Drake
When I wake up, I’m no longer on the outside of this little sandwich. Instead, I’m the little piece of meat squeezed between two pretty pieces of very naked and sexy bread. Isabel must have gotten up sometime in the middle of the night and crawled back in on the end, pushing me toward her husband.
Whether she did this out of convenience or because she thinks by pushing us together, it’s going to make Hunter get over all of his bisexual hang-ups or me get over my stubborn anti-relationship hang-ups, then she bit off a little more than she can chew.
I mean…I’m not mad about the warm, muscled body pressed up against my back. And I’m definitely not mad that I get her all to myself with the way she’s curled up in my arms like my own personal teddy bear, but I am a little annoyed by how much I don’t hate this.
I never sleep with the people I screw. But these two are different, and I’m starting to forget why. They’re different because they’re my friends…yeah, that’s it. They’re different because these are the two most important people in my life. My family. The only two people I love…wait, fuck.
Hunter stirs, and it’s obvious he doesn’t realize I’m the inside of this spoon when he stretches his naked body and drapes an arm over my waist. Once he feels my six-three frame, instead of Isabel’s petite five-foot-one, he tenses. Oh God, this is awkward. His…dick is against my ass. His morning wood hasn’t quite kicked in yet because he’s still soft, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
Hunter and I might be toying with this weird new dynamic to our relationship, but we’re definitely not at the…rub your hard cock on my ass phase yet.
He lifts his head and looks at me through one half-open eye. I glance over my shoulder and since this is a double instead of a king, there’s not a lot of room for me to give him.
“Morning,” I mutter.
“Morning,” he grumbles. Then, as expected, he quickly rolls out of the bed. It makes me wonder if he was actually ready to wake up or if forcing himself out of bed was worth not having to be pressed up naked against me.
I do happen to catch a glimpse of him as he bolts to the bathroom, and I can’t be certain if that was morning wood or the effects of our sleeping arrangement that had him suddenly sporting a hard-on that wasn’t there a moment ago.
“What time is it?” Isabel mumbles, barely moving against my chest.
“Time doesn’t matter here. We’re in Vegas, baby.”
“Breakfast…” She moans.
I smile down at her, remembering just how much energy she exerted last night. I’ve never seen her like that before, wild and ravenous. I really did mean what I said before…Isabel is the best. I hate myself for the way I feel about her, my best friend’s wife, but she makes everything easy and fun. I never have a single complaint when I’m with her and the sex is always out of this world. I may not be a settling down kind of guy, but I swear if I had a chance to settle down with this one, I’d be a fucking idiot to pass that up.
Thirty minutes later, the three of us manage to drag our tired asses down to the breakfast buffet. We eat and laugh and talk and everything feels so normal…that it’s actually strange. Like we’re just us again, but not the same us we used to be because now…we fuck.
After breakfast, Isabel drags us through the city, seeing every hotel, every sight, every stupid tourist shop, and I can’t fucking help myself, but I’m happy.
She’s wearing a long plastic cup filled with green margarita strapped around her neck as we meander through The Venetian. I catch myself reaching for her, holding her hand, and she lets me nuzzle her under my arm. My eyes cast in Hunter’s direction, but when he catches us cuddling and her making me take a sip of her giant drink, he smiles. This part definitely wasn’t in his plan. He just wanted to watch us fuck…so when did it turn into this? When did we become part of a relationship? And how do I feel about this?
I mean, I don’t hate it. Isabel fits so nicely under my arm, her head not even reaching my shoulder. I never really got off on this alpha/mine thing with other people, but when Isabel tucks herself against me, something primal wakes up inside me, and it feels good. I actually imagine myself protecting her, laying out some asshole who dares to touch her—like the incident in Austin. I want to be the guy responsible for keeping her safe.
“We should go to the real Venice. I bet it’s even prettier,” she says while we wait in line for the gondola ride.
“I bet it’s crowded and touristy,” Hunter replies. “But if you wanna go, Red. We can go.”
Then she glances up at me. “You in?”
I can’t help myself. I lean down, pressing my lips to her temple. “I’m in.”
To be fair, I would have always been down for a vacation with them. It was hard enough getting them to go on a honeymoon without me, and that was before Hunter made the big bucks, so it was just a small trip to the beach, but every other trip, they’ve dragged me along.
When we reach the front of the line, I start to pull away. “You two go.”
Isabel looks up at me in shock. “Nice try, big guy. Three’s company.” Oh yeah, she’s drunk already. Her words slur a little, and it’s adorable.
“Actually, the saying goes, ’Two’s company; three’s a crowd.’”
She scoffs. “That’s a dumb saying.”
