Talking Trouble

by Barbara Elsborg

  When Mollie pulled her dress over her head to reveal no underwear, Lysander’s mind went blank.

  “Moll…ee.” Flint exhaled her name.

  “I know, I know. I didn’t have any clean.”

  She squirted the oily lotion on her leg and slowly rubbed it into her calf and up her thigh, spreading it in small overlapping circles with her fingers. Lysander gulped. He could barely drag his gaze away from her to put the condom on and he ended up wrenching the damn thing off when it got twisted. When had that ever happened?

  He stopped looking at Mollie, stopped looking at Flint’s beautiful, smooth, perfect butt—oh God—and concentrated on what he was doing. Condom on. Check. Lube on. Check. Cock into Flint. Nearly. He pushed and rocked and pressed and every movement was rewarded with a moan or a shudder from Flint before Lysander felt the ring of muscle begin to give way. As he slipped inside, pleasure flooded his veins, spiked in his cock and stole the breath from his lungs. The urge to ram himself home grew in his head, but he waited, giving Flint time to adjust, giving himself time to breathe.

  “Forgotten how?” Flint grunted.

  “Desperate for me?” Lysander asked.

  “Got things…to do,” Flint said. “Practice speaking.”

  “Practice on me. Tell me what you want.”

  “Fuck me,” Flint gasped. “Fast.”

  As though Flint’s words were linked directly to his cock, Lysander thrust hard, violently, and buried himself so deep in Flint’s arse that Flint slumped beneath him with a loud cry. Lysander couldn’t stop moving now, caught up in a current that refused to let him go. His body was aligned to Flint’s, his mouth pinned to the side of his neck, his toes rubbing his feet, his ankles, his calves, his arms, spread along Flint’s, and always and ever his hips rolling against his arse, driving his dick into that slick, tight heat over and over until he no longer knew what he was doing, just that he had to do this.

  Lysander’s thrusts grew faster and choppier as the need to come galloped through every cell, racing toward the ones that controlled his orgasm. Flint arched up into him and it was all Lysander needed to make him fly. He came in long, hard spurts and plastered himself against Flint’s back as he emptied himself. Not just sex. Fuck it.

  Flint turned his head and Lysander kissed him, tongues sliding and dancing together as if they’d never been apart. When Lysander eased his body off to kneel at Flint’s side, he glanced at Mollie to see she had her hand between her legs.

  “Off,” he snapped.

  She wrenched her fingers away. “I can’t help it. You looked so hot.”

  “You have to wait until Flint’s fucked me.”

  Flint pushed onto his knees. “Wait two seconds.”

  She groaned.

  Flint wasn’t joking. Lysander had shoved him so hard against the blanket he’d been on the point of coming. If he’d had the energy to get his hand to his cock, he would have come, but he’d just lain there and relished the feel of Lysander’s weight, the way his body touched his in so many places. He’d seen what Mollie was doing, watched her fingers creep over her belly and between her thighs, and had had to close his eyes because another look would have led to detonation.

  Lysander threw him a condom but Mollie snagged it and pulled Flint onto his knees. She stroked his cock and he clenched every muscle he had in an attempt to push back his orgasm. When his cock was enveloped in cold liquid, he gulped and swallowed a bug. He looked down to see his dick in a glass of chilled white wine.

  “Sh…it.”

  “Better?” she asked.

  Lysander was roaring with laughter, but the cold had helped take the edge off. Instead of frantic, he was now only desperate.

  “Better,” Flint agreed, until the moment she took the glass away and put her mouth around him and all brain function ceased.

  “The little tease,” Lysander said. “Why don’t you fuck her instead of me this time?”

  When he’d taken in what Lysander had said, Flint’s heart did a complicated pirouette in his chest. He wouldn’t turn down that gift. He flipped Mollie onto her back and pinned her down by her arms.

  “Moll…ee,” he whispered.

  She smiled at him and looked so sweet he thought he’d spurt all over her. He fumbled for the condom and Lysander pressed it into his palm. His fingers shook as he put it on, and he winced as he brushed his balls. He was so close to coming that if he pushed inside her now, he’d explode.

