14. Hailey
“If you keep moaning like that, you’ll make Arlo jealous,” Hota says as I stuff another bite of dessert into my mouth.
It’s like a gooey brownie, but almost a pudding with caramel sauce and chocolate chunks. I lick the spoon, and my eyes roll back into my head. Any sense of decorum our laid-back lunch possessed is out the window.
When I finally open my eyes, Arlo’s head shakes. His gaze is serious and locked on Hota. “Her pleasure brings me pleasure, not jealousy. In case you didn’t clock that when your face was buried in her cunt.”
I grin and scoop the last bite from my dessert cup, knowing I’ll love and regret it in equal measure. My belly is stuffed with the meal Arlo made for us last night, but we didn’t eat. It’s going to hurt so good.
“I can’t believe you’re letting it go to waste.” Hota’s portion is missing a polite bite or two.
“I’m not wasting. I’m saving it for you.” He winks.
My grin is so wide, it hurts my cheeks. I slip the last bite into my mouth and let my vocal cords work unabashedly.
“Fuck.” Hota adjusts in his seat, swinging his gaze back to Arlo. “My dick was in her mouth yesterday. You weren’t at all jealous?” His fingers grip the edge of the low Kotatsu table.
That needy place between my legs heats against the thin Zabutons cushion under my ass. The memories of both events are vivid in my mind. I shift my legs from under me, dragging them along the tightly woven straw mat flooring to crisscross applesauce to ease the friction of my thighs.
“I felt many things yesterday.” Arlo’s gaze is hot and steady on Hota. He leans forward and drops his volume. “Awed. Humbled. Grateful. Aroused. Concerned. Jealous wasn’t among them.”
Before they get into the weeds on this adventure, I shift onto my knees and grab our dessert plates one by one. “Hota, I need you to go grab every comforter and pillow you have in this sky tower you call home and bring them to the living room. Arlo, I need you to set up the games, cards, and wine we brought in the living room. I’m going to clean up our lunch.”
Hota stares at me with questions in his eyes, while Arlo has that ever-endearing look of admiration in his.
“Let’s go!” I wave after them with the plates. “We don’t have all day.” Then I smile. “Actually, we do. Regardless, move it.”
The guys stand and reach for the glasses and utensils.
“No sirs.” My head shakes. “You have your jobs, hop to.”
“We can help,” Arlo tries.
“You cooked. I’ve got this.” I shoo him. “Now go.” I swing my gaze to Hota. “I want the comfiest pillow fort you’ve ever seen. Got it?”
His mouth opens, then closes. A bright smile morphs on his face. “I’ve never seen one.”
“Use your imagination.” I blow them each a kiss with no hands and head for the kitchen.
While I put the food into the sleek refrigerator built into the modern cabinets, rinse the dishes, and place them into the dishwasher, after I find it, I think about Arlo and Hota. The yearning and desperation between those two is so palpable and potent, I’m shocked I didn’t see it the first time they were in the same room together.
I was dealing with a few of my demons at the time, and Arlo was certainly wrestling with his. It’s amazing and so sad that they’ve been circling each other for so very long, unable to surrender to the commanding pull.
Sure, they’d found workarounds. Other people. Groups. Voyeurism. None of that can compare to true touch and genuine connection.
I want nothing more this Christmas than to give them that gift or at least foster its possibility. No part of me fears the consequences. That’s a testament to Arlo’s love. The way he loves me, wholly and completely, leaves no room for doubt.
The love he has for Hota doesn’t scare me. If the fuzzy, warm excitement in my chest is any indication, it gives me comfort.
I dry my hands and practically skip into the living room.
I stop cold. “Oh my god!”
The wall of windows in my office looks over the city, while this wall of windows seems to look over the entire world. I rush to the threshold and bite back a squeal. We’re so high up that everything below is specks. The clouds are close enough to touch, and the snow that slips through them…
“It looks like magic.” My words come out as a sigh.
“You are magic.” Arlo breathes against my neck. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and settles me against his chest. We stay that way for a few minutes, watching the sky dance and whirl.
His lips brush my head. “If you think that’s magic, you haven’t seen what Hota built you.”
I kiss his palm and let him turn me.
Words get caught in my throat. Hota’s T-shirt has lifted, exposing his lower back. His hair has fallen from its messy bun and hangs over his face and onto his shoulders as he stretches up onto his tiptoes. The perfect bulge of his biceps and shoulders stretch the confines of his shirt as he fastens the edge of a white sheet to the top of the masterpiece he’s created.
