Page 53 of Triple Play

“Sure.” I lift a teasing shoulder.

A second later, Blake’s lips are on my neck. His hand plunges into the water, at my waist, lower, lower. “Show me what you want.”

“Touch me,” I breathe, and he does, fingers light over the tip of my breast, his other below the elastic of my swimsuit, dipping toward my pussy. “Fuck.” The word is out before I can stop it. What Blake heard me yell that first day in Boston and still asked me out.

“You need something?” he asks, innocent as anything. His middle finger pushes down farther, parting my folds and rubbing me with brief unsatisfying pressure.

I’m pretty good at teasing people. Hell, I built an entire career on teasing people. It’s a different thing entirely to be on the other side of it. A whine gathers in my throat.

“You gonna do something or you just gonna waste my time?” I ask.

Blake actually laughs and rolls my nipple between his fingers. Exactly once.

Well, two people can play this game. He might be good, but I’m a professional. I grind my hips, slow, and get the gratification of his cock against my ass, the gasp of his breath in my ear. The action makes my breasts shift, testing the sparse limits of my triangle top.

From across the hot tub, Felix groans. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the girl you’re dating has incredible—” He cuts himself off, laughing.

Blake makes a disapproving noise. For a second, I wonder if Felix went too far. Until Blake says, “My girlfriend, you mean.”

“You all work that out?” As if that was something Felix encouraged.

“Sure seems like it.” Blake tucks me closer to him and kisses my neck. Increases the pace of his hand with his middle and ring fingers straddling my clit. With the water counteracting some of the slickness gathering between my legs, it’s almost enough. Almost.

“How’s that feel?” Blake asks, low.

I should lie. We’re doing this in front of Felix, and I should moan and gasp and not embarrass him by saying that he’s doing…all right, but not quite what I need.

My silence goes on too long. Blake stops. Fuck, I should have just said yes, that’s good. Except that Blake shifts me from his lap, then picks me up and seats me on the edge of the hot tub, pushing my knees apart so he can stand between them.

My skin comes up in goose bumps almost immediately—from the heat of his gaze and the chill of the air. He skims his hands up my thighs, then calls to Felix, “Get her a towel.”

Felix does, sloshing across the deck to a bin holding a set of fluffy white hotel towels, then returns with a handful of them that he gives to Blake, who spreads them out.

Blake encourages me up and back, until I’m sitting on terrycloth. They’re thick enough to provide a cushion between me and the synthetic wood of the deck, like he didn’t want me to be even momentarily uncomfortable.

“Let’s try this again.” Blake lowers his mouth to mine, kissing me, at my lips, my jaw, moving down my neck. And I’m about to thread my fingers back through his hair, to push him to my breast and demand the attention of his mouth, when he pauses. “You gonna tell me when I’m doing something you like?” he asks.

I laugh and nod. “Sure, I promise.”

“You gonna tell me when I could be doing something better?”

My stomach drops. So he knows I was trying to spare his feelings.

“Honest feedback is the only real way to improve,” he says, in a media-polished tone like he might use when being interviewed postgame.

I can’t help it: I crack up. Blake smiles up at me, boyish, eyes lit with laughter. Next to me, Felix is also laughing, and fuck, this feels good, the three of us together, bound together in a way I can’t quite name. What happens here stays here…

But what if it didn’t?

I don’t have long to contemplate that. Blake takes my hand and puts it in his hair. “Pull it if you don’t like something.”

“How about I pull it if I do?”

“Even better.” He thumbs my swimsuit top back to reveal my nipple, then seals his mouth over it. It’s warm, wet, his tongue flicking. That ache returns between my legs, the urge to have him fuck me out here protected by the shelter of his body and the sealed-up door leading back to our real lives.

Not just him. Felix hasn’t moved. He’s watching, hungrily, eyes flicking from mine to Blake’s shoulders and back. “How’s that?” he asks me.

“For a guy who talks slow, he’s pretty good with his tongue.”

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