by Joey W. Hill
She tumbled several raspberries onto his plate and won a mildly horrified look. "You've contaminated my cow."
"Oh, the growth hormones and antibiotics already did that."
"Not. You like this restaurant because all the meat is supposedly organic and humanely raised."
"That, and because of the desserts," she said as her vegan cupcake arrived. The frosting was sheer heaven.
"Dairy-free baked goods." Chris shuddered.
"It's not bad. Especially if you combine it with the right flavor." Geoff took a sip of the after-dinner coffee the waitress brought him, then touched the cupcake top to collect frosting on one finger. "Don't eat this," he told Sam before she could protest, and dabbed it on her top lip.
Leaning in, he kissed her, licking the frosting off with the tip of his tongue. Sam closed her eyes as he lingered to suck on her bottom lip, just to be equitable. When he finally sat back, she had parted, moist lips and elevated breathing. "I'd try it, Chris. It's better than you'd expect."
Chris obligingly collected some frosting on his own finger, only he picked up her hand off the table edge, put the creamy spread on her wrist and brought that to his mouth. He sucked her flesh a little harder, nipping her. Beneath the table, her toes curled.
Geoff had moved his leg so it was pressed against hers. Slipping her foot out of her wedge, she played with his ankle beneath the cuff of his jeans. His look increased the heat in the pit of her stomach, especially with Chris holding on to her hand and wrist, his mouth still on her.
"If we had a pint of that frosting," Geoff murmured, "we could cover her nipples and pussy and suck all of it off, making her sticky and sweet at once."
Chris's eyes kindled like firelit molasses as Geoff spoke, and Sam's hand trembled in the grip of his. "Add that to our next grocery list," Geoff told her. "Whole Foods has vegan frosting, right?"
"Yes," she managed. Chris released her as the waitress returned, though he'd adjusted his feet below the table so they were sandwiching one of hers. Geoff took the check. When Sam started to draw her hand away from Chris's to reach for her card, since they usually did a three-way split of checks for more expensive meals, Geoff shook his head and Chris recaptured her hand.
"Not this time, Sam. Chris and I are covering this weekend. You're not just our roommate anymore."
"But that doesn't mean I want you two paying for everything."
"We know that." He touched her arm in brief reproof as Chris tightened his fingers on hers. "We'll go back to our usual bill divisions on Monday. But this weekend you're our date, and we're treating you that way. All right?" Catching her chin in his thumb and forefinger before she could argue, he met her gaze. "That was a rhetorical question, by the way."
"Okay," she said. As he waited expectantly, her nerves tingled under his hold. "Yes sir."
It was the first time he'd demanded she address him that way in public. It wasn't likely someone would overhear, but it still gave her a tiny thrill.
Geoff let her go to take Chris's card and put both on the tray for the waitress to process. Chris pressed his lips back to her wrist. "More than just our date," he said, glancing up at her through his thick lashes. "Our girl."
Geoff nodded, stroking her hair. The words sank into her like sunlight. She didn't mind helping with the check, but it flustered and pleased her that they'd thought of it as yet another way to show her how things had changed. She belonged to them.
The dance club wasn't far from the restaurant. Being Friday night, there was a good crowd. Young couples in outfits similar to what they were wearing hung out on the outdoor patio, dancing and talking, laughing. Once they squeezed in the front door and paid their cover charge, Chris shouted in Sam's ear that he was going to grab a beer. "I'll cop us a place next to the dance floor and watch you guys from there until my steak digests."
She relayed the message to Geoff. They watched Chris make his way through the crowd. He got inviting smiles from the women, a double take and second glance from many of the men, thanks to his size. Chris's lips moved over the usual niceties like "Excuse me" as he wound his way around them. He was always polite.
"It's amazing how much he can eat without gaining an ounce," Geoff grumbled in her ear. "But he should cut back on the red meat."
"You should both stop eating meat," she informed him as they made their way to the dance floor, his hand firmly closed over hers to keep them together. "I've told you all the reasons why a million times."
