Her Two Billionaires and a Baby (8 page)

“Or silver coins.” She yawned. “Or plastic cards.”

“But they don't have stories about threesomes like you do.”

“Oh, I'm sure if you ask around enough someone will.” She scooped the coffee with a slightly shaking hand. Could you have a tiramisu hangover? Jesus, Dylan had used a lot of rum in that delightfully scrumptious dessert. Pressing a few buttons, she got the coffee going and plopped down in a kitchen chair.

“You're here to interrogate me, aren't you?” she said, resigned.

“So whassup?” Josie stretched the word out in an annoying mimic of an old beer commercial's frog actors. “You a little sore today? That Dylan might be short but I'll bet he has a dick the size of a coke can.”

“Ewwww!”
Close,
she thought. But she'd never tell Josie that!

“I just crossed over my own line.” Josie held out her palms in a surrender gesture. “Sorry. TMI. I blame caffeine deficiency.”

“Blame your genetics. Your mom's way worse. Remember how she announced to everyone in the marching band our freshman year that you needed to use non-chlorinated tampons because you couldn't bear to experience another rash – and then had pictures to warn other girls away from – ”

Josie shuddered and interrupted loudly. “No, yo mama.”

“No,
yo
mama!” Were they really back in seventh grade?
Yeesh
.

“I don't have a mama. She died that day.”

Laura chuckled. “You wish she'd died that day, because three years later when we graduated, there she was at commencement, under the bleachers, banging the band director.”

“She likes a little pomp with her circumstance.”

“She made it clear to the whole auditorium how much she liked his wand.”

“Topic change!” Josie shouted, leaping for the coffee maker.

“Her crescendo, too, was – ”

“Oh, my God,
stop
!”

“Oh, dear. Am I going too far?” Laura said facetiously, playing it up. “Have I crossed a decency boundary? Have I made you uncomfortable talking about sex?”

“My mother's sex – ”

“I wouldn't want to force you to talk about anything so prurient. That would be
being a bad friend, now, wouldn't it
?” Josie finally got the hint.

"Was it weird? Being with two guys like that? I mean, and not sleeping with them?"

Laura rubbed her eyes. Why was Josie getting on her last nerve lately? She was still angry with her for pouring everything out to Mike and Dylan. Why not make her walk around naked with a sign that said "Ask Me Anything"? If your best friend couldn't keep your secrets, who could? That night at Jeddy's had been one of the most stressful and surreal in her entire life, warlock balls and all. When she'd learned, later, what Josie had told the guys, after Dylan blurted it all out in a tiramisu-induced haze, she'd come home and nearly killed Josie.

The morning coffee routine was getting old. What wasn't getting old, though, was this developing relationship between her and the guys. The guys. Even that was surreal and weird. Ah, hell – nothing about this threesome wasn't bizarre, so she was getting tired of labeling it all as outside the mainstream. It just
was
. No getting around that. An internal argument deep within her raged on, one part telling her this was madness and a stronger, more settled part humming along nicely, ignoring the part that screamed "freak!"

Speaking of freaks, Josie was saying something through sips of java. "If you kiss one of them, do you have to kiss the other?"

"Huh?" Laura poured herself a cup. Might as well benefit from the fruits of her labor. That, and she needed the jolt. Yet another uncomfortable conversation with Josie, though she had to admit that the girl definitely helped sometimes, making her think about things she hadn't considered. Like this?

"Does it have to be 50/50? If you sleep with one, do you have to sleep with the other? Or is it always a threesome? Is there always double, well – you know?"

Freak!
"You actually sit around contemplating these things, Josie? Seriously?"

She had the decency to pinken a bit. "Who doesn't?"

"Most of the rest of the world."
Sip
. If she didn't fill her mouth with something it would soon be full of words she'd regret saying. Please. This was devolving quickly into voyeurism. Laura was surprised by how annoyed she was becoming. Josie was always inquisitive. It was just who she was, and as aggravating as she could be at times, it had never troubled Laura this much.

