Boston Avant-Garde 2 - Crescendo (14 page)

Drawn by curiosity, Leslie took several steps toward him. “Just the basic history, that you’d been friends forever, and that you both had a thing for voyeurism.”

His chuckle was rich with layers of bitterness. “My parents shipped me to a boarding school in Vermont when I was in kindergarten. There weren’t a lot of boarders my age. The other students went home every day, which meant we didn’t have much in common. So I kept to myself. By fourth grade, Seth and a dozen or so other boys had started boarding. One of them was a big brute of a kid named Terrence.” He stared down at his hands, clenching them into fists. “Terrence the Terror. He used to beat the shit out of us in the bathrooms when the teachers weren’t there. Then he’d threaten us not to tell.”

Leslie fought the urge to go to him. It had happened a long time ago. But he didn’t tell it that way. It was as if it had happened yesterday, and the pain he felt gnawed at her heart in a way she didn’t understand.

“Seth was the smallest in our class back then, and Terrence really had it in for him. Even then I admired Seth’s tenacity. He took the beatings day in and day out and never said a word. Not me. I couldn’t stand it anymore. So one day, when Terrence was in the bathroom beating on Seth, I jumped on his back and started pounding on him.”

She was beside him now, staring up at the expressions flickering across his face in the mottled light from the windows. She could almost picture miniature versions of Seth and Joshua ganging up on a bully.

“I’d like to say I went in like an MMA fighter and just dominated him, but he probably would’ve turned the tables on me pretty fast if Seth hadn’t stuck his foot out and tripped the kid. Terrence went down and knocked his face on one of the sinks. He lost two permanent front teeth and got a concussion. His parents pulled him out of school the following week, and Seth and I became joined at the hip.”

“Still doesn’t explain the desire to cohabitate,” Leslie said softly.

He was struggling with something. She wondered if he was violating some kind of confidence between him and Seth. “It’s really none of my business, if you think Seth wouldn’t want you to tell me this story.”

“If it’d been up to him, he probably would’ve told you all of this already. It’s me that hasn’t been ready.”

“Ready for what?”

He didn’t answer her question. “I didn’t realize until I met his father why Seth would lie down and let a bully beat the shit out of him.”

A lump formed in her throat. Instinct told her it was only going to get worse. “His father was the worst kind of drunk. They were old money, as far back as the first colonists, I think. The old man used to rave that they were descended from kings. Of course, he might’ve been talking about his horses. He was that crazy.”

Tears burned Leslie’s eyes, and she dug her nails into her palms. She didn’t want to hear any more, but she knew he had to get it out.

“The old man got roaring drunk the second night we were there and took a horse whip to Seth’s backside. I was in the bedroom, and I could hear him screaming in the study. I didn’t even have to think. I kicked the door open and knocked the old man on his ass. I took the whip right out of his hand. I wanted to beat him with it. Seth wouldn’t let me. So I got right down in his father’s face and told him I’d kill him if he ever did it again.”

Her throat was thick with tightly leashed emotion. There was something she had to say. “Having an awful past doesn’t mean the two of you can’t find healthy relationships separate from each other.”

His tousled blond hair fell over his forehead. “Is that what you think we should do? Do you think we should find two different women and settle down in some monotonous, normal relationship?”

It was a question that deserved some consideration. Would they be better off in normal relationships instead of trying to balance the rule of three? Would
she
be better off if, at the end of the day, it was just her and Seth in the bed together?

Was she insane? She shouldn’t be contemplating any long-term attachments. But the truth was she couldn’t imagine life without either of them. They were yin and yang, dark and fair, forceful and protective, blunt and subtle. Like two sides of the same coin, they functioned better as a pair.

She finally told him, “I don’t think I can be objective about that.”

“Why?”

Was it possible to plunge off an emotional cliff? “Because I’d have a hard time giving up either one of you.”

Joshua didn’t speak, instead reaching out and crushing her to his chest before he lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss unlike anything she’d experienced from him before. He was usually the one who took it slow and easy. This was primal, lips parting and teeth clicking as their tongues tangled together.

Her center began to melt, arousal snaking its way through her muscles until she was nearly crawling up his chest to get closer. She wanted more, needed more, his heat, his hands, and his body staking its claim on hers.

