Scarlet

by Tielle St Clare

  “But why—”

  Heather’s reappearance stopped their conversation. It was an ugly dress but it did wonderful things to her breasts.

  A knocked sounded on the door and Heather opened it to reveal Rogers, carrying a pair of scissors and wearing a confused look.

  “Uhm, I’m looking for Paxson Graves?”

  “I’m here, Rogers,” Paxson called. “Come on in.”

  Rogers nodded to Heather and stepped into the room, clutching the scissors. He walked in and tried to hand them to Paxson.

  “No, you’re going to use them,” Heather announced. “Now—” She stepped forward. “You two back up against the windows. Get as far away from me and this dress as you can.”

  Paxson looked at Cain. They both shrugged and backed up, resting against the narrow ledge at the window.

  She turned to Rogers. “Unzip me.”

  “What?” He backed away, hands held up in the classic “I’m innocent, I didn’t do anything” position.

  “It’s okay.” She turned her back to him. “Unzip me.”

  Rogers blinked and looked at Paxson, silently asking permission. Paxson nodded, because, really what else could he do?

  Rogers placed the scissors on the bed and grabbed the tab of the zipper. He tugged and stopped. “I think it’s stuck.”

  “Try again.”

  He tugged and tugged, practically pulling Heather over backward.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t get this zipper to move.”

  “Cut it.”

  “What?” Again he blinked and looked at Paxson for confirmation that this wasn’t insane.

  Except it kind of was. Still, it was her dress. “She says, cut it. Cut it,” Paxson commanded, more than a little intrigued. Maybe she’d glued down the zipper.

  Rogers grabbed the scissors, pulled back the edge of the dress and cut through—only the scissors slipped to the side, the material sliding between the blades, unharmed.

  “Oops.” Rogers tried it again. Same result. “I think I grabbed a bad pair of scissors.” He struggled for a bit, the frustration growing on his face.

  “Forget it.” Heather waved her hand. “Just try pulling it off over my head.”

  “Uh, Captain?”

  More than a little intrigued, Paxson nodded. “Do it.”

  She couldn’t have set this up with Rogers ahead of time. She had no way of knowing who he would call.

  Heather raised her hands above her head and waited. Rogers grabbed at the waist and pulled up, practically lifting Heather off her feet. Paxson held his breath, anticipating the sound of ripping material at any moment but the dress held. Rogers grunted and yanked again.

  “What did you do? Superglue it to your body?” He clenched his teeth and pulled. Heather’s face turned red as if she wasn’t able to breathe.

  “That’s enough,” Paxson said, stepping forward. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “Sorry, sir. I just—” He shrugged. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that dress.”

  Paxson walked forward but Heather waved him back.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Heather nodded. “I think that’s good,” she said to Rogers. “You can go now.”

  He once again looked at Paxson for confirmation. Pax nodded.

  The door closed behind him and she faced Cain and Paxson, her arms held out to the side.

  “See? Can’t get the dress off.”

  “But—”

  The words locked in his throat as she strolled forward, arms still away from her body. She got near, about two feet away, and poof—the dress fell to the ground.

  Leaving her, once again, in nothing but tiny red panties.

  “Damn,” Cain murmured, echoing Paxson’s silent sentiment.

  “And you think the dress falls off for your true love?” Paxson’s heart skipped a beat. Then he remembered Cain, standing right next to him.

  “That’s the theory.” She shrugged and Paxson’s gaze fell to her breasts and the rest of her words got kind of fuzzy. His brain snapped back into focus as she wrapped her hand around the front of his shirt and pulled him close. His body eagerly went with the flow.

  She was tall, probably close to five nine, so he didn’t have to bend far. She tipped her head back and those soft pink lips that he’d imagined wrapped around his cock opened slightly. Pure hunger stared at him through those bright green eyes.

  Unable to resist, he bent down and kissed her, just meaning to take a taste but the heady flavor of her mouth captivated him. He flicked his tongue out, teasing the inside of her lip, asking her to invite him inside. She did. The seductive mouth that haunted his dreams opened for him. The need to conquer, to leave his mark on her somehow, overwhelmed him and he drove his tongue inside.

