The Silk Tie (Erotic Threesome Romance) (17 page)

Brent
stretched his arms over his head, flashing his dark, damp underarm hair then
arched his back, extending his torso. “I guess rather than sleeping I should
shower and make you guys some lunch before you have to hit the road.”

“Are
you sure you don’t want to come back to London with us?” Gabe asked. “We could
give you a ride.”

“Nah, I
have some things to organize here.”

I
thought about the charity event and how much planning that must take. “Perhaps
we’ll see you in the week, before the court case,” I said.

“Yes.”
He turned to me. Again that dark, sexy look flashed through his eyes. “I’d like
that, very much.”

I
glanced at Gabe.

Surprise
flitted across his face. Had he guessed that there was a new simmering
attraction between me and Brent that we were only just realizing existed? Only
just admitting to?

I
stood. There hadn’t been any plans to see one another after this weekend, after
they’d fucked each other stupid, yet here was me, the one making them. But the
need to have another firm arrangement to see Brent was acute. I couldn’t just
walk away.

“I’m
back in London on Tuesday,” Brent said, rolling onto his side then standing.
“We could do dinner.”

“Perhaps
you’ll let me cook,” I said, walking back to the dressing table and picking up my
nail file. “Return the favor.”

Gabe
laughed, though it was a little stiffly. “We’ll see. Hales is usually too tired
after a day in court to cook.”

“Then
we’ll get takeout,” I said, buffing my thumbnail.

“Whatever
suits,” Brent said with a slight shrug and turning. “I’m easy.” He wandered out
of the room and shut the door.

I sat
at my desk and put my head in my hands. It had been an intense day of meetings
with clients and partners and my brain felt fried. It didn’t help that I’d worn
a pair of new Vera Wang shoes and there was a suspicious blister-like burning
on my left heel.

My
concentration had waned several times. I kept thinking of yesterday. Gabe and
Brent fucking and the incredibleness of seeing my husband so full of carnal passion
for a man—it had been such a turn on and the memory would be with me
always.

I’d
also let the knowledge settle that I was attracted to Brent. More than attracted,
he’d touched a place deep inside of me. There was something almost magical
about him—which was fanciful thinking—and I kept picturing his
eyes, lazy and sated yet full of new passion and desire. I wondered if he’d
seen the same reflected in mine and if he’d known it was for him, or if he’d
written it off as my being excited at what I’d just seen.

The
trip back to London had been quiet. Gabe, I presumed, was either sad that he’d
used his pass for sleeping with Brent or had suspected some of my new feelings
for his lover.

I’d
looked out of the window and thought about what I’d overheard Gabe and Brent
talking about in the snug that time. Brent saying he was attracted to the
person not the gender, and although he felt it was commendable that same-sex
marriages were now legal he was dismayed that polygamy was still so taboo.

Not
that I wanted a polyamarous relationship—well, I’d never really thought
about it—but images of us having a threesome were creeping into my
mind.  I thought of Gabe and Brent fucking, then pausing and kissing me,
all over, exploring my body the way they did each other’s. Gabe kissing me,
Brent licking my pussy. Gabe fucking me while Brent sank his cock into my
mouth.

By the
time we’d reached Chelsea I was a mass of confusion. It was as if I’d opened
the floodgates on a new rushing wave of my sexual fantasies.

I
lifted my head and reached for my bag. I needed to reconstruct some of my makeup
before I headed to The Golden Goose.

I
applied a sweep of bright red lipstick, powdered my nose and redid my mascara.
I ran my fingers through my hair, fluffing it slightly, then added a squirt of
Marc Jacobs’ Daisy to my wrists and neck. I’d do, as long as my feet held up.

Ten
minutes later, I wandered into The Golden Goose. It wasn’t as busy as usual,
but then it was only a Monday evening. Stress levels seemed to progress as the
week went on, making that after-work alcoholic beverage more necessary.

I
spotted Gabe at the back, in one of the booths we often managed to claim. They
were a bit more private if we were talking about cases. He had a bottle of beer
and a glass of white wine in front of him.

I
strutted toward him, ignoring the pain in my heel. I knew a couple of guys
watched my progress so I swayed my ass a little more. It wasn’t something I
usually did but I felt brimming with sex and sexy thoughts. My weekend had
fulfilled my fantasies and generated more.

