41. Hailey
I love Crave.
Yes, it’s a sex club. It’s also a place people go to lose themselves, and in doing so, they often find themselves along the way.
Nuzzling closer between two hot chests, I wish Crave had an overnight option. The last thing I want to do is move. I’m pretty sure Arlo passed out thirty minutes ago, showing just how exhausted and at peace he is.
Hota’s hand has yet to cease its back and forth, alternating between my arm and Arlo’s. He kisses my nape, then slips out of bed.
I groan, missing his warmth already.
Moments later, his weight dips the bed. His hand slides along my thigh.
“Already?” I perk, tired but definitely interested.
“You wish.” His quiet laugh is damn endearing.
“True,” I admit.
He slips a warm washcloth between my legs while he runs sweet kisses over my shoulder. “We need to leave soon.”
I offer a pouty whimper and roll onto my back.
“I’ll carry you if you want. We just need to make it to the car, and Leo will take care of the rest.” He folds the cloth and gives my lady bits a final pass.
A smile pulls at my lips. “I think it’ll take both of us to carry him out.” I give a nod toward our very own Sleeping Beauty.
Hota looks at Arlo and stalls. His dark gaze goes wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Then he looks at me with the same kind of awe.
His face is so expressive and stunningly gorgeous. I cup it in my hands and run my thumbs over his temple. There’s so much I want to say to him, but I think he’s met his limit tonight. Hell, overloaded is more like it.
“You get his arms. I’ll get his legs.” I grin.
The lightness of his laugh gives me the boost I need to sit up. I press my lips to his, and then ease past him.
Our clothes are scattered. Confetti after a concert.
What a show!
Watching them love each other is hotter than any porn.
And I got called on stage.
Damn!
I gather our items up one by one and pile them onto the bed while Hota wakes Arlo with kisses and caresses over his worn and beautiful body.
“If I buy the club, can we stay?” Arlo grumbles.
“Spoken like a true one percenter.” I toss a pair of underwear at his head. “Let’s go, hot stuff.”
Arlo plucks them from off the top of his head and studies them. “These aren’t my underwear.” He cackles, and I can’t decide if it’s about the underthings or Hota trying his best to clean Arlo with a fresh washcloth.
Fifty-fifty, really.
We dress in a punch-drunk haze, trading items and sorting through whose is what. No one mistakes my bra and panties for their own.
Arlo shrugs on his shirt, pulling the two sides together, and reaches for the first button. “Ugh, this was a good shirt.”
“Even better now.” Hota purrs, running a finger down the gap over Arlo’s thick chest and corded abdomen.
“Agree.” I put my back to the guys and one of them zips me up. Both press their lips to my shoulders. Arlo on the left, and Hota on the right.
Just like that, I’m goo at their feet.
Hota crouches low and grabs my shoes while Arlo holds his hand out to steady me. Together, they finish dressing me, complete with jacket and clutch.
There’s a smile on Arlo’s lips that looks pretty damn permanent. I love it.
He ushers me through the door and into the hallway. Hota follows, closing the door and switching the occupied button to refresh for cleaning. Then he stalls. His feet shuffle a little, and his gaze jumps between us.
“Say what you’re thinking,” I urge.
“Are you…” He shoves silky black strands back from his forehead. “Are we…?” The confident man who took charge of all our pleasure has vanished with one step outside the door. A breath hisses out his throat. “You’re mine and I’m yours, but are you my girlfriend and are you my boyfriend?” he finally expels, pointing at both of us in turn.
Arlo slides his tongue over his teeth, and then makes a popping sound with his mouth.
“I’ve never had either,” Hota adds, as though that explains his lack of confidence in the situation.
I expect Arlo to turn us toward the private entrance. It’s the one we typically use. The one that would get us to a private place to hash out this private conversation.
He surprises me, as he often does, and pivots toward the main hallway. He snags Hota’s hand, dragging him along. As we walk, he tucks me into his side.
“What are you doing?” Hota asks, snatching up what Arlo offers with a smile.
