Page 33 of Cruel Games

Outside, the air was still, and a cool breeze swirled across my bare arms, making the skin pucker. Maxwell and I hurried up the entrance stairs and through the double doors, where a porter sat behind a desk.

“Names?” he asked in a strong, Scottish brogue.

Maxwell placed a hand on the small of my back. “Maxwell Deloraine and Lilah Hancock.”

The porter scribbled something down on a ledger and flicked his head toward the half-stairway. “Off ye go.”

I followed Maxwell up a stairwell lit by dim wall lights that cast an amber glow over his leather jacket. My heart thudded like the beat of a war drum. If I played things right, I would get off and get even.

“Where are we going?” I asked as we reached the second floor.

“All the older boys sleep on his level. The girls take up the floor above.”

Orlando’s room was a little smaller than the circular guest room I occupied, with a single bed lined up under the window. Opposite stood a Victorian fireplace twice the size as the one in my sewing room at Sammy’s place that looked like it burned coals in the winter. It was surrounded by a white mantle that held an old-fashioned wooden clock that looked like it came straight from the Antiques Roadshow. Its hands were stuck at eleven, making me wonder if this was one of the hidden cameras.

Orlando stepped back from the doorway and stood in front of the mantle with his arms stretched out. I suppressed a smirk, sending him a silent word of thanks for confirming my suspicion.

With his hand cupping my ass, Maxwell walked me to Orlando, who wrapped his arms around my shoulders and positioned me in front of the clock-camera. Shouldering off his leather jacket, Maxwell took a few paces back, perhaps out of the camera’s range.

“How long have you wanted to fuck two guys?” Orlando nuzzled my neck. One of his arms snaked around my waist, keeping me in place.

Twisting around, I said in a voice clear enough for the microphone. “The more important question is, how long have you wanted to fuck Maxwell?”

Orlando’s arms dropped to his side. “What?”

I reached out toward the door, grabbed Maxwell, and pulled him close. “Isn’t that the purpose of this threesome? You’re just using me as an excuse to get hard and naked with each other?”

“No,” Maxwell snarled.

I made an exaggerated shrug. “You both went to a gay club together, and now you’re both sporting erections. What else am I going to think?”

Maxwell shook his head. “It isn’t like that.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” Orlando snapped. “Did you come here to fuck or to spout false theories?”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Obviously, I want a shag, but a girl needs a little warming up before she’s going to spread her legs for two dicks.”

“Two dicks?” Orlando repeated.

“That’s more like it!” Maxwell wrapped his arms around my waist and ground his erection into my hip.

Orlando grabbed my chin and lowered his lips onto mine in what was the start of a dizzying kiss.

I pressed my palms on his chest and gave him a gentle shove. “You two need to give me something to work with.”

Orlando frowned. “What are you talking about now?”

“I want to see you together.”

“Doing what?” asked Maxwell.

I walked over to the mantle and stood at the wall, within what was probably the camera’s blind spot. “How about a little strip tease? For every item you take off, I’ll roll my dress down six inches.”

“Six inches?” said Maxwell.

“I want more,” said Orlando.