The Silk Tie (Erotic Threesome Romance) (8 page)

“Gabe,”
I said with a smile and a shake of my head.

“Oh,
sorry,” Gabe said. “I shouldn’t, I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Oh,
don’t be silly,” I said. “The court is only there, I can see you. I’ll be fine.
Go and play tennis.”

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”
Brent rubbed his hands together. “Give me a minute to throw some gear on.”

Gabe
looked down at his black t-shirt, khaki shorts and soft shoes. “Will I do?”

“Yes,
of course, it’s only us,” Brent said. “I just need some different shoes.”

Brent
disappeared through the huge French doors.

“Gabe,”
I said. “You’re asking to get beaten.”

“I’m
not that bad.” He frowned.

“No, of
course not, darling.” I suppressed another giggle and had a mouthful of my
drink. “This place is gorgeous. Those trees are surely hundreds of years old,
and this view, down the gardens to the river, it’s divine. He must have a full-time
gardener to tend all of those flowerbeds.”

“Yes,
I’m sure he has.” Gabe bent and kissed my head. “Don’t get too hot or drink too
much bubbly. I’ll see you in a bit.” He turned and walked toward the court that
was partly obscured by a tall privet hedge.

I
settled back and crossed my legs. If nothing else it was nice to see him going
to a court for fun, rather than work, and sun and bubbly, well, that suited me
very well.

Within
a few minutes Brent was back. He’d changed into white shorts and what appeared
to be proper tennis shoes.

“Go
easy on him,” I said. “He’s an amateur.”

Brent
laughed. “Yeah, I’ll be gentle.”

He
turned and strode away. He held two tennis rackets in one hand and swung them
backward and forward.

I found
myself studying his ass. It was high and taut and the shorts he’d pulled on
allowed me to just decipher the outline of what must be white boxers beneath.
Gabe had been right when he’d told me Brent had a great body, long and lean and
strong. It was clear that he kept in shape, plus he had a certain something
about him. It was the way he moved, the way he spoke, smiled and paid all of
his attention to whoever he was talking to. Yep, he had the essential
ingredients that some men lacked and he had it by the bucketful.

I
licked my lips and wondered what Samuel had been like, his male lover. Had he
been big and burly and taken Brent whenever and however he wanted or had he
been small and dainty, willing to submit to Brent and obey every command?

I
crossed my legs and sipped the cool champagne.

Brent
went onto the court and held out a racket to Gabe.

Gabe
gave a few practice swings, acting like he knew what he was doing.

I
smiled indulgently. He didn’t stand a chance.

They
were talking, but I was too far away to hear what they were saying. I hoped
Gabe wasn’t building himself up to be better than he was.

I
turned to the river as a slower boat went past, a punt. Yes. I was glad I’d escaped
London. It was pretty damn perfect sitting here with a nice drink and an
exceptional view. Not to mention the company of two men.

The
sound of the ball bouncing on the surface of the court grabbed my attention.
Gabe was in my line of view but Brent just out of it.

Gabe
volleyed the hit back but missed the next one. He dashed to the right, missed
again, then lunged for a backhand which he made, but the ball hit the net.

He
stood, hands on hips and laughed.

“Oh,
dear,” I said, helping myself to a top up of champagne. “The usual carnage.”

Brent
appeared, racket tapping on his calf, and stood next to Gabe. He was smiling
and his posture relaxed. He wasn’t taking it too seriously, I was pleased to
see.

A
sudden popping sound echoed towards me as a ball flew over the net and Brent
bashed it back.

He
spoke to Gabe, who nodded.

Another
ball flew their way. Brent whacked it and it skimmed the net.

I
guessed there must be a ball delivery machine just beyond my eyeline.

Brent
stepped aside and indicated for Gabe to hit the next ball.

I
crossed my fingers, hoping for Gabe to return the shot. It was clear he wanted
to impress his new friend.

It was
a backhand, not good, and Gabe missed it by several inches.

Brent
set his own racket aside and stepped up to Gabe. He slotted in behind him,
close, and wound one arm around Gabe’s waist and put his other hand over
Gabe’s—the one that gripped the racket.

I
widened my eyes and sat forward.

Damn,
that was pretty close and cozy.

A ball
flew toward them and with Brent’s help Gabe smashed it back.

