Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (32 page)

“So you’re from Iowa, are ya?” one of the guys said as Sam settled in. “Hawkeyes, or Cyclones?”

“I’m not one for sports,” Sam admitted. “Though I always thought it would be pretty to live in Ames, so Cyclones, I guess.”

“I’m from Sioux City. Born and raised. Moved out here ten years ago because I got sick of the snow. But I did like goin’ to Ames for the football games. Especially the Iowa/Iowa State game. God, those games were a good drunk.” He elbowed Mitch. “Usually could convince some of the frat boys to give you a piece too, if you played your cards right.”

The idea of introducing himself to frat boys for a fucking both excited and terrified Sam. He reached for his beer and found it had been refilled.

“You go to Iowa State?” the Sioux City man asked.

Sam set his beer down. “Middleton Community College. I’m studying nursing.”

It was a little depressing that even at a table full of gay men, this still garnered snickers, though he quickly learned it wasn’t the usual mockery when a man on the other side of Randy asked if he was giving free physicals later. Sam blushed and sank deeper into the booth.

Randy stroked his thigh.

It was a tentative move, which had Sam feeling wicked realizing he’d managed to unnerve a man he’d started to think was part goat. So Sam decided to encourage Randy, opening his legs and giving him a quiet invitation to continue. It was a lot easier now that he’d had some release, but when Randy’s hand slid between his legs, cupping him, he still reacted, though thankfully not as strongly.

Sam looked across the table. Mitch watched, and his gaze inspired Sam to be even more open to Randy’s daring fingers. His eyes were all for Mitch, though, reveling in the way
he
watched so boldly, clearly knowing what was going on underneath the table, enjoying it as much as Sam. He remembered the way Mitch nudged him at Randy, giving Sam to his friend. The memory made Sam shudder.

Randy leaned over and nuzzled Sam’s cheek. “You doin’ okay, Peaches?” When Sam nodded, Randy purred and lowered Sam’s zipper. Sam didn’t move, not until Mitch’s foot nudged his own. Randy glanced across the table at Mitch, his expression wicked as he deftly pulled Sam’s half-rigid cock from his underwear.

“You’re a little under the weather,” Randy murmured, stroking him. “Don’t tell me I’m doing something wrong.”

Sam kept watching Mitch. “Huh-uh.”

“Scared?” Randy licked Sam’s ear.

The toe of Mitch’s boot ran up the inside of his jeans, and Sam shut his eyes. “No.” He tipped his head back to give Randy better access to his neck.

Randy’s hand on Sam’s dick was suddenly a little tight. Sitting up, Sam saw Randy narrow his eyes at Mitch, who wore a smug expression. Randy let go of Sam and swore under his breath.

“You whore,” he said, whether to Sam or Mitch it wasn’t clear.

Mitch offered up a mocking kiss before turning to Sam. “You ready to go have dinner on the strip, Sunshine?”

It had been a long time since Randy’s egg casserole, which hadn’t digested well with how much the laundry incident had unsettled him. Sam nodded, fastened his pants and took one last drink of his beer before rising with Mitch out of the booth. Randy came too, but he didn’t touch Sam anymore as he and Mitch said their goodbyes to their friends, not until they were heading out the door, and there he did nothing more than grab Sam’s elbow. “You let him get you off in the bathroom.”

Mitch tossed his keys in his hand with a joyful twist.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Well, you know the rules. You only get so long at the piñata, and then someone else gets to try.”

Randy laughed, but Mitch sobered. “Sorry, Sam. I don’t mean to make you a game.”

Sam squeezed his arm. “I don’t mind,” he said, and he warmed when Mitch smiled at him.

Mitch drove, leaving Randy free rein with Sam, but he was much less aggressive. He still smarted, apparently, from being bested, and was seeking a new course of action. But Sam thought maybe he respected Sam more too.
Maybe this will work, and I won’t screw them up again.
He encouraged Randy’s hand higher on his thigh.

