The Sextet Presents... Bound by Voodoo [Legends] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Mellanie Szereto

  Withdrawing, Miles dropped to the bed beside him, making no attempt to thread their fingers together or share a kiss. Disappointment settled in Winston’s chest as he closed his eyes. Any minute, Miles would head to the bathroom to clean up, and then he’d get dressed and leave.

  This is what it feels like to be used. I just didn’t think he’d be the one to do that to me.

  The noisy breaths quieted, and Miles sat up. “I should go. If Rory or Barrett sees me leaving later, we’ll never hear the end of it.”

  That’s the least of my worries.

  Finding another buyer had placed itself at the top of Winston’s priority list. He couldn’t stay—not with his lover on the verge of dumping him and the woman he adored being pursued by another man.

  Clothing rustled, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes.

  “G’night.” Footsteps faded, and the front door clicked closed half a minute after that.

  What the hell is good about it?

  Chapter 4

  Sinking onto the couch, Miles cradled his head in his hands.

  Winston had done it again. Every time they were together, Win had to mention Rory. Trying to put some distance between himself and Winston wasn’t working—even when the man he’d been sleeping with for months was obviously in love with their female building mate. Miles had admitted to being at least mildly infatuated with her, but he’d been able to separate his relationship with Winston from his attraction to Rory.

  Now, he had to make a choice. Could he end his physical relationship with Winston and still see him every damn day without losing his mind?

  Tonight proved I don’t have the willpower to deny myself sex with him.

  Dominating him only gave Miles control of Winston’s body, not his emotions.

  What about Rory?

  As long as they all lived in the same building, Miles wouldn’t break the pact he and Winston had agreed to that first week after moving in. She was off-limits. Barrett had made it clear he didn’t plan to adhere to the prior agreement. The rules had changed, and Miles was left with adapting or finding a new office and apartment.

  Winston would probably be relieved to have him gone. Their affair was already as good as over anyway. Win hadn’t wanted him to stay after the poker party ended. Nor had he asked Miles not to leave so soon after their wham-bam encounter. To be fair, they’d discussed keeping their association private, and neither of them had ever talked about their feelings, exclusivity, or the effect of a breakup on their living arrangements.

  At the moment, Miles didn’t give a damn about anything but the ache spreading from his stomach to the splintering pieces of his soul. He’d tolerated blatant insults, chilling threats, and cruel jokes for his open sexuality during the last twelve of his twenty-eight years. Having his heart ripped to shreds by Winston hurt a thousand times worse.

  Pushing up from the couch, he plodded to the bathroom to shower. The smell of the man who wasn’t really his reminded him too much of what might’ve been. With the cold water on full blast, he stepped into the stall, hoping the frigid temperature would distract him from his depressing dilemma.

  Goose bumps prickled every inch of his skin, but he grabbed the soap and worked up a lather to wash. His greedy cock shriveled under the icy spray.

  Serves you right for making me act like a fool.

  By the time he’d rinsed and dried, he surrendered to the facts. Moving was the only viable option. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he strode to the bedroom to dress and turn on his laptop. He pulled on shorts and a T-shirt while the computer powered up, deciding to burn off his frustration with a workout.

  He logged in to his e-mail account, searching his contacts for the real estate agent who’d helped him find the co-op. Mulling over the wording, he finally typed in a message that he was considering a relocation and wondered if she had any clients in the market for the apartment-office space combo.

  That done and sent, he slipped on his running shoes and headed downstairs to the weight room. As he reached the bottom of the steps, a movement down the corridor caught his attention.

  Barrett balanced a cardboard box against the wall, fumbling to unlock the outer door to his new workspace. He looked up before Miles could duck out of sight. “Going out for a run?”

  Giving up on avoiding his neighbor, Miles shook his head. “No, we have an exercise room down the side hall past Rory’s office.”

  “Yeah. Winston showed me when I came to look at the place the first time. Nice setup.”

  “Thanks. You’re welcome to use it anytime you want.” Ready to end the small talk, Miles walked past Barrett.