Gabe half
turned and smiled at Brent, triumph on his face.

Almost
immediately another ball came at them. Again Brent helped Gabe return it to the
other end of the court.

Their
bodies moved as one with Brent’s groin lodged against Gabe’s ass. I was
reminded of the construction workers on the Tube and thought of their
familiarity with each other.

Brent
was being pretty damn familiar with my husband right now. But Gabe wasn’t
exactly complaining

And, I
found, neither was I. There was something seriously sexy about watching them
locked together. Brent’s mouth was at Gabe’s ear; he appeared to be giving him
instructions before each shot.

I
squirmed a little on the seat and had a big glug of champagne as an image of
them naked, together like that, seared into my head—Gabe tense and being
held by Brent as Brent wedged in behind him, his cock hard and slipping between
Gabe’s buttocks, teasing, wet with lube, getting ready to penetrate.

“Fucking
hell,” I muttered.

I stood
and went to the wall, stared at the river in the distance.

The
heat and the champagne were getting to me. That must be it. Why else would I be
turned on thinking about my husband being fucked by another bloke? My hormones
must be out of whack or something. My head wasn’t right this week.

Whatever
it was, though, I couldn’t deny that a new fantasy had grown within me, and
that was to see Gabe bent over and taking it from a man. I hardly dared admit
it to myself, but like a germinated seed it was reaching for daylight and
demanding to be taken notice of.

“Hey,”
Gabe said, jogging up to me twenty minutes later.

I
dragged my gaze from a bird in the reed bed that stretched along this section
of the Thames, and turned to him.

He had
a drip of sweat running down from his temple and his top was damp and stuck to
his chest.

“Eww,”
I said, “you need a shower.”

“That’s
exactly what I’m going to do. You coming up to the room?”

“Where’s
Brent?” I looked over Gabe’s shoulder. Brent was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s
gone for a shower, then he’s going to start dinner.”

“Oh, he
cooks too?”

“Apparently.”
Gabe grinned and turned back to the house.

I
followed. “Seems he’s pretty good at tennis as well.”

“Yeah,
he almost went pro. He was telling me it was only because his business took off
and needed his full attention that he ditched it. Said it was a pretty tough
decision.”

“I’m
sure.” I slid my hand over Gabe’s ass, feeling his shape through his clothing.
“Very tough.”

Gabe
twisted and raised his eyebrows at me but kept on walking.

I
released his bum and swirled the stem of my empty glass in my fingers. “Was he
a good teacher?”

“Yes.
Very.”

“It
looked like it. It seemed like he enjoyed having a willing student.”

Gabe
turned to me again. There was a questioning expression on his face, like he wasn’t
quite sure how to take my comment.

“What
do you mean?” he asked.

“Well...he
was standing pretty close as he showed you those moves.”

Gabe
huffed. “I guess that’s how you learn.”

I bit
my lip. I wanted to say learn what? Or ask him if he’d thought of Brent’s
bisexuality as he’d shoved his groin against him. But I didn’t. A couple of
glasses of bubbly could make my tongue run amok and I didn’t want to regret my
words later.

We went
up the grand staircase to the guest suite Brent had pointed out earlier. Once
inside I shut the door and looked around the sumptuous room. It was at least
three times bigger than our one at home. The two windows were huge and had
lavish burgundy pelmets and swags folded over the curtains. There was a stone
fireplace set with a large bunch of fresh flowers, a long, walnut dressing
table and a magnificent four-poster bed with drapes and covers that matched the
curtains.

Gabe
went into the ensuite and switched on the shower. I could see his reflection in
a mirror over the sink and watched him strip out of his clothes.

I
decided to join him. I was hot too, after the long drive and standing in the
sunshine. It would be nice to freshen up before dinner. My head was a bit
champagne-fuggy, a shower would wake me up.

Quickly,
I slipped off my Capri pants and white blouse. I peeled off my thong and
discarded my bra.

I went
into the bathroom. It had a large glass shower cubicle at one end. Gabe was
already standing in it. He had his back to me, his arms were outstretched, his
hands flat on the tiled wall and his head bowed. The water was lashing onto his
back, bouncing off his shoulders and running down the gutter of his spine into
the crack of his ass.

I
didn’t speak, I just sneaked in next to him.

