by Jory Strong
Clay grinned. "I take that as a yes."
"A great-uncle had the job before me. I used to hang out at the jail and ride shotgun in the cruiser as a kid. Even used to sleep some nights in a cell."
Clay laughed. "That could have ended badly, got you a little too comfortable with life behind bars."
"Could have, but didn't."
"Then you've always worked here?" Jessica asked, having a hard time shaking the heart-melting image of Tekoa as a little boy tagging along after his uncle.
"No. Went to college in Seattle. First law enforcement job was there. I was a patrol cop."
Clay paused in the act of slathering butter on a slice of the homemade bread. "What's your last name?"
"Windstrike."
"Officer Windstrike. Holy fuck. I didn't recognize you with the long hair. You're the cop who saw that mother throw her toddler off a bridge and dove into the river after the kid. You remember it in the news, Jess?"
"Definitely. Somebody caught it with their cellphone and it went viral."
A blush stole into Tekoa's face. "I did what anyone would have done. Let's talk about the books Jessica's written and illustrated."
They did until dinner was finished, then Clay left his seat to stand behind her chair. His hands rested on her shoulders, strong, possessive, close enough to her breasts that the heat that'd been reduced to a simmer flared.
"I'll take care of the dirty dishes since the two of you worked on the meal," he said, bending down and rubbing his cheek against her hair.
Tekoa pushed his chair back but didn't stand. "There's no dishwasher. Uses too much power."
Clay laughed. "I'm used to doing it the old-fashioned way. There never seems to be a dishwasher handy when I'm camping. And there's almost never such an edible cook."
He nuzzled her neck. The soft brush of his lips against her skin sent shivery anticipation to her nipples so they hardened, drawing Tekoa's gaze to the front of her shirt. And it was her turn to blush.
Heat condensed in her nipples and sex. She swallowed a moan, shivered when Clay's right hand dropped from her shoulder to between her legs.
Her blush deepened though Tekoa couldn't know Clay's hand was on her mound and not her stomach or thigh.
Clay nibbled his way to her mouth, caught her soft moan with a kiss, the heat between her legs building with the rub of his fingers over her clit.
She snapped her legs shut. If he slid his hand beneath the shirt and discovered the slick arousal coating her inner thighs he'd plunge his hand into her panties and play with her. And if she let him touch her so intimately in front of Tekoa…
Her heart somersaulted. She'd come sitting at the table with Tekoa watching.
Clay thrust his tongue against hers, punishing her for denying him access to her pussy with hard, dominating kisses that had her channel clenching, demanding that she spread her legs and guide his hand to her wet opening.
She wanted him to force her thighs apart and slide his hand into her panties. She wanted him to cup her mound and discover how aroused she was. She wanted him to plunge his fingers into her and make her come. She wanted, but…
He ripped his mouth off hers. His eyes glittered with desire and said, It's up to you. The control rests with you.
Her heart tried to pound its way up to her mouth and out as yes, yes, yes. But say yes and there would be no going back.
Not ready. She wasn't ready.
He gave her a hard kiss with eyes that said, It's okay. "I'd better get to the dishes. Why don't you and Tekoa decide what we're going to play?"
She swallowed, only barely prevented herself from glancing at the bed. She fought against cupping her breasts, taking hard, throbbing nipples between her fingers and easing some of the ache.
Come bedtime there'd be another choice. If she lay next to him in the dark, there'd be no denying need and desire.
Clay brushed his mouth over hers then straightened. Tekoa stood, the heat in his eyes banked though his cock pressed thick and full against the front of his jeans.
She shivered. Wanted, her channel clenching, demanding she lift her shirt and push her panties downward.
"Let's look at the games," Tekoa said, his voice strained.
Face flushed, aware of the arousal wetting her panties and inner thighs, she followed him to a cabinet next to the television set. It was packed with board games, along with a rack of poker chips and decks of cards.
She glanced at him sideways. He smiled and it was a feather-stroke across her heart. "My family tends toward marathon game sessions. What's your preference?"
