Complete Bliss (a Her Billionaires novella #3) (2 page)

Then again, most of what came out of her mouth made Joe laugh, too, so they were even.

“Yes. Talk.” Laura sounded so restrained. Embarrassed, even. This was getting weirder and weirder, and Darla knew weird. Lived weird.

Invented
weird.

“Josie suggested—”

Ah. The source of the weirdness.

“—that I reach out and invite you to lunch because you and I have so much in common.”

In common? Laura was a well-educated former financial analyst for a massive corporation that wouldn’t employ Darla to change the urinal cakes in their executive bathrooms. Laura was blond and curvy and sweet and feminine. Darla was a wild, untamed mare with a mane about as tangled and unkempt as a ‘70s porn star bush.

In common?

The only thing they had in common was—

“Ohhhhhhhh.” The sound came out of her mouth before she could think and use impulse control (
hah! What was that?
) to stop it.

Laura let out a long sigh, like a balloon being slowly emptied of air. “Yeah.
That
.”

Darla blinked about a thousand times, then said, “Huh. Josie’s right. I don’t know nobody else who has two boyfriends.” Wait—that sounded so stupid, because Mike and Dylan weren’t just Laura’s boyfriends! 

“Er, two
baby daddies
, I mean. Not that I don’t know plenty of people back home with two baby daddies. Hell, one of my friends from high school is my age and has four of ’em, each baby with a different man, and…” Her mouth just detached itself from her head, running off like it was at the start line of the Boston Marathon,
blah blah blah blah blah
, spewing toxic waste along the way.

“Darla! Darla!” Laura’s insistent voice cut through the floating sense of horror Darla had about her mouth.

“Yes?” She shut herself up by slamming a fist in between her teeth.

“You okay?”

“It’s just—”

Darla paused, trying to figure out how to behave here. As usual, she had no idea, so she blundered through it. Truth was an absolute defense against stupidity, right? Wasn’t that part of law school Joe and Trevor talked about?

“Are you going to fire me? Because you never call and ask to—”

“No! No!” Laura exclaimed, laughing. “God, no. You’re fabulous. Josie and I don’t know what we’d do without you!”

“Then does that mean I get a raise?” Darla blurted out.
Jesus, woman
, she chided herself.
You do not know when to stop.
 

Laura laughed again, only this time she sounded more secure. “We’ll talk about that a different time. This time, though, I’d like a chance to talk about—”

“Threesomes. And bein’ in one. And how fucked up it can be.” Darla felt more comfortable now.
Not getting fired. Not getting fired
.

“Um, I might put it a bit more diplomatically…”

“Laura.” Darla snorted. “You’ve met me. ‘Diplomatically’ isn’t in my vocabulary.”

“Is
Jeddy’s
in your vocabulary? Josie says I should take you there for lunch.”

Darla paused, mouth drooling without provocation. “Are you serious? Lunch with the boss at Jeddy’s to talk about being in a threesome relationship with two men? When did I bang my head and go into this dream about work?”

“Not a dream,” Laura said, laughing gently. Darla could feel the relief in her—in both of them. Her brow tightened; this felt like the tip of some iceberg Darla didn’t know was underneath deep ocean waters. “How about next week? Thursday? I have limited babysitting for Jillian, but that day is open. We can do it on one of your work days. It’s on the clock.”

On the clock? Jeddy’s? Talkin’ about threesome life?

Best. Job. Ever.

“Sure. Lunchtime?” Darla asked, assuming. 

“How about two o’clock? We can come after the rush crowd and get a quieter place.”

Laura’s words made her pause. This was intriguing. People didn’t invite her out under such mysterious circumstances. Hmmm…

Less full of people to hear
, Darla thought, but wisely shoved that fist back in her mouth.

“Two o’clock works for me,” she said evenly. 

“Yes. Perfect. I’m putting it in my calendar. Want me to come get you at work, or meet at Jeddy’s?”

“Whatever works for you, Laura.”

“Let’s just meet there, then.”

“Okay.” Darla’s body relaxed in increments. She wasn’t being fired. She wasn’t having her hours reduced. Everything was right in the world. Laura just wanted to get to know her better.  