A part of it is secured to the wall, while the other end is attached to a coatrack, maybe. It’s covered on all sides like a luxurious tent. Pillows line the edges. I can see them peeking out from the edge of the sheet.
When Hota finishes, his arms drop to his sides. He smooths the hair from his face and takes a step back, scrutinizing his work.
“It’s perfect.” I don’t know why there are tears in my eyes. They’re happy ones for certain.
He turns to me and smiles. It’s enough to knock me off my feet. “You like it?”
“I love it.” I giggle. “It’s…This is the best.” I push from Arlo’s arms, grab his hand, and lead him to Hota. I grab his hand with my right and pull both their hands together. Their fingers slowly, hesitantly tangle, and I protect them on my own.
My gaze measures each man in turn. Joy and awe flow from them.
“When we go inside this magical pillow fort, nothing else exists. Not the past. Not the future. Not our fears or even our hopes. Today, in this place, we just are. We are Hota, Arlo, and Hailey. We are us.”
I pull their joined hands to my lips and kiss each of their woven fingers, touching my lips to their skin with every pass of my mouth. Then I straighten, release their hands, and dive under the sheet.
There’s no way to hold back my squeal.
I’ve been enveloped into a whole new world. It’s soft and fluffy under my knees. The fort surrounds the coffee table. Hota’s plush couch creates a huge L and the back barrier for our little hideaway. The games, cards, and wine we brought line the table.
One by one, the guys worm their way inside. Like this fort is my heart, they slip right in—Arlo first, then Hota.
They make themselves comfortable on the opposite side of the table. Their broad backs lean against the couch. Hota’s legs sprawl in the space between the table’s end and the short side of the L, while Arlo’s slip under the table and to the right of my crossed legs.
Then I look at the stack of games in front of me. The ones Arlo packed from one of a hundred closets in his house.
“Oh no!” My panicked eyes find Arlo. He’s already keeled over laughing.
“What?” Hota’s brow hikes, and his pretty lips quirk. “What’s wrong?”
“Trivial Pursuit!” I shriek. “You guys are going to roast and toast me.” My hands are in my hair, tugging at my bun. “Why don’t you have fun games like Exploding Kittens or Cards Against Humanity? I’d even take Catan over this or that dumb headband game.”
“There’s Monopoly.” Arlo laughs.
“Will you please push him over?” I beg Hota.
With one quick palm strike from Hota to the shoulder, Arlo tips but catches himself by gripping the table.
Tears squeeze out of Arlo’s eyes. Laughter pours out of him like I’ve never seen it. He can barely catch a breath, and when he does, it’s high-pitched and hysterical.
“I’m not playing Monopoly with a billionaire and—” I make a show of looking around Hota’s home even though I can’t see it from here. “A millionaire.” My head shakes. “Nope. No, thank you.”
Hota joins in, listing to the side.
I sigh, thoroughly defeated, and grab the only other box. It’s been taped up, and I can’t tell what it is. I only know it has to be better than the other two options. Otherwise, we’re hitting the wine and cards a little earlier than I expected.
“Yes!” I say before the box is fully open. “Prepare to be destroyed, fellas.”
“Aw, shit.” Hota hauls Arlo up by the sweatshirt. “Why in the world would you bring Clue when we’re playing against her?”
Arlo just continues to laugh.
“Did you take something when we weren’t looking?” I narrow my gaze at him, smiling my biggest smile. “Edibles? A few shots of tequila?”
“Acid?” Hota offers.
Arlo draws a deep breath. His gaze bounces from me to Hota and back. “No, I’m just really fucking happy to be here with you. Both of you.” He lets his gaze slide back to Hota.
The big guy grins, then shoves him over, succeeding this time. He laughs so hard, he folds over onto his leg, looking quite flexible for such a big guy.
While I set up the game, I soak in their joy, feeding off it like a drug.
“Okay. Okay.” Arlo wipes at his ocean-deep eyes. Their turbulence is tamed by the company he keeps. “I’m ready.” He turns to Hota. “Will you pull yourself together?”
Then he’s laughing again, falling over once more, but this time, he collapses onto Hota’s back. They laugh together, and it sounds like music. Arlo wraps his arms around Hota and tugs him close, melding his chest to the other man’s back.