"Yes, but if God didn't mean for us to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them out of meat," Geoff said, his standard John Boy and Billy radio show punch line. She rolled her eyes but let it drop. They ate a lot less meat since she'd started planning meals, so she contented herself with that.
For now, she prepared to enjoy dancing with Geoff. The first time they'd ever gone dancing together, it had astonished her when Geoff had hauled her out onto the floor and danced half the night away with her.
When she finally had to take a break, out of breath, Chris had entertained her with the story of how Geoff had acquired those skills, to Geoff's disgust and her delight. In college, he'd fallen in lust with a girl who loved to dance. Since most straight white males refused to dance, and Geoff was the kind of man who seized an advantage when it presented itself, he'd immersed himself in Internet tutorials. The result was he could mix and match steps, and he'd become the girl's favorite dance partner--in and out of bed. Until a month later, when she fell hard for a Latino exchange student and followed him home to Central America.
"Geoff never could completely master the rumba, and that was his downfall," Chris had said with a straight face, right before Geoff fired a balled-up napkin at him to shut him up. "Either that, or she discovered there wasn't any truth to the rumor that the way a guy moves on the dance floor is how he moves in bed."
Actually, Sam was finding that to be pretty accurate. Geoff was decisive and fluid on the dance floor, his grip firm and strong, his touch caressing as it slipped away on the turns, then brought her back for more. When the crowd increased so that they had to dance in closer quarters, she was all for that. In the past, when they'd danced together, they hadn't gotten too body-to-body, her trying not to be too obvious about her attraction to him, and him trying to honor that weird guy code with Chris. Tonight she didn't have to worry about any of that.
So when he turned her back toward him, she came full up against him, and was thrilled when his arm slid around her waist, low on her hips to hold her even closer, bodies brushing intimately. His hand dropped to caress her buttock, and she put her hands on his chest, spreading her fingers out over it and beneath the buttons of his shirt to explore the man beneath.
Unable to resist, she slipped the next button so she could put her whole hand on his heart. He bent and kissed her, the raw heat telling her that her Master wasn't as cool as he'd projected. She moved against him, a blatant provocation to the evidence beneath his jeans, and he chuckled against her mouth. He gave her ass a hard squeeze then eased her back, keeping them dancing.
On the turn, she glimpsed Chris sitting on a stool along the outskirts of the dance floor. She waved him over, since he seemed to be finished with his beer. He shook his head, and she insisted with a more enthusiastic wave, bouncing on her toes.
"Let's try this." Geoff brought her back against him in a decisive move that drove her breath from her and reminded her of a similar step Antonio Banderas had done in Take the Lead. Despite the rumba, Geoff had no problem with tango moves, for sure. Banding his arm around her waist, Geoff moved them in a sensuous rock, down and back up, and nudged her hair aside to kiss her throat. His thumb caught in the waistband of her skirt, other fingers spreading out over her hipbone. His fingers weren't between her legs, but the way they were fanned out over her pelvis was highly suggestive of it.
She suddenly wished they were at one of Flo's private parties, so he could do the things that would definitely get them thrown out of here.
"Look at him, Sam," Geoff said against her ear.
"Keep your eyes on him, let him see how aroused you're getting. It will bring him to you. To us."
She did. The movement of the dancers between them and Chris gave him teasing glimpses of what Geoff was doing to her. The pressure of his hand holding her, the teasing of his lips at her throat. It kept her wits scattered and her coordination questionable. His strong arm held her up, though. Chris's eyes were fastened on them as her lips parted.
Geoff spoke against her flesh again. "All I can think about is the taste of that frosting on your lip. It makes me think about the cream between your legs, about how wet you must be now, because you're imagining everything you want tonight. And I'm going to keep you waiting, because I like the things you do when you're crazy hot and aroused, when you trust us with everything you want and feel. Tell me who I am."
"My Master," she whispered. Chris's eyes flickered, and she wondered if he'd read her lips. He rose and started in their direction. She couldn't have said what song was playing, but it had a primal drumbeat that made her flesh tingle in a million places, and the guitar riffs strummed across the nerves in her abdomen and thighs.