“And Darla?”

“Yep?”

“Thank you.”

Click.

Darla stared at the phone.

Now she had two phone conversations to nominate for weirdest fucking call at work,
ever
. 

Laura

Dylan raced from the Jeep into the little sex cabin Mike had built for the three of them last year. “I think we still have a few beers in the fridge!” he exclaimed from the deck, stripping down to just jeans in seconds.

And then nothing at all. Out here in the woods, in the remote mountain area of the ski resort Mike owned, there was no one but the deer and the occasional bear to see all of Dylan’s delicious parts.

And oh, how delicious they were. While parenthood had made her a bit squishier in all her curvy parts, Dylan and Mike had stayed the same. Even better in some ways, carved and curved in hard, steely ways that complemented her abundant figure.

Over the past six months she’d worked so hard to let go of her self-conscious inhibitions, and was largely there. For the most part.

Almost.

The sex cabin Mike had built really helped. And so did adding a part-time nanny two months ago. Cyndi was a doll. A dream. Mary Poppins without the uptight attitude. She didn’t have to be practically perfect, because she was loving and warm and safe and beyond good enough. The guys wouldn’t settle for anything less than the loving grandmother Cyndi was for Jillian, and as their little baby turned into a walking, jabbering toddler, they’d all done better with a little space. 

Twenty hours a week, Laura could just be.
Just be
all by herself, while Dylan handled his foundation’s charity work, or while Mike managed the ski resort.
Just be
while she worked with Josie on the threesome dating service she’d created.

Just be
with her e-reader and her imagination.

And now—just be with Dylan and Mike in the sex cabin.

The lost libido that seemed hopeless to try to find six months ago had come roaring back with a deafening rush of need when Jillian had turned one year old last month. Certain she was meant to enjoy affection and sex but not desperately want it with that gnawing, alarming need that makes the shared release of sexual touch and connection, Laura had found herself blossoming in new ways.

And “blossom” sounded so demure. Prim, even.

She was turning into a fucking animal—and the operative word was “fucking.” This went beyond the mild exhaustion Dylan and Mike had exhibited as her sexual desire reawakened. This new feeling was like being a nineteen-year-old boy. She hummed with urges and cravings and—oh, my… 

Dylan was naked, on the cabin’s deck, chugging a nice cold one down like something out of a really fancy clothing-optional resort commercial.

Not that she’d ever seen one of those commercials, but if they ever made them, they needed to hire Dylan.

Just like this.

“Why are you naked?” Mike shouted as he grabbed a cooler of food to put in the cabin’s fridge. Cyndi was back at the house for five hours today, and they intended to take advantage of every single second. Mike’s idea of “taking advantage” was decidedly different from hers and Dylan’s. After the first round of sex Mike would make tenderloin steaks and grilled vegetables on the giant smoker he treated like a second child, while Dylan and Laura would make fun of him and, maybe, have a little round of lovemaking to themselves. 

That was what her mind filled in. But as Mike trundled through the doorway carrying a fifty-pound cooler on his shoulder like it was a pillow, she wondered how he’d look grilling naked.

I need to get a life
, she thought.

I have the best fucking life
, she corrected herself.
Don’t need another one
. 

“What are you waiting for? Didn’t you get the memo? It’s naked country life day,” Dylan joked. The sun covered his slightly-less-tan body in a way that was so appealing. Her own skin was so white these days you could use it as a reflector to guide search parties.

Mike was the only one who managed to stay tan year round, and Laura was beginning to suspect he’d given the devil his pinkie toe in exchange for looking
that
good, even in the dim month of February when the sun didn’t come near New England.

“You want me naked?” she teased. 

Both men shouted, “Yes!” It was like having boyfriends in stereo.

Two baby daddies
, she thought, Darla’s words echoing through her mind. The phone call earlier had been odd. Halting. A bit much, but a relief to have it done. Josie might be right. Maybe talking to another woman who had two men in her life—permanently—was a good idea.

Right now, though, she didn’t want to think about the future. Or worry about implications. Her present mind was right here, right now, and she wanted to lick and touch and stroke some flesh. To get back what she gave. And to have an orgasm...or twenty...so powerful she would scare small woodland creatures.

