Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
“I’m no man’s distraction.”
BLAIR
Never did I think I’d be on a frickin’ writers’ retreat with two hunky NFL players.
Beau’s on a lounger to my right with his back to the ocean, his nose down, his pen feverishly writing in his black journal.
Colton’s on a lounger to my left, facing Beau and the horizon. He’ll write, look up, and study Beau with a scowl, then put his face down, his pen scribbling, too.
And I swear this retreat is a pilot episode of Mad Ballers With Angry Ball Point Pens.
So, here I am, sitting on my shaded lounger between them, inspired to write another alien romance book, and yep, you guessed it.
It’s about two alien rival warlords who are secretly lovers, too. And the one thing that will bring them peace? The human sacrifice they kidnap, the woman they have to breed together to unite their seed, their tribes in lasting harmony.
But here on planet Earth?
I do what I can to bring some peace, too.
When the chef comes by with fresh tamales for lunch, along with ceviche and slices of dragon fruit and mangos, I thank him and tell him he’s free to enjoy his afternoon. I’ll serve the men.
Then, I notice the basket of ingredients he’s brought for dinner and tell him I’ll cook dinner, too. He’s hesitant initially, but I’m the guest, so he graciously accepts his day and night off with a smile.
Once he leaves, I grab the frilly apron to the French maid lingerie outfit I brought to torture Beau with and wrap it over my red string bikini.
I feel like a naughty young Martha Stewart—the goddess of cooking and entertaining who was just in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue at age eighty-one: life goals—when I bend over, serving Beau from a rattan tray.
“Would you like to eat my sweet mangoes, Sir?”
Beau glances up from his journal, his ire turning into a smirk as he thanks my cleavage for lunch. When I serve Colton, he does the same.
They settle on their opposing loungers, devouring their lunch while, yes, my kitty purrs, feeling their eyes devouring me, too. Then, I bend over and serve them big glasses of ice water while chewing my bottom lip for them. Who knew serving men with your tits and a smile could make them drop their swords, pens, or whatever?
Me and every human alive.
So, while Beau’s busy enjoying candied craboo, the tiny Belizean cherries I served with a “Please eat my cherries for dessert, Sir,” I wander inside.
When I come back, he’s downed his water. So, he gets up to grab a refill in the kitchen while I save my work, set my laptop aside, and wait. And wait. And wait. And…
“Goddammit, Blair!”
I start laughing when he appears on the threshold of his bedroom, his glass doors open, his sexy face fuming about my Clingwrap over the toilet revenge.
“I got it in my flip-flops!” He shouts, charging my way.
“My, my, someone’s pissy!” I jump up. “Payback is warm, yellow, hell!”
But Beau’s coming, and not in a sexy way, so I dash the other way as if I can outrun a professional athlete when I’m allergic to treadmills. I don’t even make a lap around the pool before I squeal as Beau snatches me from behind, laughing with him while he plunges us into the pool.
It’s a refreshing jolt, and I emerge, trapped in his beefy embrace, my black mop blinding my face.
He laughs. “You look like Cousin It with great tits.” So I twist in his slick arms and dip my head back again, making my long hair flow down my back, away from my face.
I’m still laughing at my pissy payback when I find my focus. When I meet Beau’s intense, dripping gaze, the heat in his eyes startling, and suddenly, I feel the heat of his wet body holding me, too.
“Damn, Blair.” He mutters, “You’re so fucking beautiful, baby, I’d swim in my piss for you.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“Oh. Are golden showers your kink, too?”
“Hell no.”
But I made Beau laugh. He’s happy again, and that makes me all soft and squishy inside while he’s getting rock hard against my bare belly.
“Dirty pool sex with my hot maid is about to be my kink,” he growls, lowering his lips, kissing a warm, hungry trail up my neck. He blooms goosebumps over my flesh, steaming over my ear, “Come on, Blair. You know you’re tempted,” he urges. “Right here in the pool; let me thank you for lunch. Let me pull your itty-bitty bikini aside and suck your sweet nipples while I slide my hard cock inside you.”
Zing!
My clit screams OPEN THE FLOOD GATES, but I murmur, “Colton’s right there.”
