The Sextet - Dirty Dancing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

“She believed me, though.” Sean nodded at Rhys. “Never did take you seriously.”

Rhys could understand that. He’d teased and he’d kidded, but he’d never sworn his undying love. He hadn’t seen the point as long as she belonged to another man. Obviously that would have to change. “So, you actually told her we loved her… Hmm… Wouldn’t have thought you’d ever be that astute.”

“Doesn’t hurt that it’s true, either,” Brayden pointed out. He hopped off his barstool. “My turn to dance with her. I’ll get her to come home with us. You just watch me.”

Rhys wasn’t sure this was the best plan, but, then again, a little time alone on the dance floor with each of them might be just the ticket. “Go for it, Bray. Tell her how much you love her.”

“Sweep her off her feet,” Nigel suggested.

Brayden shook his head. “You gits are fuckin’ clueless, you know that?”

“Just don’t make her cry,” Sean put in. “Not sure that helped our case much.”

“Don’t plan to,” Brayden said. “I’m gonna get her so fuckin’ hot she’ll be begging us to take her home and fuck the livin’ shit out of her.”

“My, how romantic that sounds,” Nigel said dryly.

Brayden snorted and climbed up the barstool and then onto the bar. “Hey, you, over there by the jukebox. Play me some Don Henley. You know the one I mean.”

The intro to “All She Wants to Do Is Dance” began, and Brayden nodded his approval. He gazed down at Geneva and began swiveling his hips to the beat.

Rhys clapped his hands and sang along. Nigel and Sean joined in as Brayden spun and leaped from the bar to land squarely in front of Geneva. He never took her in his arms, but enticed her with his whole body. His hands speared through her hair, then his ass ground sinuously against her mound before twirling her around to dry-fuck her butt while he licked her ear. No doubt about it, he had what it took to make Michael Jackson’s dancing style look tame.

The swaggering beat of the instrumental bridge between verses was perfect for getting behind Geneva and strutting her down to the end of the bar and out into the crowd. Rhys had never seen her move like that. Seeming reluctant at first—even wary—pretty soon, she was on the dance floor giving it right back to Brayden, snatching his hair and pulling him down with it. Rhys could’ve sworn she bit him on the neck.

Face to face, Brayden grabbed her hips and yanked them forward in repeated pelvic thrusts while he slid down her body. Reaching her skirt, he took the fabric in his teeth and shook his head back and forth as he ran his hands up her legs. Even with his face in her crotch and his hands on her ass, Brayden was
still
dancing. Any second now, Rhys expected him to duck his head under there and lick her.

His own cock was about to ignite. Geneva was probably wearing panties, but what if Brayden’s hands were underneath them, his fingers kneading her hot, naked ass? Rhys faltered for a moment, actually forgetting the words to the song as Brayden jumped up and leaned in. He must’ve said something to her, for Geneva tossed her hair back, laughing as she took him by the hips and spun him around. When she started banging against Brayden’s ass, Rhys had to steel himself to keep from whipping out his dick and wanking it.

He didn’t need to. Rhys had banged that particular manhole countless times, but watching Geneva only
pretending
to do it soon had his cock erupting into his jeans.

I sure picked one helluva night to go commando…

Still gasping from his ejaculation, he glanced at the clock above the bar. Ten minutes to closing time.
Thank God.

* * * *

Geneva swatted Brayden on the buns when their dance ended. She had them all pegged now. True, she’d known and liked them for some time, but this shift in emphasis from casual flirtation to determined pursuit revealed more of their characters than ever before. Sean was reticent, but sincere, the kind of rock-solid man who would stick by you no matter what. Nigel was a passionate thief of hearts with unsuspected and unexplored depths. Rhys, beneath his irrepressible wit and charm, was a hopeless romantic, and Brayden, though outrageous, was absolutely adorable.

She was going home with them, of course, if for no other reason than to get a look at the enormous bed Nigel had mentioned. The trick was how to say it. Should she simply walk up to them and say, “Yes!” or should she be more subtle?

Closing time came, and she stood at the door, saying goodnight to her patrons. Some made comments, while others gave her knowing looks, but no one said, “You whore! There are
four
of them!”—though many of the ladies seemed envious.

The guys certainly were getting her on the rebound. A few hours before, she’d have said she would remain celibate for the remainder of her life, but now… Well, there were rebounds, and there were reflexes, and then there were things that had simply waited for the right moment to reveal themselves. She had an idea that the latter would prove to be the case in this instance.

Or was that wishful thinking? Then she realized something highly significant. She had very little to lose by accepting their offer. If all went well, she could end up living happily ever after with four men. On the other hand, if things
didn’t
go well, knowing she’d been with the whole band—and the guys had made no secret of the fact that they were lovers—it was likely that no other man in Caerphilly would want to touch her. She could handle that. If it got to the point that no one would even come into the pub, well, she could always sell it and go back to New York.

Somehow, she didn’t think that would be the case. She felt a sense of optimism, of being poised on the brink of a new beginning. Earlier in the day, she’d had no inkling of any of this. Now that a new day had begun, she was itching to check her horoscope to see what the stars had to say about making decisions that might affect the rest of her life.

She closed the door and turned to find that the bar was empty except for the band members and Helen, who was busy wiping down the tables. Elton had already closed the kitchen and gone home.

“Okay, guys. Helen and I have a bar to clean. Time to pack up your gear and go home.”