"Don't let her choose Scrabble," Clay said from in front of the sink. "Being a writer gives her an unfair advantage. The last time I beat her was six months ago, after she'd been drinking."
She laughed, the tight heat of need loosening, becoming a flood of warmth. The only decision she needed to make right now was how they'd spend the rest of their evening.
Her heart demanded she get to know Tekoa better, though in a lot of ways, she already felt she knew him. But then, she'd thought she'd known Clay too, before The Revelation.
Shadowy ache encircled her heart and squeezed. Let it go, she thought.
Would she rather Clay have not told her? Would she rather Clay have not admitted the truth of his bisexuality to himself until after they were married?
No. And no.
She picked up a poker chip. Not all of them were created equal and by the weight and texture of the one in her hand, Tekoa wasn't a casual player.
She glanced at Clay. That'd make it fair.
"My purse is in the car. In all the panic to get help and then to get Clay taken care of, I forgot about it."
Her gaze went to the window. It was pitch black outside and storming. And given the remoteness, there was probably no reason to worry about her driver's license and credit cards.
"We can keep the stakes low," Tekoa said. "I'm sure you're good for the money."
He reached over, pushed a strand of hair away from her face. Heat flared in her stomach and she had a sudden vision of the three of them playing strip poker.
Turning away before he could read it in her eyes, she said, "Poker it is."
Tekoa grinned and took the opportunity to boldly survey the long, tanned legs left bare below the shirt. He was making progress with her. She was very close to accepting that the three of them were meant to be together.
He just had to survive the torment of wanting to touch her, kiss her, make love to her. She was killing him, turning him into one huge ache. But in the end, the wait would be worth it.
He picked up the chip rack and the cards, glanced at the mantel above the fireplace and his heart sang. The cups had been offered and the contents accepted by Clay and Jessica. Now it was up to the three of them to find their way to intimacy.
He didn't have casual sex with the men who came to the area to hike and climb and camp. It'd been years since he'd been with another man, but even if that weren't the case, he'd want Clay.
He reached the kitchen table. His eyes met Clay's across the glossy wood. Heat flared between them and if he weren't holding the chips and cards, he might have reached for his shaft, squeezed to drive back some of the need.
It was impossible to drive back images of Clay kneeling, his own hands fisted in Clay's blond hair as he thrust his cock into Clay's mouth, of Clay bent over, his ass cheeks parted…
Longing shuddered through Tekoa. He set the chip rack and cards onto the table, forcing his gaze to follow them there. What came next had to be Jessica's choice.
He didn't know the details, didn't understand how or why Clay had kept his bisexuality from her before asking her to marry him, but when she'd said yes, she hadn't thought she'd share the man she loved with another man. She hadn't thought she'd share herself.
A swell of tenderness intensified his desire for her. He could wait until she was ready to give herself to him. He could wait until she was ready to share Clay.
Clay dropped into the seat to her righ
t. "First rule, no crying at the poker table."
Her smile was sunlight streaming across a meadow. "As if."
* * * * *
Chapter 4
Clay reached for the cards, pulled them out of the box and shuffled like a professional. "Texas Hold'em?"
"Sounds good," Tekoa said, sitting and distributing chips. With Jess and Clay in his life, he was already a winner.
They played until well past midnight, ending with all the chips stacked in colorful towers in front of Clay. "Am I good? Or am I good?"
Tekoa snorted. "Lucky more like."
Clay grinned. "There's always luck involved. Should I tell him, babe?"
Jessica's laugh was like the springtime blossom of flowers and it was all Tekoa could do not to reach for her, admire her with his words, kisses and the stroke of his hands over her skin.
"Wouldn't be fair for him to sit down at the table with you again without knowing," she said.
Clay pushed away from the table and stood. "Your phone in your jacket pocket, Jess?"
She nodded and he retrieved it, found whatever he was looking for as he walked back to them, then put the phone down on the table in front of Tekoa. "How do you like that jewelry?"
