One in Waiting (Reedsville Roosters Book 2), page 9
He moved his eyes left and right, up and down. Not even a sliver of light. He nodded.
“Scoot back and lay your head on the pillow. Straighten out with your feet toward the footboard.”
He felt her shift out of the way, and he positioned his body as she asked, hands palms-down on the bed beside him. Standing by the chair, he hadn’t felt nearly as exposed. There was something about being horizontal that made him feel so passive. That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but he wanted to believe he was pleasing her. It was hard to read her without seeing her face. Her voice rarely gave clues to much of anything.
“Mr. Ardent, I’m going to put my hands on you to familiarize you with my touch.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is there anywhere you don’t want to be touched?”
He furrowed his brow. Shook his head. “I don’t think so. I don’t reckon you mean ticklish spots.”
“No. Places that are absolutely off-limits.”
“I’m not certain I have any limits.”
“We all do. We don’t always know what they are until we approach them.”
“What are yours?” He regretted asking as soon as the words came out of his mouth. None of his business, and he braced himself for the answer that, fortunately, didn’t come. It would have been too fucking personal, and the scenario wasn’t about Emilie—it was about him.
“I’m going to start at your feet and work my way up your legs. I’ll rub your arms, your hands, your chest, and belly before having you roll over.”
He couldn’t help but notice she’d failed to mention one very important part of him, but he kept his mouth shut and let her do her work. He had to trust she knew what she was doing.
The foot of the bed dipped, and there was a soft click. The warm, earthy scent of vanilla filled his nostrils.
“Smells like cookies,” he said.
“It was either this or peppermint. I figured you’d think that would smell too much like liniment.”
“Probably would. I don’t want to smell like the locker room.” Seemed conscientious of her to choose that way, but then he remembered he wasn’t the first Rooster she’d given intimate instruction to. He ground his back molars.
“You just tensed. You don’t want to smell like a cookie, either?”
He blew out a long exhalation and willed his muscles to relax. “It’s not that. I do like cookies. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m an expert at worrying, but trust me when I say this scenario doesn’t hit my anxiety radar in the slightest bit. I’m asking about your comfort.”
She hadn’t promised anyone exclusivity—and certainly not him—but the idea of him being potentially replaced by some other asshole who made his living wearing cleats made Ren’s stomach roil. He pulled in another deep breath and let it out. “I’m fine. I promise.”
She started at his toes, working the oil warmed by her hands in between them and tugging each one in turn. She massaged his arches, in the hollows behind his ankles, and up his shins. Her touch was firm, but careful. Her palms lightly callused, but small and feminine. As she worked up his thighs, he let out a groan. His cock did the predictable thing and twitched as her fingers skimmed near his sac. So close, but just like that, she moved away.
She massaged around to his hips and up his waist.
Apparently she wasn’t going to touch him there.
Her touch lightened as she pressed up his ribs.
He couldn’t hold in the chuckle or stop himself from squirming.
“Ticklish there?”
“Yep.”
The click of the oil bottle again, and more warm liquid goop on his skin, this time on his chest. She massaged around his nipples and scraped her nails across them, drawing another moan from him.
Instead of moving on to the next thing, she worked her thumbs around them some more, then gathered them up between her fingers and gave them a sharp tug.
He hissed through clenched teeth and reached for her wrists.
“Does that mean you want me to stop, Mr. Ardent?”
“No.” He unhanded her and put his arms down to his sides. “Just surprising. Hurts when you do it, but feels good right after. You could…do some more of it.”
“I will.” But, she didn’t. Now she did move on, and worked her magic touch up to his shoulders and neck, and down his arms to his hands. “Now I need you to roll over.”
He waited for her to shift back a bit on the mattress, and he flipped. He’d hoped to feel a little less exposed being on his belly, but that didn’t seem to be the case. He put his hands together and rested his right cheek atop them. This time, she started at his shoulders and worked her way down his spine, alternating between gentle rubs and hard kneading that pulled indulgent sighs from his chest. Whenever he thought the pressure was getting to be too much, she backed off without him having to tell her.
She worked down his legs to his feet, and surprisingly, traced back up the insides of his thighs and rested her hands at the base of his ass.
Is she going to touch me or not? What was she thinking when she waited like that? Was she looking at him? She could have been working out her grocery list in her head for all he knew.
He swallowed. “You…you said you’d tell me what’s happening.”
“I’m just thinking. Relax, Mr. Ardent.”
“Diagnosing me?”
“Just pondering how to proceed. Or what to proceed with, rather. You seem to enjoy the feeling you get when pain retreats. I’m wondering if the anticipation of pain would arouse you.”
“How would you even test that?”
“Like I said before, we don’t really have a whole lot of time for experimentation. There’s an encyclopedia full of things I could do, and I’m trying to figure out which would be most to your liking. Perhaps I should ask you some questions. Do you like to be bitten?”
“Dunno. Never have been except by a cranky herding dog, and I don’t think that’s what you mean.”
“How do you feel about being bound?”
“Dunno. Never have been.”
“Flogging?” She moved her hands up to the cusps of his ass and held them there.
His cock throbbed beneath him. Fuck. “Uh. Maybe.”