And she doesn’t let go of my hand. She somehow hauls both of us onto that gondola and it does not go unnoticed by the gondola guy or the crowd around us that she’s holding both of our hands, rubbing both of our legs, and by the end of the ride, she’s had her lips on each of ours.
I can tell Hunter is tensing up a bit, but I don’t care. I love it. This is the first time I’ve really felt like I wasn’t the third wheel, like I’m really part of their relationship. It’s not bad.
The entire day is actually pretty fucking awesome, but there’s a looming uncertainty in the air because tomorrow we really do go home. Tomorrow, the fantasy ends. Vacation over and this threesome vacation version of us over along with the trip.
Maybe that’s why tonight feels different.
After dinner, Isabel’s margarita buzz has worn off and we wander together toward our room. I don’t even know what time it is—three a.m., maybe.
In the elevator up, the mood is a good deal more somber than it was last night. We don’t make out this time. She takes both of our hands and pulls us close, then she drags us slowly toward the room.
Instead of the wild fucking we got into last night, tonight we do what would likely be considered making love instead of fucking. Cuddled up in one bed, Isabel comes first by my mouth and again by Hunter’s hands. Then she rides my cock while he watches before falling into his arms and letting him take her sensually from behind while I cover her face with kisses. Our pleasure melts into one, so we feel every orgasm together as if they belong to us all. It’s slow and sensual with a sense of finality and foreboding.
Because this is it. This is the last time we’re ever going to be like this. And we all know it.
“That’s the last one,” I say, dropping the final box in the storage container and pulling the bay door closed. It’s depressing how quickly we were able to pack up my possessions in the apartment. It took less than a day to load up my couch, bed, and some random boxes onto the truck and haul it over here. Now I’m left with nothing but a suitcase and a guest room at my best friend’s house.
We got home yesterday morning and everything has been a whirlwind since. The only saving grace of the whole being evicted situation is that it’s distracted us from how weird this is now. We were so busy yesterday with recovering from this long trip that I didn’t even bother to worry about sleeping arrangements or awkwardness. I crashed in the guest room. They slept silently in their bed, and that was that.
Back to normal.
I should be happy. This is what I wanted. But when I woke up alone this morning…I didn’t feel happy.
“I’m headed to the club,” Hunter says as we climb back in his car. “We have a meeting at seven, but I can drop you off at the house if you don’t want to come.”
“Have you figured out what you’re going to propose?” I ask. Hunter has been busy spinning his wheels all week, and I know he’s trying to think of ways to impress his partners with the new ideas he’s gleaned from this trip.
“Shibari demonstration, for sure. I’m thinking about asking that Silla girl from New Orleans to come. I liked her.”
“I liked her too,” I reply, remembering the deep conversation we had at the club that night and how I felt comfortable confiding in her since she was always going to remain an outsider. Now I’m frantically trying to remember just how much I told this woman before she shows up at my doorstep armed with my secrets.
“I definitely liked Pitch,” he adds, and I swallow down the thrill that tries to creep up with those words. I don’t respond to that because, what the fuck would I even say? He loved it. I loved it. Those aren’t secrets. That dark room was fucking amazing—right along with everything we did in it. Right up to the moment he ditched me there.
“I’m sure they’ll love any ideas you bring,” I say finally.
“Thanks,” he mutters. “Does that mean you’ll come?”
Deciding whether or not to come to the board meetings isn’t usually something I dwell on so much. It really boils down to how badly I want to get on Emerson Grant’s nerves that day—I mean, it’s pretty fucking clear he’s not my biggest fan. He and I are just too different. He’s a control freak, who doesn’t like to share, and I’m…well, the opposite. Now if I dare to even breathe in his girlfriend’s direction, I risk losing my contract with the company. And possibly my head.
But now…the decision to join the board meetings is more complicated. Obviously, none of the other owners know about what’s gone down between Hunter and Isabel and me, but what if they can tell? What if they can sense that I’m not the same ladies’ man I was two weeks ago? I just don’t think I’m ready for close proximity to people I know right now.
“Maybe,” I reply. “I really need to spend my time searching for a new place.”
“No rush, Drake. I’m serious. You don’t need to hurry out of our house. You’re always welcome there.”
There’s something about the way he says it that feels heavier than it should. As if he’s trying to convey how much he doesn’t want me to leave.
I just wish time would pass quickly, so we can all get over this awkwardness. Maybe I need to just fuck someone else. That would help get them out of my system. I’ve just been with them for so long now that they’ve literally fucked me senseless. I can find a girl at the club to help get Isabel out of my head.
But that thought quickly sours. I don’t want another woman. I want that petite, freckle-faced, fiery redhead with a dirty side and a sweet smile. Fuck.
