Page 21 of Hard to Judge

He smiles back at me while also shaking his head. “Nope. That pretty smile isn’t going to get you out of trouble. That mouth might, though.”

Fuck me.

Just like that, my panties are soaked through with the thought of Hota’s cock in my mouth. A magic one, if Arlo is to be believed. And he is.

I lick my lips and drop onto all fours. I crawl to the back of the car, maneuvering the maze of their long legs and heavy stares. I grab my coat, move to the door, and then look over my shoulder at them. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Fuck!” Hota grouses. “Yeah, you’re sure.” Sarcasm laces his laughter.

Arlo groans, adjusts himself in his pants, then scrambles out after me.

After I step onto the sidewalk and slip on my coat, the two men battle to exit the car first. They are a mess of legs and arms, low growls and grunts. By the time they’re both standing on the sidewalk with me, they’re disheveled and cuter than ever.

“I’m thrilled to see you both so excited to skate with me.” I turn on a dime and flounce my way to the kiosk for three pairs of ice skates. I’ve never flounced a day in my life, but they make things fun and flouncable.

Their connection, love, and banter are contagious. Maybe that’s why I’m not threatened by Hota. When the three of us are together, everything is brighter, sweeter, and justright. I could question it or get insecure about Arlo’s and my relationship, but the instinct to do that with Hota isn’t there like it would be for quite literally anyone else.

The gray of the day has slipped into the magic of night with twinkling lights and Christmas music. A crowd around the top watches only a couple of handfuls of people skate down below.

The closer we get to the counter to order our respective skate sizes, the slower Hota’s steps become. In turn, I slow my steps.

“I can take pictures and video of you guys,” he says as the small queue dwindles.

“Not a chance.” I slip my hand into his and loop my other arm through Arlo’s. “I want to skate with both of you.” Hota’s cheeks go red. I pull his hand, dragging him closer to me, to us. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t skate,” he blurts.

“That’s perfect.” I pull his hand to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. His gaze zips to Arlo, who smiles at us and soothes a reassuring hand over my arm.

“How is that perfect?” Hota’s sharp Adam’s apple bobs.

“Because you have two people who’ll help you. I can teach you, and Arlo can catch you when you fall.” Let him deal with that double entendre.

I don’t give him a chance to retort. Instead, I walk us up to the worker, hand in hand and arm in arm, as we are. “Size seven for me, please.”

The guy doesn’t even look twice at us before reaching down and plopping a little pair of skates onto the counter between us. He’s in his early twenties, maybe. He’s fit with a chiseled jaw.

“And you?” He gestures toward Arlo without looking at him.

“Fourteen, please.”

That snags the guy’s attention. His gaze lands on my lover. The guy’s jaw unhinges just a little and then continues its freefall when it hits Hota. He snaps his lips together and tries his best to play off his instant attraction to my dates. “And you?”

“Same.”

“Fuc— I mean, yeah. Sure. I’m just…I gotta grab them from the back.” He sweeps the hair off his forehead. “You’re big. I mean, your size, your shoes, skates…Yeah.” He turns and shoots toward the back.

“I think he’s in love.” I giggle. “I mean, who can blame him? I do have the two hottest men in the city as my dates.”

“Dates?” Hota asks.

Arlo is affronted. “Just the city?”

I laugh and pull them closer as the guy rounds the corner with a semi barely hidden under his short jacket and two pairs of extra-large skates. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. For sure.” The guy sets them on the counter and openly gawks at Arlo and Hota as they reach for their skates. While he’s at it, Hota grabs mine too.

“Thank you,” I squeak again, this time to the guy who’s holding my hand.

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