by Joey W. Hill
"If I weren't home," Geoff said casually, "you'd invite the yard man in for a drink of water, wouldn't you? He looks all sweaty and tired, so you're just being kind, offering to let him come in and sit down, take a little rest. Course, he's not expecting to come into the kitchen and see you all naked, is he? That'd be quite a shock, wouldn't it?"
"Y-yes." With unsteady hands, she bent to pick the dress up and spread it over her breasts as if she were still wearing it, never mind that it was a two-dimensional facade, her naked ass still pressed against Geoff.
"Would you like to come in and get a drink? It's a warm day, and I just made up some lemonade." She swept her gaze downward, which would draw Chris's eyes to her breasts, the nipples barely covered by the dress. "Freshly squeezed."
Geoff's snort gave her a tiny smile, but she continued. "You've been working so hard. And you look really hot."
She let her gaze travel deliberately over Chris's shoulders, down his chest. She loved the layer of brown hair over his pectorals and abdomen and wanted to thread her fingers through it and tug. Caress the hollow of his throat, kiss and taste the salt of his perspiration there. She'd drawn out the comment to exaggerate the double entendre, but her playfulness disappeared into a coil of relentless need. She wanted Chris within touching distance.
Chris picked up on the shift, the humor dancing in his gaze fading away. His expression suggested he was more hungry than thirsty, and she was the main course . . . and dessert. "Yes ma'am. That's very kind of you. I'll be right in. Just need to put away my tools and wash up."
"Oh . . . don't." She moistened her lips. "I mean, about the washing up. I prefer you dirty."
His heavy-lidded gaze would have done Cary Elwes proud. "As you wish."
"God, he knows that line makes my knees weak," she muttered as he left the window.
Geoff dropped a kiss on her shoulder. "Yet now he understands why."
As Geoff drew away from her, she stayed at the sink, watching Chris pick up the rake and hoe, returning them to the toolshed. Whatever was going to happen in the kitchen, he understood he wasn't likely to be outside for a while, and Chris took meticulous care of his tools.
Geoff placed a glass of lemonade on the counter in front of her, bringing her attention back to him. He gave her a serious wink, turned and put the pitcher back in the refrigerator.
Instead of coming back to her side, he moved to the kitchen doorway and stepped out into the hallway to lean a shoulder against the frame, a key player exiting stage left to make way for the next act. Only in this case, he also became the director, providing her fragmented mind much-needed focus.
"You're feeling the anticipation," he said in a low voice. "He doesn't know he's going to walk into the kitchen and find you naked. Drop the dress, Sam."
At the direct order, the cloth slipped from her hand to the ground.
"Got butterflies in your stomach, as if he's the yard guy in truth?"
She nodded, a nervous smile on her face. In Geoff's countenance she saw a combination of ruthless Dom, understanding friend and new lover, all of which initiated another surge of butterflies.
"Strike a pose for him. Something to make his jaw drop on the floor."
Picking up the glass, she held it in one hand, bracing her other on the sink so she could shift to one hip. Tossing her hair back over one shoulder, she adopted a casually provocative stance. Geoff's heated approval, his lazy head-to-toe appraisal, bolstered her confidence. And made her more nervous, in a good way. "Christ," he murmured. "You're every man's fantasy."
Her stomach leaped when Chris knocked. He actually knocked. But he would, wouldn't he, if the woman of the house invited him in? She wondered if any of his customers had ever tried this on him before. He'd never reveal such a thing to her or Geoff, not in casual conversation. Chris was a gentleman. But had any of those women succeeded at what she was about to do? She banished the unpleasant thought. It didn't matter anymore. He was hers now. Truly hers.
"Come in," she said. Was it crazy that her voice was thick, her pulse thudding as if he really was a relative stranger, coming in to sip her lemonade with the potential of seduction dancing between them? Or ravishment. Whether or not it was twisted of her, she got a definite charge from that idea. A forced seduction took choices away and let her get lost in the pure dark joy of it.
When the yard boy came to do the weekly mowing, weeding and cutting, she saw how he watched her. She was a sexually mature woman. The look in his serious, intent eyes, the russet color of an animal's, the set of his firm mouth, told her what he was thinking and wanting.