She might very well accomplish that feat right now by stripping naked, but by God, as she removed her underwear and hung them on a deck railing, she was going to obey Dylan’s request.

“Two out of three of us are—oh!” Dylan said as he corrected himself, Mike strolling out of the cabin completely buck naked, holding two glasses of wine by the stems. “I guess all three of us are in uniform.”

“Uniform?” Laura asked, laughing as she peeled off her socks. “The sex cabin has a uniform?” 

The cold air stung at her ankles, the not-quite-summer sky a pale, hazy blue through the treetops. If they stayed outside for much longer she’d begin to shiver, but the warm rays of the sun homed in on her shoulder, her forehead, her belly, her calves, and she enjoyed the good with the cold. 

The cold had no effect on Dylan and Mike, who had very distinct parts of them standing at attention. If they had the ability to point with them, she’d be the target. 

“Sex cabin?” Dylan sputtered, laughter making his ab muscles roll in mesmerizing patterns. “You call this a
sex cabin
?” 

“Isn’t that what it is?” she asked with faux innocence, biting her lip suggestively.

“You coming inside? Because the sex cabin is most certainly ready to be used as its name suggests,” Mike said with a suggestive leer. His eyes ate her up, and she let him, feeling the genuine love and lust in him.

“Inside, outside, on the deck, bent over the kitchen counter, on the couch,” Dylan mused, finishing his beer. “She’s coming, all right.”

Talk like this used to make her blush.

Now she upped the ante.

“That a wager? How many times can you make Laura come in five hours?”

Mike choked a bit on his red wine. “You want to place bets on
sex
?”

Dylan’s shoulders straightened, arms curling out a bit, forearms curved like they were carved by a woodworker with a lathe and fine artisanal tools. “Why not? Sounds friendly and fun.”

“What about you two? How many times do I have to make
you
come?” she teased.

Mike looked skyward, his face twisted into a very thoughtful expression. “I think my refractory period is…”

“Math?” Dylan gawked. “You’re doing sex math?” He marched into the cabin and returned with another beer, his ass so fine Laura felt hypnotized by it.

“What’s wrong with sex math?” Laura asked. Mike acted like they weren’t even there, now touching the tips of his fingers and shaking his head, muttering to himself.

“It’s…math! Who brings math into the bedroom?”

“Math can be sexy,” she protested. “One breast,” she said, holding hers toward him. “Two breasts,” she added, cupping both and pushing them together to make cleavage worthy of the best Regency dame.

Dylan stared at her nipples. “Okay. You convinced me.”

“Five!” Mike uttered.

“Five orgasms? You want me to give you
how many
in five hours?” Laura gasped.

“At your age?” Dylan added, laughing his (fine) ass off.

“What do you mean
my
age? We’re the same age!” Mike protested.

Dylan paused. His turn to do math. Laura opened her mouth to make a comment about it when Dylan said, “You’re older than me by a few months. And
I
can’t come five times in five hours.”

Mike and Laura asked in unison: “How would you know that?”

He turned bright red and muttered, “Just trust me.”

“YouPorn,” Mike and Laura said, in unison again.

“Quit ganging up on me!” Dylan grabbed Laura’s phone, which she’d set on the deck railing, and held up the display. “We’ve wasted seventeen minutes talking about refractory periods and making bets. When are we going to have
sex
?”

“After we enjoy a nice glass of wine,” Laura said. She was enjoying the view, too. And not just the trees swaying in the wind. Her nice view was decidedly of the human male animal variety. 

“The clock is ticking, there’s a bet I might lose if we don’t get busy, and you want to drink
wine
?” Dylan said in a tone of outrage. Indignation, even.

“You want me to drop everything—”

“No. Just to your knees,” he said in a charged voice with such a commanding tone that she sashayed over to him, pulled a cushion from one of the redwood chaise lounges on the deck, and threw it on the ground in front of him. Handing her wine glass to him, she put her hands on his shoulders and bent down to lick one tight nipple, his body tensing with her touch. His erection bobbed up with a tight, craning motion that made her feel like it was tracing a line on her leg.