2. Hotaru
“Why are you being nice to me?” I tug Hailey into an alcove at the top of the stairs. It’s easy because she’s clinging to my arm like I need her to hold me upright.
I don’t.
It feels too fucking good to have that kind of support. Which is treacherous.
Her smile is bright and refreshing, like a spring day. Honest and storm-bringing. And storms fuck shit up.
They uproot hundred-year-old trees, tear down houses, and clear-cut lands. After the damage comes clarity, rebuilding, and stronger foundations.
I pull my arm from her grip, grab her shoulder, and settle her against the wall before dropping my hand to my side. The book burns a hole through my side. Its words seep into my soul.
The arched nook isn’t big. Only a handful of centimeters separate me and Hailey, but it’s better than her touch. Her smooth skin on mine makes the blood flow directly to my dick. Right now, I need all my wits about me because nothing makes sense.
Not Arlo’s poem.
Not Hailey’s kindness.
“You should hate me.” I brace one hand on the leather belt around my hips while my other continues to grip the book Arlo gave me. The collar of my shirt is suddenly strangling me. I draw a deep breath and will her to speak instead of taunting me with her pretty lips and sweet smile.
“Just the same as you should hate me.” Her words are a whisper in the close confines.
Worry wrinkles the space between her eyes.
Lifting one hand, I press my thumb to the ruffled skin and smooth it out. I run it up over her brow and down across her orbital bone before pulling away. “I can't hate you.”
“I’d venture a guess that it’s the same reason I can’t hate you.” Hailey draws both of her hands up and cups my cheeks.
Warmth radiates from the tender contact. Though I know I shouldn’t, I sink into her comfort. It’s been so long since I’ve allowed myself consolation from anyone. No one is close enough to earn that right. Until this moment, I haven’t imagined anyone besides Arlo giving it to me.
“Why is that?” I ask, closing my eyes for just a moment and breathing her in.
“Because we both love Arlo and want what is best for him.”
“Are you a shrink or something?” I open my eyes and narrow them on her with a smirk, trying to ease the tension ratcheting itself in this confined space.
Her serious gaze says she won’t be thwarted in this conversation.
“That’s one reason I can’t hate you,” I relent.
“There’s more than one?” Her cheeks go pink. “I may have more than one also.”
“Interesting.” If she was any other woman, I’d call her out, demanding to know another reason.
You liked the way I devoured your pussy and drank your cum?
But she’s not, so I don’t. “Very interesting.”
“It could be.” A glint in her eye speaks of a scheme she’s plotting and planning.
A part of me wants to know what’s going on in that mind of hers. The other, more pragmatic part wins out. “We should go see about the presents before there’s an orgy in your living room.”
“Not my living room. Arlo’s.” She slips her hand from my face, grabs my free one, and pulls me toward the grand staircase.
Does she not know that Arlo has already put this house in both their names? Does she not understand how much he loves her?
“Did you like your present earlier?” Her voice is that of a temptress, which tells me she’s not referring to the book under my arm but the kiss she orchestrated when I first arrived.
She dragged Arlo and me under the mistletoe she hung and pulled us in the most platonic and, consequently, hottest kiss of my life with her lips on half of mine and Arlo’s on the other.
“You call that a kiss?” I taunt.
“We’ll do better next time,” she promises, dragging me behind her and into the sitting room while I sport a massive boner.
Taunts on me.
“Finally.” Karris, the blond-headed brat of the group, lifts his half-filled glass toward us. “Let’s open presents.”
“You think a spoiled guy like you has any?” Hailey quips. “Coal and switches for you.” She tsks .
“I’m not spoiled,” the spoiled millionaire and senator’s only son argues. “I could make use of a man named Cole and switches, though I prefer a top to a switch.”
“My heavens.” Karris’s date clutches his lapel as though he’s never heard light dirty talk. Like fat-free, synthetic, no-taste basic talk with a slight smudge.
Astor’s date laughs. It’s thick and husky and draws the attention of most people in the room, except Dobson, who doesn’t take his eyes off Karris, or Nat, who doesn’t take her lips off her boyfriend.
“I’m not picky. You should know this, Hay Bale,” Karris purrs.
He uses her childhood nickname in a singsongy voice. Hailey’s aunt removes her lips from her significantly younger boyfriend’s neck and keys in on the mockery.
“How would she know?” Natalia asks.
Astor catches her laugh in her hand. Her dark eyes go wide as they meet Hailey’s gaze, which rests just above her reddening cheeks.
Her friend knows at least some of what went down at Crave a few weeks ago when Arlo orchestrated a show for Hailey that started with Karris rubbing her off with the fabric of her panties and ended with Kar and Dobson coming on a woman between the two of them in front of her, while Arlo fucked her bare from behind…and I jerked off into my pants like a perv.
Hailey’s hand tightens on mine.
I’m about to make the situation worse by explaining to Nat that Karris is an exhibitionist, and I’m surprised he doesn't have a dick or a tit in his mouth right now when Arlo, the host and master puppeteer, enters the back of the room from a hidden set of stairs from the library.
