by Roz Lee
She heard nothing more from them until Thursday when another bouquet arrived. This one was delivered to her apartment, along with a note, and directions to their house. She read the missive, handwritten by Jason this time, telling her they would understand if she didn’t want to explore the chemistry between them; but if she did, they would give her all the time she needed to decide. He ended with an invitation to spend the day with them at their home.
Megan reread the note until her eyes blurred. It was ridiculous. Who did things like that? And as she went through her daily routines, the proposition wasn’t far from her mind. Memories of the ride home in the back seat of their hired car crept into every still moment, making her wonder if she weren’t as depraved as Jeff and Jason Holder. Could she do it? Could she give herself to both men, at the same time?
She wasn’t any closer to an answer when she got home, than she had been when she left. After showering, she turned on the television, surfing the channels for anything that would take her mind off Jeff and Jason, and the way their hands felt on her, in her. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought at one time, they both had a finger, or two, inside her. She’d been too far gone to pay close attention. What else would they want to do at the same time?And how would she feel about that? She shifted, pulling her legs up on the sofa and curling her feet under the soft throw she kept folded over the back. She paused in her channel surfing on the Mustangs’ game. The score was 2-1, in favor of the Mustangs. The score box in the corner of the screen said it was the bottom of the ninth. Christopher had made it his job to educate her on the basics, so she knew the game was almost over. This was Terminator Time, according to Christopher. Sure enough, the man who entered the field via a door in the outfield fence, was Jeff Holder – The Terminator.
Megan watched as he strode confidently across the field, not too slow, but in no hurry either. The announcers gave him his due, confident in their assessment that the game was all but over now that The Terminator was in to pitch. They went on and on about inside heat. It took Megan a moment, but she figured out they were talking about a type of pitch – one Jeff apparently threw exceptionally well. She had a lot to learn if she was going to…
No. She wouldn’t go there. Not tonight.
The catcher strode out to the pitching mound. She would have known it was Jason, even if he hadn’t carried his helmet in his hand. Jason walked with the same stride as his brother, despite the protective gear he wore. They spoke, shielding their lips from the prying eyes of the television cameras with their gloves. The conversation lasted no more than thirty seconds, then Jason dropped the baseball in Jeff’s glove and returned to his place behind home plate.
Megan dropped the remote and settled in to watch. Jeff made it look so easy, but if you looked closely, you could see the strong muscles in his arms and legs as he wound up and threw the pitch. It didn’t take a genius to know that kind of speed and pinpoint precision took skill and strength. Between pitches, the camera always returned to Jeff for a close-up. He never gave anything away. His face was a blank mask, but when he leaned in to take the pitch call from his brother, Megan could almost see the calculations going through his head. How to hold the ball, fingers here, adjust the grip, coil the muscles to the exact degree necessary to power the ball at a specific speed, and control. Control every muscle so that the end result would be a perfect pitch.
The Terminator threw perfect pitch, after perfect pitch. He wiped sweat from his forehead with a shrug of a shoulder, replacing his cap with all the concentration of a surgeon. And that’s what he was, Megan realized. She’d seen enough steady hands in the hospital to know the absorption and command of body it took to wield a scalpel with skill, to deliver a perfect slice. What Jeff did wasn’t life or death, but it took as much physical control, and a lot more stamina.
Jeff systematically removed the first two batters as efficiently as any surgeon. Megan couldn’t look away. His body fascinated her. His legs had to be all muscle beneath his snug-fitting uniform. The short-sleeved shirt revealed the long, corded muscles in his forearms. Her breath caught in her lungs as the camera focused in on the ball in his hand. Leaning toward home plate, he twirled the ball between long fingers, feeling for the grip he wanted. Strong fingers, fingers that could find the perfect spot without looking, fingers that had found her perfect spot in the darkness of a backseat, unhampered by her skirt and panties.
The announcers expected no less from the Terminator. They praised his success and speculated on whether he would break records in his career. As the batters came and went, the cameras also captured the other half of the action, the man behind the plate. The man calling the pitches. The man cloaked behind pads and a mask. Jason might not have the pitching skill his brother did, but his contribution to Jeff’s success was obvious. Megan marveled at the amount of detail Jason must have memorized. He’d have to know every batter’s strength, as well as his weakness, and know what his brother was capable of throwing at that point in time.
No doubt Jason could memorize an entire encyclopedia, but the rest probably had to do with their twin connection. Jason knew Jeff’s body as well as he knew his own.
The third batter swung and missed the first two pitches. The hometown crowd was on their feet, willing their batter to hit the ball and give their team one more chance to tie the score. The camera focused on Jason. Fingers flashed between his legs in a code that only Jeff would understand. Megan’s skin flushed at the memory of those fingers on her. In her. He shifted, raised his glove…the camera shot changed. Jeff straightened. He lifted his left leg, fell forward as he brought his right hand up and over, releasing the ball as his left foot landed hard. The camera shot shifted again. The batter swung, the ball crashed into Jason’s glove hard enough to rock him back on his heels. The umpire behind him did an elaborate dance and yelled, “Strike three!”