They parked in a garage and headed up the Strip, letting Sam gawk and point at the lights and the sights. He saw the Luxor pyramid, and the castle of Excalibur, and the mini New York City. They ate at the buffet at the Mirage, then stopped at the Paris casino and gambled a little, but after losing five dollars in less than three minutes, Sam refused to play anymore, preferring to sit on Mitch’s knee and cheer him on, until he too gave up, and they went to find where Randy had gone.

“I can’t believe you lost forty dollars that fast, and you don’t care,” Sam said, still shaken by the thought as he followed Mitch across the casino floor.

Mitch shrugged. “Randy will make up for it. But speaking of money—” He pulled a fifty out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. “I believe this is yours.”

Sam stared at the money. “Is that the money I put down at the bar?”

“I gave you money.” Mitch tried to stick the bill in Sam’s pocket.

Sam backed away, getting angry. “I wanted to buy my own drink. And I bought Tyke’s too.” When Mitch caught his hands and forced the bill into his jeans, he fought him, torn between his rage and his reluctance to make a scene. “
Mitch!
”

“You need to save your money for school.” Mitch shoved the money in place and let him go. Sam sputtered and reared back to give him some sass, but Mitch walked away, calm as you please, leaving Sam little choice but to trail along behind him, quietly steaming. When they came to the blackjack table where Randy played, Sam went to the other side of Randy, keeping himself as far away from Mitch as possible.

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.” Randy sounded pleased. He kept his eyes on the table as the dealer laid down his card, then raised a finger to indicate he wanted another.

Sam watched the card come down. Randy held up his hand, sat back and waited, first as the other player went over and then as the dealer went over twenty-one as well. Randy clapped his hands once and looked with satisfaction at the cards.

“Peaches, you bring me luck.” He scooped up his chips.

Mitch nodded at a set of tables across the room. “Figured you’d be playing poker.”

“Warming up, warming up.” Randy stood, put an arm around each of their shoulders and glanced between the two of them. He did a double take at Sam. “Peaches, what happened?”

“Leave it,” Mitch said, which only made Sam angrier.

He slid his arm around Randy’s waist. “So, you’re good at gambling?”

“I’m not bad,” Randy said, clearly indicating he thought he was pretty fucking good.

Sam reached into his pocket, pulled out the fifty and held it up. “Win something with this for me.”

Randy appeared puzzled, but when he caught Mitch’s glower, he laughed. “Okay. But what do I get for it?”

“Well—” Sam didn’t know. He didn’t care. He only liked seeing Mitch not so sure of himself. “The money?”

“I don’t
want
the money, honey.” Randy trailed his hand down Sam’s back. “What do I get, Sam, if I double this for you?”

His hand teased at Sam’s waistband, his thumb lifting up Sam’s T-shirt to scrape against his skin, and the motion bled the last of Sam’s anger out of him. “I—I don’t know. What do you want?”

“Shit.” Mitch unhooked himself from Randy and turned away. Sam saw him reaching for his packet of cigarettes.

“Peaches, Peaches, Peaches,” Randy said, “you are so much fun. What do I want? Oh my. The possibilities. Let me think.”

Sam swallowed as Randy’s fingers slipped into his waistband. It was a given he’d be offering some sort of sexual act. “I—” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I could give you a blowjob.”

“Boring.” Randy’s fingers wedged between his cheeks. “I want this, honey. Your ass.”

Sam stiffened. “I’m not going to let you fuck me for—”

“Not fuck,” Randy corrected, and caressed Sam’s cheek. “I want to lick it.”

Heat slammed into Sam. “For h-how long?”

“How long did you give Mitch in the bathroom?”

Sam blushed. “A minute and a half?”

“I want five.” Randy nodded at Mitch. “And he watches.”

That, actually, had been the only part Sam worried about: being alone with Randy. “Okay. What do I get if
you
lose?”

“What do you want?”

Sam had no idea. He tried to think of what Randy had that he wanted. Anything sexual would please him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask for that anyway. He bit his lip, trying to think.