“Define maybe.” She extended her massage down toward into his cleft and he nearly vaulted off the bed. He’d never had a woman touch him there.
He settled back into place quickly, because he didn’t want that touch to stop. “Uh, maybe means I’d try it.”
“Do you like having things put into your ass?”
“I’m a bisexual male. You can probably figure that out.” Not all bi guys bottomed, but most of the ones he knew didn’t mind a little ass play.
“Plugs? Stimulators?”
“I always skipped right to the real thing.”
“If not fingers, then cock, you mean.”
“Right.”
“Have you ever been watched while being fucked?”
He was surprised he had to think about it. He and Leary flirted so much in public, that sometimes it seemed like what they did might as well have been sex, but they hadn’t actually gone that far.
“No. I…think I might like it.”
“To be touched, or just watched?”
“I…” Watching Leary fuck Emilie had been one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his life. He liked the way his man looked when he was exerting his control and, well, losing a bit of it. He liked the idea even more of Leary losing that control with him, and for someone else to see it. For them to think—Ren’s his, he’s obviously his. “Both, maybe.”
Emilie backed off of him and helped him roll over and sit up. “You probably didn’t hear the door, but Leary’s in here.”
He reached for the blindfold.
“Keep it on,” she said.
He let his hand fall to his lap.
“Do you mind if he joins us?”
“Of course not.”
Ren may not have heard the door opening or Leary entering the room, but he heard his heavy footsteps across the hardwood and the creak of the floor as he paused.
“Would you like him to fuck you?”
“I’d never say no to that.”
After a moment, the footsteps started up again, and then hands were on Ren’s shoulders. Heavy. Rough. Leary’s. He dragged them up to the back of Ren’s head and threaded his fingers through his hair. “I try to give you what you want,” he whispered.
“I know you do. I just want you to be a little less gentle with it. I’m not a skinny twink you’re going to break with a little rough play.” He always managed to forget pretty, waifish boys were Leary’s type before he’d started dating Ren. He likely didn’t know what to do with him, and maybe that was Ren’s fault for not being more upfront. For not asking that they explore it.
“All right, thrill seeker. What do you want? My mouth or my cock?”
“I guess I can’t have both at the same time.”
Leary chuckled. “Not with the number of ribs I have, no.”
“Cock.”
“Roll over, then.”
“Are you naked?”
“You don’t need to know that,” came Emilie’s voice from the bedside. She’d moved away just that quickly. She didn’t have to move away. He hoped he hadn’t made her think that. “Whether he’s dressed or not makes no difference. Concentrate on sensations, not pictures.”
“He makes a very nice picture when he’s naked, though.”
“I don’t disagree, Mr. Ardent. Do you need some help getting onto your knees?”
“No, ma’am.” He rolled over onto all fours, and he heard the rasp of a zipper. Leary’s?
“Is this fine?” she asked.
Leary grunted.
The bed dipped with Leary’s added weight, and there was the slick of lube between Ren’s cheeks.
Who’d done it? Leary hadn’t touched him yet, and Ren hadn’t heard Emilie return to the bed.
The touch that came next was familiar, though. Leary’s large fingers. One breached Ren’s ass, pushing lube into him. “Sure you want this?” Leary asked.
“Which part?”
“All of it. Any of it.”
“Oh yeah.”
Leary pressed his cock against Ren’s ass and slipped into him slowly. “I didn’t only fuck twinks.”
Ren sighed and pushed his knees farther apart. “Mm-hmm. Sure. I know how you liked those unmuscled artist types.”
“It was a phase.” Leary pushed himself in as far as he could go. The rough fabric of his jeans abraded the insides of Ren’s legs.
Still dressed. That meant he was fucking him with his fly down. Why that was so hot, Ren didn’t know. It just seemed so…desperate. The ultimate in I want you right now. Ren sucked in some air and let it out as Leary shifted his hips and made some room for himself.
The bed sank again, this time from the side.
She was close. So close. He could smell the floral lotion or conditioner that was becoming so familiar to him, and the fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end at her proximity. Her lips against his ear made him force out a startled breath.
“How about some choices?” she whispered.
Leary started working his cock out, almost all the way, and Ren had to wait for the feeling of fullness to pass before he could speak. He could never be in the middle of a threesome. He wouldn’t be able to function while being fucked except to beg for more. He swallowed and licked suddenly-dry lips. “What kind?”
“I’m going to add some sensation. Tell me what you’d think you’d like. I could clamp your nipples, flick your cock, use the pinwheel on you—”
“What’s the pinwheel?”
“Lift your blindfold and take a quick look.”
He nudged it up on the right side and saw the small rotary device. Its round head bore a couple of dozen dull—at least, he hoped they were dull—spikes.
He also saw Emilie’s naked knee, and of course had to look farther up her leg to see how far that nakedness went.
She was naked as a jaybird, and perfectly relaxed as she held out the device.
Tell me we’re going to fuck.
Leary shoved his cock back into him and muddled his thoughts. He let the blindfold fall back into place and concentrated on steadying his breathing. Why is she naked?
Leary pulled back again and took a firm grip on Ren’s haunches.
Ren growled.