Since the best fantasies were an overlap of fantasy and reality, Sam could recall a hundred instances where she'd seen that look in Chris's eye. Because she now knew what it had meant, her heart tightened as much as her pulse leaped. This was what Chris had always wanted and what she could now have in reality. Not just in play or fantasy.
He opened the door, coming to a halt at the sight of her standing in front of him without wearing a stitch.
"It was such a hot day . . ." she said. Her voice trailed away, abandoning the silly line. He stood in her kitchen in just his work shoes and jeans, his cock a thick bar sculpted by the straining fabric. The rise and fall of his breath, the fix of his glittering eyes, the strands of hair scattered over his brow, the light curl of his hands at his sides, took the playfulness right out of her. But she tried to stick with her role and her intent--to wrap her lips around that engorged organ fighting to get free of his pants.
"Why don't you sit there?" She pointed to the kitchen chair.
"No," he said, and moved toward her. Her grip tightened on the glass. She felt inexplicably jumpy as he stopped in front of her. He was so much bigger. Hot, sweaty, vibrating with life and male energy. He ran his fingers along the glass, collecting the condensation off the side, and brought it to her lips, painting the wetness there. Tilting his head to study her breasts, he touched the tip of one, a kiss of cool, wet sensation.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely over a whisper. She was aware of Geoff watching them, a potent, silent regard.
Taking the glass from her hand, Chris raised it to his lips and drank a few swallows. She reached up to glide her fingers down his throat, but his hand closed over her wrist before she could touch him. He kept that hold on her until he'd emptied half the glass and set it aside on the counter.
Stretching out his other long arm, he opened the drawer where they kept the kitchen towels. He pulled out two and dropped them on the floor, one overlapping the other. Then he put downward pressure on her arm, telling her what he wanted, his brown eyes holding hers in a lock.
Sam sank to her knees on the cushion he'd provided, wondering if he realized his act of caring, providing her a cushion for her knees, combined with the demanding clamp on her wrist, sent her the very arousing message that he was in control. Had it been driven by his own desires as much as her own? She hoped so.
Opening his pants, he reached inside them and adjusted himself before pushing the jeans and boxers to his thighs so his heavy cock could spring free. She inhaled the salt-and-sweat male scent of him.
Threading his fingers deeper into the fine strands of her hair, he twisted them into a tail. Gripping it in one hand against the back of her skull, he brought her forward, directing her to put her mouth over the ruddy head of his cock.
She parted her lips, sliding her fingers around him as she tasted the tip and slid down even farther. She smelled earth, heat and Chris, a heady combination.
A scrape told her Geoff had come into the kitchen. Chris had thought of her knees and Geoff had thought of Chris. He'd brought one of the chairs closer so Chris would be able to sink into it if he decided he wanted that support. She spread her fingers over Chris's pubic area, the unexpectedly soft skin below the layer of hair. Curling her fingers around his base again, she tightened, released and stroked.
If he sat down in the chair, would he eventually bring her to her feet, turn her around
and impale her on his cock? Geoff had forbidden actual sex to give her sensitive tissues time to recuperate, and Chris would hold to that, no matter how aroused her mouth made him. But maybe another time. She shivered, thinking of herself on his lap, her pussy full of his cock while he used a flat palm between her shoulder blades to fold her over her knees. He'd grip her hip in his other big hand and work her on him. Geoff would stand in front of her, curl his fingers in her hair and feed his cock between her lips.
For all her fantasies, Geoff and Chris didn't really need any input to bring her to an insane level of ecstasy. Geoff shifted behind her, his feet planted on either side of her ankles. His fingertips slid over her shoulder and she heard him opening his jeans. A slow, measured breath, followed by a slight, rhythmic rock of his feet against hers, made her realize he was masturbating while watching the two of them. Arousal bolted through her core, and it affected Chris as well. A glance up showed him divided between looking at her going down on his cock, and at the man behind her, stroking his own.
Geoff moved closer, straddling her calves. With Chris still holding her hair in a twist on the back of her head, Geoff slid his cock along the line of her spine, leaving a thin track of wetness from the slit. She whimpered against Chris's cock, digging the fingers of her free hand into his thigh. It was already quivering, thanks to her ministrations and how worked up he'd been before they even started. Chris sat down in the chair and readjusted, which pushed him into the back of her throat in an even more demanding way.