“I won’t lose, just so you know.” Randy unhooked his arm to pocket the fifty. “How about if I lose, I teach you to play poker?”

“If you lose,” Sam said, “you have to answer any questions I ask for five minutes. Answer them
honestly
.”

“Deal.” Randy tucked his cup of chips into the crook of his arm and rubbed his hands together. “Now. Who’s dealing tonight?”

It took Randy several minutes to choose a table, and when he finally sat down, he was serious in his play. Sam stood behind him, not really understanding the game. Before he could even pretend to understand what was going on, it abruptly concluded.

Randy lost.

“Patience,” he said, unconcerned, when Sam gave him a look of surprise. “Poker is about the pot, Peaches. Besides, I’m still warming up my hands.” He leaned close and added, “I’ll be sure to have them nice and toasty before I collect.”

Sam retreated behind the chair and didn’t shrink away when Mitch came up beside him.

“What’d you bet?” he asked, as they watched the dealer pass out new cards.

Sam leaned in close and whispered to him. Mitch gave a quiet grunt that could have meant anything, and Sam added, “But you have to watch.”

Mitch’s lips quirked in a small smile. He leaned forward and clapped a hand on Randy’s shoulder. “Win big, Skeet.” He rocked on his heels, settling in to watch.

Randy did. He took the next hand, and the one after that. He lost on the third but not by much, and then he won three times in a row. He picked up his stack, held them up near his shoulder without turning around and said, “That’s one hundred, Peaches.”

Sam blushed as he stared, hypnotized by the neat stack of chips. They might as well have been a dildo, for their effect on him. But then they vanished, and Randy set them on the table.

“Double or nothing.” Randy motioned to the dealer. “I’m in for another.”

“All at once?” Sam cried.

“That’s not how you play poker,” Randy said, but he wasn’t mocking. “No worries, baby. I’ll get you your money.”

Sam did, trying not to look like a yokel. Randy’s long fingers curled over the edges of his cards, his body posture relaxed as he continued to play. He won his hand, pushed out more chips, and won the next too. He lost two after that, but the next pot was huge, and he won it, and after the next hand, when Randy won again, a huge grin split his face.

Randy rose, nodded to his fellow players and scooped up his chips. Then he kissed Sam on his cheek. “Time to collect.”

Sam rubbed the spot on his face that he’d kissed. It felt electric. “What—
now
?”

“That’s right.” Randy glanced at Mitch, and for a minute it was the poker game all over again. Whatever went on in their stoic exchange, it ended when Randy turned away in disgust. “Double bluff. I should have known.”

“What?” Sam’s heart hammered so loudly it echoed in his head.

“I think we can find a place down the hallway on the second floor.” Mitch jerked his head toward an escalator.

Randy snorted and pulled Sam against him. “You can’t let him win all night, you know.”

Sam tripped over his feet as they led him away from the floor. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Randy grimaced and nodded at Mitch, who all but ran to the escalator. “If I’d have known how badly he wanted to watch, I would have insisted he not.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed.” Sam caught the eye of several people they passed, wondering what they’d think if they knew he was about to go off and let someone lick his ass to satisfy a bet. While his boyfriend watched.

“Yes, I know.” Randy pursed his lips. “I’m losing my touch, I think.”

“We’re seriously going to do this
in the hotel
?” Sam felt they’d strayed from the important detail of this scene.

“Know just the place.” Mitch sounded cheerful as he hopped onto the bottom stair of the escalator.

Oh my God.
Sam looked at them both. “You’ve done this
before
?”

“Yes,” Mitch answered, but at the same time Randy said quietly, “Not quite like this.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

They led Sam to a bathroom.

It was a single stall far, far at the end of a hall, situated near a ballroom which at the moment wasn’t being used. The way to it was dark, and from the look the security guard gave them, they weren’t the first ones to consider the out-of-the-way room’s potential alternate uses. But Sam soon learned he’d misunderstood, because as soon as Mitch pressed some money into his hand, the guard smiled and left.