Page 37 of Enticement
Ross let Kit’s cock slap against his cheek a few times, then he worked his hand inside his trousers and wrapped it around his own cock, which lay trapped inside his shorts, fit for bursting. He jerked himself to the same rhythm as he sucked Kit, so that everything worked together like a well-greased piston. The taste of salt grew heavy on his tongue, and Kit’s moans filled the air. Hell, if anyone happened to be walking past outside there’d be no mistaking what was going on. There’d been times in the past when the thought of being caught inflagrante would have left him mortified. Now, he didn’t care.
Kit began to claw at him, and Ross upped the motion of his wrist.
Okay, maybe he balked a little at the possibility of Evie finding them. He’d rather address the situation in a rather less direct manner.
Kit’s knees buckled as he came. He leaned heavily on Ross’s shoulders, squashing him against his swaying hips, so that Ross’s nose was glued to the base of Kit’s cock. Ross relaxed his throat and as best he could for the last few breathless moments, as Kit came. Prior to that moment Ross had been intending to spit. As it was, he swallowed and shot his own load over the floor.
Winded, Ross stayed on his knees until Kit offered him a hand up. They stood facing one another, not quite making eye contact, neither of them managing to speak. Shiftily, they cleaned up and buttoned up. Then Ross went outside and locked up the car. Finally, Kit spoke as they mounted the steps to the kitchen door. “Beer,” he croaked.
“There’s some draught Guinness in the fridge.”
“I’ll get them.”
Kit set about the task, while Ross went upstairs and changed out of his work clothes. He pulled on his oldest jumper and a pair of ill-fitting jeans that were ripped across both knees. They might have seen better days, but they made him feel comfortable inside his skin. He hadn’t meant everything that had happened today to occur, but well…events had rather overtaken him. He grimaced slightly, hearing the shower running next door, and his vexation at Kit over whatever he’d tried on with Evie reasserted itself. He hung outside the bathroom door a moment, wondering if he ought to knock and see if she was okay. Then again, perhaps it was better to let her emerge in her own time.
Back downstairs, Kit had lit the fire and turned on the Playstation. “Punch up, driving, or other.” Kit fanned three games out in front of Ross.
“Fighting,” said Ross. It’d be less bloody this way. Games to work out their frustrations with one another.
Kit cocked an eyebrow at him underneath his long fringe. He’d brushed his hair forward so that it masked the line of dried blood and glue upon his brow. “I don’t know,” he said, holding Ross’s gaze. “I think I’d rather you just split my lip, if that’s what’s in your thoughts.”
“That—” said Ross, “—is because you’re all about the physical. Which is cracked, by the way, considering what an expert at mental torture you are.” He slumped onto the sofa. “Sit your butt down and press some mechanical buttons instead of mine for a while.”
“Do you want to talk about Evie?”
Ross shrugged. “Let me work out how to approach her.”
“You’re ready to share?”
“I’m ready to goddamn kill you.” Ross began hammering the controller buttons, sending his onscreen sprite into a ninja waltz. “Fuck, Kit! This is mental.”
Kit smacked his thigh hard enough to make it sting. “It’ll be fucking hot. And she’s up for it, don’t doubt that. God, is she up for it.”
“Not now,” said Ross. “I’m not ready for this now.”
Chapter Nine
Evie strung out her shower for as long as possible, letting the water cascade over her shoulders and wash away all traces of Kit’s scent upon her skin. Then, huddled in a bath sheet and dressing gown, she spent another forty minutes filing and painting her toenails, and smothering every inch of her skin in coconut body butter. In the end, there was no trace of male pheromones anywhere upon her and precious little of her own scent. Instead, she wafted into the living room in a cloud of honey and vanilla, smelling rather like an exotic fruit.
Confessions were best made properly armed, and the sweet fragrance gave her confidence.
It still surprised her that Ross hadn’t been upstairs to seek her out. Expecting a confrontation, Evie ironed out the creases in her brow as best she could and tried to look repentant, not that either of the two men hunched upon the sofa noticed.
Having pulled the sofa away from its normal position below the window, they’d aligned it, bachelor style, right across the centre of the living room, facing the TV. A metal soundtrack blared from the surround sound speakers, while onscreen an extremely busty blonde was pounding it out with some sort of ninja wraith.
Ross turned from the screen and gave her a friendly grin. Evie inwardly winced at the warmth and love evident in his gaze.
“K.O.,” announced the onscreen commentator.
“Yes,” snarled Kit.
Ross swapped the Playstation controller to his off hand and extended his right towards her. “Coming to join us?”
Guilt further chewed at her insides as Evie perched beside him. Even as a child, deceit had never come easy to her. She still remembered with vivid horror the time, aged seven, when she’d taken the chocolate bar from her dad’s bait box without asking. “Can we talk?” she asked.
Ross squeezed her around the middle and rested his head in the crook of her shoulder. “In a bit.”
Maybe she ought to admit the infidelity now, while Kit was present and they could all say their bits, assuming it didn’t immediately devolve into a god awful row. Who knew if Kit’s version of reality bore any relation to the truth, or whether Ross would see it as an ultimate betrayal on the part of both of them. No, best she waited and lured him away from Kit first. Kit, who made her blood boil, sitting there without a care for the trouble he’d caused. Interestingly, the shadowy line of stubble that covered his jaw suited him. It made him look less metrosexual and more testosterone-infused hunk, an image only exacerbated by his mussed up hair and activity-creased clothes. He had his legs folded up in front of him and the controller perched on top of his knees. His bare toes curled around the edge of the sofa cushion. Actually, both of them were barefoot, and sitting curiously close. Ross hadn’t had to shuffle up to make space for her.
