Playing the Game (8 page)

His knowing, intimate tone made her want to hide. A mocking evaluation of her performance wasn’t something she’d expected from Jay.

Two rapid thrusts from Henry sent her thoughts skittering away.

“Alice is receiving compensations your behavior does not yet merit this evening, Jay.” Henry’s voice held an edge. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten how vulnerable and exposed you felt at your first scene?”

Jay collapsed into a crouch, his eyes level with her own. Deep brown pools of apology studied her face.

She gazed at the tablecloth.

“Damn. I…Alice, I talk a lot. I mean,
a lot
. You know that. I wasn’t laughing at you or trying to say you’ve been anything less than amazing tonight. I just really enjoyed it, and I’m hoping you did, too, and I let my mouth run away with me. Henry’s right, as usual. It’s too soon to tease. I’m so sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable, especially right now.”

Jay paused, head moving in her peripheral vision.

She flicked her gaze upward to meet his.

“I’m sorry, Alice. I hope I haven’t…I hope you can forgive me and my stupid mouth.”

She shifted, a slight roll through her shoulders, a twitch in her toes. The motion made her more aware of Henry’s presence behind her, the solid bulk of him pressed against her, intimately joined. He spoke, then, while she struggled to think of a response.

“Jay. Washcloths. Alice is neither obligated to accept your apology nor required to grant forgiveness.” His voice softened. “A few moments, Jay, please.”

“Right. Right.” Jay stood as quickly as he’d crouched.

She tracked him until he passed out of sight.

Henry caressed her back with lips and tongue, tracing the lines of her shoulder blades in a pattern known only to him. His hips thrust at intervals she couldn’t predict. It was…nice. A continuing reminder that he was pleased with her, content to take his time and enjoy her closeness. If the evening’s fun had ended, at least he wasn’t about to toss her out the door.

Henry murmured her name against her skin. “There’s no need for shame or embarrassment or uncertainty here, dearest. If events have moved too quickly, we will stop and reassess. But your place here is assured. Would it please you to know the suggestion to consider inviting you into a more intimate relationship was first raised the day we met?”

She turned her head in surprise, though she couldn’t quite see Henry.

Sliding his arms forward alongside her own, he lifted her fingers and interlaced them with his.

“You have many attractive qualities, Alice. Your vibrancy and beauty, your well-spoken demeanor, your keen intelligence, your kind heart. All things Jay and I have come to enjoy as the three of us have deepened our friendship. This evening was not solely spur-of-the-moment, my dear, and it is my hope you will not come away from it feeling ill-used or abandoned.”

Henry wouldn’t lie to her. Savoring the full-body contact, she filed his words away. He’d given her a respite from the unrequited lust and the doubts she’d harbored all year, and left a burning torch in their place to illuminate her desirability.

“That’s why you wanted me to be specific. To say what I wanted.”

“Yes. You feel, perhaps, that you have given up control here? And now, afterward, that realization makes you nervous, perhaps.”

“I liked it.” She was a grown woman, a confident sexual creature, and she made her own choices, dammit. She didn’t need to apologize for them, not even to herself.

“I am not disputing that you did, Alice.” His soft, unthreatening tone soothed, just as his thumbs stroking along her own offered comfort. “I found your pleasure quite gratifying for my own ego, in fact.”

“That’s good, right? You’re in charge. You should be happy. Gratified. Satisfied.”

“Mmm. That is correct on its face in some respects and inaccurate in other ways unsaid. Your current uncertainty is in some ways a result of my own misjudgment. I ought to have insisted upon having the conversation first and enjoying its fruits afterward, though I cannot deny having greatly enjoyed partaking.”

“It was my fault, Henry. You warned me, and I kept pushing anyway.” Jay’s voice was loud, coming from the hall to the bedrooms and bath. He arrived with pants refastened and a damp washcloth draped over one hand. “I was too impatient.”

“Okay, wait a minute. That’s enough, from
both
of you.” She shrugged her hands free and raised herself on her elbows, trying to ignore the pleasant rocking of her hips. “I’m feeling vulnerable, or whatever, maybe, yeah. How I feel is my choice, and the two of you need to stop, I don’t know, fighting over ownership of my feelings. Maybe we all feel we could’ve been a little more something and a little less something else. But any one of us could’ve put the brakes on at any time. You made sure I understood that, Henry.”

She startled a laugh out of Jay.

“Oh, she’s good. More than a match for our self-flagellation.”

Henry pressed a kiss to her right temple.

“Well said, my dear.” He straightened up and stretched out his right arm.

Jay laid the washcloth across his palm.

Even propped on her elbows, she couldn’t see far enough over her shoulder to watch Henry then, but she felt his hands. One on himself, his knuckles brushing her swollen lips, probably holding the condom in place, while the other pressed the washcloth against her, encompassing her sex in its warmth. She held back a whine at the loss of fullness and connection as he pulled out.

He cradled her with the washcloth, clearing away the evidence of her enthusiastic response to his touch.

Cherished. The feeling she hadn’t been able to name. Something previous partners had never accomplished. She stood still and let him make her fresh and clean and relaxed in their company once more. He seemed to think the responsibility was his. She wasn’t sure where the boundaries were yet, but she was beginning to feel them out.

Henry excused himself, walking away with the washcloth in one hand, pants held up with the other.

She stretched her back as she straightened and allowed her dress to fall into place.

