Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (30 page)

“Detroit.” As Randy poured the meat in with the eggs and added the cheese and other ingredients, he kept talking, and Sam leaned back in his chair and pretended to listen.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mitch slept for three hours. Sam spent the first two edging around Randy and doing laundry, and for the last one he slept beside Mitch, partly to escape Randy, who seemed ready to cause more trouble, and partly because he was tired too. The room was warm, though, with sun beating against the curtains and the air conditioning only sort of working in there, so Sam stripped down to the buff before sliding in beside Mitch, who grunted, rolled over and drew Sam to his chest before falling back to sleep.

When Sam woke, Mitch was already awake, kissing his neck as his hand moved to the part of Sam that hadn’t needed consciousness to come to life. Sam moaned softly as Mitch stroked him in earnest, and when they both reached a fever pitch, Mitch turned him over and drew their cocks together in his hand, masturbating them until first he and then Sam came.

“We’re hell on sheets.” Sam smiled as he settled, sated, against Mitch’s shoulder.

Mitch traced lazy patterns on Sam’s arm. “Randy give you any shit while I was out?” When Sam didn’t answer, Mitch’s hand fell away. “Fuck. I should have known better.” His fingers drifted up, teasing tentatively at Sam’s hair. “You want us to get out of here?”

“He’s your friend.” Sam kept thinking how Randy had admitted they were also more. “You haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“You ever think there might be a reason for that?”

Sam lifted his head to look at Mitch. “Then why did we come here at all? Why didn’t you tell me no?”

“Fuck if I know.” Mitch shut his eyes and fell back against his pillow. “It’s always this way when I come to Vegas. Starts everything up again. Makes me feel crazy.”

“Vegas or Randy?”

“They go hand in hand.” Mitch tucked his arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Randy and I traveled together for years. We worked the same company, and we pooled our earnings. Randy bought this place, and I bought Old Blue. We did long runs together all over the country, taking turns driving. We got into all kinds of trouble. I get itchy feet, and Randy gets homesick. He loves Vegas. He loves wild parties and lots of people. I like open spaces. It got bad toward the end. So we split. You’re kind of witnessing the awkward reunion.”

Sam lay there for a minute, digesting all this.

Mitch’s hand tightened briefly on his arm. “How long, Sunshine? How long are you gonna stay on the road with me?”

Sam faltered. “I—I don’t know.”

“Another month? Another week? Another day? When do you want me to look for a job heading east?” He stroked Sam’s shoulder. “Or don’t you want to go back?”

“I have to eventually.” Sam stared across the room at a pile of boxes balanced precariously on top of an old computer monitor. “All my stuff is there. I have bills, and—well, I guess at some point I’ll have to go back to school. Or drop out. Or something.” He swirled his finger in Mitch’s chest hair. “But I think I’ll go. To school.”

“In Iowa.”

“Well—yeah. Since it’s where I live.”

There was a long, heavy pause.

“You wouldn’t…maybe move somewhere else?” Mitch’s tone implied he was carefully avoiding land mines.

Sam’s heart beat faster. What was Mitch asking? Why was he asking it? “Well,” he said, even more carefully than Mitch, “that would depend.”

“On?”

“I need to finish school. If I could go full-time this fall, I’d be done by next December. After that, I could go anywhere. But in other states I’d have to pass the nursing boards. Which isn’t such a big deal, just more money.”

More silence.

Sam looked out across the landscape of Mitch’s chest, running his fingers into the wiry hairs and down toward his stomach, teasing the lingering beads of semen pooled around his abdomen. “I guess that’s real life for you. I can’t expect every day to be a vacation.”

Mitch said nothing, only continued to stroke Sam’s hair.

Sam skimmed his fingers down and rested them on Mitch’s hip. “I can probably go another week or so.”

“I’ll keep my eye out for something heading to Chicago.” Mitch’s fingers grazed Sam’s ear. “What do you want to do, until then? Somewhere else you want to see? Or have you had enough of the road?”

I want to stay with you.
Sam shrugged. “I’m flexible.” His finger swirled around Mitch’s bellybutton, making sticky circles. “I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Mitch snorted. “We shouldn’t stay here, in that case.”