I
wondered if those men, looking at my tight short skirt and delicate silk blouse,
would be shocked if they knew what I’d seen, what I’d allowed my husband to do.

“Hey,”
I said, reaching Gabe and leaning in for a kiss. He’d taken off his suit jacket
and rolled up the sleeves of his pale blue shirt.

“Oh,
hi.”

I
touched my lips to his.

“You
all right?” I asked, sliding onto the seat opposite him and tucking my purse
into the corner, between my body and the wall.

“Yes.”

“Sure?”

He drank
from his bottle of beer. When he pulled it away there was a small drop sitting
on his lower lip. He licked it off.

“You
had a stressful day in the office?” I asked.

“Not
really.”

Oh,
there was definitely something up. Gabe wasn’t prone to sulking, but I could
tell by the vertical line between his eyebrows that he was pissed off.

I took
a sip of wine. “So tell. You’ve got a face like a cat’s arse.”

“Brent
Dawson. That’s what’s up.”

I took
another sip, bigger this time. “What about him?”

He
rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I keep thinking about him.”

“About
the weekend?”

“Yes,
and…”

“And
what?”

“I…I
didn’t expect to feel like this, Hales.” He frowned.

 I
saw that he wasn’t pissed off—he was scared and vulnerable.

I
reached for his hand. “Feel like what? You can tell me, you know you can.”

He
nodded and glanced around as though making sure no one could overhear. They
couldn’t.

“Have
you been thinking about him or the sex?” I asked.

“Jesus…”
He shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know…” He lowered his voice and stared into
my eyes. “Both, I guess.”

“You
were amazing together,” I said quietly. “It was such a turn on for me to see
you like that. I’ve been thinking about it today, too. Not good when in a
meeting with the senior partners.”

“You
were thinking about Brent?”

“About
both of you, together.” I paused. “You fulfilling your fantasy, Gabe. That was
what I was thinking about.”

I
glanced away and checked out a woman’s new season Prada handbag as she walked
past.

“You’ve
invited him to our house, Hayley,” Gabe said, pulling his hand from mine and
picking at the label on his beer the way he usually did.

“Was
that wrong of me?”

I
expected him to say no but he didn’t. He sipped his beer then squeezed the
bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“Gabe,”
I said. “What’s the matter? We’ve been to his home. Twice.”

“I
know.” He opened his eyes and dropped his hand to the table. “I just…”

“What?
For crying out loud, spit it out.”

“I kind
of thought that would be it, this weekend, but it isn’t, is it?”

“It is
if you want it to be.”

“I
don’t want it to be.” He shook his head and rubbed at his temple. “But it’s all
so much. What’s going on inside my head, my heart.”

“Your
heart?”

“Yes.”
He pressed his knuckles to his chest, creasing his navy tie.

“Why?
Do you love him?” Fuck, that was a big word to throw into the mix.

“No, of
course not. What we have—had—was attraction. We’ve acted out a
fantasy…but I do love you.”

I
tipped my head. “And that’s a problem why?”

“Because…”
He leaned forward so his face was much closer to mine.

I studied
the shape of his eyebrows, not wanting to gaze into his eyes in case he saw the
longing for Brent in mine.

“I’ve
seen it in his eyes, Hayley, and I’ve seen it in yours.”

Too
damn late.

“Seen
what?” I resisted gulping. I had a bloody good idea what he was going to say
next—a really bloody good idea.

“He
wants to fuck you and you want to fuck him.”

I
pressed my lips together; my belly lurched and my chest ached.  There had
been something dangerous about the way Gabe had spoken. He hadn’t liked saying
those words—putting them out there in the open had hurt.

“What
makes you think that?” I asked, trying to hold my voice steady and look him in
the eye.

“Because
there’s always more, isn’t there? I was a fool to think being a voyeur was
enough for a sexual person like you.”

“It was…”
I couldn’t quite inject conviction into my tone. “Really.”

“That
first time, maybe. If we’d only done it once. But hell, I saw how you looked at
him when he was lying on the bed freshly fucked. You wanted him too, your eyes
were ablaze with it and so were his.”

“But, I
won’t, I wouldn’t—”

“So
you’re not denying it.”

“Denying
what?” Damn, I needed to buy time to gather my thoughts.

“That
you want to fuck Brent Dawson.” He sat back, folded his arms and flattened his
mouth. He gave me a look that almost dared me to dispute his statement.