  “I will—after I unpack.” The office door swung open.

  “Have fun with that. See you later.” Lengthening his stride, Miles didn’t give Barrett a chance to respond.

  He followed the hallway to the left and breathed a sigh of relief at being alone again. When he finally entered the private gym, he locked the door behind him. Maybe after a couple hours of lifting weights, punching the shit out of the heavy bag, and running seven or eight miles on the treadmill he’d be exhausted enough to sleep without Winston lying next to him.

  Unfortunately, he’d still wake up by himself.

  * * * *

  Freud would have had a field day with my sexually corrupt mind.

  Leaning against the mound of pillows, Rory stared at the row of voodoo dolls on the comforter. She had no doubts about the identities of the three male figures. They represented the men in her life—Winston, Miles, and Barrett. Ms. Deschamps had told her as much, the old woman’s words echoing in Rory’s head.

  “’Twill help ya decide who to trust wit’ yer heart. Keep yer mind and heart open, and ya will find happiness, Aurora. More love awaits ya than ya could ever imagine.”

  That promise sparked naughty fantasies instead of images of happily ever after with one of her co-op partners. Blame it on her research or her occupation, but “more love than she could imagine” triggered thoughts of a trio of men wanting to please her—possibly even all three at the same time.

  BDSM and GLBT weren’t the only nontraditional lifestyles she’d studied. Her research had included polyamorous couples and ménage trios and quartets as well. Sharing might not strike everybody’s fancy, but jealousy wasn’t a factor in those relationships, and somehow the people involved were able to balance their love for each other.

  As attracted as she was to the guys living under the same roof with her, she could easily picture herself in the middle of a ménage a quatre. Miles and Winston had set her heart pitter-pattering at first sight, and Barrett’s light kiss on the cheek had sent tingles racing over her skin. The embers of a long-ago infatuation had sparked to flame in that instant. If they gave her just a hint of encouragement, she’d probably fall madly in love with every one of them. She certainly wouldn’t have any qualms about inviting them all into her bed.

  The instruction manual that came with the dolls had temporarily nixed that idea. Each required a personal item from the individual it represented, and the whole process had to remain secret from those under the influence of the “magic.” She hadn’t had access to anything belonging to Barrett, and she could hardly include her doll without knowing about it.

  So far, she’d pinned a white athletic sock that she’d found mixed in with her laundry to the Miles figure and a button from one of Winston’s dress shirts to his doll. Could she cut a lock from Barrett’s reddish-brown hair without him noticing?

  He’d probably think she was certifiably crazy if he caught her. Not that she was entirely sane, considering the fifteen minutes she’d spent pretending Winston had sucked Miles’s cock and balls while finger fucking his ass. Then, figuring turnaround was fair play, the Miles doll had flipped Winston onto his stomach and butt-fucked him while jacking him off with his hand. Hadn’t she always suspected they were a gay couple?

  She groaned.

  Why would they want me when they have each other?

  The odd
s of either being bisexual were slim to none. With her luck in the man department, Barrett had to be gay too. He hadn’t once ogled her boobs like the straight-guy population did on a daily basis, and his chaste kiss spoke of friendship not horniness. She could handle the guys screwing each other if they let her join in. Or would she have to sit by and watch Barrett, Winston, and Miles form a happy threesome?

  Gathering the dolls, she returned them to the cloth bag and stashed them in the nightstand drawer next to her tube of mint Oreo-flavored lube. Batteries rolled and clanked as she closed the drawer, but she wasn’t even tempted to go in the bathroom to find a vibrator. Facing a lifetime of relying on her toys for sex, she couldn’t dredge up any enthusiasm for her nightly orgasm.

  Here I am at ten o’clock on a Friday night by myself. If my clients only knew how truly pathetic my sex life is, they’d all laugh and then fire me.

  She eyed the bathroom. A bath might be fun if she had somebody to share it with her—three somebodies.