He trailed a line of kisses down her neck. She felt as though her heart might burst. “Please, Josh, make love to me.”

His hands found the hem of her shirt; he pulled it over her head and flung it aside. Seconds later, her bra followed and then her breasts were in his hands. He used his mouth to caress each nipple in turn. His teeth nipped the sensitive flesh, tugging at the elongated buds until she was moaning with her head flung back in abandon.

He skated one big palm down her belly, the other supporting her back as he traced her hips and reached around to cup her ass through Seth’s bulky sweats. She thought of him, their third, and missed him to the point of pain.

“Think of him, Leslie. Think of Seth,” Joshua said as he shimmied the sweatpants down her legs. “Imagine him watching from the chair, wrapping his big cock in his hand and pumping his shaft so you can watch him masturbate while I fuck your sweet pussy.”

The erotic suggestion caused a surge of lust that nearly sent her over the edge of climax. She turned to face the loveseat and gripped the arm, her fingers biting into the fabric as she arched her back and begged without words for Joshua to take her.

He ran one hand over her backside and spread her cheeks to bare her pussy to the cool air. “Sweetheart, you’re wet enough to drown my cock in your juices.”

Two fingers slid through her slit, straddling her labia and teasing a trail of havoc from clit to anus. Her vagina flexed, the muscles primed for his penetration. Cream created a slippery trail down her inner thighs.

“Are you begging or demanding?” He ground his palm against her mound until she moaned.

Beg, demand, she didn’t care. He was positioned behind her, and she wanted his long, sweet cock in her pussy. As his broad head bumped her slick opening, she nearly wept with relief. Wiggling her hips, she tried to make him hurry. In contrast, he seemed determined to draw out the process.

“So hot, so tight, so ready for me.” His voice was rough as he clamped his hands on her hips and forced her to hold still.

Inch by agonizing inch, he pushed into her tight cunt. The long stroke sent shockwaves of friction through her vagina until she was balanced on the edge of climax.

“Joshua!” She came with his cock fully seated and his balls pressed lightly against her clit.

He groaned and bent over, his chest brushing her arched back. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he held her close and began to thrust deeply into her body. Every stroke pushed deep, hitting her sweet spot until stars burst behind her eyelids.

“Again, sweetheart. Come for me again.” He pushed hard, his hips thrusting powerfully as he anchored her beneath him.

As if on command, her body climaxed again, and the thrill of orgasm contracted in waves that milked his shaft until she felt the pulsing heat of his release thrum throughout her body.

His groan reverberated throughout the room and shook her bones. His body went stiff, hips thrusting once, twice, before she felt him relax against her back. He pressed kisses to her shoulder and neck and lowered himself to the floor, taking her with him.

* * *

The couch was bare of cushions. They were scattered around the floor to make a nest on the thick area rug. Joshua had unceremoniously shoved the glass coffee table out of the way to make enough room for the two of them to snuggle into a bed of cushions and blankets.

Leslie yawned and burrowed closer to his side. “Are we staying here all night?”

He suppressed the self-satisfied smile that threatened to overtake his face. For a woman who disdained the idea of long-term relationships, she was looking awfully comfortable there beside him. “Do you want to move?”

“Don’t think I have the energy.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I’d rather stay here with you than sleep alone.”

He thought of the last week’s worth of nights he’d forced himself to do just that and felt like the world’s biggest idiot. “I won’t let you sleep alone, sweetheart.”

She pulled back far enough to look up into his face. “Even with Seth in the bed, it doesn’t feel right.”

“Because it’s not.”

“Then why did you keep leaving?”

Why was it so hard to explain the truth? He’d told her so much more than he’d ever told another person, outside of Seth. Why not explain his stupidity? “I guess I was trying to keep my distance.”

She seemed to mull that over. “Was this part of the plan to protect Seth from me?”

He adjusted his legs and braced his shoulders against the loveseat so he could pull her onto his lap. “At some point, we’re all going to have to stop protecting each other and ourselves. It’s counterproductive.”

There was a brief pause. He wondered if his analytical statement had hurt her feelings. Then a soft smile tilted her lips, and he fought the urge to take her again then and there.

