménage Romance) (The Dirty Series Book 2) Page 3