“He’s left a mess for Brigid. She and Andy are looking after him.”
“Cheese…omelets,” Flint said.
Lysander bit his lip so that he didn’t laugh but a snigger escaped. It looked like a pile of scrambled egg with a number of suspicious dark bits he hoped were burnt egg and not parts of the pan. Flint had put one flower on the top. It didn’t help.
“Brilliant.” Mollie scooped a large spoonful onto her plate to go with her salad.
Flint dropped onto his chair and drank half his champagne in one gulp. “Bad. Sorry.”
“It tastes just like omelet,” Mollie said. “Looks different but tastes the same. It’s all mixed together in your stomach anyway.”
Burned but edible. Lysander put another forkful in his mouth.
“So how are you?” Mollie asked Flint.
“Forget words. In head but…not in mouth.”
“Why don’t you sing?” She gave him an encouraging smile.
“Now?”
“Show Lysander.”
He took a deep breath and started to sing The Greatest Day by Take That. Flint’s voice was pure and clear.
The egg fell from Lysander’s fork. Flint’s voice rang out in the room, loud and confident.
When he’d finished the song, Mollie clapped.
“You can sing?” Lysander asked. “Obviously you can.”
“And he can speak the parts of the films he’s been in.” She turned to Flint. “Zavier Kassab?”
Flint took a deep breath. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’m going to slowly take you apart. When you do tell me, I’ll be kind. I’ll take you apart faster.”
“Christ,” Lysander said. “You can recall the script without hesitation?”
“Stored in a different part of his brain,” Mollie said.
“Long journey,” Flint said.
“Happy ending.” Mollie smiled and even though the smile was for Flint and not him, Lysander’s dick unfurled in his pants. Oh shit.
Flint didn’t talk much as they ate but he listened intently, his eyes narrowed in concentration. There were no awkward silences. Lysander listened in awe as Mollie held everything together and ensured Flint didn’t feel excluded. She was endlessly patient when he struggled to get things. She kept explaining until he did when Lysander would have been tempted to say forget it and change the subject. She even figured out when Flint was bluffing, saying he understood when he didn’t. Lysander liked her more and more.
With every glance at Flint, Lysander’s body told him that no matter what he’d thought, or what he’d said, he and Flint weren’t over. The slow curl of warmth in his belly and the occasional rush of electricity down his spine kept his dick en route to diamond status on the hardness scale. He could practically hear the blood rushing to his cock. Not helped by the way Flint’s gaze fell on him when the guy thought he wasn’t looking. Did Mollie feel the sexual energy in the room? Lysander could taste it. Or was that burned egg?
When Mollie caught his gaze, she looked away, flustered.
Yes, I am thinking that, Mollie. About you and me and Flint.
She turned to Flint. “I fell in the reservoir last night.”
She’s nervous.
“Lysander saved me from drowning.”
Flint’s eyes widened. “What?”
“It was a stupid dare,” Lysander said.
Flint’s fist clenched around his fork. “You dare?”
“No. Not Lysander. It was a game.”
“Need…lock…you up,” Flint said. “No water… No snakes.”
Preferably in a room with two smaller snakes, one large bed and no rules. He wanted to lick, kiss, fuck… Oh shit. His cock pressed right against his zipper. Bloody well stop thinking about sex.
He smiled when he saw the dessert. Flint had laid out their initials using blackberries and raspberries and squirted dollops of cream around the edge of the plates. He brought in Mollie’s cookies as well and another bottle of champagne. Mollie filled their glasses, which was a relief because he really didn’t want to stand up. But unfortunately his mind had moved onto a particular track and wasn’t going to be derailed any time soon.
“I picked…in…garp…gar…garden.”
“What plant does cream grow on?” Mollie asked, but Lysander saw Flint didn’t understand. “Cream grows?” she said slowly.
Flint’s lips twitched. “Tree.”
“Yes. Well done.” Mollie laughed.
“Sticker?” he asked.
“Later.”
