Triple Knockout (Make Mine A Menage Book 3) Page 5

  Body buzzing with an alarming dose of enticement, he eyed Van, attempting with minimal success to determine precisely what the tension bracketing Van’s mouth could mean. “She seemed like…Allie.” Correction—a fantastically dirty-mouthed Allie who was a danger to his sanity.

  A weary breath floated from Van. “Fucking great. She’s probably hurt by my utter dumbassedness. Here Eric puts us in charge of ensuring she’s okay while he’s gone, and I go and make her feel bad for calling our dinner a date. I swear to Christ I shouldn’t be allowed out in society sometimes.”

  That’s what this was about? Damn good thing he didn’t open his fool mouth and stick his foot inside by revealing something he’d regret saying. “Don’t sweat it. I didn’t get the impression your dumbassedness has scarred her for life.”

  Looking slightly mollified by that bit of news, Van relaxed and stacked his feet on the edge of the coffee table.

  So much for that alone time. Still, maybe Van would be the voice of reason that’d permanently banish the impossible temptation of Allie and her wicked fantasies. Copping a squat on the opposite end of the sectional, Beau mulled over the situation, attempting to find an angle that wouldn’t land him square in the middle of a loaded minefield.

  Yeah, like that was remotely possible. There was zero way of pussyfooting around this subject. Might as well ask the question burning front and center and deal with the consequences later. “Have you ever shared a woman before?”

  Van’s gaze veered in his direction so fast, it was a miracle every tendon in his neck didn’t snap. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  “Just curious.”

  Van’s expression shifted into the territory of suspicious. Beau steeled himself for the inevitable inquisition guaran-damn-teed to be forthcoming. Rather than launch into a full-scale poke and prod attack, Van swept him with an appraising look. “Twice. First with a female sub and her mistress. The second time with a male sub.”

  There was something about the focused way Van watched him that instigated an uncomfortable flush beneath Beau’s skin. Every instinct inside him blared a warning to not open the Pandora’s Box beyond that tantalizing crack. Temptation beckoned brighter, defeating his resistance. “The male sub one of your regulars?”

  “No, but his mistress was generous in her rewards. She wanted to give him the experience of two Doms controlling his pleasure. I was more than happy to lend my cock to the occasion.”

  He struggled to ignore the burst of heat that Van’s roguish grin stirred up. “Who was the Dom?”

  “Cora.”

  In which case the sub had to have been Jake. The same man Van relentlessly ribbed about passing for Beau’s long-lost twin.

  In other words, Van willingly fucked a guy who looked like his best friend and business partner. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

  Sizzling awareness settled over Beau, bringing with it a disturbing chaos of emotions. He should be freaked the hell out by the revelation. Not aroused and intrigued. And certainly not obsessed with unknown details. Like if Van had pretended it was Beau’s ass and mouth he was plowing.

  Did he conjure my face seconds before he blew his load? The mere suggestion of it was enough to renew life behind Beau’s fly. He shifted, his effort at easing the discomfort failing to go unnoticed by Van if the devilish flicker in his eyes was any indication.

  “Prior to my involvement, Cora would occasionally work Jake over with a strap-on, so she knew he liked having his ass filled while he’s deep in subspace. I was the first time he’d received the real thing.”

  Van’s bluntness was nothing new. The man didn’t believe in tempering his words or descriptiveness, particularly when it came to sex talk. Beau still found himself burning from the inside out. Only thing was, he had a bad feeling the sensation wasn’t caused by distaste. Quite the opposite.

  “And what? He just took you like a champ first time in the ring?” Beau suspected his snort sounded pathetically forced.

  “Trust me, even big as I am, I suspect Cora’s a size whore when it comes to her toys.”

  Beau grimaced. So much for not having that in my head every time I see Cora and Jake.

  Van swiped a lazy hand over his chest. Beau struggled not to dwell on the alluring way the white cotton tank beneath Van’s unbuttoned flannel shirt hugged the defined ridges of his abs.

  “You ever used a butt plug or vibrator on yourself?” Van inquired out of the blue.

  Hells Bells. This definitely wasn’t a conversation they should be having. “Not into it.”

  “Then you have tried it.”

  “No.”

