Page 40 of The Naughty Week
I’m not lying. It was absolutely fucking amazing. I’ll remember that night for the rest of my life, and maybe someday I’ll be lucky enough to get a re-run. I’m not pushing my luck just yet, though.
Heath isn’t dressed anything like the Count this morning. He’s in black shorts and a vest top, and his glorious hair is swept up into a ponytail, ready for action. Josh keeps looking at him, with a competitive tone to his smirk.
“I’m gonna kick your gorgeous ass, you know that, Heathy baby? Call it an exchange for what you did to mine last night.”
Heath takes a bite of buttered toast. “You’d have to kick my ass seriously hard to make up for what I did to yours last night.”
Yeah, he would. Josh was legit bleeding when Heath was done with him. Turns out that water from the swimming pool wasn’t a sufficient enough lube to cope with Heath’s cock assault. It’s not that often I’ve seen Josh bleed, so Heath really did give him a good battering.
I love the way it’s fuelling the fire between them today.
Who is going to be top dog on the squash court? I can’t wait to be a spectator and find out. I only wish I had some pompoms.
The tension ramps up further between them as we head out to the loungers to let our breakfast settle. It’s like a barometer rising with the pressure as the testosterone builds. Both guys keep jibing each other as to who is going to come out top dog, and I get the feeling thismatchhas been a long time coming. I don’t interject or change the topic, just soak it up and bask in the pleasure. It was me who got the full attention of a reward day yesterday, and now it’s Josh’s turn. I bet they’ll be playing squash for hours today, neither of them willing to call it quits until they’re crowned winner.
Josh sure won’t ever call it quits, I know that much. Not if he’s behind on the scoreboard.
It’s such a shame I haven’t got access to my phone, as I’d love to capture some pictures. My two sweaty loverboys battling for victory. I’d have loved pictures of the suited pair in Venetian masks last night too, and the Count all dressed up for my series preview. Damn it.
It’s been a few days now, and my fingers feel fidgety at the lack of the constant accessory. I can’t remember being without my phone for this long in years. My parents never confiscated it or anything like that, and my ex, Connor and I practically lived on video call when we weren’t in the same room together. We even had a video call open when we were sleeping in different bedrooms. Cringe, but true. I keep instinctively reaching for my current companion of a device, but it’s not there. It shows just how plugged in at the mains I am constantly. Scrolling, checking messages, watching stupid videos. Here there is nothing but me, Josh and Heath.
My fidgety fingers can get stuffed. This is so much better.
“Ready for a game, Josh?” Heath says, finally.
“Always,” Josh replies. “Thought you’d never get round to asking.”
Heath looks at me. “How about you, curva? Are you staying in the sun or coming along to observe our challenge?”
The streaming sun feels so nice against my bruised skin on the lounger, and the pool looks so tempting for another dip, but I can’t miss out on the competition.
“Definitely coming. I might be coming at the sight of you, too. It’ll be hotter than the sun out here.”
“Coming over a game of squash?” Josh laughs. “Your pussy never stops aching, does it?”
“No, dumbass. Over a game ofyouplaying squash. There’s quite a difference. And no, my pussy never stops aching, you’re right.” Aching for Josh more than anything. He looks gorgeous, so ripped in his tight black vest top and shorts.
I’ve already been wondering about tonight’s envelope and what the proposal could involve. From being a fisted puppet to a food platter to a vampire chase victim, I really have no idea. Heath could definitely surprise me. He surprises me in every other way. Including with his villa.
It’s like a forbidden kingdom when he opens a side door off from the guest room hallway to reveal a set of slate steps going down.
“Ladies first,” Heath says, and I’m the one who gets the first glimpse.
Fuck, it doesn’t disappoint. Heath’sgames roomis massive. It must be as big as the whole imprint of the villa up above, but no sunlit windows, just stark bright lights embedded in the ceiling. I scan my eyes over the place. Gym, yes – quite an impressive one. I might even hit the treadmill myself in the days to come. Pool table, check, with a whole load of space around it and tables for drinks. Dartboard. Wow, I’d love a go on that, but I’m so crap at darts that I rarely even hit the board.
And there it is. The squash court. A flash version of the one at our local gym!
The glass front will give me a fantastic view of what’s happening inside, the markings on the floor plainly obvious. There’s a bench, just right for spectators, so I plonk my sore butt down and prepare for the viewing. Hardly Nighttime Whispers, but hey ho, it’ll be an incredible show nonetheless. Heath AND Joshua. Double whammy of awesome.
And they are both mine.
I have to give my mind a kicking. Because despite what the butterflies keep telling me, they aren’t both mine at all. Heath is a client. Nothing more. He’s no more to us than any of our other clients, and never will be. Any of them could offer us a trip overseas, just fine, and we could accept it, just fine. This is fine. Normal.
Except it’s not.
Heath isn’t a regular client… and it’s about much more than Nighttime Whispers.
I see the way they smile at each other as Heath hands Josh a racquet from a locker at the far end of the court. The affectionate cheekiness makes me ache inside. I know Heath is a major celebrity, and I know he’s almost always got his guard up, but with Josh there is no guard there at all. He’s just himself.