Taking
a deep breath, I wound my hands around his waist and flattened myself against
his body.

He
tensed slightly but didn’t move.

I
kissed his wet skin, just at the base of his neck, and reached for his cock.

He was
solid and erect.

“Oh, Mr.
Stone,” I murmured. “What are you standing here thinking about?”

I
meshed closer to him, my pubic hair rubbing up onto his ass. I was as close to
him as Brent had been only minutes ago.

“Hales,”
he said breathily.

I gave
his cock a few firm push-pulls just the way he liked. “So tell me,” I said
again as water splashed onto my hair and face, “what are you thinking about to
get this damn hard in the shower.”

“Fucking,”
he said.

“I
could have guessed that.” I ran my other hand down his outer waist, stroking
his skin and exploring the dips and rises of his right hip. For a mad moment I
imagined I was Brent standing behind him. I’d have big hands, a broad chest and
a fat, thick cock slotted into Gabe’s ass cheeks.

A small
groan escaped my lips and I pressed my mound harder into him. My clit was stiff
and yearning, my nipples aching buttons pressing into his back.

While
continuing to massage his cock, I slid my hand over his buttocks, pulled away
slightly and slipped my fingers through his crack.

He was
wet and warm and his asshole clenched when I touched it.

Damn,
if just my finger had him trembling?

“Ah,
Jesus, Hales,” he murmured.

He was probably
being bombarded with the memory of my dildo and our new and wild experience
together.

I
pressed harder and eased into his hole, the water making it a slippery, easy ride.

He
gasped but didn’t shake me off, didn’t move, barely breathed.

I went
a little higher, knuckle deep.

“Bloody
hell…” he gasped.

“Shh,”
I whispered as I tugged on his cock with more enthusiasm. I wanted to work him
up to orgasm.

“Just
think…” I said, “about me in here.” I moved my finger, stroked his internal
wall.

“Fuck,
it’s all I’ve thought about...all yesterday...all today.”

“Me
too.” I paused. Did I have the courage to say what was in my head?

Yes.

 “And
what did you think about,” I asked, “when Brent was holding you close, his
groin in your arse?”

“Jesus,
Hales…I…”

“You
liked it.” Damn, now I’d started my tongue was beginning to race ahead of my
brain. “And who can blame you, he’s a nice-looking guy.”

“But—”

“And
he’s into you.”

“He’s
not…I…”

“Shh…come,
come now.”

Gabe
grunted and his body shivered, jostling against my breasts and within my arms.

“Fuck,”
he muttered.

His
cock was thick and solid.

I
tunneled another finger into his anus and stroked over where I thought his
prostate was.

“Ah…ah…”
he panted. He shook, his knees weakened and he braced them locked and curled
his hands into fists on the tiles.

“Imagine,”
I said, closing my eyes and relishing what I was feeling inside him. “Brent
fucking Samuel all those years ago. His cock big and thick in Samuel’s arse,
pounding, shunting, making him come so damn hard. I can just see Brent’s
handsome face now, screwed up in ecstasy, coming, coming and coming…”

“Argh…I…”
Gabe moaned, yet another quake taking over his spine.

“Imagine
you’re Samuel, you’re coming with a hard, fat dick screwing you senseless.” As
I’d spoken I’d upped the pressure on his cock and rammed harder into his ass, using
my fingers like a small dildo. “Brent’s gripping your hips, dragging you onto
his dick. You’re trapped there, trapped in pleasure. Come, Gabe, come now.”

He did.

He
released a big huff and his shaft pulsed in my hand. His back bowed and his ass
thrust toward me, pressing his hole onto my fingers. Three big spurts of semen
burst from him, coating my hand and lubricating my palm as I continued to work
him.

Opening
my eyes, I blinked in the harsh light of the bathroom. Fuck, this was so hot
but what the hell were we doing? I’d just made my husband come by projecting a
gay fantasy onto him.

“Hales,”
he gasped.

“I’m
here,” I said, kissing then nipping the strip of skin between his shoulder and
neck. “That’s it, I’ve got you.”

He
tugged upwards. I took the hint and withdrew from his ass.

In an
instant he’d turned to me.

His
eyes were flashing and his cheeks red. He spun me around. My back, shoulders
and buttocks hit the cold shower wall and air puffed from my lungs.

