Two Guys: The Game Series

by LP Lovell

  Two Guys

  The Game Series

  Stevie Cole

  LP Lovell

  Contents

  Get Wrong Free

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Three Players

  Get Wrong Free

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  1

  I wake up and stretch out in the bed, wishing I could stay amongst the soft sheets and silky pillows. But I can’t, so I drag myself out of bed and ready myself to see Tobias and Preston. This is only day two. I've been here a single day, and yet it feels like weeks. My nerves are so frayed that the thought of seeing them has a knot forming in my stomach. I still have not the faintest idea of what's coming in the next six days, and it's the not knowing—the inability to even ask—that has me so on edge. I dress with a pair of lace panties and a linen sun dress before venturing out into the empty hallway.

  The rich smell of coffee draws me to the kitchen, but I freeze the moment I reach the doorway, standing in silence, watching the two of them. Both men are topless, their torsos coated with a thin sheen of sweat. I swallow hard as I study the way they move around each other, the way they casually brush against one another and share the occasional look. They're more than business associates… I remember the way Preston licked my chest yesterday, the way his eyes darkened as we watched Tobias stroke his hard dick, the pair of us completely enraptured. And the fact that he was right there with me only made it more intense.

  When I step into the kitchen, all their attention focuses on me.

  "Hey," I say quietly.

  Tobias drags his eyes over me and, as always, I want to shrink from his gaze. He drags a hand through his dark hair, and every single muscle ripples and flexes with that simple movement. With two men as beautiful as Tobias and Preston, it's easy to want them, to crave whatever twisted sexual play they come up with next. It's all too easy to forget that this is a game and I am nothing more than a toy here for their amusement. And I shouldn't forget that. Ever.

  Preston walks over to me and holds a mug out in front of him, the steam swirling up with the rich flavor. When I take it, my fingers brush his, and a soft smile touches his lips before he backs away.

  "Thank you," I whisper.

  Tobias drains a protein shake and then moves toward the door, stopping before he passes me. He takes the coffee from my hand and presses the mug to his lips, winking at me as he swallows. The pair of them are so peculiar. Without a word, he passes me and I watch his retreating back as he disappears through the doorway.

  I feel the heat of Preston's body at my back a second before his bare chest presses against me. My skin breaks out in goosebumps as the red-hot heat of his skin seeps through my dress. He wraps one arm tightly around my waist. His breath blows across my neck, and in some ways, this is more intimate than having his fingers buried inside me because it's so innocent, and yet, it elicits so much. My body craves this simple comforting touch. He spins me around, backs me against the breakfast bar, and takes the coffee from my hand, setting it on the counter. And then, he scoops me up into his arms and sets me on the edge of the bar. The skirt of my dress rides up when he steps between my legs, and the bare skin of my inner thighs meets his narrow waist. My heart pounds in my chest, my skin tingles with an electricity that seems to crackle from him to me.

  "Always so beautiful, Ella." His fingers sweep across my cheek just as he leans in to press a tender kiss to the side of my throat. I shiver, tilting my head to the side slightly as I relish in the way his warm lips feel against my skin. His large palm spans my waist, making me feel fragile compared to him. I close my eyes and I wait to feel his hand sink between my legs, but instead, he steps away.

  "Milk?" he asks.

  "Uh...yes, please."

  He opens the fridge and grabs the milk, pours it in my coffee, and puts it away before handing the mug to me. "You behave yourself today, sweet Ella." Leaning in, he presses a lingering kiss to my lips, slow and gentle. It’s enough to make my heart speed up, and then…he just walks away.

  Tobias comes out of the back room, his hair damp from a shower. The suit he’s dressed in clings to him as though it were tailored specifically for him, and it most likely was. He looks rich and powerful, unstoppable. The moment he steps into the kitchen it’s like a light switches off and the air in the room changes instantly. Something swirls heavy in the air, it thickens with tension and a sweltering heat, the same way it does just before a lightning storm. Preston is unpredictable and changeable, but Tobias is a constant, that power that churns around him ever present. They glance at each other as they pass in the doorway and there's this exchange, this kinetic energy that bounces between them, rebounding around the small space as they feed off each other. Tobias heads straight to the counter, grabbing The Wallstreet Journal and flipping it open. My eyes trail over his broad back. He is the epitome of sophistication, but it's the memory of what lies beneath, the dangerous edge that I believe wants to consume him that house my mouth going dry.