  Delicious heat surrounded him and he moaned. It took a moment for him to realize it wasn’t just the kiss that consumed his senses—it was bodies, pressed against him. Heather to his front. Cain leaning into his side, watching.

  Of course the man is watching. You just kissed his girlfriend.

  Paxson dragged his head back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.”

  The apology was sincere but Heather’s lips just spread into a smile. “Really? I can’t wait to be there when it’s intentional.”

  She pressed up on her toes and kissed his cheek, his chin. “You taste amazing.”

  Paxson felt his eyes roll toward the back of his head as she leaned in and placed hot, sexy kisses down the length of his throat.

  “Do you taste as good everywhere?” she asked, her throaty whisper making his cock leap.

  He shook his head and tried to back up but Cain was there. Paxson shifted, sliding Heather away from his body, turning just a bit so he could face Cain.

  “You’re okay with this?” He couldn’t believe Cain wasn’t furious.

  “I’ll admit it took me a few minutes to get used to the idea.” He paused and Paxson could feel the tension radiating from Cain’s body.

  Heather backed up. “I’ll be right back.” She stepped away, her sexy body bare except for those tiny red panties. “I’ll let you two discuss this.” She took a breath then offered a weak smile. “Just remember my wardrobe is at stake here.”

  She spun away and disappeared into the bathroom.

  “What did she mean by that? And how can you think this is a good idea?” Paxson demanded.

  “Something about her clothes disintegrating. I don’t know. And when she came to me, my first reaction was just what yours is. Then I realized it had potential to be incredibly sexy.” The strain didn’t release from Cain’s muscles. Something wasn’t right. Then Cain sighed. “What the hell. I decided it might be the chance to get you to finally fuck me.”

  Paxson blinked and stared at Cain, sure he couldn’t have heard his friend correctly.

  “Don’t worry.” Cain patted Paxson’s shoulder. “No pressure.”

  Paxson blinked again, holding his eyes closed for a moment before looking at one of his best friends. “You want me to fuck you?”

  “What can I say? You’re freakin’ gorgeous and if you weren’t such a boy scout, I would have had you drunk and naked long before this.”

  “That’s what all those nights out were about? Did you even want to be with those women?”

  “Oh, yeah. I still love women, love to fuck them but sometimes…” He paused. “I just want a hard cock inside me.”

  Paxson slumped against the window and let his mind race through all the possibilities. First Heather, then Cain. He wasn’t sure he could do it. But as he stood there, pictures started to form in his brain—Heather’s head thrown back in passion, Paxson kneeling over her, pounding his cock into her passage.

  He’d imagined it enough times in the past week. And now, here was his chance.

  But Cain would be there as well, wanting his cock. His dick gave a little twitch at the idea. Paxson wasn’t sure if it was the idea of fucking Cain or just the combination of the pictures in his mind and the interest in Cain’s eye
s.

  Could he really fuck Cain? Did he want to? Hoping to keep his movements subtle, he looked at his friend. Without lifting his head, all he could see was Cain, from the waist down. The guy’s hard-on was clearly pressing against his jeans.

  Am I really considering this?

  Before he could find an answer, Cain turned around, placing his back to Paxson. He wiggled his butt as if tempting his friend.

  Paxson couldn’t stop his chuckle.

  “I get it. You have a nice ass.”

  “I have a great ass,” Cain corrected. He turned back around. Paxson looked up and met his stare. The light in Cain’s dark eyes was serious and sincere. “No pressure. We don’t have to do anything.”

  “Except fuck me!” Heather called from the bathroom.

  Despite the freakin’ weird situation, Paxson couldn’t help but huff out a laugh.

  Heather poked her head out around the corner. “It seems to be a condition of the dress.”

  “Fucking you.”

  “Yes.”