  He kept his hands on her arms as he slid down her body, closed his lips over her nipple and sucked. She arched beneath him and her belly touched his cock. Fuck. Bright idea, you idiot. He moved farther down, keeping his cock out of her reach, kissing his way down the center of her body, his hands following, over her shaved mons and onto her sex. She was so wet she was glistening.

  His ears were hurting and it took Flint a moment to register that Mollie had grabbed them.

  “I need you in me now,” she said.

  Lysander was still laughing.

  “Pretend…took…ten minutes,” Flint said.

  He spread her legs and slid into her, a long hard thrust into her slick heat that took him right to her core. Flint couldn’t hold back the cry that burst from his throat. Mollie’s eyes slammed shut and her muscles contracted around him as she came. Oh God, that had never happened with any woman before. She writhed beneath him, thrusting her hips into his, biting her bottom lip, clutching his shoulders.

  Soft fingers stroked his butt and Flint shivered at Lysander’s touch.

  “Move,” Lysander whispered.

  Flint couldn’t. Not while her muscles were clutching at him tighter than a clam, because one pull back and he’d join her in nirvana. She opened her eyes and blew out a breath.

  “Flint,” she whispered. “Ten long minutes. You made it, buddy.”

  He began to move then, driving in and out of her, dropping to land kisses, before pulling back to take a breath. Her hands were on his butt, urging him into her, and as he moved faster he realized he was taking her with him. He couldn’t slow down. He felt as if he was being dragged out to sea in a riptide, he had to go with the flow. Mollie wrapped her legs around him, the angle of penetration changed and his balls drew up.

  Flint pressed his mouth to hers, fucked her with his tongue as he drove into her. The tightening sensation in his gut surged into his balls. Lightning zigzagged in his head and as she came again, the head of his cock pulsed and his balls danced for joy. He shook with the intensity of it, cum jetting from his body in long, wrenching pulls. After the last contraction bit and slowly faded to a gentle series of aftershocks, he wanted to do it all over again.

  He collapsed onto his side and felt for Mollie’s fingers, wrapping them in his. Shit, I was too rough. He turned to face her, worried what he’d see, but she was smiling at him.

  “Okay?” he whispered.

  “My very own porn stars,” she said and grinned.

  Lysander handed him tissues and Flint pulled off the condom and wiped himself down.

  “Oh my God.”

  Flint spun around and so did Lysander. A tall, fair-haired guy in dress pants, shirt and tie stood on the patio.

  “Don’t move,” he shouted and disappeared into the house.

  “Jean-Paul,” Lysander said. “He lives here. He must have climbed over the fence because he couldn’t get in the front door.”

  The next moment, there were two guys there.

  “Aden. He lives here too,” Lysander said.

  “All?” Flint asked.

  “Yes.”

  Mollie slunk under the blanket and pulled it over her head.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mollie wanted to die. Well, not really but—oh my God. She burrowed deeper under the blanket. Flint joined her and snuck a kiss.

  “Mollie,” Jean-Paul said. “I know it’s you. Come out, you little tart, and bring whoever you have under there out with you so we can meet him.”

  She let her head emerge.

  Je
an-Paul gave her a slow smile. “What have you been up to?” Then he frowned. “Is that another bruise on your face? What’s happened? The short version.”

  “I was arrested, kidnapped, rescued and f-f-fucked.”

  Flint bit her hip and she squealed.

  “Oh my God. F-f-fucked?” Jean-Paul asked.

  She couldn’t help laughing.

  “Do we have a new housemate under there with you?” Aden asked.

  She glanced at Lysander, who sat totally unselfconscious, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, his cock semi-erect.

  “I know Nikki’s gone. She came into the agency looking for a place to rent,” said Jean-Paul. “She told me she had some gossip but for once in my life, I didn’t listen. She lives to cause trouble.” He gazed at the humped blanket. “You found someone else very fast.”

  Flint peeled down the blanket to his waist, exposing Mollie’s breasts, and she yanked it back to her neck.

  “Mollie, you don’t have anything we’re interested—oh my fucking God.” Jean-Paul’s mouth dropped open. “I take it back. You do have something I’m very interested in. That isn’t…shit…fuck…crap…bloody hell.”