Lysander was slowly becoming aware how hard this was for Flint, a guy who made his living with his voice, a guy who oozed confidence, who always had something to say, who could mesmerize anyone he spoke to and was funny and entertaining. All that had gone.
“You’ve changed,” Lysander said.
Mollie looked up but he was talking to Flint.
“Good? Bad?” Anxiety was written all over Flint’s tense face.
“I think you’d change too if this had happened to you,” Mollie said, a defensive tone in her voice.
“Angry,” Flint spat out the word. “Frustrated. Exhausted. I was… The sun.” He let out a choked laugh. “Now useless. Black…hole.”
“Not useless,” Mollie said. “You’re determined, brave, funny. Still you.”
“She’s right. Plus you’re more reasonable,” Lysander said. “Quieter. Thoughtful. Less cocky.”
It took Flint a moment to get what he’d said. “I’m not…less…fucking…cocky.”
Mollie choked on her champagne as she laughed.
Lysander plastered a smile on his face. “Prove it.”
Flint pushed back his chair and stood. He grabbed Mollie’s hand and hauled her to her feet. Unseen by her, he gave Lysander a challenging look that said roll with me. “Mollie decide.”
“Er… Decide what?” she asked.
“If he’s less cocky.” Lysander’s heart began to pound. He’d play Flint’s game but he wasn’t sure Mollie would.
“Honestly, you guys,” she said with a sigh. “Okay. Anyone got a six-inch ruler?”
Lysander laughed and after a moment, Flint did too.
Stop yelled one half of Mollie’s brain. No, that was a lie, it was a lot less than half, maybe a quarter, so that made it okay to ignore, didn’t it? Flint pulled her back against his chest and swept his arm around her waist. She froze when she felt the hard length of his cock wedged against her butt, then groaned and pressed back into him. She couldn’t help herself. Lysander sat twiddling his glass in his fingers, his gaze flitting between the pair of them.
“Better make that a twelve-inch ruler,” she said.
Oh no, please strike me dumb now.
Lysander snorted. “I don’t think he’s changed that much, though I know he’s a big guy.”
Oh my God, oh my God. Mollie thought she knew what was happening but wasn’t entirely sure she could go along with it. It might sound sexy in a story where three got together, had fantabulous sex in every way, shape and form, and they all lived happy ever after. She wasn’t sure this story could match fiction. But she’d never been so tempted to take a risk in her life. Watching the pair of them together would be a huge turn-on. For her to be involved too… The muscles clenched between her thighs and the stop part of her brain fell away like a slow landslip, leaving clouds of confusing dust in its wake.
“Moll…ee.” Flint blew into her ear and flicked around the shell with his tongue, and her throat seized up.
When Lysander pushed to his feet, her gaze fell straight to his groin. Oh wow. How to give myself away in one move.
“Play chess or poker, Mollie?” Lysander asked.
“No.”
“Thought not.”
She lifted her head but her gaze kept dropping. His cock was clearly outlined beneath the tight material of his pants. She could even see the rounded shape of the head. Was that a damp spot? Wild horses couldn’t—well, yes, obviously wild horses could drag her away. Luckily there weren’t a
ny nearby. She’d always wondered why people—back on track! Swallow your drool. But it must have something to do with the medieval torture of tying people by their arms and legs to horses and stretching them to make them confess.
Mollie girl! Hell, I’m scared, petrified, excited. If Lysander stepped toward her she’d… Fuck, he’s stepped toward me. If he took another step… Hell, he took another step.
Flint spread his palm just below her heart and rested his head against hers.
“Want words. No words. Moll…ee.”
She thought if her heart managed to beat any faster, it would take off and fly out of her throat. Flint’s breathing grew shallower, she could feel it hitting her neck. He smelled clean and sharp and citrusy and she wanted to lick him.
“Mollie.” Lysander stopped two feet away.
She wanted to lick him too.
“You both keep saying that,” she blurted. “My brain has turned to mush but I’m beginning to think it might be my name.”