  She walked into the room. She’d put on a t-shirt but it stopped at the tops of her thighs and with every step he could see the bright red panties that so captured his attention, making him imagine dragging them off with his teeth.

  “So, if the dress didn’t make you do this, you wouldn’t be here.” The idea that she was being forced into this by some magical wedding gown didn’t sit well.

  And now Cain wanted Pax to fuck him? It was too much.

  Pressure built in Paxson’s chest. He shook his head.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t. I—” He stalked to the door. “I just can’t.”

  The door closed behind him. Heather sighed and looked at Cain.

  “Well, that could have gone better.”

  Cain nodded. His lips squished together as he stared at the shut door.

  “Well?” she prompted when he didn’t speak.

  “I’ve got a plan.” He leaned back and looked down at her. “How do you feel about leather?”

  Chapter Seven

  Dear Diary,

  I completely screwed this up. Not only did Paxson not stay, now I think I’ve messed up Cain’s friendship with him.

  Stupid dress.

  Paxson looked at the box on his desk and sighed. It was from Cain. He knew that. Even if the pretty little bartender who’d delivered it hadn’t told him, he would have known. For the past three years, on this day, Cain had sent him a similar package. Every year, Paxson opened it, had a good laugh, then ignored it.

  After last night, he wasn’t sure Cain was speaking to him. He’d expected a call, or several, from his friend either demanding to know why he’d denied them both the pleasure of fucking Heather.

  Or apologizing for the whole situation.

  He hadn’t expected Cain to just ignore that it had ever happened.

  Of course, that was what Pax was planning on doing but avoidance was part of his nature. Cain faced things like this head-on.

  When Paxson had run into Cain at the gym this morning, Cain had smiled, chatted. No mention of Heather or the offer to fuck Cain.

  If it hadn’t been so outside his realm of reality, Paxson might have thought he’d dreamed it up. But never in his wildest imagination could he have come up with Heather, a cursed wedding dress and Cain saying he liked to be fucked.

  Paxson’s cock gave a little leap. Damn. He’d never thought about fucking Cain before. He’d never thought about fucking any guy. Hadn’t even considered the possibility. But now that the idea had been planted in his brain, he couldn’t quite shake it. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but the images of him and Cain and Heather had run through his head all night and suddenly the thought of fucking another man didn’t seem completely foreign to him.

  It was Cain after all. And if Cain wanted it…

  Heather could help and—

  Paxson shook his head to snap himself out of the too tempting fantasy. Heather didn’t really want him. She wanted Cain. She needed Pax because of some stupid curse. Which he wasn’t sure he even believed. She probably had a secret zipper or something in the dress that made it fall off.

  Not that he hadn’t appreciated the sight. Damn she had a sweet body. Long legs just made to wrap around a man’s waist. Nicely curved ass and breasts that would fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.

  Lightheaded—probably from all the blood rushing to his cock—Paxson attempted to push the pretty pictures out of his mind. Unfortunately, even as he tried to nudge them away, Cain entered the image. Wrapping his arm around Heather’s waist, pulling her back against his body.

  Cain’s hand slipped up, cupping her breast, squeezing. He raised his head and flashed Pax a smile. Fuck, Pax knew that smile. It meant Cain was going to fuck the woman. And no doubt leave her begging for more.

  He gave himself a shake, pulled his spine straight and cleared his mind.

  Sighing again, Paxson flipped open the box. Black leather lay draped across the bottom. Damn, he didn’t want to think about how much this cost Cain.

  A ticket to tonight’s Fetish Ball sat on top along with a note.

  “Tonight. Nine p.m. We’ll be waiting.”

  We’ll be waiting. Not I’ll be waiting. We…

  Fuck. They were both going to be there.

  Of course, Pax could do what he always did—return the clothes and spend the night anywhere but in the hotel. But shit—if Cain was sending him black leather, what the hell would Heather be wearing tonight?

  Images of the sexy redhead wearing nothing but a collar and smile made his cock even harder. Biting back a groan, he reached into the box and pulled out the leather trousers.