  Aden put his hand over Jean-Paul’s mouth. “Excuse my inarticulate boyfriend.”

  Jean-Paul yanked at Aden’s wrist. “Flint Klavan. You look just like—you are him. Oh my God. Will you sign my…butt—arm?”

  Aden cuffed him around the head. “Jean-Paul, shut up.”

  “It’s a secret,” Mollie said.

  “What’s a secret?” Jean-Paul asked.

  She glanced at Flint. “That Flint is here.”

  “You didn’t tell us you knew someone famous,” Jean-Paul said.

  “Flint’s an old friend of mine,” Lysander said.

  “I loved you in Dark Surrender,” Jean-Paul said. “When you lifted that ax, I thought my heart was going to stop. And in Ransom, the end, oh wow. I hadn’t seen that coming.”

  “Thnks,” Flint mumbled.

  “What’s your latest about?” Jean-Paul asked.

  “Jean-Paul?” Lysander said. “Fuck off.”

  “No.” Flint’s leg came from under the blanket and he kicked Lysander.

  “Flint.” Mollie took his arm.

  “Been ill,” Flint said.

  “He’s recuperating,” Mollie said. “Somewhere quiet and peaceful. No one knows.”

  “That he’s been ill?” Jean-Paul asked. “We won’t say anything. Is he staying for dinner? Please stay for dinner.”

  Aden dragged Jean-Paul back toward the house.

  “I want to talk to Flint,” Jean-Paul said.

  “We’re interrupting.”

  “But Flint Klavan is lying on the lawn naked. When is that ever going to happen again in my lifetime?”

  After Aden yanked Jean-Paul into the house, a mobile chirped under Flint’s pants. Lysander dug it out and handed it to him.

  “Yesss,” he said into the phone. “Okay.” He ended the call and sighed. “Ry…ker here.”

  “Ryker’s his agent and publicity guru,” Lysander said.

  Flint started to get dressed. Mollie gave a quiet sigh and reached for her dress. She wished Flint would come and eat with them later but suspected he wouldn’t, particularly now this guy had come to see him.

  The three of them walked back into the house and in the hall, Flint spun Mollie into his arms and kissed her. A slow sweep of his lips before his tongue drifted into her mouth. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

  “Moll…ee. Best. You…” He screwed his eyes shut for a moment. “Not stop,” he blurted. “No words. Tired.”

  She ran her thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you for standing up to Lewin.”

  Flint huffed. “No use.”

  “Yes you were. He’s a cop, remember? You were brave.”

  Flint flashed her a little smile then stepped into Lysander’s arms. “Today. Wanted. Long. Still sorry. Elke.” He scowled. “Words not there. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.”

  “Enough sorries,” Lysander said and kissed him. “Come and eat with us if you can.” He lifted the toothbrush from Flint’s pocket. “Leave this here.”

  Flint smiled, put up his hood and left.

  “Triple cooked chips,” Lysander said. “Better get busy.”

  “I need a shower.”

  “I want our smell still on you. Besides…” He slid a hand under her dress onto her hip. “I like you with no underwear.”

  Mollie groaned as his fingers drifted down the crease of her butt. Lysander wrapped his other arm around her.

  “You ever been fucked there, Mollie?”

  She shook her head.

  “Will you let us?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Will you take us both at the same time?”

  Oh God. “Maybe on your birthday and Christmas.”

  He laughed and tugged her toward the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll help you peel potatoes. Oh, by the way, it’s my birthday in a couple of days.”

  Damn.

  * * * *

  Flint’s steps slowed as he crossed the dam. He wondered if he’d ever had a day quite like this. He’d thought Mollie’s ex had been going to kill him, and feared the guy would kill Mollie. He’d struggled to understand what Mollie had told him about Elke, but had grasped she’d been having an affair with the guy who used to live in the house Flint was currently living in. An affair that started before he and Lysander had gotten together. Not that it made what they’d done right.