“Bringing my lovers for a nightcap.” Arlo shrugs, a typical Hota move.
Hota’s gaze narrows.
“While also showing them off.” Arlo lifts his chin and leads us into the showroom. “So everyone will know who we are to one another.”
Judging by the moans filtering down the corridor, there is most definitely a show going on.
Arlo doesn’t seem to notice or care. He ushers us across the front of the room, between the rows of tables, and stops at one in the center of the room. He pulls a chair out, turns it to face the front of the room, and then tugs Hota to it.
“Sit,” he barks.
“I—” He begins to protest, but Arlo cuts him off with his sharp gaze.
Hota sits with an almost petulant huff. His legs go widespread, and he slumps back in the chair, resting one elbow on the table.
The moment he’s situated, Arlo tugs me down to the floor with him.
A smile rips at my previously flatlined mouth as we kneel at Hota’s feet.
“In case the three-person vanity, the enlarged closet, the custom bed, her permeant panther tattoo, my claiming you in front of Nate, our declarations of love and adoration, and your cum currently dripping out of my ass weren’t clear enough, let me be as clear as possible. Hmm?” Arlo’s expression is as serious as I’ve ever seen it.
Hota opens his mouth to speak, but Arlo beats him to it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt what I’m sure is a glorious show, but I need your attention for just a moment please,” Arlo bellows across the large room with his well-worn voice.
The room goes quiet, save for the rustling of people turning to figure out from where the request came.
Arlo stands and waves. “If you’ll all bear with me for a moment, I’ll make it worth your while.”
The room bursts with murmurs for a moment, and then goes quiet.
“This man has been my best friend for nearly twenty years,” Arlo says, doing a Vanna White gesture toward Hotaru. “He has protected me, been my closest confidant, and loved me when I was damn near unlovable.” He swings his Vanna hands toward me. “This woman stormed into my life and showed me what it means to love. Together, they slayed my demons and brought me back to life.” He draws in a deep breath, his shirt gaping and revealing bits of his scars and gorgeous body.
“For the rest of my life, I will show them that loving me is worth the risk. I will love them and honor them and give them the most incredible experiences I can. I will live my life with them and for them, if they will have me.” He tugs me and Hota up, and then drops to one knee.
The room goes bonkers around us. My eyes don’t leave Arlo’s. He holds our hands, and Hota and my hands immediately find each other’s and clamp tight together.
“Legally, I can’t marry both of you, but I will ask you this. Take my last name, live your lives with me, with each other, us together for as long as we live?” Arlo smiles at us, his gaze darting back and forth.
My answer sits on the tip of my tongue, ready to bound off. Still, I wait. I look at Hota, whose eyes are wide. His cheeks are coated with tears. He looks between me and Arlo.
“Answer him first.” I squeeze his hand.
“Yes,” he blurts.
A laugh bursts out of me, and I’m instantly crying. “Yes.”
The room erupts around us.
Arlo jumps to his feet and grabs us to his chest. He peppers us with kisses all over our sloppy faces.
“Oh my god.” Hota gasps. “I can’t believe it.” He stares at Arlo with his pretty mouth agape.
“Fucking believe it,” Arlo urges. “I don’t know how many more grand gestures I can manage.” He sighs. “I could buy the front page of The Times or rent one of those planes that writes things in smoke and have it fly over the city every day for a month.”
Hota’s head shakes. “Just you.” He presses our heads together. “All I need is you two.”
“Forever is a long time.” I laugh.
“Prove it,” Hota says.
“Not long enough,” Arlo challenges.
My heart is full to the point of bursting. Just like my arms. I hold tight to my men and squeal.
I’ve never known love like this. Unconditional. All encompassing. Love that surpasses time and trauma. Love that slays demons and ignites lust so rich I might die of orgasm overload. Love that knows no bounds.
One by one people filter by and congratulate us.
The mayhem settles, and then Arlo raises his hand once more. “Oh yeah, thank you for your attention. Membership is on me this month.”
Once more, the club goes crazy.