Tears shimmered in Brayden’s eyes. “You don’t mean it, Gen. You just
can’t—
”

“Look, the quicker we get this place cleaned up, the better. If you guys want me to have the whole day free tomorrow, then I’ve—”

Nigel’s mouth fell open. “Blimey… Do you realize what she just
said?
”

Geneva grinned at him. “I’m glad at least one of you is paying attention.”

“We’ll help,” Sean said. “Doesn’t take any time at all to break down our equipment. Just tell us what you want us to do.”

God, I’m gonna love this…
“Well, if you insist. The restrooms need to be cleaned, the floor has to be swept and mopped, and the trash emptied. If you guys will do that, I’ll wash the dishes, and Helen can take care of the tables.”

Rhys grabbed Geneva around the waist and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “I see where this is going, luv. You’re just toying with us to get a bit of free help, aren’t you?”

“Damn. I thought I was being so clever.”

“You know what?” Brayden said. “We don’t give a shit. We’ll do it anyway.”

The guys had obviously worked together before. In short order, they’d divvied up the chores and were scurrying around so fast Geneva figured they’d conk out on her as soon as they got home.

Home.
Home for Geneva was the apartment above the pub. No way would five people fit in the bed, though. Granted, there was a second bedroom, but they were both small, as one would expect from a building that had been standing for a couple of centuries. This made her wonder about the guys’ house, which was easily as old as the pub. She chuckled to herself thinking that discovering the secret to their sleeping arrangements was worth spending at least one night with them. Or perhaps she would limit herself to a short visit, if not a sleepover.

No. After four men, it would
have
to be a sleepover. She’d be too exhausted to ever make it home. Maybe she could do two tonight and two in the morning. It made more sense to do it that way, but how would they decide? Would they draw straws or let the guy with the hardest dick go first? If nothing else, it would be an adventure.

She was just setting the last of the bar glasses out to dry when Brayden grabbed her from behind, smashing his hard cock into her backside. “Work’s all done, and the van’s loaded up. You ready to go?”

Obviously they were not going to try to cram everyone into her apartment. “Just give me a minute to pack a few things.”

“What the fuck would you need? Just grab some clean undies and your purse and come on!”

“What about condoms?”

His eyes widened as he gaped at her, clearly aghast at such a crazy idea. “What the devil do you need them for? You can’t have babies, and we’re all clean. Got tested for everything you can think of a while back just to be sure. We never stray from the fold, so we should be good.” His smile and firm nod indicated that, at least in his estimation, no further discussion was necessary.

Geneva decided to pursue the matter a bit further, if for no other reason than to prove she wasn’t a pushover. “Have you got documentation to prove that? How long ago was it? Are you absolutely sure none of you have strayed?”

She would’ve gone on, but Brayden was already waving his hands in protest. “No worries, Gen. Got it all covered. Cross me heart.”

Narrowing her eyes, she poked him in the belly with a soapy finger. “It’s starting to look like you boys had this planned for months. Did you tell Hugh to dump me, too?”

Nigel stuck his head in the door, his dark curls plastered to his head and water dripping off the end of his nose. “What’s the holdup? It’s raining buckets out here!”

“Fuck that,” Brayden said dismissively. “She thinks we’ve been planning this.”

“Well, we have, haven’t we? Always said as soon as she was available we were going after her, no holds barred.”

“She thinks we got The Loser to dump her!”

“How the hell would we do that?” Nigel demanded. “We don’t even know him. The git.” This last bit was muttered under his breath, but Geneva heard him anyway.

“He was
not
a git,” Geneva insisted. “Well, not until lately. Okay, forget it. I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

First lesson learned. Being one woman against four men, she probably wouldn’t win very many arguments. She would need to choose her battles wisely.

Chapter 4

The bed ought to have been measured in acres. The best Geneva could tell, they had welded two king-sized brass bed frames together and then sewn up two sets of sheets and blankets to fit it. She’d never seen so many pillows on one bed in her life.

“This place was nearly in ruins when we bought it,” Nigel was saying. “Roof leaking, floors rotting, but we saved it.”

“Yeah, gutted the place completely and started from scratch.” Brayden’s eyes were practically glowing. Obviously demolition projects appealed to him. “All that’s left of the original structure are the stone staircase, the fireplace, and the outer walls.”

While this was impressive, what was most remarkable was that they had somehow managed to rehabilitate the house without sacrificing any of its rustic charm. “Amazing,” she whispered. “Truly amazing.”

“Yeah, well, you
did
know this is what we do when we aren’t playing in the band, didn’t you, luv?” Rhys said. “Nigel’s a plumber, and Sean and I are carpenters. Brayden’s our electrician and does some landscaping.”

“Don’t forget the bleedin’ chickens!” Brayden interjected.

“Oh, right. He raises chickens, too. Hope you like eggs,” Rhys said. “We work together on the painting.”

Geneva scratched her head. “I probably did know that. Just forgot, I guess.”

Brayden nodded. “Easy to do when we’re such hot rock stars on Saturday nights.”

She smiled as her eyes scanned the room, which encompassed the entire second floor. The stairway was flush with the wall on the eastern side, with a large bathroom at the top of the steps. Closets were built in around the outer walls, forming deep recesses at each window—complete with window seats—and the bed sat right out in the middle of the floor with a long sideboard behind the head and a couple of tables and lamps on either side. An armoire stood near the door to yet another bathroom in the opposing corner.

“We’ve got it all,” Brayden went on. “Double sinks, toilets
and
bidets, humongous tub in one bathroom and a shower in the other with multiple shower heads—sort of like what you’d find in a locker room, only classier.”