“He’s having a hard time answering me. Could you stop for a moment?” She was obviously talking to Leary.
Leary stopped fucking.
“What’s wrong, Mr. Ardent?”
“You’re naked.”
“I am. Why is that distracting?”
“Because I have eyes that work and you…smell so good.” Maybe it’d been a while, but he knew the scent of arousal when he smelled it. Never before had he wanted so much to have his mouth between a woman’s legs.
“Just adds to the exhilaration.”
“Mine or yours?” His, obviously. He was hard enough to cut glass.
“I’m asking the questions. What’s your choice?”
“Uh…”
Leary’s flared head nudged against Ren’s ass once more, waiting to glide back in, and it took every ounce of self-restraint Ren had not to bear down on him. “Tell me…tell me my options again, please?”
“Clamps. Flicks. Pinwheel. Choosing one tonight isn’t necessarily closing the door on the others in the future.”
Right. The future, because they had a few days. It was a hard choice, but he guessed he’d have the most response to those little spikes. “The pinwheel. Please.”
“Kind of remind you of spurs in a way, don’t they, cowboy?” She rolled the device gently across his back from one shoulder blade to the other, setting his teeth to grating and his spine to bowing.
Leary pulled him back by the hips again, keeping the end of his cock flush with Ren’s entrance.
“Do you need gentling, Mr. Ardent?” Emilie asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
That throaty chuckle could only belong to Leary. He slipped back into Ren, and Emilie shifted on the bed in front of him. She grabbed his head by the sides and guided it down. His face pressed against smooth, warm flesh, and the top of his chest collided with the points of her knees. With his head on her lap, he was that much closer to that intoxicating scent, and that much closer to her torture. If I turn my head just so, could I risk a lick?
Leary started in with his usual slow and easy pace, gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts after Ren had relaxed for him, opened for him.
Emilie sent those prickles down his back and across the top of his ass. Whenever Leary thrust hard, the spikes went more deeply into his flesh, creating electric prickles that had him clenching around Leary and gasping like a scandalized church lady. Just when he started to anticipate the pain—the sharp sparks—she eased off on the pressure, and danced it along his back and arms, soft as a butterfly’s feet landing again and again.
Harder, then softer. Sharp, then ticklish. Leary had his rhythm, and Emilie had her own apart from it.
“Fuck, wouldn’t mind being in a sandwich right now,” Ren said. He’d changed his mind. He’d do anything for relief. He just had to be inside her the way Leary was inside him. He’d figure out a way to concentrate—to make it good for everyone.
There was so much sensation all at once. Delectable woman against his cheek, so close to his lips and tongue; Leary’s strong fingers digging into Ren’s hips, his thick cock driving again and again and causing that delirium-inducing pleasure to mount; Emilie’s pinwheel on him, and then—
A hard tug to his hair pulled him up onto his hands. Whose tug? Leary’s? No, his hands were still on Ren’s hips. His rhythm hardly faltered. Emilie’s tug. She kept those long, elegant fingers twined in his hair, and then the fingers of her other hand were at his lips.
“Open your mouth, Mr. Ardent.”
Of course he did, and nearly blew his load without even being touched. Her fingers tasted of the salty tang of woman, and he licked off every trace of it, sucking her fingers as if they were her clit, her slit.
He whimpered as she pulled them free, knowing he sounded pathetic, but didn’t care.
She renewed her grip on his hair and tugged him closer. His lips brushed against soft hair and womanly folds, and before he could even think to flick out his tongue, Leary reached beneath him and put a vise-like grip on Ren’s cock.
He pulled it away from Ren’s body as if it were a wagon handle, stretching the skin nearly to the point of pain, and taking his nuts along for the ride. It was as if he were holding it out for inspection as he plowed into Ren, for which Emilie had no response beyond another yank of his hair and colliding her pussy with his nose.
“Let me lick you. Please.”
She let go of his hair, and his head dropped to the mattress. Leary capitalized on Ren’s new position by nudging his knees farther apart and thrusting into Ren all the way to the base so his jean-covered legs slapped against the backs of his thighs. That pressure built and built, as dozens of flexible fingers glided across the top of his back. Tickling, and then—
“Would you like to be flogged, Mr. Ardent?”
“Anything, just—”
The soft fingers came down against his shoulder blades, not painful, but surprising. Just another dimension of sensation. Then it came down again, and again, the strands whistling as she took up speed, and his breaths catching as his brain lost sense of the rhythm.
He couldn’t see, and there was Leary behind him—inside him—and Emilie beside him, smelling so damned good and doing that thing to his back in such an unpredictable manner that—
“God!”
Leary’s tugs on Ren’s cock started the avalanche of twitching, convulsing, breathless coming. He could hardly get it out fast enough, however fast it was. He’d thought he die if he kept it in, the heat in his belly so intense from Leary’s continuing pressure against his prostate, his head so floaty from disorientation due to the continuing bombardment.
Emilie’s strikes slowed, but Leary’s thrusts were harder. He let go of Ren’s cock and gripped his hips in that punishing way again. “So, that’s how you like to play, huh?” Leary asked, driving himself in deep in short, fast thrusts.