Arlo buries his face in Hota’s hair and nuzzles close.
Hota’s big hand holds tight to Arlo’s forearms.
Then just as quickly as they touched, they straighten and situate in their respective seats as though nothing happened.
I smile at them both. “Here we go.”
Hours pass. Games are played. Even Monopoly, which I lose spectacularly, and Trivial freaking Pursuit, which I manage to beat Arlo, but not Hota.
The wine is opened, glasses are filled and drunk. Snacks are eaten.
“Thank you,” Hota says when we wrap our last round of Trivial.
“For?” Arlo squares him with a look.
“Coming over when you didn’t have to. When I wouldn’t have blamed you for not trying.” He shrugs. “I walked out.”
Arlo nods. “I’ve never stopped trying. Even when it seemed like I had. I’ve never stopped, and I never will.”
Hota looks like he wants to say something, but it sticks in his throat.
I might know a way to get it out.
All three games stowed, I set the boxes outside our little world. I hike up onto my knees, splay my forearms onto the tabletop, and lean far over to the other side.
“Give me those fuckable lips, Kido.” I stare at them and lick my own.
He sighs a curse that curls straight to my pussy. Then his gaze slides to Arlo.
“Don’t look at him,” I bite. “He didn’t tell you what to do, I did.”
Hotaru’s gaze snaps to me. The heat in it is thermonuclear. I’m in sweats without a stitch of makeup on or my hair much more than brushed. The way he’s looking at me…
Fuck. My tits are heavy, and my pussy aches.
I feel like a goddamn pinup.
“You realize you’re the sub in this situation, don’t you, sunshine?” Still, he leans forward.
“Yes.” I lean closer, bringing my nose so close I slide the tip of it over his for good measure. “You realize you’re going to be a good boy and do as you’re told, right?”
He laughs. The joyous burst of air warms my lips, and he leans closer still. The plump edges of his lips drag over my arch, then across the pout of my mouth.
“Yeah, I do.” His hand brackets my throat, taking control.
His grip is tight, unforgiving, but it doesn’t hurt. I can breathe easily if I could breathe at all. My lungs are locked tight with anticipation.
I whimper against his unmoving mouth.
“But not until you beg.”
“Please, Hota,” I plead immediately. There’s no reservation in me. If I wasn’t already on my knees, I’d drop to them. If he told me to crawl? Hand and knees, here I come. “I need you to kiss me.”
“I don’t kiss, sunshine.” His gaze caresses my face. “Not ever.”
The truth hits me between the eyes. “You mean…”
“Yes,” he snarls. “I mean.”
He’s never kissed anyone. “Not even Arlo?”
His hand tightens on my neck, bumping the pressure in my brain. My pulse drums like it’s having to fight to get to my head and back to my heart. He drags his lips over my cheek and to my ear.
“Not even Arlo.” His teeth tug my lobe.
I wince at the exquisite pain.
“Why not?” I know asking this goes against my no past talk, but it’s his present too, and I have to know.
The huff of his breath dances along my neck. “When he couldn’t, I didn’t want to with anyone else. It’s intimate and not something I allowed.”
I lever back, my gaze jumping between his mouth and his eyes. “You mean you’ve been keeping these perfect lips to yourself?”
Mischief dances in his gaze. “Well, not entirely.”
My pussy flutters. No, not entirely. Yet I want more.
“Please, I need your mouth on mine.” Then I stop, my brain catching up with my body. “If you want to kiss Arlo first, I understand.” As much as I want to taste his lips, to be his first in some way, it won’t hurt me to give that to Arlo.
“I want my first kiss to be with someone who is driven to kiss me every time they lay eyes on me. I want my first kiss to be with someone who can’t stand a breath between our skin.” There’s such pain in his voice. Because he wanted that person to be Arlo. He doesn’t have to say it for us to know.
There is hurt in his voice but also desire. The desire to be needed above all else.
I grab his shirt with both hands and shove him back to look into his eyes.
“Please, Hotaru.” Without a thought to whether or not I should, I launch forward and seal my mouth to his. Because I need to. I need to show him how much he’s needed, how much he’s loved.
Oh fuck.
Loved?
Before I can get sucked into the chaos of my mind, Hota’s lips answer mine.
He braces my skull with his free hand, tilts my jaw with a few fingers that slip up my throat, and he kisses me.