  “We’re going out. You should get changed,” he says without even turning to look at me, and I, without question do as I’m told.

  2

  He hasn't said a word to me since we left the apartment. And what am I going to say to him that won’t involve a question? It’s better if I remain quiet. By the time we walk inside the building, I'm on edge, wondering, waiting.

  We take the elevator up to the 52nd floor and I follow him through a shiny, marble lobby and into an office surrounded by windows.

  "This is Ella, my assistant," he says to the group of men sat around the conference table. Half of them don't even glance up at me. Tobias turns toward me as he takes a seat at the head of the table. "Ella, dear, would you go grab us coffees?" He takes a piece of paper from the table and jots down five orders, then passes the paper to me.

  I take the order and stare at him.

  "Is there a problem?" he asks.

  "I need a way to pay for it."

  "Oh,” his eyes skate over my body, “I think you can figure out a way to pay. Let's say it's a..." a small chuckle seeps from his lips, "...a game."

  My jaw tightens as I glare at him and force a smile. I swear under my breath when I turn around and make my way to the lobby.

  My mind is reeling the entire way to Starbucks. I'm assuming this is part of their game, watching me dance...I roll my eyes and cross the street, lost within the mass of people on their way to their jobs, lost within the sea of bodies who have direction, who have something, and here I am—with nothing left but a game.

  The bells dings when I walk in. I stand at the back of the line, staring at the piece of paper. Two coffees—black, one Caramel Macchiato, one Vanilla Latte, and one Chia Tea. The line creeps along, and the closer I get to the register, the more fidgety I grow.

  "What can I get you?" The barista asks as he wipes down the counter.

  "Um..." I swallow then rattle off the order. He rings it up with a smile. "That will be twenty-six and forty-five cents."

  And this is the moment. One million—two million dollars hanging in the balance. I glance down to the note in my hand, then hold both hands out, my mouth hanging open. "I uh..." I feel around on my dress, glance at the floor, walk back and forth in the line, searching with my eyes. "Shit," I mumble. "Shit. Shit. Shit." I grab my head with both hands, shaking my head as I go back to the counter. By now, two of the five drinks are already at the register. I take a breath. I bat my eyes before locking them with his. "I...I must have dropped my c
ard." I cover my mouth with my hand as I glance back toward the door. "Oh my god. I came all the way from Vanderbilt. God knows where I dropped it. And..." I take a breath, still not looking back at him because I am forcing the tears. "It's my second day on my job, my boss...these are for this big business meeting of his. Oh my god, he'll fire me." I glance at the coffees, then at him as I slowly back away from the counter. "I'm...I'm so sorry. I uh..." And I turn around, closing my tear-filled eyes and praying to a God I haven't spoken to in eons.

  "Miss..."

  I turn around just as one stray tear falls down my cheek. Thank god.

  "I uh..." He wets his lips. "I can just...I'll just get them for you."

  "You will?" I basically gasp. "Oh my God, you don't have to—"

  He smiles the sweetest smile. "It's no problem really. I feel bad for you and..."

  "Thank you so much. So, so much. I can't..." I smile. "Thank you."

  He nods, pulls his card from his pocket, and swipes it through the register. Five minutes later, I'm walking out of the coffee shop with my five coffees, a smile, and one fucking guilty conscious. When I get my million dollars, I'll be sure to come back and give him a thousand just for being a saint. I hurry back to the office with the coffees, and when I push the door open Preston's passing out Starbucks. The men at the table glance up at me, then to the coffees in my hand the before looking back down at the cups in front of them on the table. The small smile I had on my face fades and my gaze drops to the floor.