She curled herself over him, sucking and licking, all while gripping him with her hand.
"All pretty and soft," Chris muttered. "So clean and sweet."
She played her tongue along the sensitive corona. His hand convulsed against her skull.
"All ours, hmm?" Geoff prompted in the same low voice.
"Hell yeah." Chris's hand convulsed, either in reaction to the words or the stimulation, or some of both. "Fuck . . . oh fuck . . ."
Triumph roared through her at how quickly she'd been able to bring him to that crest, though it had probably been expedited by all the stimulation that had started at the sink and built from there. Chris's hips lifted off the chair, his cock shoving deeper into her mouth. He pulled her hair hard against her scalp, his powerful body rocking the chair and making it squeak in protest against the joints. She could still feel the heat and shift of Geoff's body behind her as he masturbated, watching them both.
She swallowed the salty taste and kept moving with Chris, trying to anticipate everything that would make the experience even better for him. Since his hand kept flexing on her head, his own tipped back, body trembling with multiple waves of release, she thought she was succeeding. She continued to lick at him greedily, suck and nip, as he groaned again. His soft, reverent curses included her name. She loved it. She loved him.
When at last Chris finished, Geoff took her back to her heels, stroking her head with approval. In her current euphoric state, she went with impulse, dipping her head to press her lips against his knuckles before he drew away. "Sweet girl," Geoff murmured. "Good sub. You did good. Up off your heels, Samantha Beth. Put your hands on Chris's thighs."
Despite the praise, when she dared a glance at him, his expression was stern and unyielding, matching the tone of the command. She obeyed, catching her lip in her teeth as he dropped to a squat and reached between her legs to push his fingers into her still-wet cunt. Chris curled his hands around her biceps to steady her as Geoff explored. He moved with care, yet did a thorough caress of her channel before he withdrew.
Turning her head, she saw him rubbing his glistening fingers over his erection again. She quivered as he met her gaze and pushed his fingers inside her to do it again. Then a third time. Chris was watching, his mouth slack and sexy, brown eyes a little dazed from his own climax.
After the third time, Geoff extended his hand to Chris. "Get up."
Wow, Geoff didn't believe in waiting. He was going to take Chris's place in the chair and have her go down on him right away. Chris sent him an odd look, but he lifted a shoulder, a Fair is fair kind of gesture. Geoff had graciously allowed him to go first, after all.
Chris clasped Geoff's hand and let himself be pulled to his feet. He started to hike up his pants and move away from the chair so Geoff could take it. That was when Geoff showed he had something else in mind.
She gasped as Geoff hooked Chris's ankle and spun him toward and down onto the table. The smooth, decisive move left Chris with his chest flat against the surface, one arm curved behind his back in Geoff's sure grasp, his pants and underwear still bunched at his thighs. As Chris reflexively began to push up with his other hand, the wrist hold kept him right where Geoff wanted him.
"Grab the edge of the table with your free hand," Geoff ordered. His hazel eyes met Sam's. "You think you're the only one who's stared at the yard boy and wanted his ass?"
"No sir."
Geoff's eyes went warrior fierce, responding to the address. Chris looked suddenly tense, his gaze moving from her face back to the tabletop. She thought he wasn't sure about Geoff taking him over like this, how it looked in front of her. He didn't seem entirely averse to it, just uncertain if he should be struggling against it. That told her what to do.
Scooting around the table, still on her knees, she put her fingertips on the edge of the table where she guessed his would end up if he decided to obey Geoff. She gave him a hopeful look, and he brought his arm forward slowly, overlapping one of her hands with his own.
"Let him grip the table, Sam," Geoff said. "He's going to need to hold on to something stronger than your delicate fingers."
Chris opened his mouth to retort, but Geoff reached between his legs and gave his testicles a healthy twist. Chris snarled, then his eyes became more opaque as she noticed Geoff's grip easing to a fondling touch.
"Did you like handling his balls, Sam?" Geoff asked conversationally.