Sam stared out across the room. He felt oddly numb, but behind it there was a great deal of sadness.
This is going to end.
Something told him being on the road again was only going to amplify this. Maybe it would be easier here with Randy reminding him he was only something different to pass the time, a buffalo after all.

“We can play it by ear.” Sam slid his leg alongside Mitch’s beneath the sheets.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Sam and Mitch scrambled to get out of the way as Randy launched himself headlong at the center of the mattress.

“Skeet,” Mitch growled, tugging the sheet up over Sam’s middle. “You are a fucking menace.”

“What do you expect, if the two of you are going to stay in here all afternoon and party without me?” Randy rolled over, his eyes boldly raking Sam’s naked body, especially his belly. “I see Peaches already had his shower.”

Mitch pulled the sheet higher, subtly wiping at the semen on Sam’s skin as he did so. “Don’t you have a job or something?”

“Off today.” Randy’s grin showed teeth. “And tonight. What do you say we show your little cherub a night on the town? We can do the mild version tonight, but let me pull some strings at work and maybe tomorrow we can get into something serious to carry us into the weekend.”

“Where do you work?” Sam felt moderately safe in the circle of Mitch’s arms, even if Randy eyed him as if he were a Vegas buffet.

“I do short runs for a company operating out of Vegas, but I work distribution there too. I play prop, and sometimes I tend bar at the Hole. Which”—he leaned over to slap Mitch’s leg—“we need to get you to, now that you’re conscious. People will want to say hi.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Mitch said, but Sam thought he heard some longing in his voice.

Sam turned in his arms. “I don’t care where we go. I mean, it’d be fun to see the Strip at night, but even a cab ride would be enough.”

Randy looked horrified. “You cannot come to Vegas and just take a cab ride.”

“Sam, going anywhere with this idiot is going to land us in trouble,” Mitch warned.

Now Randy was angry. “What, you don’t come home for two years, and you give me your laundry while you take a nap, and that’s all I get?” He sneered. “Well, I guess you haven’t changed.”

Mitch tensed, and Sam held up a hand. “Hold on, both of you. Mitch, I’d love to meet your friends. Or your enemies. Or whatever. A night on the town sounds fun. I’ve never done that before, except in Denver with you.” Mitch’s eyes softened, reflecting remembered heat, and Sam blushed before turning to Randy. “You’re insane, but I bet you’re fun. If you can stop trying to scare me off every ten seconds, I’d be open to a night out with you.” When Randy lifted an eyebrow at him, Sam folded his arms over his chest, resolute. “Yes, I know you’d rather have Mitch to yourself, but I’m here, so just cope.”

“I’m not trying to scare you.” Randy leaned on one elbow and gave Mitch a leer. “
He
knows what I want. And I know what
he
wants.”

Mitch glared. “Fuck off.”

Randy blew him a kiss and slid closer to Sam. “A night out sounds fun. We’ll get dressed, go to the bar, hit a buffet for dinner and see the town.” He touched Sam’s clavicle, tracing the line of it to his sternum. “Maybe we can catch a show. Who do you want to see, Peaches?”

His finger traced the planes of Sam’s chest, and they all watched, hypnotized. Sam felt the touch like an electric charge, especially when Mitch didn’t say anything, just watched too, his fingers tightening slightly on the sheet over Sam’s stomach.

Sam swallowed, trying not to shiver as Randy’s finger strayed near his nipple. “I—I don’t know. Anything is fine.”

“I thought you looked flexible.” Randy’s finger skirted the dark ring of his target. “Something edgy, I think. Off the Strip.”

His fingers splayed, five points resting on Sam’s chest, spanning the nipple. The fingers moved, grazing it, making it form a tentative peak. Smiling at it, Randy flicked his finger again. Sam twitched, but otherwise didn’t move. Mitch’s hand flexed, and Sam’s breathing quickened, but otherwise he gave no reaction.

Randy stroked the nipple more regularly until it was a prominent, pink and hardened bud.

“We could go to the Stratosphere.” Randy rotated his thumb over the sensitive area. “You haven’t been up the tower, Mitch, since they put in the rides.”