  "How thoughtful of you, Ella, but we already have coffees." Tobias smiles, and he reminds me of the devil when he does.

  Preston walks over to me, grinning as he shoves his hand in his pocket and brings out his wallet. He takes a fifty-dollar bill out and hands it to me. "Hope that covers the cost." He winks before taking a seat at the table.

  I want to scream. None of this makes sense. I sit in that room, listening to them go over business proposals. I go and fetch their lunches—this time Tobias provides me with money—and then, around two in the afternoon, the meeting adjourns. Everyone files out of the room except for Tobias, myself, and Preston.

  "I've got to meet with Thompson," Preston says, glancing at his phone.

  "I'll take Ella, then. There's something I want to show her." He smirks. Preston smirks. And I feel like an animal caught in a trap.

  Preston gives me a gentle kiss as he passes by me. "I'll miss you, sweet Ella," he says.

  Tobias heads out of the room and I follow him. Down the elevator, through the front doors, and along the sidewalk. He doesn't say a word, per his usual, but he's whistling. We come to a crosswalk and stop behind the large crowd.

  I want to ask where we're going? There's a lot of things I want to ask. We cross the street by my apartment—the one that I’ll no longer have at the end of this game. The eviction notice tacked on the door burns its way through my mind. Of course, I’m sure I could get it back after this little arrangement is over, but I think I want to just move away. Start over. Maybe Fort Lauderdale or Key West...

  "Did it destroy you when he left?" Tobias asks.

  I stop dead in my tracks and stare up at him. "I don't understand what you're asking me."

  "When Sawyer left you." His eyes narrow. "All those posts you made. The quotes about lost love, about lovers turning into strangers, the songs—all sad and pathetic, reminiscent of heartbreak. Did it destroy you?"

  "It hurt."

  "As it should have." Tobias takes my hand and we cross the street. His thumb sweeps across mine, circling over my knuckle. "He was fucking around on you, you know?"

  "So it seemed."

  "For such a long time. Nearly a year." He glances down at me, studying me like he's so prone to do. Waiting, I guess, for some reaction. "Her name is Maria, and you know what, Ella?" He pushes me to the side of the sidewalk and leans down next to my ear. "She knew about you, and she didn't care."

  My heart rate steadily picks up with each beat.

  "How does that make you feel, little lamb?" He inches his face toward me, his eyes searching mine. "Does it make you angry that she didn't care, that she thought she was better than you?"

  I want to tell him to fuck off, I want to slap him, but I can't, so I just stand here.

  "I have a surprise for you." He tugs on my arm for me to follow as he walks away, not stopping until we're standing outside of Elmo's restaurant. He points at a brunette through the window. "That's Maria. She's waiting on Sawyer..." He leans in close to my ear again. "Just like you used to do. Same restaurant. Same booth even."

  Closing my eyes, I try to force those memories out, but the floodgates break, bombarding me with images of me and Sawyer in that very booth. I can still smell him—Chanel Blue. I can still hear how rough his voice was when he'd whisper how he wanted to fuck me right on that table. I swallow and stare at her through the window, all too certain he tells her the same things. His painting that once hung over my couch, may very well be over her couch now—their couch. Things that were once mine are hers, and I hate her for it.

  "Wonder where he is..." Tobias coos in my ear. And although the question of how he knows all of this crosses my mind, I can't ask it. My pulse hammers in my ear, my chest grows tight, my palms slick with sweat.

  And then, I see Sawyer walk out from the restroom and take a seat next to Maria. He grabs her jaw and kisses her with passion and want. She trails her fingers through his thick, dark hair, and that metaphorical knife jabs me deep, my heart squeezing underneath the strain. I fight back the tears and the hurt.

  "I wonder what kind of person he told her you were?" Tobias says, and with that comment, he guides me away from the window and down the street. Why would he do that to me? What was the point? "It must be frustrating, unable to ask any questions." He laughs. "Just know, there are reasons for everything, Ella. Reasons for everything in life."