Josie shot her a wary look. "I just...no, I don't sit around dredging up embarrassing questions to ask you, Laura." Her tone of voice conveyed hurt feelings. "But it's natural, I think, to wonder. Most threesomes are one-night-stand kind of deals. What you have is so out of the realm of normal that it makes me think. Philosophize and stuff, about what it means for the long haul."

Aha.
And that was it. That was why this bothered Laura so much.

Because, damn it, Josie was right.

"What you're doing, Laura, is fascinating to watch from the outside. Plus, yeah, I am demented. So sometimes my mind just...goes there. And I found myself wondering what it felt like, eating dinner with two guys, snuggling on the couch with two guys, wanting affection – but not sex – and having to, what? Pick? Kiss both? Cuddle in a sandwich?"

That made Laura laugh. "I thought it would be weird, too. It kind of was, at first. Mike made a big spectacle of making sure I knew they didn't expect sex. I knew what he was doing. He really was just trying to be nice and to help me relax." She let out a puff of air. "And it was good and kind and all that, but it pissed me off. I still don't know what they were thinking, hiding the truth about their relationship from me."

"They're not gay." Josie started to unpeel a banana from Laura's fruit bowl.

Laura did a double-take. "Did anyone ever think they were?"

Through a mouthful of banana, Josie sputtered, "Ah, c'mon, Laura. Two guys with one girl?
Gay, gay, gay
."

"Not gay!" Holy smokes, not even close to gay. Laura knew gay. Gay men, that is. Her high school boyfriend her senior year had turned out to be gay. He'd come out when they were juniors in college, home at Thanksgiving and hanging out in a piano bar with a group of friends.
Ding!
A million little questions had been answered with one big answer. What other hot-blooded seventeen-year-old teenager wanted to cuddle and kiss all the time instead of banging wherever they could get a shred of privacy? Or knew all the words to the disco songs? Or liked to go clothes shopping with her?

And eyed the same guys Laura surreptitiously checked out as they had wandered the mall?

Her gaydar wasn't pinging with Mike and Dylan. No way. it was just...complicated. That's all.

Why was it always complicated?

Josie swallowed hard, trying to clear her mouth. "I know that. I asked."

"You asked?" Laura's turn to sputter.

"They closed right up. That Dylan is one scary dude when he's being cold. Mike, too – but Dylan was worse. I felt like the ice king had just cast a spell over the booth."

"You asked them that at Jeddy's? Jesus, Josie. You have some – "

"Balls. Yeah. I know. I had to ask, though. If you're just some bed toy for them, then I'm not letting anyone do that to my best friend, because that is some fucked up mental shit right there. If two gay guys are just out trawling for a chick they can bang to get off their jollies, it won't be you."

Laura started peeling a clementine. "I'm touched." She frowned. "I guess. In your own extremely convoluted way, you mean well."

"And, by the way, no foursomes. Dylan shut that one down." The orange wedge in Laura's mouth went flying across the room, landing in the sink as she did a spit take.

"You asked about a foursome?"

Josie winked. "I was just testing them."

"Oh, my God." No wonder Dylan had made a funny face when Josie's name had come up last night. Mike's arched eyebrows without a smile had made her wonder as well. What in the ever-loving hell did they think of her best friend? And how did this reflect on how they viewed her? The night had been nice. Just nice. And
just nice
was exactly what she'd needed after far too many nights of surprise, shock, passion and boundary pushes. Breaks. Annihilations.

Having a few boundaries in place where affection, banter, food and fun were all that were expected of the night had been refreshing.

And now Josie...

She wagged a finger in Josie's face. "No more foursome tests. Or jokes. Or –
ewww.
" She shuddered. "And no more going behind my back to tell them how I feel."

"Someone has to."

"Has to what?"

"Tell them how you feel. And frankly, if you won't do it, I will."

Laura plunked her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "Why? Who appointed you the keeper of my feelings?"

"Ryan."

Jolt. "You don't see me sabotaging your relationships!"

"I'm not sabotaging anything, Laura! I'm saving your relationship.
S
. relationships. Well, it's one, but with two guys. Where is Miss Manners' Plural Guide to Threesomes?"

This was getting out of hand. "To answer your original question, no. I don't have to kiss one and then the other. I asked."