"Who is he?" Geoff demanded, grip tightening.
"He's my Master, too. I need both of you."
"Well, he's coming to grant that wish. I'd show him proper appreciation."
Because of how Chris came through the crowd, she had to smile a little, and she thought Geoff did, too. People tended to shift instinctively to make a path for a larger-than-normal person, but on top of that, Chris had such a laid-back way of moving, it was like watching a river flow.
When he reached them, Geoff continued to hold on to her waist, but Sam slid her hands up to Chris's shoulders, lifting on her toes to kiss him, too. He obliged, bending to meet her and curling one of his hands around hers on his T-shirt. Her other hand dropped to his belt to hold on.
He started to sway with the rhythm of the music, taking her with him. Despite his comment about crowds, Chris did enjoy the people-watching and the music, so it wasn't the first time they'd been out dancing before. He would dance if she coaxed him, though usually only a song or two. He wasn't wild and fancy, more of an adherent to the Will Smith Hitch technique. Step right, step left, with some hip and shoulder rhythm.
With her hands on him, she could feel the move and roll of his body. His eyes held simple enjoyment of the moment and a smoldering awareness of the sexual undercurrents between the three of them.
Knowing they belonged to each other like this, indulging it in a public venue, confirmed what had happened over the past week was real, and growing. Evolving. It also turned her on in ways she hadn't expected. Maybe she was far more of an exhibitionist than she realized. Of course, in this crush of people, it was likely their three-way dynamic wasn't really discernible, so it was probably more the idea of it happening in a public venue, rather than it being noticed, that was getting her even more aroused.
When the Macarena came on, she burst out laughing. Despite his rolled eyes, Geoff stayed with them as the dancers formed lines and went through the steps. She dissolved into giggles as Geoff did them by standing behind her and putting hands on her head, shoulders and hips, instead of his own. She escaped behind Chris and the two men faced each other, doing the mirror image of the dance, Chris with great, studied precision and Geoff adding a little more jazz to it, to the amused delight of others on the floor. Particularly the women.
It was a fact of life that Geoff and Chris would always receive female attention, but now that attention made Sam glow with possessive pride. They were beautiful, arresting, and they loved her.
After the song concluded, a slower number came up. Geoff relinquished her to Chris graciously. "I need to hit the men's room," he told her, offering her a lingering kiss. "Chris'll take good care of you."
"He always does," she rejoined, and won a smile of agreement.
She slid her arms under Chris's as he wrapped one over her shoulders, clasping the other over her hips. As she laid her head on his chest, he pressed his jaw against her temple. "Having a good time?" he asked. She liked how the louder environment required him or Geoff to speak with their mouths on her flesh.
She nodded, closed her eyes and held on. Chris's hand slid down her back, thumb teasing her bra strap under the shirt. At length she lifted her head, rising up on her toes to put her lips against his ear and press herself fully against him. "Geoff told me what he wanted to do with me tonight when we get back to the cottage," she said. "How about you?"
He tilted his head to meet her eye to eye. "I think you know. What interests me more is what you want us to do to you."
"Everything," she mouthed, trailing her fingers along his cheek. She pressed her nose into his soft, thick hair. "Doing everything is the best kind of drowning. But I also want to just hold you both and be still, so the universe won't notice how happy I am and do anything to screw with it."
He drew back and touched her face. "We won't let it," he promised.
***
Geoff washed his hands and did the obligatory quick check to make sure nothing was left between his teeth from dinner. Noticing his appearance was second nature when it came to his job, but this weekend it had more to do with how he wanted to look for his two . . . friends? Friends for certain. Lovers. Sub, in Sam's case.
As for Chris, he was Geoff's best friend. One whom he wanted to keep as a best friend and yet push deep into territory that encompassed even more than that. Boyfriend didn't fit, nor did submissive. There really wasn't any word but mine that seemed to fit. It wasn't a caveman thing; more like saying that the roots belonged to the tree, an inseparable part of it.
Mine. The moment he repeated it in his mind and bracketed it around his image of Chris, he knew that was the word he'd been seeking. Giving himself a rakish grin in the mirror, he left the bathroom.
