The Sextet Presents... Bound by Voodoo [Legends] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (4 page)

“No.” The blunt denial might piss off his new neighbors, but Barrett wasn’t about to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime shot with Aurora Bond.

Barrett Cunningham had bigger balls than Winston would’ve thought, considering his polite demeanor when he’d stopped by the office with the real estate agent to ask a few questions. When Barrett had announced he wanted to buy in, Winston had invited him to dinner to get acquainted. They shared some of the same interests, and Winston had even gotten the impression Barrett liked him. Evidently, the guy was straight, though.

Watching Barrett add barbecued wings to his plate, Winston tried to ignore his conflicting emotions. Was he jealous because Barrett planned to pursue Rory? Or did the jealousy come from the fact that Barrett was attracted to her instead of him?

At least Miles hadn’t come to Barrett’s rescue during the confrontation. That would’ve been the ultimate slap in the face. They’d agreed to keep their relationship casual, but the need for a commitment had been slowly creeping in and Miles had shown no sign he was interested in moving to the next level. Winston had finally accepted his bisexuality less than a year ago, only to find himself in a situation of occasionally sleeping with one building mate he cared about and still wanting the other.

Having a third thrown into the mix frustrated him even more. He was a fucking pervert for thinking the thoughts he’d been having since he’d met Miles and Aurora, let alone Barrett. Rory had surely never been approached professionally about one woman and three men’s sex life—in the same bed, at the same time. Teasing her with the flogger earlier had only ramped up his desire to make his unconventional fantasies reality.

“Why are you frowning?” Rory’s question brought Winston back to his living room.

“Hm? Oh, I was thinking about logistics.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Logistics? Well, tell your brain to shut off. It’s the weekend, and you deserve some time off.” She took a bite of pizza and then patted the cushion next to her when her high school buddy walked into the room. “Come sit with me, Barrett.”

Barrett’s gaze connected with Winston’s for a full second before he aimed for the couch. The grim line of his mouth suggested he was far more troubled by the conversation in the kitchen than smug about the invitation from Rory. “Okay.”

“They told you I’m a card shark, didn’t they?” She rolled her eyes at Winston, sending a wave of guilt through his conscience. Leading her to believe they’d discussed her card-playing abilities was too damn close to lying.

Barrett shook his head as he picked up a piece of chicken. “Nope.”

Winston waited for the bomb to drop. Obviously, the newcomer was going to reveal the real topic.

Lifting her wineglass, she raised her eyebrows as if to encourage a detailed answer.

“We talked about knowing when to fold and when to stay in.” The explanation could apply to the true subject as well as cards. “I tend to make a decision and stick with it unless I’m sure the odds of winning are zero.”

She pursed her lips. “I prefer to wait for a sure thing before going all in.”

Why hadn’t he ratted out Winston and Miles to her?

“Sometimes the prize is worth the risk.” Barrett tipped up his beer and took a long pull. “Do you play Stud or Texas Hold ’Em?”

“Seven Card Stud. Usually penny ante, quarter high bet. We don’t want to keep anybody from making the mortgage payment.” Anticipation of the night’s game seemed to brighten her blue eyes.

“Sounds fair.”

No one spoke as they finished eating, and Winston emptied his bottle in a single gulp standing at the kitchen sink after rinsing the plates. His stomach was in knots. Barrett had all but claimed Rory. Miles hadn’t even hinted at whether or not he planned to stay when the others left. They could’ve shared every night together while Rory had been in New Orleans, but he seemed to be distancing himself from Winston—as if he had no use for their encounters anymore. They hadn’t made love in over a week. That spoke a hell of a lot louder than any words Miles might’ve said.

Grabbing three more beers and the bottle of wine, Winston returned to the living room, not really in the mood to socialize.

Barrett, Rory, and Miles had settled at the poker table, and she set the deck in front of Winston. “Cut?”

Frustration urged him to sweep his hand across the cards, sending them flying. Then he’d get up and leave, go for a run, burn off the anger simmering in his gut. Maybe
he
was the one who should sell out.