He
captured my wrists and hoisted my arms above my head, stretching my torso and
making me gasp.

“What…”
he said through gritted teeth as he pressed the length of his body to mine, “…the
fuck was that all about?”

I
dragged in a wet breath—the water was streaming down my face—and
blinked rapidly.

He
shoved into me harder and rattled my arms, like he wanted to shake an answer
from me.

“I
don’t know, I just…” I said.

“You
just what? Thought I’d like a little imagery of being fucked by a bloke?”

“Well…”
Why was he so mad? He’d liked it. He’d come so hard. He couldn’t deny that, I’d
felt it for myself. But I didn’t know what to say. The confusion in his eyes,
the firm set of his jaw, it rocked my confidence in what I knew, or what I
thought I knew. “I don’t know,” I said, my voice quiet.

“Fucking
hell. I’m not gay.”

“I know
that.”

He
shook his head. “One arse fuck with a dildo does not mean I want to shag every
man I meet.”

“I never
said that, Gabe.” I tugged my wrists but he didn’t release them. “It was just
words, just a bit of fun.”

‘Words
can be dangerous, Hayley. You’re a goddamn lawyer, you know that.”

“They
can also be powerful,” I said, tilting my chin.

He
pressed his lips together, pulled back, and his gaze dropped down my naked
body. Releasing my wrists, he set his hands over my breasts and squeezed. “I’m
into women,” he said, “specifically you. Don’t forget that.”

“No…” I
shook my head. “No, I won’t...ever.”

“And
I’ll prove it, right now.” He sank to the floor, so he was kneeling in front of
me. He set one hand on my right hip and pinned me harder against the wall. He
grabbed my left leg and shoved it over his shoulder.

“Gabe?” 
I gasped.

“Hold
on,” he said, looking up at me with a determined expression. “You’re going to
need to.”

I parted
my mouth and gripped his hair. Excitement was coursing through me—my
pussy, while damp from the shower, was also damp with arousal. I was so exposed
before him; my lower lips had peeled apart as he’d spread my legs and the
lights in here were dazzlingly bright.

He
tipped forward and quickly buried his face between my thighs. His tongue caught
my clit and he sent his fingers on a fast ride into my pussy.

I
groaned and tightened around him. God, this was what I’d needed when I’d used
the shower hose on myself. A man. Gabe, working his magic, filling me and
stimulating my clit.

“Oh,
God, yeah…” I said, tipping my head back and shutting my eyes. “Like that,
Gabe…more…”

He
upped the pressure and the enthusiasm. Shunting in and out of me and his tongue
rotating fast and stiff.

I dug
my heel into his back and went onto my tiptoes on the shower floor.

“Ah…ah…ah…”
I panted. I was folding in on myself. The luscious building of pressure in my
pelvis, in my clit, was stealing all thoughts, all other sensations. He was so
good at giving oral, I didn’t stand a chance at holding off an orgasm.

But I
didn’t want to. I needed this. I needed to come, flood him with my release.

I held
my breath and became lost in the final, intense moments of my climb to orgasm.

“Yes…yes…”
I hissed, doubling forward as my pussy spasmed.

My clit
released darts of pleasure that shot over my body, sending bliss spiking every
small hair and making my heart skitter crazily. I ground my pussy into Gabe’s
face, smearing my lips over him and butting up against the flat of his tongue.

He kept
on going, fucking me with his fingers and laving at my clit.

It all
got too much and I pushed and writhed, sensation overload weakening my body.
The water splashing down on me was disorientating. Lights flashed behind my
closed eyes.

“Gabe,”
I moaned, pulling at his hair and staring down at him. “Please.”

He lifted
his face and looked up at me but he continued to work my pulpy insides with his
fingers.

I
clamped around him; wave after wave of aftershocks rattled through me. “That’s
so…”

“Good?”

“Yeah,
good,” I managed.

“And
what did you think of?”

“You,
Gabe, you…doing that.” I dropped my leg from his shoulder and released his
hair.

He
rose, standing tall in front of me. He cupped my chin with his free hand while
slowly working my insides. “You didn’t think of some woman you know?”

“No. Of
course not. Only you.” I frowned and gripped his shoulders. He was so damn
solid, like slabs of wet concrete. “Only you.”