There
was something about the gesture that really riled me. I sat up straighter and
set down my shoulders. “Gabriel Stone,” I said sternly, “you have got a real
bloody nerve to act huffy about this.”

“No I
haven’t. The deal was me and…” He glanced around again and leaned forward. “Me
and him, not you.”

“I
know, and that’s what it’s been. Nothing more.”

“But
you want it to be.”

“I
never said that.” I titled my chin.

“You
don’t have to. I can see it.”

I
nibbled on my bottom lip and thought about my options. There was no way I was
going to lose Gabe over this, or even upset him anymore than he was, but I was
no pushover. He couldn’t put words in my mouth or accuse me of something that I
hadn’t done. “Say I did. Say I fancied the fucking pants off Brent, it doesn’t
mean I’m going to do anything about it. I’m not that bloody weak that I want to
shag every handsome bloke that I see.”

“But
don’t you understand what position this puts me in?”

“It doesn’t
put you in any position.” I held out my palms. “Does it?”

“Of
course it does.” He frowned and the crease between his eyes deepened to a small
trench.

“Why
does it?”

“Because
you let me have my fantasy and it’s only fair that I let you fulfill yours.”

Jesus,
had he really just said that? I drank my wine and was grateful for the cool
liquid smoothing its way over my throat. “This isn’t the same.”

“Sure
it is.”

“No, it
isn’t, don’t you see?”

“And
why do you think that, Hayley?”

“Because…bloody
hell, Gabe. It’s not as if I don’t know what it’s like to fuck a man, is it?
Say it was a girl I was crushing on then yeah, that would be the same, but this
isn’t.”

He
stared at me—it was the witness-cracking stare he used at work.

“Don’t
you dare,” I said.

“What?”
He shifted his eyebrows and gnawed on the inside of his cheek.

“Look
at me like I’m lying.”

“I’m
not, I’m just trying to figure out what it is you want.”

“You,
Gabe. You, my husband, my lover, my best friend. I want you.”

He
smiled at that, just a little.

“So
I’ll uninvite him,” I said. “Well, you’ll have to. I don’t have his number.”

“No,
that won’t be necessary.”

I took
another drink. “But if—”

“Fuck,
I want to see him, Hayley. I can’t just leave it at this…” He pressed the
points of his fingers to his temples.

“Gabe,”
I said, reaching over and wrapping my fingers around his wrists. “It’s okay.
It’s okay to feel confused, it’s been a hell of a few weeks for all of us.”

“I’m
not confused.” He moved his hands. “Not now. I’ve figured it out.”

I
scrunched up my brow. “Go on.”

“Yes,”
he said, leaning close again. A shard of triumph crossed his face. “I’ve got
it.”

“You
have?”

“Yes,
you can fuck him.”

“What?”
How could he switch from thinking it was a disastrous idea to appearing almost
excited?

“Yes,
you can wear your strap-on and fuck him up the arse.” He pressed his lips
together and glanced around. “Fuck him with me there, watching—that way
we’re all even.”

“Are
you being serious?” I couldn’t deny the idea appealed. Because it did, a lot.
But really, me shove my toy cock up Brent’s bum?

“Yes.”
He nodded and took my hand. “I just…I just don’t think I could handle seeing
him inside you, Hales. Maybe I’m a hypocrite, perhaps I’m grossly selfish, I
don’t know—”

“It’s
okay, you’re just being honest.”

“Yes,
that’s what I’m trying to be.”

“And if
you think that’s something too far out of your comfort zone then it’s fine, it
won’t happen.” I drained my wine. “Has it occurred to you, though, that Brent
might not want that? He might not want silicone when he can have the real
thing.”

“We’ll
cross that bridge when we come to it, but my bets are he’ll be up for a
threesome with two cocks.”

It was
my turn to glance around. The woman with the fancy handbag was looking at us.

“Jesus,
Gabe, you should keep your voice down.”

A muscle
flexed in his cheek. “Maybe it’s time to stop worrying and take what we want,
Hayley, and if we want Brent we should have him. Both of us.”

* * * *

The
next day, I planned to finish work early but got caught up in paperwork and phone
calls. By the time I kicked my heels into the corner of the hallway, I only had
one hour before Brent was due round. Gabe was meeting him at The Golden Goose
with the intention of talking to him about our plans and seeing if he was up
for it.