They laughed. She wanted to ask them not to use her, not to go any further unless they felt something more than lust. It didn’t have to be love, though she wasn’t sure that idealistic ‘instalove’ was only found in books and films. Whatever they felt, she needed them to care, not to just fuck her and walk away without looking back. Worries fragmented in her head as Lysander stepped forward and pulled both her and Flint against him. She had a rigid dick wedged against her butt and another against her belly. A shower of red-hot sparks burst in her veins and she felt as though she’d been plumbed into the National Grid. Lysander kissed her forehead then kissed Flint’s.
“I declare a draw,” she whispered. “You’re both very cocky boys.”
Her hands fluttered at her sides, twisting the material of her dress.
“Not sure you should judge until you’ve seen the evidence, not just felt it,” Lysander said.
Why don’t I just die now?
“Scared, Moll…ee?” Flint whispered.
“First time for us too, remember?” Lysander slid his hands to her hips, moved one of them back onto Flint and pulled them tighter together. “Don’t be scared. Be excited. You can tell how much we want you. Stop thinking and feel.”
“Please,” Flint said at her ear. “Help…forget. Help…remember. Make you…happy.”
Her hands had found their way forward and back onto each of the guy’s backsides and as if the pair acted instinctively in sync, their hands crept over hers. Flames flickered down her spine and she stared into Lysander’s dark eyes, unable to look away, barely able to breathe.
“You okay?” Lysander asked.
Nowhere near okay. “Feel as though we’re caught up in a net, but…”
“But what?” he asked.
“Don’t want to get free.”
“What do you want?”
A million things, but she played safe. “I want you to kiss Flint.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mollie slipped out from between them and took a couple of steps away, her hands fidgeting at her sides despite her efforts to keep them still.
Lysander stared straight at her. “What part of Flint do you want me to kiss?”
All of him. A whimper escaped and she tried to turn it into a cough.
Lysander smiled. “Please say all of him.”
Mollie wasn’t sure any words she might force from her mouth would be intelligible. She shrugged.
“I’ll start with his lips.” Lysander slid a hand to the back of Flint’s neck and pulled his head forward until their lips almost met. The wave of heat that swept from Mollie’s scalp to her toes was so overwhelming, she worried she’d keel over. They look so hot. I have to be dreaming this.
Lysander’s mouth was tense, his brow furrowed, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down as he swallowed. His nervousness gave Mollie courage. She wasn’t the only one losing her mind. Flint stared into Lysander’s eyes without blinking, his lips slightly parted, his hands hanging in loose fists by his sides. He looked as though he couldn’t quite believe this was going to happen. Lysander leaned in, fitted his mouth over Flint’s, and pulled him by his neck into the kiss. Flint groaned and his arms snaked around Lysander. In a flash, the kiss shifted from hot to scorching.
They ate at each other with a raw, physical energy that ripped the air from her lungs, sucked it from the entire room until she expected flames to erupt. Their quiet cries and moans wound her tighter, their teeth and tongues clashing and sliding as they grabbed frantically at each other. Mollie thought she’d never seen anything sexier in her life. If they’d been on a screen, she’d have had her hand in her panties joining them for the ride and probably coming before they did. She was so aroused she could hardly stand still.
Then the kiss slowed, their hands stopped snatching and began to caress. Their lips slid apart and together in an easy familiar rhythm that brought a lump to her throat. Lysander pulled Flint’s lower lip between his teeth and sucked. Flint did the same to him. Finally, their mouths separated with a soft pop to leave Lysander cupping Flint’s face as Flint circled his thumbs on Lysander’s hips.
“Missed you,” Lysander said.
Flint nodded.
Something inside Mollie twisted and broke. These guys could deny it all they wanted but they loved each other and didn’t need her. She closed her eyes to stop tears falling. There was her good deed done and it was time to put up her umbrella and move on. Mollie bloody Poppins.
“Moll…ee,” Flint whispered in her ear.
She opened her eyes to see they’d moved to stand either side of her.
“You think far too much,” Lysander said.
Since nothing but one question after another shot through her mind, she knew he was right, but that didn’t mean she could stop her mind whirling.