  Van’s expression turned shrewd. “How can you say you’re not into it if you don’t know firsthand?”

  Sweat crawled beneath the collar of Beau’s Henley. It took all of his willpower not to mop a hand over his nape. “Some things you just know.”

  The glint in Van’s eyes intensified. “You’ll get no argument from me there.”

  “Good.”

  “But I don’t agree with your other assessment.” Van laced his fingers behind his head. “I assume you have engaged in anal sex with a woman? In order to make it good for her, it’s helpful if you know what it feels like.”

  He offered Van a narrow look. “You honestly expect me to believe you’ve let some dude cornhole you to make you a better Dom?”

  “I’ve never bottomed.” Van held up a hand, effectively cutting Beau off before he could cry foul. “But I’ll admit to trying out a vibrating plug a time or two.”

  Aw shit. He did not need that stimulating visual in his head.

  “And guess what? Feels incredible. If I weren’t set in my ways, I’d probably take a cock in my ass and love every second of it.”

  A shuddered breath escaped Beau before he could corral it. Of course Van latched onto the involuntary reaction. His smoky gaze shifting deeper into that intense watchfulness that prickled every one of Beau’s nerve endings, Van licked his lips. “But much as I enjoyed it, nothing compares to being balls’ deep in a sub, knowing it’s my cock, my control, that’s taking them over the edge. Gets me off like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

  Oh, he could believe. All too easily. His overactive imagination was having a field day with the arresting image Van just painted. Beau could almost feel the unyielding bite of leather restraints digging into his wrists and ankles, spreading him wide. The stinging stretch of his ass muscles adjusting to the rough invasion of Van’s cock asserting its domain. Hammering deep. Hitting Beau’s prostate until submission and ecstasy blended into a seamless sensation.

  No, that isn’t who he was. What he was about. He clung to that desperate thought, his fists clenching tight on his thighs. When Van’s hand suddenly covered his, Beau jerked to his feet, pulse stuttering out of control. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Knock this bullshit off. We both know where things are headed between us, whether we want it to or not.”

  Panic condensed all sound to a dull roar in Beau’s ears. He needed to get Van out of the apartment. Now. Before he gave in to the hypnotic persuasion in Van’s eyes and did something boneheaded that would permanently destroy their friendship.

  Van continued to pin him with a firm look that seared straight to the bone. “Sit down.”

  Beau remained stubbornly locked in place. Van said nothing more. Not verbally. The unspoken command wafting from his every pore did all the talking for him. Tension plucked Beau’s nerves to a frayed thread. Beneath that sensation was a current of excitement that rattled him to the core of his being. If he turned his back right now, would Van bodycheck him to the floor? Thrust his hand down Beau’s pants and press home his point and his control by jerking Beau off, until he was coming all over Van’s fingers?

  Beau sucked in a harsh breath. Where the hell were these disturbing thoughts springing from? Why couldn’t he stop them and return to the safe world he was familiar with?

  Gut queasy, he glanced at the beckoning couch cushion before meeting
Van’s eyes again. “I want you to leave.”

  “No, you don’t. Now sit down.”

  His pulse leaped with a traitorous thrill at the soft command in Van’s tone. “I’m not one of your goddamn subs.”

  Van hefted to his feet, six-foot-four-inches of solid muscle and immovable force. “And you’re also not a Dom. Let go of that delusion and stop fighting the inevitable, you stubborn jackass.”

  Beau shook so badly, his teeth ached.

  His gaze gentle yet firm, Van cupped Beau’s shoulder. Ignoring his flinch, Van moved in closer. His mouth hovered a scant breath away from Beau’s. “Think I don’t know how much this scares the living shit out of you? Got news for ya. I’m right there too. Every single person I’ve fucked has been short term. Easier to avoid entanglements that way. But that’s impossible with you.”

  “My ass is off limits.”

  Humor and challenge sparkled in Van’s gaze. “Curious how you didn’t mention anything about your mouth.”

  Son of a bitch. “That was fucking implied.”

  “Best if you’re specific with me. Give me an inch, and I’ll only end up giving you ten-and-three-quarters back.”