“Seth makes it seem so easy,” Leslie said.

“I think Seth fell for you on day one.” He chuckled. “I’m the skeptical one in our partnership.”

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to be less than he was. It never did, and that scared me.”

“So you ran.” He couldn’t fault her logic. Self-protection was a strong motivation.

She brushed her cheek against his chest. The touch sent chills racing down his spine.

“Do that again, and I’ll have to reciprocate.”

Her smile was impish. “Promise?”

Pulling the blanket down until her bare breast was exposed, he wet his index finger and lightly traced the sensitive skin where rosy areola met pale flesh. The nipple puckered, and her breath grew ragged.

He continued to trace a circular pattern, closing it by fractions until he touched her diamond-hard nipple. She jerked against him, her naked backside rubbing against his cock. The contact grated against his swollen sex. Her eager responses made him long for more.

She grabbed his chin and forced him to focus on her face. “Is that supposed to be punishment?”

“I’ve got no desire to punish you, sweetheart. Although I might spank you someday, if you ask nicely.”

She giggled, nuzzling his nipple before taking it in her mouth and suckling until he was almost mindless with the desire to sink into her hot cunt. “You are such a softie. How anyone can possibly think you’re a badass is beyond me.”

He wondered if she realized how true that was. “Other than Seth, you’re the only one who gets me, Leslie.”

She stopped teasing him and rested her cheek against his pectoral. “I think I’m okay with that.”

Moments passed in quiet solitude. Joshua couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at ease. Outside, the signal lights topping the spires of surrounding buildings flashed intermittently. The blinking colors created a rhythmic symphony that rose and fell in perfect cadence. His heartbeat fell in sync, and he wondered if the whole world were tuned to the same beat.

Leslie stirred in his arms, and he shifted her, cuddling her closer to his chest. She’d fallen asleep. In the muted light, she looked ethereal. Tangled hair framed her peaceful face. Long eyelashes rested against her pale cheeks, the delicate bone structure of her face creating a perfect frame for her full, kissable lips and stubborn chin. He longed to lean down and press his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue past her lips to stoke the fire that he knew burned inside her. Instead, he gently caressed her cheek with a fingertip, letting her rest and closing his eyes to savor the contentment that seeped into his soul.

Chapter Thirteen

“Can I see you for a few minutes in my office, Leslie?”

Any remainder of Leslie’s happy daze from that morning froze solid at the headmistress’s words. Trying to seem nonchalant, she followed Ms. Warren into her office.

A young man from her fifth-hour music theory class lounged against the receptionist’s desk. “Hey Ms. Hampstead, I might be late to class. I’ve got an audition.”

“Congratulations, Tyler, and good luck,” Leslie murmured. She tried to keep calm, but she would have rather headed back to her own classroom. Nowadays, she was a teacher instead of a student, but being summoned to the headmistress’s office still had the same effect.

The pale yellow walls were papered with posters for concerto competitions and auditions. Several framed photographs sat on the corner of the scarred wood desk, and a pile of empty instrument cases were stacked precariously in the corner.

Ms. Warren took her place behind her desk and gestured toward a hard plastic chair usually reserved for students. “Have a seat.”

The terse words didn’t inspire confidence. Something about the woman’s impeccably cut business suits and gray bun always felt intimidating. As if Leslie could ever hope to be that put together.

Setting her violin case on the floor, she perched on the hard edge of the chair and pressed her knees together. The fruit salad and muffins she’d eaten for breakfast rolled uncomfortably in her belly, and she wondered why she felt as if she were about to be dropped off a cliff.

Ms. Warren rested her elbows on the desktop and pressed her long fingers together. “I had an interesting visit yesterday with Professor Williamson.”

Apprehension sent Leslie spiraling backward in time, to the moment she’d sat in this same chair and begged Ms. Warren for a chance to attend the Boston School for the Arts. The application deadline had passed, and the scholarship money had already been allotted. She’d been uninvited and unexpected, with no money and no letter of recommendation. In spite of all those things, Ms. Warren had set up an impromptu audition and given her a chance. Since then, Leslie had felt as though the headmistress was waiting for her to be worth all the trouble.