The wide hallway spilled into an open area with couches and chairs where people could mill and chat. A transparent dividing wall helped mute the music while still allowing a view of the dancers. He could see Chris and Sam had moved to the edge. Sam was leaning against him in front of the low wall that surrounded the dance floor. Chris had his arm propped on the other side of her so she was in the shelter of his body, protected from being jostled by people passing behind them. If there weren't a constant flow of people around them, Geoff might have copped himself a nice view of Chris's ass in the black jeans, which, because he wore them less often, fit a little tighter. And Sam's legs were like willow stems in her short skirt. Geoff wouldn't mind working his way up them with mouth and fingers until he found the treasure between.
"Hey, dude. Hey, over here."
Geoff paused, drawn out of his thoughts by the shout, the wave of a hand. When he'd arrived at the men's room, there'd been a knot of three college guys standing at the head of the hallway, holding beers and scoping out women coming and going from the ladies' room. It was a good choke point to check out the array of potentially available females. Though they were a little too obvious about it, Geoff figured it was a decent tactic. However, from the raucous tone of their conversation and exaggerated body language, he could tell they'd already gotten their Friday-night drunk on, a less intelligent decision if they hoped to get lucky. One of them in particular was the loud and obnoxious kind of drunk who'd be better off on the dance floor, where the sound could absorb his rowdiness.
But you were only young and stupid once, and it wasn't so far in his past that he couldn't grin at their behavior and give them a moment of his time now. They'd moved to a circle of three chairs, and it was the obnoxious one hailing him. "Hey." He gestured at Geoff again, even though he was already headed over. "Hey guy, come over."
"What's up?" He gave them a nod and got a variety of friendly responses.
"I'm Dave. This here's Brad and Kent. You dance pretty good for a straight guy." They all snickered, but Dave waved his hand, showing they weren't meaning it in an offensive way. "Had some of the girls watching you, that's for damn sure."
"Dancing is a
great way to get women," Geoff said. "Much better than drinking."
"Yeah. But once the girls get drunk, too, you can get them without dancing," Brad pointed out. He had a goatee and a diamond stud in one ear and wore a tank that showed off a myriad of colorful tattoos. "We become a lot less repulsive."
Geoff grinned again; he couldn't help it. "Truer words, friend," he said, and began to move off. Dave, built like a bull and enhancing the look with a brush cut and 49ers jersey, lifted a hand again. "Hey, dude. Not finished with you. What you and your buddy have going with that girl is hot. You think once you're done with her tonight, she'd give us a spin?"
Geoff came to a halt and turned back, not sure for a moment he'd heard Dave right. The man was pressing on, though, oblivious. He tilted his head toward his two companions. "We got a place up at the lake where we hang out. We could all go up there later, have some more brews. Share her, since she's into doing multiple guys. Then we can split the cost of being nice to her. You know, giving her beer and getting her home, that kind of thing. Maybe even give her some extra money for being nice to us, if you get my meaning."
Any amusement or affinity Geoff had felt for the three vanished. Even at his drunkest, he'd never have assumed such a thing about a woman. Alcohol lowered inhibitions and impaired judgment, but it didn't sever a person from his moral compass. Which was why inebriation wasn't a get-out-of-jail-free card for felonies like rape.
But the basics were still true. They were young, stupid and drunk. He should just ignore them and move on. But he couldn't help but think of how Sam would react to this asshole's assumption. It had taken her a long time to get over how Anthony had treated her. She'd struggled with whether any of it was her fault, if her behavior had encouraged him to not take no for an answer. If she'd worn the wrong clothes, put on too much makeup. Women often blamed themselves for such things, but with a service submissive personality, she'd shouldered even more of the guilt. For far too long, she'd thought she should have been able to do something to keep it from happening.
He and Chris had done everything they could to help her rebuild her confidence, embrace her beauty and natural sexuality again. Christ, in truth, they'd probably suppressed their desire to pursue their relationship a lot sooner because of that, not wanting to affect her negatively in any way.