In the picture Clay was standing in a casino poker room, elbows bent, hands fisted on either side of his chin and grinning like a fool—with cause.
Tekoa whistled. "World Series bracelets?"
"You got it. Pot-limit Omaha on the right. No-Limit Hold'em on the left."
Tekoa shook his head. "I've been hustled."
Clay's smile held no shame. "So same time, same place tomorrow?"
"I'm in." Tekoa stood and stretched, his gaze going to the bed. Tomorrow maybe, but for tonight… His eyes met Clay's. "Since there are two of you and only one of me, you take the bed. I'll crash on the sofa."
"Sounds good to me." Clay collared Jessica's neck in a possessive, masterful display, guided her out of the chair and into his arms so her back was pressed to his chest.
He kissed along her throat, and Tekoa suppressed a moan, his heart racing like a fast moving stream over smooth rocks. He wasn't going to survive the night.
Her cheeks were flushed, the outline of her nipples visible. Not for the first time, he fought the urge to cup her breasts, to latch on and suck.
"I've got an easy way for you to pay off your chip debt," Clay murmured, husky-voiced, his hand stroking over her belly.
Tekoa's breath caught. He was about to go up in flames.
She slapped Clay's arm and said, "You were more endearing when you had a concussion."
Clay nuzzled her, more than willing to lie down and pretend he was helpless while she kissed him back to health. He didn't care where her lips started, as long as they ended up on his dick.
He closed his eyes. He wanted her. He wanted Tekoa.
He captured her earlobe and sucked. She shivered and tried to pull away but his arm below her breasts prevented her escape.
From the first moment he'd seen her it'd been like this between them. A look, a touch, sometimes only a single word, and heat engulfed them, the need to make love overpowered them.
If he fucked his tongue into her ear, she'd spread her legs and welcome his hand between her thighs. She'd whimper as his fingers slipped underneath her panties.
She'd beg him to stroke her clit. She'd beg him to thrust his fingers into her hot channel. And she'd be wet. So, so wet.
He could finger-fuck her and she'd beg for his cock. He'd done it often enough to be completely confident about her response. And once he got her that far she wouldn't fight him if he pulled her panties off and lay her on the table.
She'd take his cock. She'd take Tekoa's cock.
But it wouldn't really be her choice. It wouldn't be the way it needed to be. Not that they wouldn't take the next step, making love tonight, with Tekoa in the room.
"Let's go to bed, Jess," he said, his voice husky and his intentions clear. If she joined him on the bed, they would fuck.
And though she would try to be quiet so her moans and whimpers didn't fill the dark cabin, she'd know Tekoa was a few feet away. She'd know Tekoa was aware of what they were doing. She'd know Tekoa was imagining himself on the bed with them and she'd wonder if Tekoa's fingers were locked around his own cock, gliding up and down in time to the sounds of their making love.
"I'm going to bed," Clay said, releasing her to make her choice.
She headed toward the bathroom and raw desire pounded into him as he visually caressed the curve of her ass and her long, sleek legs. When she disappeared behind the closed door, his eyes met Tekoa's then traveled downward, neither one of them hiding the fact that they were checking out the aroused state of the other.
His gaze returned to Tekoa's face and Tekoa's mouth curved into a wry smile. "Enjoy the bed. The couch is going to be sheer torture."
There might as well have been a hot wire strung from his dick to Tekoa's. Clay stepped closer, testing his self control. His buttocks clamped and it was all he could do not to humiliate himself by air-humping.
It'd been too long since he'd had another man's hand on his dick, had another man's mouth around it, and another man's ass taking him, squeezing and clinging and burning him alive.
Nearly panting he said, "I was afraid this would be harder."
Tekoa laughed. "If it gets any harder you'll be taking what's left of me to the emergency room. But I know what you mean, despite the painful choice of words."
Clay clenched his hands. It was that or wrap one around his dick and the other around Tekoa's. He wanted Jess with an intensity that would have become an obsession if she'd left him. But he wanted this too.