I knew this was a bad idea. But I never would have thought I’d get so attached so fast. Of course, I never want to commit to a woman, but the first one I do want, I can’t have.
Maybe I’ll find a guy at the club then… Nope. For some reason, that thought feels even worse.
“Drake?” Hunter asks, pulling me from my deep thoughts. “Club or home?” We’re sitting at an intersection, and I have to quickly decide what I’m going to do. I know what I want and I know what I can have, and unfortunately, they’re not the same.
“Club,” I mutter with hardly any enthusiasm.
We’re at Salacious an hour before the meeting, so we head to the bar first. It’s good to be back. After seeing so many clubs, I find it such a relief to be back in ours. God, it’s good to be home.
“Hey, guys. Welcome back,” Geo, the bartender, says with a greeting and a wide smile.
“Thanks,” Hunter and I reply in unison. He orders a whiskey sour and I go with a beer. And we drink them in silence. I watch as Hunter pulls out his phone, responding to a text from Isabel, and I wince with the sudden envy that hits me.
I really need to get over this fast, because this shit sucks. While he texts, I glance around the main hall. It’s early, so it’s quiet, just a few regulars lingering around. Newbies won’t show up until it’s crowded and they have other bodies to hide among. That means I’ve either already slept with the people here or aren’t interested in them for one reason or another.
I nod toward Ronan Kade, the filthy rich silver fox sitting at a bartop with Eden. They’re having a casual conversation that doesn’t look much like flirting, but I’m fairly certain those two have either fucked so much they don’t even have to try anymore or have never fucked and are truly just friends. A phrase that makes me laugh a little now.
Hunter and I are just friends.
Isabel and I are just friends.
And look at how well that worked out.
Goddammit, brain, stop thinking about them. Move the fuck on.
The main floor is disappointing, so I turn back toward the bar. That’s when my gaze meets a familiar pair of green eyes, and I catch them staring at me with a certain twinkle, and I know what that means.
I pause, staring at Geo, who quickly diverts his attention once I’ve caught him checking me out. As he helps another bar patron, I let my eyes roam over him. Geo is attractive—very attractive—and I’m not sure why I haven’t noticed it before. He’s slender with an athletic figure and tan biceps that look smooth to the touch. I bet he surfs or runs, both visions of him working up a sweat outside give my groin a slight stirring. Nothing major, but it’s potential.
Suddenly, I’m drinking my beer faster, hoping it means he’ll come over to refill it. Finally, he does, and I swear he’s smiling at me differently now.
“Want another one?” he asks, taking the empty bottle from in front of me.
I lean forward, placing my forearms on the bar as I smile at him. With a wink, I reply, “Yes, please.” I feel like myself again.
Geo bites his lip in response. Then he turns toward the ice chest to grab my beer. Before he returns, I feel Hunter’s attention suddenly on me. He’s wearing a scrutinizing expression as he watches me take the cold bottle from Geo and lift it to my lips while holding his gaze.
“So, how was your trip?” Geo asks, leaning against the bar.
“Long,” I reply, and I swear I notice Hunter’s jaw clench in my periphery.
“See any good clubs?”
“Nothing as good as this one, but we saw some interesting places.”
“Oh yeah?” Geo asks with a flirtatious lift of his brow. “You’ll have to share some of the stories with me sometime. I’m intrigued.”
Hunter’s drink slams against the bar with a clunk, so loud I’m surprised his glass doesn’t break. “We have a meeting. Let’s go,” he barks as he stands from his seat.
And I almost get up. I almost follow him because that’s what I’ve always done. He leads, I follow. He says jump, and I say ‘how high.’ Or rather…he says ‘fuck my wife’ and I say ‘yes, sir.’ But that’s what got me in this situation. And now my heart is a fucking mess. My head is a mess. I’m not the same person I was before this trip, and I can’t risk losing their friendship even more than we already have. So I can’t just follow Hunter anymore.
For his own good, I keep my ass on this barstool, and I force a tough swallow. “I don’t need to go to the meeting. If you have any construction questions for me, we’ll meet up after. But you go. I’m gonna stay here.”
My eyes lift up to meet his and the intensity of his expression literally hurts. It’s a punch to the gut. Because I’m drawing that line back in the sand. And I swear it looks like he has something to say, but in true Hunter fashion, he swallows it down.
“Fine,” he mutters. Then he glances ominously at Geo, before looking back at me. “Just remember our club has a two-drink limit.”
“Yep,” I reply, trying not to let those words hurt the way he wants them to.
And with that, he turns and walks away. I recognize the anger in his gait, but I don’t dwell on it. Turning back to Geo, I smile. I need to get back to myself, and there’s only one way to do it.
If my heart isn’t going to get over Hunter and Isabel, my dick will.