“Sam doesn’t like heights.” Mitch’s fingers slid lower down Sam’s belly, pulling the sheet with them. They teased the tip of Sam’s erection, and Mitch pressed his hips forward, letting Sam feel his own.

Randy’s thumb joined his fingers, and he pinched Sam’s nipple gently. “That’s a shame. We’ll have to think of something else to do all three of us can enjoy.” He pinched again, and Sam shuddered. “What do you say, Sam? What should the three of us do?”

Sam couldn’t breathe. Randy gently tweaked his nipple, felt Mitch close his hand over his erection beneath the sheet and simply held still, letting the men touch him. The tension between them was so tight it bounced, but Randy slid beneath it, his entry point Sam’s nipple.

Then Randy leaned forward, pinched the nipple firmly once more and licked it.

Sam gasped as the tongue darted out, pink and fat, and he shuddered as it scraped over his flesh. Behind him he felt Mitch swell.

“Randy,” Mitch growled, but it was difficult to tell if he spoke in anger or desire.

“Shh.” Randy licked again. Sam shut his eyes and pressed helplessly into Mitch’s hand. “See? He’s into it.” He licked a third time, laving him openly, and Sam gave up and cried out.

“Mitch,” he called, and arched toward Randy’s mouth.

“Sunshine.” Mitch’s voice was low and rough. “Do you want him to stop?”

No,
Sam thought, but couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Such sweet little buds,” Randy whispered, his other hand grazing Sam’s stomach. “Let me play with him awhile. You like to watch, Mitch. Watch this.”

Sam cried out as Randy’s mouth closed over his nipple, sucking the small bud into his mouth. His fingers dug into the mattress as Randy teased the sensitive flesh with his teeth, then opened his mouth over it and flicked lewdly with his tongue as his hand trailed down over Sam’s stomach, seeking out the sticky residue. Then he continued farther down, teasing at the nest of curls around Sam’s erection.

Sam held himself back, too afraid to let go. What did Mitch think of this? What would this do to them? He tried to turn to look at him, but Randy sucked, and Sam convulsed. Mitch’s hand tightened tentatively on his hair as his other hand gripped the edge of the sheet. Mitch’s cock, hot and hard, pressed between the juncture of his legs, against Sam’s aching balls as his hand grazed Sam’s thigh. When Mitch hesitated, Sam knew Mitch wanted to open him, to give him to Randy’s waiting hand. Sam wanted it too. He wanted to yield, to be exposed, to feel both men’s hands on him.

I want this,
Sam admitted to himself, and he let his body go slack and pliant, waiting for Mitch to take him over the edge.

But Mitch’s hand went up, not down, and it shoved Randy gently but firmly away. “Give us a minute, Skeet.”

Randy lifted his head, a protest ready on his lips, but whatever he saw in Mitch’s eyes stilled him. He shut his mouth, and to Sam’s surprise, without so much as a saucy comment, he left.

Mitch rolled Sam onto his back and leaned over him.

His expression was strange. He seemed sad and eager and…something else. Resigned? Yet also hopeful. He was a strange, un-Mitch-like mix, and it confused Sam even more.

“Sunshine, do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know.” Sam lowered his eyes to Mitch’s chest, his face heating. “Maybe?”

“We’ve been dancin’ around this for awhile.” Mitch stroked his cheek. “I’ll admit, you open up like a flower, Sam, when two men touch you. But I don’t—I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t do it with just anyone.” Sam flushed deeper. “I don’t want to make things awkward for you.”

“Having sex with you is not awkward. And I will admit, I’m open to the idea of…sharing. I want to do this with you. But not if it’s going to hurt you. And Randy—” He wiped his mouth. “Randy’s a bit fucked up. You sure you want it to be with him?”

Sam didn’t know that either. He worried about what Randy was doing, about his jealousy. But what right did he have to be possessive? Randy would stay in Mitch’s life. He wouldn’t.

“We can get an escort,” Mitch suggested, skimming his hand up Sam’s hip. “It doesn’t have to be him.”

But Sam knew it did, somehow. They could bring in anybody to be the third, but Randy would still be there, forever between them.
Finish this,
he told himself.
Finish this, one way or another.
He lifted his face and looked at Mitch. “I want to do it.”