“What on earth is going through your head?” Lysander asked.
She shrugged and pressed her lips together.
“You think we don’t want you?” Lysander smiled at her.
Flint’s fingers wrapped around hers. “Want.”
“Being bisexual is difficult,” Lysander said. “I’m not saying being gay is easy, but when you’re attracted to both sexes, want both sexes, the chance of having a relationship that satisfies all your needs is very small. Society might be coming round to the idea that being gay is okay, but they’re not there yet with bisexuality. We’re seen as gays reluctant to come out and a threat to other sexual identities.”
“Talk too much,” Flint said. “Do things.”
Lysander laughed. “Mollie thinks, I talk and Flint cuts through the crap.”
But her uncertainty grew like a gathering storm. They didn’t know her, whether she was crap at sex, whether she’d do what they wanted, whether they’d do what she wanted. Walk away from them before they walk away from you. And how was that being the optimistic, happy person she professed to be? Don’t look for more than they can give. She knew better than to expect dying love on a first date, but this was different. This was two guys she had to trust.
Flint’s hold on her tightened and the look of hope in his eyes weakened her knees. “Moll…ee.”
“Give this a chance,” Lysander said. “I know it’s a big deal but just give us a chance, the three of us.” He clutched the hem of her dress and slid his fingers onto her thigh. His fingers burned her skin.
Stop thinking so hard, Mollie girl. They don’t need to love you. They can drive every memory of Lewin out of your head, drive you insane with pleasure. They won’t hurt you. Have this night. Take it. Enjoy it.
Flint stepped away. “Sorry. Push hard. Not…f…fit…fa…fair.” He screwed up his face, struggling for the words. “Lysander, let go.”
“She doesn’t want us to let go.”
Flint sighed. “Let. Moll…ee. Go.”
She took a big breath. “You won’t make me do anything I don’t like?”
Flint’s eyes widened and Lysander’s grip tightened on her leg.
“For example,” Lysander said.
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“Like…er… Take off my clothes or touch your…bits or let you touch my bits?”
He laughed and she smiled.
“What?” Flint asked.
“No touching Mollie’s bits.”
“Lick, kiss, but no touch,” Flint said. “Easy.”
Mollie couldn’t help laughing.
“You hold the power here,” Lysander said. “The moment you say stop, we stop. But I don’t want to hear you say it until you’ve come at least seven times.”
She squeaked, then squealed when Lysander scooped her into his arms. “Flint, bedroom.”
Flint detoured via the kitchen to pick up the bag Lysander had bought. Now she could guess what was inside. Lysander carried her up the stairs, following Flint to the doorway of a beautiful room with a wooden arch supporting the ceiling. He set Mollie on her feet outside the door, then walked in to stand next to Flint.
“Your decision, Mollie,” Lysander said. “No pressure.”
How did he know she was still wavering? Lysander reached for the buttons on his shirt and began to undo them. No pressure my arse. He stared at her as he pulled off his shirt to reveal a smooth expanse of rippling abs and copper tinted nipples. He let the shirt drop and unfastened his pants, the sound of the zipper making her jump. He eased down his pants and Mollie found herself licking her lips. Finally, he stood there in tight-fitting briefs, his cock a hard, thick length under the material, the shape of his balls outlined beneath. She leaned against the doorframe to ensure she stayed upright.
“Your turn,” Lysander said to Flint.
Flint ripped off his shirt so quickly buttons pinged across the room and Mollie giggled. He tossed it aside, struggled out of his pants, hopping on one foot, and finally stood there naked. His shoulders tapered to a narrow waist, board-flat stomach and slim hips, the bones jutting out, framing his heavily veined cock. A line of dark hair dove from his navel and just…ended. He shaved. A tiny groan of lust burst through Mollie’s lips.
Lysander turned to take off his shoes, giving Mollie a perfect view of his perfect arse. He stood, pulled down his briefs and her mouth watered. She had a thing about guy’s butts. And God, he shaves too.
Talking Trouble Page 21