  Damn, I’m not really considering this, am I? Because he knew that if he showed up in that ballroom, Heather and Cain would see it as Pax’s agreement to fuck them. Both of them.

  He reached for the fly of his trousers.

  That leather’s going to be awfully hard to fit over my cock, he thought. He considered slipping into his private bathroom and jerking off, but decided against it. The party had started an hour ago and even if he left right now, he’d be fifteen minutes past Cain’s nine o’clock deadline.

  And what the hell? The party was all about sex. Having a hard cock was probably a requirement.

  A tingle of anticipation he wasn’t quite expecting ran down his spine as he pulled on the leather pants Cain had sent over. Somehow Cain knew Pax’s size and the leather slid on easily—not too tight but no sagging either. He ran his fingers across the butter-soft material and tried not to groan.

  This was all a little out of his comfort zone—“a little too vanilla” was how Cain described him—but the leather did give him a thrill.

  He looked in the box and grabbed the smaller box inside, expecting a shirt of some sort. Instead it contained a mask and a strip of condoms. No shirt.

  “Oh hell no.”

  * * * * *

  “He’s not coming.”

  “Give him time.”

  Heather sighed and crossed her arms over her almost bare chest. The outfit was a risk. Her clothes were still popping off her like rubber bands. The likelihood that she would end up topless at some point tonight was extremely high.

  Cain had selected her outfit—a top that was a demi-bra corset, pushing her breasts up and almost out. The tight boning pulled in at the waist giving her an hourglass figure she’d never have on her own. And a “skirt” that was only five inches long from waist to hem. It didn’t cover her ass, and barely covered her pussy.

  The only thing that kept her from feeling completely exposed was the red panties she wore underneath. They added a bit of color and temptation to the outfit.

  A leather collar around her neck completed the look. She’d pulled her hair up into a high tumble of curls. Cain said she looked like a goddess.

  In her mind, she looked like a slut, but she was willing to go along with Cain’s assessment. She was trusting him a lot here.

  After Paxson had stormed out last
night, Cain had said the same words he’d said tonight, “Give him time.”

  According to Cain, now that they’d planted the idea in Paxson’s head, he was more likely to accept the possibility of fucking them. And the Fetish Ball gave them a perfect chance to do things with the veil of anonymity.

  Not that Pax wouldn’t be able to recognize them immediately. The thin black masks she and Cain wore barely went across their eyes.

  And Cain wasn’t wearing much else. He’d gone for a Roman slave kind of look, tiny black leather shorts, black sandals and, like her, a collar. He’d tied back his hair, the thick ponytail hanging long down his back. It made him look young. Heather reached out and brushed her fingers along the blunt line across the bottom. The heavy hair caressed the back of her hand even as her fingertips skimmed across his skin.

  Cain flashed her a smile, his eyes pulling away from the door for just a moment.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be here.”

  “But will he want me?” She hated the desperate tone to her voice. The pain at his rejection quickly turned to irritation and she whipped her hair back away from her face and rose to her full height. “He didn’t want me last night. I doubt anything will have changed.”

  Cain shook his head and for once she didn’t see a hint of amusement in his stare. “Are you kidding? The only thing that stopped Pax from fucking you into the mattress last night is this overdeveloped sense of nobility. He’s afraid of stealing my woman and afraid of taking advantage of you.”

  “What if I want him to take advantage?” she groused. This time, Cain grinned.

  “That’s why we’re here. Besides…” He paused and his grin turned into a sad smile. “I think if I hadn’t brought up the whole ‘fuck me, too’ thing, he would have been fine.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “It was my choice.”

  Sympathy swelled in her chest and temporarily pushed out her own worries. She gave his hand a squeeze, trying to provide a little comfort.

  Cain glanced at the doorway and pushed away from the wall.

  “He’s here.”

  “What?” Heather’s head snapped around and she looked toward the ballroom door. They’d been standing in the shadows nearby, not wanting to miss his entrance and Heather was immediately glad that she hadn’t.