  The silky tease in Van’s voice was as devastating to Beau’s sanity as the overwhelming chemical attraction charging the air between them. If Van ordered him to drop to his knees and suck those ten-and-three-quarter-inches—holy fuck—down his throat, he wasn’t certain he’d have the power to say no.

  As if he’d plugged directly into Beau’s mind, Van closed the remaining space separating them, the stiffness of his cock nudging into Beau’s. Before Beau’s brain could regain function, Van staked a claim on his mouth.

  Shock ricocheted through Beau’s system. He had the barest millisecond to register the unfamiliarity of being kissed by a man, much less by his best friend, before Van’s tongue eased into his mouth like it had every right to be there. The bottom fell out of Beau’s stomach. Not in a bad way. That would have been infinitely preferable to the wild rollercoaster of sensation tripping along his nerve endings. When Van’s tongue curled around his coaxingly, Beau submitted to the kiss with a shuddery moan.

  Jesus. Maybe it had been too long since he’d had sex. It’d explain his crazy response to Van. His brain knew better than to court this insanity, but his cock was outshouting his common sense.

  Van’s hand slid from Beau’s shoulder and ghosted down his belly before molding over Beau’s straining erection. Firm fingers gripped him through the painfully snug denim. A silent reminder of who was boss.

  Oh hell no. No, no, no. There was no damn way this was happening. Beau broke away from Van, his breath sawing from his lungs. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

  Van’s chest rose and fell with his own hard-won breaths, the only outward sign of his slipped control. “I hope to Christ one of these days you stop listening to these lies you insist on feeding yourself.” Tense energy radiating from him in blistering waves, Van grabbed his jacket from the couch and shrugged it on. Without another glance in Beau’s direction, he stalked out the door.

  The taunting echo of Beau’s dream drifted across his consciousness. “Let yourself go. Crack the resistance and free yourself.”

  No, true freedom meant being in control. Not losing himself to the vulnerable desperation that Van brought percolating to the surface. He wouldn’t give in to it. Couldn’t give in to it. At any cost.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Frustration eating at him, Van slid a glance in Beau’s direction. The stubborn son of a bitch hadn’t deigned to speak to him at all today. No doubt Beau thought if they didn’t talk about last night it meant it never happened.

  Van was all too aware of the fallacy of that idea. He couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, and the hungry sound Beau submitted to before his mind got in the way. To say it’d made Van hard enough to burst out of his damn jockeys was an understatement. More than that, though, it’d threatened to snap his control. If Beau had given him the tiniest encouragement, Van would have bent him over the arm of the couch in zero seconds flat and planted his cock deep in Beau’s ass in faster record time, despite every sense he possessed warning of the risk he was taking.

  He wasn’t one to put his friendships on the line. Or his business. So why the hell was he playing this dangerous game with Beau?

  Because you want him beyond all reason and rational thought. Van knew better than to feed himself any lies regarding his lustful leanings where his best friend was concerned. Furthermore, he recognized the inherent insanity with any repressed desire. He had no fucking clue how Beau managed with the closetful of caged repressions he was lugging around. Chances were if they gave in to this thing between them, they’d eventually burn it out of their systems—say in a year or twenty.

  Exhaling wearily, Van tortured himself with one more minute of watching the new Aikido instructor demonstrating a few moves to Beau.

  A teasing tickle trailed along Van’s spine. Jolting, he slashed a look over his shoulder.

  Allie’s gaze sparkled up at him. “Hi there, handsome.”

  He didn’t know what flustered him more—her flirty maneuver and grin, or his body’s reaction to both. It didn’t help that he was still sporting a semi thanks to his musings about Beau. Adding Allie to the mix? Fuck. Talk about a sledgehammer to his equilibrium. Coughing into his fist in an effort to cover up his discomposure, he focused on getting himself under control. “Hey, sweetheart. Ready to make the treadmill your bitch today?”

  “Ha. We both know it’d be the other way around.” She traced a fingertip over the delectable curve of her bottom lip. If she had any clue of the uncomfortably raunchy fantasies currently swimming in his brain she thankfully didn’t let on about it. “Actually, I was kinda hoping you’d give me a hand with breaking a sweat this afternoon.”