He slid off the top half and then picked up the remainder of the pile to place it on top without speaking. Tossing a penny to the center of the table, he leaned back in his chair to wait for the deal. Three more coins clinked onto the first. Cards glided across the felt to land in front of each player, a reminder of Rory’s experience at the game.

With a four showing, Miles started the betting by dropping a dime in the pot. Barrett added another dime, as did Rory, and then Winston. She dealt the fourth round, snapping the jack of hearts onto Winston’s queen of hearts. With the jack of spades and a two of clubs hiding, he had a chance of winning the hand or at least bluffing enough to make everybody fold.

He flipped another dime onto the growing pile of change. “Call.”

Miles shook his head. “I’m out.”

Peeking at his pair of facedown cards, Barrett snagged two nickels from his stash for a bet. “Still in, Rory?”

Without looking down at the four-card hand, she counted out ten pennies and shoved them to the center of the table. Then she dealt another face-up addition to the three players still in the game.

A shot of adrenaline sent Winston’s heart thumping, but he ignored the excitement of getting the ace of hearts. The likelihood of the king and ten showing up for him in the next two rounds was miniscule. He threw in a quarter anyway. His opponents couldn’t know what lay hidden unless one or the other had already gotten the cards he needed for the royal flush.

Barrett glanced toward Rory and then stared across the table at Winston. The newcomer’s expression revealed nothing. A quarter clanked on the mound of coins.

Flipping over her top three cards, Rory drank a swallow of wine. “Fold.”

She added a sixth to Winston’s and Barrett’s lineups.

The ten of diamonds blew Winston’s chance at the royal flush, but a straight was within the realm of possibility. Although a pair of jacks wasn’t great, it was better than twos. He tossed in another quarter.

“I’m in.” Barrett slid his bet to the pile.

Dealing the last card facedown, Rory set aside the deck. Her eyes met Winston’s for several seconds, studying him as if she could read his mind. He’d be in big trouble if she did.

He lifted the corner of the seventh card. It wasn’t the king he wanted, but the deuce of spades gave him two pair. More concerned with not quitting than winning, he fished twenty-five cents from his money supply.

His adversary dropped a combination of nickels and pennies into the pot—no more than the minimum bet of a quarter. Evidently, Barrett wasn’t overly confident about his own hand, either. “Let’s see what you got.”

Winston was half tempted to stand, unzip his pants, and free his semierect cock into the man’s face. Instead, he shared his hand with the table. “Jacks and twos.”

Nodding, Barrett grinned as he showed his cards. “Three fours. I don’t deserve to win.”

Rory snorted a laugh. “Neither of you earned that pot. All two dollars and twenty-four cents.”

The next three hands went to Lady Luck, leaving Winston, Miles, and Barrett too short on cash to even bet. Winston’s mood hadn’t improved by the time his guests headed for the door.

Barrett leaned in to give Rory a kiss on the cheek and a hug that lasted a couple seconds longer than Winston would’ve liked. “It’s great to see you again. I’m really glad I bought into the co-op.” He extended his hand to Miles and then Winston. “Thanks for inviting me tonight. It was fun. Maybe we can get together at my apartment next time.”

Giving a wave, Rory strolled toward the unit at the end of the corridor. “Good night, guys. Don’t forget the movie tomorrow. Six o’clock. Oh, you’re invited too, Barrett.”

His smile ate at Winston’s gut. “Okay. ’Night, Rory.”

The lovesick puppy aimed the opposite direction for his own door, leaving Miles and Winston standing just inside the doorway.

Miles gestured to the living room. “You want some help cleaning up?”

The only thing Winston wanted help with was relieving the ache in his dick. “Nah. I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

Closing the door, Miles followed Winston to the couch. “What’s the problem? You’ve been quiet all night—ever since the new guy refused to stay away from Rory. Unless I’m reading him wrong, I think he likes her a lot.”