He needed masculine hands and masculine lips on his body. He needed to touch and taste and kiss Tekoa before sliding into his ass.
He craved it. But it was more than the need for sex.
Because of Jess, he knew what it was like to be intimate with someone he loved completely. Because of her, he'd never again be satisfied with casual.
The love would come with Tekoa. The respect and friendship were already there. It seemed like they already were together in the most meaningful sense.
He flashed back to the surreal dream and the old man rolling a cigarette. Shook off the memory.
He didn't do the mystical stuff. What mattered was that he'd come out to Jess and with Tekoa in his life, he'd never be tempted like he'd been on that last trip. He'd never have to live through the gut-wrenching fear of one day losing everything because in a weak moment he'd cheated with another man.
"I'll find a way to leave you alone with Jess tomorrow," he told Tekoa.
Tekoa's smile was slow and sensual and heightened the desire to slide his hand beneath the borrowed sweatpants and grasp his cock. Or better, push the pants off his hips and let Tekoa do it.
The bathroom door opened and Tekoa's eyes reflected the hunger Clay felt, and the worry that Jess wasn't ready to take the next step, that she wouldn't get in bed.
She emerged from the bathroom, crossed to the bed without looking in their direction and Clay nearly stripped where his stood.
He wanted to rush to her and hug her tight for her courage. He wanted to shout his thanks, his joy. After the colossal fuck-up of coming out to her in the car, and the pain he'd caused her with his confession, she was willing to keep trusting him with her heart.
She placed the folded bra on the nightstand then slipped between the covers wearing the shirt and panties. He grinned, tender warmth exploding in his chest. They both knew he wouldn't allow either the shirt or the panties to stay on for very long.
Even the ultra-sexy nightgowns and teddies she paraded around in at home didn't last once they got to the bedroom. He liked her naked and she liked being that way for him.
Clay met Tekoa's gaze and heated at the anticipation in Tekoa's dark eyes. Tomorrow, he silently promised, cock bobbing and rubbing against the soft sweats. Tomorrow you'll have your turn with Jess.
Tekoa's lip
s pitched upward and Clay caught himself before he tipped forward to press his mouth to Tekoa's. They needed to wait. They needed to be sure Jess was ready, that she was okay with their kissing, touching, fucking.
Clay detoured to the bathroom. When he came out, a pillow and blanket were on the couch and Tekoa was crouched in front of the fireplace adding wood.
Reaching the bed, he peeled off the T-shirt then shoved the sweats downward. He felt Tekoa's appreciative gaze and grinned. You ain't seen nothing yet.
Not that Jess was getting the better view lying on her side with her back to him. But that was about to change.
He got into bed and pressed against her, draped an arm and a leg over her. He cupped her breast and kissed along her neck.
Her nipple stabbed his palm through the shirt. She trembled and her back arched, pressing her breast harder against his hand and her ass into his cock.
The light went out but it didn't plunge the cabin into total darkness. He kicked the sheets and blankets down past their feet. He wasn't about to let her hide.
"I love you," he said, easing away and using the hand on her breast to roll her onto her back. He covered her mouth with his, thrust and rubbed his tongue against hers as button by button he opened her shirt.
She made a small sound of token protest but he didn't relent. She didn't really want him to. He stroked over her stomach, reached her panties and jerked them down roughly.
He tossed them away from the bed in a gesture that said the shirt had been pushing it but the panties were an outrage. She wasn't going to deny him. They both knew that. She needed him as desperately as he needed her. When she'd gotten into bed, she'd told him she accepted this, that she was ready to take this next step toward becoming a threesome.
His heart spasmed. He'd been so afraid of losing her. She was his world, and the thought of her leaving him—
Didn't happen. Not going to happen.
She'd be his wife, the mother of his children. God willing they'd grow old together, the three of them, then spend the next life loving each other again.
He cupped her mound and she whimpered. Her clit stabbed his palm, demanding his attention.