I’m well aware of his presence. All I’ve felt today are Beau and Colton—their real fight this morning and their fictional love on my page.
I heard their shouts after their session.
Colton’s not wrong; they love each other and can find a solution.
And Beau’s not wrong. I looked it up after their session with Dr. Gary.
There are approximately seventeen hundred NFL players a year. And, if like national surveys say, five to ten percent identify as non-heterosexual, that means about a hundred men are closeted in the sport every year. They don’t feel safe coming out.
But they’re safe with me.
And I’m safe with them.
I felt it the moment I met Beau, the kind of young man who’d rescue a young woman passed out at a frat party. And I felt it last night talking to Colton, the kind of man who misses his mom so much, he’s hurting, he needs love.
We all do, and it’s overwhelming when I’m wrapped in Beau’s strong arms because it’s where I belong, and we feel it.
It thins our breath when we’re this close.
Beau brushes his soft whiskers over my parted mouth. “He doesn’t mind.” Gently, he tickles his fingertips up my spine before tugging at the string of my apron top, freeing it to fall from my waist. “Do you, Colt?” Beau calls out, “Do you mind if I fuck my beautiful woman right here in front of you?”
“Be my guest,” Colton answers, and my pussy clenches, aching with lust.
I look to my right, where Colton’s lounging feet away, wearing sunglasses. I can’t see his eyes, but I sure feel his satisfied smile, his arms resting behind his head, making his biceps pop while…
Oh my god, he’s popping a huge boner, too?
“Whatever.” I squirm, resisting the overwhelming desire to do this. To let Beau fuck me while Colton watches. Yes, it turns me on so much. Yes, it’s so wrong; it’s my favorite right thing to do.
Like right now.
But…
“I’m just a distraction, Bronson, right?”
I’m starting to hate that word. You can understand something but still resent the hell out of it.
Beau uses that word for me. For Colton, too. For almost everything in his life that’s not football, and I’m beginning to suspect it’s about much more.
“No, baby.” But Beau’s feeling playful, horny as he snaps my bikini top free. “You’re the hot destination my hard dick needs to fuck right now.”
I let him do it. I let Beau tug my red top off before he tosses it at Colton. It lands, sopping wet over Colton’s feet, who smiles even more.
I’m not ashamed to be topless in front of them. Hell, it thrills me. I don’t know why I even bothered with bikinis for this trip. I suspect we’ll be nude for days to come.
Speaking of coming…
“You want this, Beau?” Gently, I shove his concrete chest, pushing away from his grasp. I step back into shallower water until it warmly laps at my waist while cooler air excites my bare nipples, pearling hard and dripping for Beau’s ravenous gaze.
Colton’s hungry smirk, too.
“Come on, Blair.” Beau rips the velcro to his swim trunks, reaching in to free himself. “Fuck, baby, you know I want you. It’s been months. You know it’s so fucking good between us. It’s the best.”
“No, no.” I tug my nipples for him. For Colton, too.
Hell, yes, my pussy is trapped in paradise with two massive cocks, but my pride is here, too.
“Remember what I said?” I tease, craning my neck down while I lift my breast. Looking at Beau, I circle, licking my nipple for him. His lips part as I vow, “I’m no man’s distraction, Beau Bronson. You want this pussy? Then devote yourself to it.”
Beau lowers his gaze, glaring like he’s starving. Like he has to decide what he’s willing to kill, to sacrifice to feed on me.
Do I understand about distractions? Yes.
Will I be reduced to one again? Never.
I glance at Colton, who’s watching us, intrigued—more than intrigued. He wants in. I can tell. I already share their secret. I protect it. And he wants to share more—with Beau. With me. And suddenly, I want it, too. It feels destined, so I make it harder for them—literally.
I turn, topless, ascending the wide steps of the pool still in my bikini bottoms and naughty maid’s apron, dripping from my waist.
“Where are you going?” Beau sounds tortured, almost angry, as if he’ll attack.
I call over my shoulder, “I’m going on a date with my big, devoted boyfriends. I’m going to let them fuck me and take turns with me until I come. Watch, Bronson, if you can handle the distraction.”