Jason stood, yanked his helmet off, and trotted toward the mound. Jeff met him halfway and the brothers shared a guy hug. Their identical faces wore matching smiles as the rest of the team joined in the celebration. Jeff and Jason walked off the field side-by-side, swallowed up by a flood of teammates from the dugout, and a tidal wave of reporters.
Megan watched as the on-field reporter made his way through the crowd to Jeff and Jason. The brothers stood together, conquering warriors, accepting good-natured back slaps and handshakes from their teammates. Her heart skipped as they turned those disarming identical smiles to the camera. A few nights ago, they’d smiled at her like that, and she hadn’t been immune to it. She still wasn’t.
The reporter praised Jeff’s accomplishment, but before he could go too far, Jeff stopped him. “Hey, I only played one inning. The real praise goes to the guys who were out there for the other eight innings,” he clamped a hand on Jason’s shoulder, “guys like Jason who put the runs on the board. If Stewart and Harding hadn’t done such a great job on the mound, I never would have come out of the bullpen.”
The reporter tried his best to put Jeff back in the limelight, but the Terminator wouldn’t have it. Every chance he got, he turned the praise back on his teammates. Sincerity was in every line of his face, and evident in his tone. He believed what he was saying. The reporter eventually gave up, and turned his questions to Jason. His modesty was less, but he couldn’t very well deny it was his homerun, with a runner on base that had given the Mustangs the two runs they needed to win.
Megan turned the coverage off after Jeff and Jason moved on to field questions from one of the throng of other reporters waiting to interview them. They’d be coming home from the road trip tonight, and they’d already invited her to their house tomorrow. She still hadn’t made up her mind, but staring at the flickering screen where a mediocre sit-com couldn’t command her attention, all she could think about was Jeff and Jason Holder.
They wanted sex. With her. It seemed ridiculous to deny the prospect appealed to her. Who wouldn’t want to roll around in the sheets with two great looking guys? She knew firsthand how enterta
ining they could be, and how skilled they were at seduction. She’d parted her legs like a wanton – in the backseat of a car – for crying out loud. What would she do for them in the comfort and privacy of a bedroom?
She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it tight against her chest. The real question was, what would they do for her? To her? She’d read a few erotic novels about ménages, but they’d seemed like fantasy to her. People didn’t really do that. Did they? And if they did…could she?
She was still pondering the question when she slipped between the sheets that night. The smooth cotton was cold against her skin, reminding her how long it had been since she’d had a hot-blooded male to warm her bed. Her crazy schedule, nights one week, days the next, kept her perpetually short on sleep, and even when she wasn’t tired, she was often exhausted from the emotional stress of her job. That didn’t leave much time or energy for dating – even if she had someone to date.
Just because she didn’t have time for a relationship didn’t mean some hot sex now and then wouldn’t be welcome. That’s what Jeff and Jason were offering – sex. Nothing more. Men like them weren’t candidates for a relationship. If she could look at the arrangement from the same perspective – not get emotionally involved – maybe it would work out. Maybe she could enjoy what they were offering – if the three of them could find the time.
Three of them. Suddenly, she felt too warm under the covers. She tossed off the comforter, leaving the light sheet to caress her heated skin. She wiggled until the hem of her Cowboys sleep shirt rode high on her hips. Her fingers snuck low to brush across the hidden bud of nerve endings, sending a wave of longing through her system. It was no use. Touching herself wasn’t anywhere near the same as having long, callused fingers do the touching. Fingers that knew how to make her body sing, knew how to make her forget everything, and want more.
Megan sat up and flipped on the lamp next to her bed. She picked up the novel she’d begun on her lunch break and slid the card out she’d used to mark her place. The directions to their home were simple enough, just a few turns, and if she weren’t mistaken, more than a few miles of nothing. Unless something had changed, there wasn’t much out where they lived. That didn’t sound like what she expected from big-time athletes, but so far, nothing she’d learned about Jeff and Jason was what she’d expected.
She slid the card back into the book and turned the light off. This time, she closed her eyes and sleep came easily. She’d made up her mind. In the morning, she’d drive out to Jeff and Jason’s house and see exactly what they had in mind. What could it hurt? She knew enough about them to feel certain that if she said no, they wouldn’t be angry. Heck, they probably did this all the time. She was probably one of dozens who’d been invited to their lair for some kinky sex, then shown the door when the twins tired of the conquest.
Chapter Four
Jeff paced the large eat-in kitchen like a caged mountain lion. “She isn’t coming,” he groused at his brother. Jason sat calmly on a stool at the raised bar, using an apple as if it were a baseball, tossing it as high as he could and catching it. The apple was long past edible having hit the floor hard more than once, a testament to his lack of concentration.
“She’ll be here,” he stated with confidence he didn’t have. “It’s early.”
“Not that early. She’d be here by now if she were coming.”
Jason straightened from picking up the apple yet again. A low, familiar hum had his heart racing. Jeff was at the window before Jason could toss the apple back into the bowl. The house faced the main road, and the curved driveway swept under a portico off the kitchen. The house was barely visible from the road, just the way the brothers liked it, but you could see anyone approaching from this vantage point. “See? I told you she’d be here.”