  You’re a sexual deviant, Rory. You’ve spent too much time talking to the exceptions of the world. Most folks prefer one person of the opposite sex in the missionary position.

  Of course, that was because they didn’t know any better. Unfortunately, they were getting laid infinitely more times than she was.

  Her slippers beckoned her, and she wiggled her feet into the marabou slides next to her bed. They probably looked ridiculous with her yoga capris and sport tank, but she wasn’t likely to see anybody if she went downstairs to add to the list of her recommended sexual aids and online purchasing sites. Miles and Winston would be watching TV or catching up on paperwork if they weren’t sneaking some nookie, and Barrett had enough unpacking to keep him busy for days.

  Key ring in hand, Rory switched off all but the living room lamp as she left her apartment. The dim hall lights lit her way to the stairwell, and the utter silence made the building seem empty except for her presence. If not for the high-tech security system, she might’ve been creeped out by the quiet.

  At the bottom of the steps, she sorted through her keys and aimed for her office. With her hand poised at the knob, a thunk sounded down the corridor.

  Then came a voice. “Ouch! Damn it!”

  Hoping Barrett hadn’t hurt himself too badly, she strode toward his new space, the smack, smack, smack of her shoes surely announcing her presence. The door swung open when she raised her hand to knock. “Everything okay?”

  He grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “I don’t fit under my desk very well to plug in all the power cords. At least I finally got all my equipment set up.”

  “Need an icepack?”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine.” Giving a shrug, he grinned. “I have a hard head.”

  A laugh escaped before she could stop it.

  Don’t I wish, Barrett. A hard head would be the answer to my prayers.

  He gestured to a black leather chair on wheels. “Want to sit? Or am I keeping you from something?”

  Taking him up on his offer, she sat. “Nothing important. I wasn’t tired, so I decided to work for a little while.”

  “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep, either.” He leaned against the edge of the L-shaped desk, his broad shoulders and narrow hips drawing her attention. “Figured I’d unpack.”

  Not surprisingly, the surface behind him was covered with computers and assorted gadgets, all linked together with cords. “You said you own a software business. Do you design games?”

  With a smile, he shifted around to reach for a stack of CD cases. He held up the top disk. “Some people might think of them as games, but this one detects specific properties of computer viruses to keep them from infecting entire networked systems. Another program uses logarithms and probability to help law enforcement identify serial offenders. Sort of like profiling.”

  “Do you think you can tell whether a man is straight or gay by looking at him?” Her cheeks warmed at the blunt question that must’ve been triggered by her subconscious. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I sometimes forget to switch from research mode to normal. Not that I’m normal. I’ll just shut up now.”

  Color crept up his neck, and he opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it again. He picked up a mechanical pencil, rolling it between his palms several times. His behavior suggested he wasn’t overly comfortable with the topic. Was he a closeted gay or a homophobe? “Hm. I guess I’d have to say no. You do research on that kind of…stuff?”

  Her stomach dove to her knees. “You mean Winston and Miles didn’t tell you what I do?”

  “You’re a psychologist, right?” He seemed to relax with the slight change of subject. “And you talk to patients about how to deal with stress, family problems, abuse?”

  How could her building mates have been so vague about her practice? “Yes, I have a few patients like that, but the majority…My area of expertise is sex therapy—like helping people who aren’t sure about their sexuality, couples wanting to spice up their sex lives.”

  His face turned bright red, and he coughed.

  She waited for the inevitable inappropriate comment. Women thought she slept around—including with her clients—and men expected her to have sex with them for their first date instead of dinner, a movie, or even a walk in the park. Miles and Winston had simply nodded when she’d explained her occupation to them, giving her a whack-on-the-head hint that they might not be heterosexual.

  Barrett’s tongue peeked out to wet his lips. “You have patients who think they…could be…bisexual?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Another nice guy she’d consider dating was more interested in exploring same-sex relationships than getting her naked. Could her love life suck any worse? “Gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender. Usually male-female couples. Sometimes not.”