  But Flint felt…better. Less guilty. Maybe a bit less disgusted with himself. And after this afternoon…he wasn’t sure he’d have words to describe how he felt even if he had been able to speak. He’d struggled to tell Mollie and Lysander, but he didn’t understand what was happening in his heart and in his head. All he knew for certain was he didn’t want to let either of them go. They gave him hope he could be a better man.

  He went through the gate, passed a car he hadn’t seen before and loped to the front door. Voices were coming from the kitchen. When he pushed open the door he saw Beat and Ham talking to Ryker, and Max, Ryker’s chauffeur, sitting at the table drinking coffee.

  “There you are,” Ryker said. “What the fuck have you been up to?”

  Flint wasn’t sure whether Ryker expected an answer or not. Nor was he sure whether he wanted to try and give one.

  “Fighting?” Ryker snapped and moved to check out the back of his head. “Is that someone else who knows you’re up here? Apart from this Mollie I’m told about?”

  So maybe Ryker hadn’t known Lysander lived in the house across the dam. But he knew all about Lysander Weldon. Ryker had picked up the pieces after Flint had fallen apart.

  “Are you listening?” Ryker asked. “Who. Else. Knows. You. Are. Here?”

  I could pretend not to understand but Beat and Ham have both seen him. “Lys…ander Weldon.”

  Ryker reared back in shock. Ah, so Beat and Ham hadn’t mentioned Lysander.

  “Lives here,” Flint said.

  “You don’t see him,” Ryker snapped.

  Fuck you. Flint made sure his face showed nothing but incomprehension.

  “We’re going to London in the morning,” Ryker said. “I hired a small jet. It’s the premiere of Edge tomorrow evening.”

  Panic flared in Flint’s chest and he shook his head.

  “Yes,” Ryker said. “You have to go. Weston Davies will be there. All you need to do is keep your mouth shut. Corin will be telling everyone you’ve got a severe throat infection.”

  Anxiety gnawed at his gut. If the director of his next film was going to be there, wasn’t that a reason to stay away? Ryker could say he had flu. He hunted for the word flu. “F-f-funt.”

  “You have to go,” Ryker said, clearly sensing the way Flint felt. “There are already rumors circulating about you. You’re in rehab for substance abuse. You’re in the Priory because you’re an alcoholic. Wankers. You have a responsibility to Edge’s producer, the
film’s shareholders and the other actors, in fact everyone involved. You walk down that red carpet tomorrow night and smile, you understand? You go to the party afterward, have a drink then leave. You just need to show your face. I’ve brought your suit and shoes. You could have done with a hair…banding ist. Butu do. Donsty end. Bakup…”

  Flint stopped trying to understand. He didn’t think he’d slipped back, he just couldn’t bring himself to concentrate.

  “Flint,” Ryker snapped.

  “Okay. Shower. Bed. Night.”

  His steps were heavy as he made his way upstairs.

  * * * *

  But much lighter when he crept out again thirty minutes later. They were all still in the kitchen, he could smell food cooking, and they didn’t hear him leave. Flint ran across the dam and banged on the door of Wood House.

  Jean-Paul opened it. “So you weren’t a figment of my imagination.”

  Flint gave a tight-lipped smile as he walked in.

  Jean-Paul sighed as he closed the door. “It was so worth putting on my best shirt in case you came back. Do you like it?”

  Flint blinked. “Bright.”

  “You’re right. It’s too bright. Fuck. Aden!” He flounced off. “You said I looked good. You lied.”

  Lysander came out the kitchen, and when his face lit up, Flint’s anxieties began to melt. Lysander held out his hand and Flint walked into his arms and hugged him.

  “You okay?” Lysander whispered in his ear.

  Flint shook his head.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Moll…ee?”

  “She’s cooking. Come on.”

  Mollie sat at the table with the biggest pile of uncooked chips he’d ever seen outside a fish and chip shop. She blew Flint a kiss and he went to claim it before he settled at her side.

  “I think that might be enough,” Lysander said.

  She frowned. “You think?”

  Flint looked up at Lysander, who was trying to keep a straight face. She carried a plateful of chips over to the stove and slipped them into hot fat. Another batch went into a second pan.

  “I think I’ll just peel a few more,” Mollie said.