She nodded and Geoff flashed her a dangerous grin. "They're a nice size, aren't they? All firm and ripe, even after he's come. Grip the table, Chris. Don't be stubborn. She wants to watch, but I'm not doing a damn thing until you listen."
"You're using her to make me to obey you," Chris said darkly.
"You bet your ass I am." Geoff slid a palm over said ass and gave it a healthy, hard smack that had Chris jumping in surprise and Sam's lips parting, thinking of Geoff's handprint there. Just like on her backside. "Now fucking do it," Geoff growled. "You're already in deep shit, yard boy. It'll go easier on you if you listen. But maybe you prefer it harder. Or maybe . . ."
Geoff slid his hand down Chris's taut back. Perhaps it was the strain in those bunched muscles that made him draw back, though he kept Chris's wrist in a pin. "Or maybe you want me to let you up, yard boy. What's it going to be?"
No. She really didn't want them to stop what they were doing. Her savage desire to see the two of them together overrode everything, except Geoff's clear intent to make sure Chris was okay with this. She could help with that.
Sam drew her hand from beneath Chris's and molded his fingers over the edge. As he let her guide him, his attention fixed on her face. If every thought and emotion had an energy vibration as some people thought, she expected there was an amazing pattern happening around Chris, tangling with hers and Geoff's in a way that was thrilling, unpredictable and arousing, all at once.
She slid her fingertips over his callused knuckles, the many tiny scars he'd accumulated from what he did for a living. Putting his hand inside a thicket of roses, or stripping out thorny vines so other things could breathe and live. Rising on her knees, she pressed her lips against his fingers, laving those small scars with her tongue. Chris let out a choked breath.
Geoff leaned over him, pushing Chris's hair off his neck to put his open mouth on it as his other hand slid down over Chris's ass once more. "I'm going to let your other hand go, but you give it to Sam."
As he released Chris's wrist from the twisted hold, she saw Geoff was ready if Chris chose
to be combative. Why the idea of that made her so hot, she didn't know, but she was getting an idea of why people liked to watch underground fights. They might get far more female attendees if the two men in question ended up like this instead of bloody.
"When you were working in our yard and staring at her, thinking about what it would be like to taste her skin, touch her breasts, feast on her cunt, fuck it, you didn't know you'd end up having to take care of my needs, too, did you?" Geoff's tone went sinister, pulling Sam deeper into the fantasy they were weaving. "But now that I'm handling you, you get it. If she hadn't drained your cock dry, it would be sitting up for me, wouldn't it?"
Chris let out an oath as Geoff's knee shifted again against his vulnerable testicles. "Yeah."
That one rough word was coupled with a flick of his lashes as he stared at the table again. He wouldn't meet Sam's gaze. Sam trailed her knuckles down his face, bringing his attention back to her. "Say it again," she whispered. "Please. Let us know you're okay."
Geoff's gaze glittered in approval, a reaction she registered without lifting her eyes from Chris. His brown eyes were like bright pennies in a fire.
Chris's expression eased as he focused on her face, saw what she hoped he'd see. Love, passion, arousal. "Yeah," he repeated. "Yes."
"Hmm," Geoff grunted. "Not as pretty as her Yes sir, but I'll take it. The way you'll take this."
Gripping his cock, Geoff adjusted in a way that told her he was guiding himself into Chris's ass. Sam watched wide-eyed as Chris's body rippled, the muscles of his face tightening in reaction. The first time she'd seen them kiss had been explosive enough. To see them fuck in front of her made her go quiet as a mouse, as if one tiny movement might deprive her of the opportunity.
"I'd already lubed up while Sam was going down on you, but I think her come makes me even more slippery. And you like knowing my cock has her juices on it. Right, Chris?"
Chris's gaze came back to her. "Yeah." She heard different nuances every time he uttered the single word, and she clung to each meaning, cherishing all of it.
"There's my boy. Christ, I love being inside you." Geoff's voice softened. He pressed in deep, putting both hands on Chris's hips, and Chris groaned. Geoff's eyes closed at the sensation, both men suddenly like statues, caught in the center of a volatile whirlpool, emotions and arousal churning in a vortex caused by the joining of their bodies.