“Karris, you’ll receive your present last if I believe your behavior has earned it.” He rolls down his sleeves and buttons the cuffs as he walks to the loveseat opposite Natalia and her date. His eyes are hard on Hailey and me. There’s so much in them. It’s impossible to decipher every detail at this distance.
It shoots a thrill akin to a rocket launcher through my chest.
“Who died and made you boss?” Karris’s Dollar-Store-Dobson sneers at the authority in Arlo’s presence.
Almost every other set of eyes in the room goes wide. Frenchie has his face buried in Nat’s neck and can’t be bothered.
“He literally is the boss.” Gertrude’s big blue eyes bloat. She slaps Dobson’s leg at the audacity.
“Like a mob boss?” DSD digs his cozy hole a little deeper.
Arlo sits at the head of everyone, looking every inch the kingpin.
Gertrude’s full lips explain. “He’s Arlo Judge of The Judge Conglomerate.” She’s in the business world, so she knows.
Nash, Astor’s date, knows too, only in a wholly different way. He pinches his smirk between his teeth.
My gaze, on the other hand, narrows. I let my smirk free.
This will be fun.
Hailey grabs the first of the packages, a petite bag with tissue paper, and I pull her toward Arlo.
“Not to be rude to you in your own home, but so what if you have a lot of money,” DSD huffs. “You can’t just order people around, especially when you’re not at work.”
Karris exhales so long and hard that I’d be surprised if it didn’t set some sort of world record.
“Hailey?” Arlo doesn’t bother to take his honed gaze off the newcomer-with-no-sense as he pats his left thigh.
Hailey looks at me, stifles a laugh, then releases my hand with a wink. She practically runs to Arlo and perches her ass on his lap. He smooths down the skirt of her red wrap dress. The face of her dragon peeks out the top, daring anyone to fuck with her, while a gargoyle peeks out the bottom along her thighs, taunting them to play. Or maybe it’s just taunting me.
Arlo points at his cheek. Happy as ever, she puckers up and lays one on him.
“Hota?”
I jerk as he says my name.
He widens the brace of his thighs, moving Hailey easily as he does. Then he pats his right thigh.
His siren’s eyes glimmer with mischief. Her smile is wide, and she urges me on with a tilt of her head.
I move as though I’m the genie and he is my master.
He is my master.
He just hasn’t quite figured out I’m his genie.
I sit on his broad thigh and level my gaze at Dollar-Store-Dobson while the real McCoy chuckles his rich chuckle on the sofa closest to me.
Arlo points at his cheek.
My gaze slices to Hailey, whose grin is Cheshire-ish, and then back to Arlo. I lean forward and press my lips to his face in front of everyone. I can’t decide whether that adds or detracts from its meaning.
Regardless, my skin caresses Arlo’s perfect heat for the barest of seconds, and I revel in the experience. I breathe him into my lungs and store the scent and this moment in my heart.
“You’ve got to be joking.” DSD crosses his arms over his chest, displaying his floral suit.
“Siren, who is this first package for?” Arlo wraps his arm around my back and settles me into his grip. While I look around the room for the ghost of Christmas-what-could-have-been.
“It’s for Nat.” She laughs.
“Karris, be a dear and?—”
“You can’t order people around.” DSD interrupts Arlo.
Even Astor’s head shakes at that one.
“For taking dick up the ass regularly, you are awfully fussy,” Laurent says with his heavy French accent and without breaking his contact from Nat’s skin.
“I don’t take dick.” DSD ruffles. “I give it.”
“If you are a top, then I am Degas.” The Frenchman laughs, finally coming up for air.
“And I’m Picasso.” Nash, Astor’s date, agrees with a chuckle.
Arlo uses one finger to coax Karris from the sofa.
That’s when I know all this, me on his lap and my lips on his cheek, is for show. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s Arlo flexing his kink muscles, exerting his power, and finding new levels of comfort with himself. All this is amazing. He’s able to touch people now and push his limits.
Yet it’s less.
It has nothing to do with me. I’m just another puppet. And I hate myself for feeling anything other than joy for his progress.
The master tugs the string, and Karris is on his hands and knees. There’s a lusty grin on his face despite the reservations of his date.
“Now we’re talking!” Natalia whoops.
When Karris reaches Hailey’s feet, his white teeth flash as he nips her knee.
Arlo sighs. “That mouth is what got us into this predicament in the first place. Open up.” He nods to Hailey. “Give him something to keep him quiet.”
She stuffs the edge of the bag into his mouth. His white teeth clamp onto the material.
“Now, deliver it,” Arlo orders.
Laurent speaks in his native tongue about how this is the most interesting American party he’s ever been to while Nat, Hailey’s aunt, alternates between clapping and telling Karris what a good boy he is.
“He’s not a good boy. He wouldn’t know how to be one.” Arlo’s gaze lifts from the spectacle of Karris to me. “You are a good boy,” he whispers.
My dick goes impossibly hard.
Hailey leans over, placing her face close to mine and her breast in Arlo’s face because of the angle. “He could be the best boy.”
Arlo blinks at her as though she’s said something revolutionary when it’s simply something that doesn’t make any sense.