  I'm confused, uncertain of why they even have me, of what this game truly is. My head is relentlessly spinning, leaving me in a constant state of whiplash. We walk another block in silence, the image of Sawyer kissing her playing over and over in my mind.

  "Ah, and here we are." Tobias veers away from the crowd.

  We stop in front of a brick faced building that looks as though it should be apartments. He types a code into a keypad. Locks pop and in we walk. The air-conditioned air is a welcome relief. On the far wall is set of wooden doors, which we quickly approach. Tobias pulls a key from his pocket and sticks it in the lock. The latch clicks open and he ushers me inside the pitch-black room, closing the door behind us and locking it back in a hurry. I can’t see a thing, but I can hear people talking. There's the smallest shaft of light dancing across the floor, and I assume it’s coming from underneath yet another door.

  Tobias places his hand on the small of my back and guides me through the dark toward the tiny spot of light. I hear another lock slide open and then, the door swings into a large, dimly lit bar. Men line the counter. Women in tiny rhinestone dresses flit around the room carrying trays of drinks.

  He glances over at me and smiles. "This should be more than interesting."

  I follow him to the bar. The bartender glances up from the till. "Mr. Benton, so good to see you here this evening." His dark eyes drift over to me. "And you must be Ella. Pleasure to meet you."

  I stand, stunned it’s as though there’s an entire underground society that Tobias is the center of, all knowing and ever present. Tobias nudges me with his elbow and I clear my throat. "Pleasure to meet you."

  That gets me an approving nod. The man opens a drawer, glancing down at a piece of paper. "Pod three," he says.

  "Thank you, Jack." And with that, we turn from the bar and make our way across the room. Questions swim in my head. So many questions. And I can't ask any of them. I think the only reason they have that rule is because of the power it strips me of and therefore bestows upon them.

  "Are you curious yet?" he asks as he opens yet another door leading into a dark hallway.

  "I'm
always curious when it comes to you, Tobias. Always curious."

  A deep laugh escapes his lips just as the door closes behind us. Rock music fills the narrow corridor. We turn left. The wall is covered in a blue haze emitted from a square sign hung above a doorway, “Pod 8” illuminated. We pass a large picture window and there, on the other side, are two people fucking. A man and a woman, on a bed, set on a stage. Inside the room stands a single man watching.

  We keep going, passing room after room. Each one contains different people, different genders, all with someone or groups of people watching them perform. We make our way down the corridor, and when we stop underneath the sign for Pod 3, I hear the low buzz of the halogen light. Tobias pushes the door open and we step inside. A sleek, white leather sofa is centered in front of an enormous window. Behind the glass is a small stage with bright lights focused on a bed. I glance at Tobias, but of course, he doesn't speak, he simply stares blankly back at me. My gaze shifts back toward the window just as a hidden panel pops out from the wall and two girls walk into the room. As they cross the stage the panel sinks seamlessly back into the wall. The taller girl is blonde and wearing sheer lingerie. The other one has jet-black hair and golden brown skin and is in nothing but a G-string. Colorful tattoos wind up both her arms and across the width of her back. The blonde seductively climbs onto the bed, her eyes trained on Tobias through the glass before she lies on her back. Within seconds, the other girl straddles her, leaning down and pressing their lips together. The blonde strokes over the other girl’s bare breasts, pinching her hard nipples. Her slender, pale fingers trail over the rounded part of the other girl’s breasts, and something tugs inside my stomach, flittering with nervous energy. Their tongues meet, aggressive yet delicate. There's something about watching the two women kiss that’s more sensual than a man and a woman, or maybe it’s just more forbidden. Each move is perfectly unhurried and drawn out for effect, and it has my breath falling ragged. The blonde girl glides her hand over the other woman's waist, catching the tiny strap of her G-string and sliding it down over her thighs. The dark-haired woman takes the blonde’s hand and places it between her thighs. She moans and the noise rustles through a speaker behind the couch. The way their bodies fit together is beautiful, so erotic. The woman on top throws her head back, sending her hair cascading down her back in an ebony wave. I shift in my seat, squeezing my thighs together to rid myself of the unwelcome feeling there.