  His serious expression didn’t fit the typical reaction of a straight guy—no laughing, joking, raunchy comments. He was thinking way too hard about what she’d told him.

  Twirling the chair toward the door, she stood. “I should let you get back to unpacking, and I have work to do.”

  He was quiet until she stepped into the hall. “I bet you’re really good at getting people to talk about their problems. See you tomorrow, Rory.”

  Oh, yeah.

  Barrett was either in denial about his sexuality or he’d recently come to terms with it. She’d counseled a guy just like him a few months ago. “See ya.”

  The walk to her office could’ve been a death march to her frustrated hormones. What did she have to do to find a man worth having—who liked women?

  Chapter 5

  The darkness outside didn’t fool Barrett for a second. His stomach had informed him of the time at least a half an hour ago, but he had too much on his mind to think about breakfast.

  Do you think you can tell whether a man is straight or gay by looking at him?

  Rory’s question had caught him completely off guard. She was trained to recognize people troubled by sexual and emotional issues. She’d seen the signs of someone hiding from the truth—not that he hadn’t accepted his attraction to men. He’d just never acted on it, and he had no reason to now that he’d crossed paths with Rory again.

  She was everything he could want. Exceptional intelligence, a terrific personality, and a knockout body summed up his wish list. He could easily imagine himself spending the rest of his life with her and not needing to experiment. With her professional experience, she shouldn’t have any qualms about supplementing their sexual relationship with strap-ons, butt plugs, and other anal toys. Maybe he wouldn’t get to suck a real cock, but he’d enjoy eating her pussy and showing her the ways he could please her.

  He didn’t need both male and female if he had her. He’d gladly fuck her perfect ass if she allowed him the honor.

  Pushing back the covers, he climbed out of bed and aimed for the bathroom. Steam clouded the mirror by the time he stepped into the shower, and the warm spray was a welcome improvement from his last apartment. He wouldn’t have t
o get up at five anymore to beat the rush for hot water.

  Saturday gave him all the excuse he required to skip shaving his face, but he suffered through it in case he got the opportunity to kiss his sexy neighbor after movie night at her apartment later. Winston and Miles would probably give him hell for overstepping the boundaries they’d set, so he’d have to wait until they left to test the waters.

  He closed his eyes, the silkiness of Rory’s cheek still fresh in his memory. Every inch of her skin would be as soft, and her nipples would stiffen to delicious firm berries beneath his tongue and lips. The musky scent of her arousal would draw him down a trail over her stomach and to the wetness between her thighs for a taste of heaven.

  A surge of desire made his balls contract and his cock harden. Wrapping his fist around his length, he stroked up and down, imagining her hands on him. She’d cup his sac, gently squeezing as she rubbed her thumb along the ridge to his slit. Then her fingers would tease his anus while she pumped him.

  He fumbled for the toy he’d set on the shelf with his shampoo yesterday. Lifting his foot to the edge of the bathtub, he squirted a glob of lube onto the dildo and slicked it over his hole. The lifelike dick slid inside with little effort, years of practice having stretched his muscles to accommodate it with no problem.

  The picture in his mind morphed into Rory sucking his cock while Miles fucked his ass. Winston stood to the left of her, flicking his tongue across Barrett’s nipple. Sensation flooded his body, the visual so real and the feeling of rightness so profound, completion washed over him. Winston nipped at the hard nub, sending a stinging shot of pleasure southward. Spasms rocked his ass around Miles’s dick as his nuts contracted and his cock exploded, shooting cum into Rory’s mouth. Barrett’s throat vibrated with a long, low groan.

  His legs turned to rubber, and he grabbed for the wall to keep from falling. Easing downward, he collapsed into the tub, his pulse thumping in his ears and his heart trying to escape from his chest. Water droplets splashed into his face, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. The vision had sparked an unbelievable orgasm, the scene more erotic than anything he’d ever dreamed of before. His fantasies had always consisted of a single woman or man making love with him. What had triggered that thought? That image?