Winston pushed up from his seat to pace, too uncomfortable with his lover’s inability to see what was bugging him to sit still. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing you can do about it anyway.”

I can’t force you to take the next step, and I’m not going to beg you for more than you want to give.

Stepping in front of him, Miles rubbed his palm over Winston’s jeans zipper, triggering a shiver through his balls. “Damn right I can do something about it. I can jack you off while I fuck your tight ass. If you still have a problem after that, then I did it wrong.”

As Winston started to speak, Miles covered his mouth in a deep kiss, thrusting inside to tease Winston’s tongue. Every aggressive lunge pushed his desire higher. Fingers worked the buttons on his pants, easing the pressure on his erection and encouraging it to grow.

Unable to stop himself, Winston tugged at the T-shirt tucked into Miles’s khakis, needing to touch taut skin over hard muscle. Every inch made him want more. Finally, he jerked the shirt upward, nipping at his lover’s lip to break off the kiss until their clothes were out of the way.

Miles took over, removing his shirt in a single fluid motion. His dark eyes had shifted from rich brown to nearly black, the perfect complement to his jet-black hair. “Biting? I know you want me, so don’t even try to pretend you don’t. You want to suck me before I screw that beautiful butt, don’t you? And I bet you can’t wait to lick my nuts. I shaved them for you.”

The words forced a groan from Winston’s throat. He loved to run his tongue over the smooth, hairless sac and along the distended veins leading the way up the length of Miles’s thick, meaty cock.

Dropping his shirt to the floor, Miles pushed Winston’s jeans past his hips and down his legs. “Step out of your pants. We’re going to the bedroom. I need lube, and I want to watch in the mirror when I fuck you. If you’re good, I’ll even spank that lily-white ass of yours a few times.”

Winston kicked his feet free of the leg holes as pre-cum dripped from his slit. The promise of Miles marking him with handprints on his butt cheek would make him last all of about thirty seconds before shooting his load. “Rory had the flogger out today. I’m going to buy one for you to use on me.”

“You want it rougher, huh?” Guiding him by the dick to the bed, Miles retrieved the lube from the nightstand drawer. “How about a riding crop?”

“Yes, Sir.” Impatience nagged at Winston as he waited for Miles to shed the rest of his clothes. He’d missed going down on his tall, dark, and handsome lover.

Miles seemed to sense the urgency coursing through Winston’s veins. He unzipped his pants, giving them a shove to let them slide to his ankles. A wicked grin crept across his face a second before he pushed Winston backward onto the mattress and crawled on to dangle a pair of bald balls and a broad, curving dick over his mouth. “Blow me, Win, so I can last longer screwing you.”

The huskiness of Miles’s voice told Winston a few well-placed licks and sucks added to a prostate massage would send a wad of cum down his throat in no time. After doing without for more than a week, though, a bit of teasing to prolong the experience was in order—no matter how much Miles demanded he finish. Playing the part of submissive didn’t mean Winston had to
like
being sexually ignored for eight days.

The sudden realization that Miles might be sleeping with another man stabbed through Winston’s heart with the pain of an actual knife wound. Studying the cock hanging an inch from his nose, he couldn’t help but wonder if Miles and
whoever
had taken precautions. A clean bill of health six months ago wasn’t worth the paper it was written on now if he’d been careless since then.

Should I ask?

Winston’s mouth watered at the sight of sticky fluid oozing past the swollen purple crown, but still he hesitated.

We promised to tell each other if either of us engaged in risky behavior. He’d tell me, wouldn’t he?

His fingers itched to trace the seam of his lover’s ass, bumping over the puckered hole to his testicles.

I trust him with my life. He wouldn’t keep something like that from me.

Lifting his chin, he licked along the line dividing Miles’s scrotum in half. Rather than continuing upward, he reversed his path until his mouth was in position to suck one smooth ball inside. He manipulated the firm globe of flesh with his tongue, using suction to move it around in the loose covering of skin.