  His dick immediately reacted to the double entendre in her statement. Down boy. After delivering the stern warning to his cock, he leaned his hip against the power rack and scanned Allie from head to foot. It gave him prime opportunity to linger on all of the scrumptious areas in between.

  She wore the same baggy sweatpants from yesterday, but a neon pink and purple sports bra stood in replacement of her tank top. It was the type that zipped in front, and while it technically wasn’t as provocative as some of the getups a few of the female members paraded around in, the eye-popping fullness of Allie’s breasts outrivaled them in sexiness by a mile. If she’d exposed an additional centimeter of her mouthwatering cleavage he doubted there’d be room left in his briefs to contain him. “What kind of sweat breaking did you have in mind?”

  Ten to one it wouldn’t be the same kind presently tormenting him to no end.

  “I want you to teach me how to box.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? You lookin’ to be the next Laila Ali?”

  Allie’s forehead scrunched adorably. “She’s Muhammad Ali’s daughter, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Honestly, I’d settle for you teaching me enough to make me look marginally badass.” Jogging in place, she swung her fists in front of her and made pow-pow noises. She nearly clipped him on the chin. Served him right for being distracted by the jiggle of her breasts.

  Snapping to his senses, he reached for her flailing arms. “First of all, you’ve got your fingers tucked wrong. Good way to get your thumb broken, crazy girl.”

  “See? I need you to show me the ropes so I don’t get my ass kicked and my fingers dislocated in a street fight.”

  It was impossible to rein in his grin. “When the hell are you ever gonna be in a street fight?”

  “Hey, I happen to have a big rumble set up with The West Side Jets. We’re going to do some singing and dancing in between ass-kickin'. Might even throw in a few jazzy finger snaps.”

  She demonstrated the choreography, earning what he suspected had to be the goofiest grin he’d ever produced. Completely worth it. He’d gladly reduce himself to the biggest doofus on the planet just to see her jo
king and lighthearted. Especially when he’d been convinced he’d fucked everything to hell with his insensitivity yesterday. “Okay, slugger, I’ll teach you how to box. Only so you’ll stop terrorizing me with your terrifying finger snaps.”

  “Yay!” She clapped her hands before throwing her arms around him and squeezing tight.

  It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a hug. Not by any means. But it was certainly the first time they did so with this little clothing standing between them. Her breasts a delicious pillow pressing into his chest, he stroked her back, reveling in the velvety softness of her skin. This close, her strawberry scent shot straight from maddening to brain detonating. Resisting the urge to nuzzle her neck proved to be a herculean struggle. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Beau watching them.

  Now the mule-headed bastard decided to grace them with his attention. Reluctantly releasing Allie, Van playfully tugged on the end of her ponytail. She shivered and looked at him in a way that did funny things to his gut. Desperately ignoring the increased pressure against the fly of his briefs, he released her hair and swiped his hand across his mouth. The fruity essence of her shampoo instantly invaded his sinuses, amping his torment into overdrive. Muzzling his groan, he dropped his arm to the whiff-free safety zone of his side. “Come on, we’ll get you taped and gloved up.”

  He led the way to the prep station near the ring and instructed her to take a seat on one of the stools. Surveying the gear, he chose a short, lightweight wrap that’d work well for her small hands. With anyone else, he’d let them start off the task and lend guidance where and when it was needed, but there was no fucking way in hell he’d deny himself the pleasure of touching Allie. Especially since it afforded him the opportunity to hide his true motives under the guise of necessity. If he ended up with the biggest case of blue balls known to mankind as an end result, well, that was a price he’d willingly pay.

  Taking her right hand, he slipped the end loop around her thumb. “It’s going to feel tight around your wrist. That’s how you want it. Key to a solid punch is keeping your wrist straight and absorbing the impact in your arm. It’s where the sweet spot of your force resides and it’ll lessen the chance of injury.” He finished wrapping her wrist. After two goes around her knuckles, he worked his way back to her thumb. Once he had that vulnerable appendage protected, he finished off the wrap with several more layers of tape cushioning for her wrists and knuckles and secured the Velcro. “Should be snug but not cutting off circulation.” Unlike my briefs right now. Snuffing another groan at that harsh reality, he inspected his handiwork. “Not bad.”