Looking at the table, Jay sighed. “I’m gonna need a new plate. This one’s got a little something on it.”

She chuckled at the understatement. Drying lines and drops of ejaculate had liberally splattered the plate.

“Are you sure you aren’t the artist? The plate makes a good canvas for your work.”

“Naw, these are just cheap reproductions. I’m like Thomas Kinkade. I could churn out three, maybe four of these a day.”

She laughed even before he’d finished speaking.

“If you want real artistry, you’ll have to ask Henry. I’m sure he picked brightly colored plates on purpose when he had me set the table.”

“He’s always thinking ahead, huh?” She turned her gaze to the floor, searching for her underwear. They’d be uncomfortable now, cool and sticky, but she supposed she ought to put them on. Going without wasn’t ladylike.

“Always. And you won’t find them there, your little black panties. They’re in Henry’s pocket.”

“He took them with him?”

The presumption left her flattered, a bit, that he wanted them. Irritated, a bit, because they were her nicest pair. Nervous, a bit, and aroused, because she was keenly aware of the air moving against her labia every time she shifted her legs.

“He might launder them and give them back to you later. Or he might keep them as a memento or to use in some other game. Who knows?” Jay seemed unconcerned by the prospect. “You can always ask him. No guarantees he’ll answer, though.”

“Ah, gone three minutes and Jay is giving all of my secrets away, I see.”

Henry, like Jay, was now fastened and buttoned away. The formality seemed more appropriate on him, though she flashed on an image of him disheveled and lying beneath her, sweaty and sated, atop green silk sheets that matched his eyes.

“Jay, if you’ll replace your plate–unless you prefer the personalized design–I’ll put the finishing touches on dinner. It won’t take but a moment. And Alice, though you haven’t asked, you are, of course, free to do so. If you want your underwear returned for the rest of the evening, however, you’ll need to say your word.”

Was he serious? Firm gaze, one eyebrow arched. Waiting for her reply. Yes, definitely serious. Did she want to use her word to stop him? Hadn’t things stopped already? Or had they started again now? Fuck it. She didn’t want to stop.

“It’s that important to you?”

“The important question for you, Alice, is which is more important to
you
. How attached are you to the idea of wearing underwear? Is this something you feel you cannot sacrifice? Search yourself for your boundaries. Whatever the answer, you will find no judgment here.”

“I’ve never…no one’s ever asked me to…” She paused, considering, grateful when Henry didn’t rush to fill the silence and Jay picked up his plate and moved into the kitchen.
No pressure.

She meant it sarcastically, but the thought rang true. Henry would accept her choice either way, and maybe he’d rearrange his thoughts about her comfort level, but he wouldn’t be angry with her. She shifted her legs and found her answer.

“No. You keep ‘em. I’m okay with that, I think.” She smiled. “As long as your chairs are okay with that.”

Henry winked. “The slipcovers are more than decorative, my dear. They’re also washable.”

Hell, if things had stopped, they’d started again. She’d be lucky to get through dinner with the renewed tingling in her pussy. Even distracted by a mix of satisfaction and arousal, though, she couldn’t fault Henry’s hospitality or his cooking.

He served up a tart, crunchy salad with pears and blue cheese and almonds. Not something she’d have taken the time to make herself, but then she didn’t always take the time to make breakfast, either, and he’d brought her an apple fritter this morning. She’d never had less than a fantastic meal any time they’d extended the invitation.
Must add sex to the list of things Henry does well. Really well.

Henry didn’t talk about the sex, though. He talked about the meal. Shared amusing details of his trip to the fish market to buy the lobster, cod and clams for the main dish, a colorful seafood paella she’d have considered the highlight of the evening if not for the sex.

She excused herself to use the bathroom while Henry cut the dessert, a decadent strawberry-pineapple cheesecake she couldn’t wait to taste. She stared at the soap bubbles on her hands as she washed them.

Henry must’ve spent the whole day in the kitchen. The dinner was important to him. Because she was? What had he said about Jay having wanted her for months? Or wanting her to see him sexually, at least.

“He didn’t pack us a lunch.”

She shut off the water, dried her hands and took her time rehanging the towel.

“If it was just about letting Jay play with a girl, Henry could’ve done his behind-the-scenes thing and I never would’ve known.”

What made the most sense?

She studied herself in the mirror, considering.

“Jay said something to Henry the day we met. Henry knew the neighbor thing would make this more complicated than some Fourth of July fling for Jay. If Henry said no, Jay would accept his decision.”

She didn’t know what had prompted Henry to allow this tonight if Jay had been asking all year. Or why Henry had fucked her but Jay hadn’t. Some kind of control thing?

She tapped the counter, losing herself in the clicking echoes off the tile. “Henry’s showing Jay he’s still in charge, even if he approves of Jay pursuing meaningless sex with me now?”

No matter what he said, Henry was absolutely in charge. She’d never had such an instantaneous response to a man or behaved so out of control, as if her body wasn’t even hers then but his. She’d worked hard to climax with previous partners, when she’d made it happen at all, but with Henry the surrender was effortless.

“Never spent most of a year fantasizing about a guy before, either. Face it, Allie-girl, you did this to yourself. He snaps his fingers, and it’s all arousal avalanche.”

She shook her head and blew out a breath. Henry, at least, would realize she was having a complete freak-out in their bathroom if she didn’t get back soon.

Satisfaction ran deep in her smile as she pushed the fears away and reminded herself of what mattered.