"You asked!" Josie clapped her hands gleefully. "Did they hand you a neatly printed manual on how to have a perma-threesome?"

Glare. "I wish you came with a user's manual so I could find your off switch."

Smirk. "You're not the first person to say that to me."

Sigh. "And I won't be the last."

Josie reached for her hand, the gesture one of caring. "Laura. Seize this. Accept it. Yes, it's crazy. No, no one has words to describe it. And yes, I did go behind your back and tell them about you – because someone needed to. They're really great guys. You know that. Don't blow this." She released her hand and stood.

"Are you really jealous?" Laura squeaked out, surprised by Josie's tenderness.

"Jealous? Hell, yes. I don't want to take it away from you, of course." She grabbed an apple and headed toward the door. "I just wouldn't mind finding two guys like that for myself."

The door shut on her words.
Sip
. The coffee tasted better than normal. Calming and soothing yet putting her on alert to start the day. Stretching, her arms reached high and her shirt rode up a bit, exposing a thin expanse of belly flesh. Not wearing a bra, her breasts rubbed against the thin cloth of her cotton jersey, her pajamas loose and comfortable. The day was about to start and work loomed large.

Last night she'd left their apartment after watching a stupid comedy she'd picked simply because she'd already seen it the previous week, with Josie. Picking something she'd seen made sense, giving her the mental space to go through an hour and a half squished between Mike and Dylan, trying to figure out how to just be as, well – three.

Those ninety minutes, followed by gorging themselves on an amazing tiramisu Dylan had hand crafted, were like living in parallel. Half of her just enjoyed every minute, the domestic normalcy easier to sink into than she'd imagined.

The other half was the problem: judging. Questioning. Analyzing. Poking.

Doubting.

If she could just quell that half of her then this could work.
Really
work.

Where was her off switch? Her user's manual? All she needed was the good half. The half that believed, that turned toward healing and tenderness and love in whatever form it took.

Meanwhile, both halves needed a shower. She had another threesome in mind right now: her, Mr. Showerhead, and Bob, her battery-operated boyfriend. That was a threesome both halves of her could get behind.

And now she didn't have to fantasize about faceless lovers with their hands and mouths all over her. She had a very real memory to draw on.

And a very real promise of so much more. Hers for the taking, in fact, if she just reached out.

She reached out, alright. Turned on the shower, grabbed Bob, and slipped out of her jammies as the water heated up. The first spray of water hit her, tickling her shoulder with little wet pin pricks, and soon her head was under the water, her hair soaking fast as the water wended its way down her body. Ah, how different her hands felt against her own skin today. No sex last night; they'd ended the evening with warm hugs and tentative kisses, each man waiting his turn for a moment with her. It had been sweet. Mellow.

Just right.

As a smile played across her lips and she reached for the shower head, she marveled that something so simple – dinner, a movie at home, a homemade dessert, two kisses – could compete her so readily. She inhaled deeply as the spray tickled her clit, the shower head doing its magic as she balanced it in her right hand, left reaching for good old Bob. This Bob (
ah, she had a drawer full of electronic boyfriends...
) was purple and shiny and sleek. No need for a clit attachment when she had a shower head. And now, she no longer held Bob and the spray nozzle, but instead that was Dylan's mouth.

Mike's hands roamed her back, soaping her as his torso slid along her rib cage, hard muscle hot and wet, the spray bouncing off skin the color of sun-kissed honey, his face wet and eyes intense, mouth reaching down for hers as his fingers slipped between her legs and began to stroke her.

Now Dylan's mouth was on her, kissing her hips, her ass, desire pooling and expanding deep inside, eager to clamp down on him as he thrust inside her, little sighs and groans in need of a reason to be made. Ah, those abs, wet and slick and rubbing against her breasts, lips on hers, tongue exploring as Mike's hands did their magic on her clit, tracing lazy circles that took her breath away again. Again. And again, hitching higher as he built an orgasm from scratch, like a fine artisan plying his trade, infusing the final work with a delicacy and craftsmanship only one, lone man could spin. A lone man with eyes that cut through her flesh like a hot knife in butter, hands melting her skin to a core of need that pulsed, red and eager for more of him. Of them. Of all three as one.