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“You can crash here you know. You don’t have to go home.”
There’s a fourth room, but I know I couldn’t stay here. After clocking out, it would be very easy for someone to spot me creeping back up the hill to the cabin. If I stay past my contracted hours, I need to let Elias know I was asked to attend to the guests. It happens all the time, but he’s riddled with suspicions about me as it is.
“I’d better not,” I say, unease slithering along my bones.
“Our deal won’t change,” he murmurs. “I don’t want this to end any time soon; you’re safe.”
Briefly, his fingers toy with my hair before he retakes his seat next to Brecken on the other side of the coffee table. His touch, his reassurance bolsters me, warmth licking through my veins and chasing out that unease.
The only light we have comes from the tree lights and the fire. It’s cozy, seductive, and has me feeling sleepy as I watch Reuben deal the cards and then the flop. But when Luca asks, “Shall we make this interesting?” the bottle that I’m wrapping my lips around pauses mid-air.
Those words sound suspiciously similar to those spoken last night.
Reuben glances between Luca and me, a mixture of amusement and interest curling his mouth. Brecken studies the cards in his hand like he can predict the future with them. Maybe he can. Maybe they can all read the room as easily as I can, but out of everyone, he’s less interested.
“How?” I ask, placing my beer on the table.
“Loser either removes an item of clothing or kisses another.”
I arch a brow. “Strip poker?” This is college dorm stuff but I’ll happily play again. And Luca wouldn’t suggest it unless he thought I’d be game. Unless he knew his friends were.
“With a choice,” Luca defends, though we all know the choice is zero.
“So you and Reuben will kiss?”
“We’ve done it before,” Reuben butts in. “It’s not a big deal.” Brecken aims a bottle cap at his friend’s head, making a direct hit. “He’s needy like that,” Reuben jokes, eyeing Luca with warm affection.
Amused at their antics, I calculate I’m wearing more articles of clothing than the guys, so I might be able to outplay them.
I look at my cards, then those on the table to see if I can make anything from my hand. Perhaps eager to get to it, we play quickly. Brecken loses the first round, taking off a sock. Then I lose, taking off a slipper to much chin rubbing, the men discussing if I’m flouting the rules. After six rounds, I’ve lost both my slippers and a sock, while the guys have each lost a sock.
We break for another beer, after which I lose my second sock and my sweater. Then Reuben removes his shirt, displaying a muscled body, tattoos decorating his upper right chest, shoulder, and arm. The ink has my belly somersaulting.
No kisses have been exchanged. Yet. But we’re heading that way, with the way we sit more tightly together, leaning in, our faces closer. The sexual tension escalates tenfold as we watch each other remove items of clothing. And now that the super fine bodies are coming out, my puss is getting seriously invested. She likes what she sees, and I embrace my sexuality more eagerly, indulging in the moment and trying to forget I’m meant to be working.
Another beer goes, the night disappearing along with my sanity and clarity of thought. Luca takes off his t-shirt, reminding me of this morning when I sucked his perfect dick. When I lose the next hand, I take off my navy pants, stepping out of them in just a black lace thong.
Beside me, Reuben blows out a breath. “Now it’s getting interesting,” he deadpans to dark laughter.
When I check in with Luca, he winks, and my body loosens.
I crash out of the next round, taking a moment to consider what to do. Remaining clothed for as long as possible is my ultimate goal, and while I want Brecken, to involve him, to understand him more, I feel he needs more time.
So I look at Reuben.
The air vibrates with testosterone. All eyes are on me, anxiously waiting for my next move. A kiss, or strip? There is no other sound but my question. “Can I kiss you?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
His voice is so beautiful. I could listen to him talk all day.
Because he’s sitting next to me, we lean in at the same time, our heads tilting to the side. I give the kiss my full commitment, letting go of any last inhibitions. And it’s so easy when he looks the way he does: stunning; powerful; forbidden.
Reuben’s lips are soft and agile, his tongue driving against mine with finesse and skill. He’s so invested that my heart flaps about in my chest, my lungs constricting. He chases after more, pushing me backward until I begin to tip. My hands fly from his nape to his rounded, muscular shoulders. They flex and tighten as his hands sweep up my back and hold me against his firm chest, his torso lowering to mine.
His cock is hard, prodding into my lower stomach as he presses me into the sofa seats, consuming me whole, wrapping me up in his strong embrace. I’m not sure how long we kiss for, this lovely, bone-meltingly good kiss extending into one long make-out session. But it speaks of tenderness and passion, comfort and craving, and I don’t want it to end.
Breathless, he pulls away. “Whoo,” he says on a tattered breath. “Damn.”