“Shut up. How many times did you drop that apple?”
“Okay, you don’t have to rub it in.” Sometimes having a twin who knew you so well was a pain in the ass. “Should we greet her or something?”
“Yeah,” Jeff said, heading to the leaded glass door that led to the portico, “we should.”
Jason followed his brother. He’d never seen Jeff so worked up about a woman. Not that he could blame him. It was easy to see Megan was special. She was smart, and kind, and had a tender heart – she’d have to with the kind of work she did. And, she was drop-dead gorgeous. That she didn’t recognize her beauty only added to her appeal. She might have faults, but vanity wasn’t one of them.
She exited her practical little sedan with the grace of a queen, but Jason noted she fumbled with the straps of her purse. Nerves, maybe? He instantly felt better about asking her to come out to the house. If she were nervous, then this wasn’t something she did every day. He never thought she did. She wasn’t the type to hop into bed with men she hardly knew, despite the way she’d given herself to them in the back of the town car. Even then, he sensed her reserve, but they’d given her little choice. He was determined that today, the choice would be hers.
Jason hung back as Jeff welcomed their guest. Over the years, he’d become good at observing players and using the knowledge he gained to find their weakness. His talent extended to the world outside baseball too, so he was glad for the time to watch Megan. She was definitely nervous, but she tried hard to hide it as Jeff steered her toward the kitchen door.
“Hi. Glad you could come,” Jason said when she stopped in front of him.
“Thanks for the invitation.” Her eyes met his, strong and unwavering even though her hand trembled when their palms touched. He tugged her hand gently and pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.
They settled at the big, scarred kitchen table. Jeff filled tall glasses with iced tea and brought them to the table. “Thanks,” she said, wrapping her fingers around her glass as if searching for something solid to hang onto.
“There’s no need to be nervous, Megan. Nothing will happen unless you want it to,” Jason assured her.
“I don’t even know what, exactly, we’re talking about here,” she said. “I…well – ”
“Megan,” Jeff interrupted, “we invited you out to see our home, see the way we live. Jason and I are both attracted to you. You’re smart, you’re caring, and kind. You’re beautiful, and sexy, and we want to get to know you better, and we’d like for you to get to know us too.”
Jeff’s compliments made her blush and she became more nervous than before, if that was possible. She wasn’t used to being told she was beautiful. Jason silently vowed to change that. “Don’t let Jeff scare you. We don’t want to pressure you into anything. Let’s sit here and talk. Maybe later you’ll let us show you the house, and the property. “
“Look, I don’t have much time. I have to work later today, and I know you have a game, so can you just tell me what you have in mind?”
Jason glanced at Jeff, noted the approving smile, then turned back to Megan. “Okay. We’d like you to stay with us for a while. A week for starters – longer if you like the arrangement.”
“Stay with you?” She waggled a finger between them. “You don’t mean as your housekeeper, do you?”
“No,” Jeff replied. “We want you in our bed. We want to have sex with you every way two men and a woman can have it, that is, without the men…you know.”
Megan clutched her tea glass in a white-knuckled grip, but she didn’t get up and run. “After the way you responded to us the other night, well, we thought you might be interested,” Jason added. Two red blotches dotted her cheekbones and the rest of her face turned a dark crimson. Jason shifted in his seat, wondering if her skin turned that shade when she came. It had been too dark in the car the other night to see clearly. Next time, they’d have the lights on.
“Would it be both of you, together?”
“Usually, but not always. It might be one on one sometimes, or maybe one would just watch. It depends. The decision would be yours, but we’ve always worked well as a team, and we’d like to stay that way,” Jason said. “I
f you’re home alone with one of us, then there isn’t any reason you can’t go one on one.”
“You’ve done this before.”
“Some,” Jeff said. “But we’ve never had a long-term relationship, and that’s what we’re looking for. With you.”
“Long-term,” she repeated. “How long is long?”
“Until you, or by mutual agreement we, decide it’s over. That could be a week, a month, or years,” Jason said. “It’s mostly your decision. We won’t pressure you to stay if you don’t want to.”
She took a deep breath and let it out, then brought the glass to her lips. Throughout the discussion, she’d kept her eyes glued on the tea glass in her hands, but something they said had made her feel braver, and she glanced from one brother to the other as she drank. Jason could almost feel the tension easing between them, but it was too much to hope for, too soon to hope for anything at all. She set the glass on the table and for the first time, her fingers slipped from it. Her hands drifted to her lap, but her shoulders were still sharp points of tension. The room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall above Jeff’s head. The simple rooster print clock seemed too ordinary to be an observer of such a strange conversation.
Megan tried to relax, but the conversation was only going to get more bizarre. She couldn’t believe she was even considering their proposition. It was every bit as inappropriate as she’d expected. The two worked like a tag-team, bouncing from one to the other, trying to convince her to accept. Jeff had been amazingly blunt about what they expected, but if she were going to seriously consider this, he was going to have to be even more so. She didn’t want any surprises.