Lip Service – By CJ Warrant #5
“Ava. That’s her name. Start using it,” John says with a gleeful glint in his eyes. “And speaking of horse, Western romantasy? Who thought that up?”
I chuckle. “Melina,” is all I say, and John nods in understanding.
Ava
I’m leaning against the bathroom wall, trying to calm my racing heart before I pass out from mortification. Did I give myself away—that I’d watched them getting each other off? I hope not. But the way Brodrick—Rick—looked at me, says that he knows.
“Oh my God. Why me?” I groan.
A knock on the door startles me out of my pity party. “Are you okay in there?” Janet, my assistant, asks.
“I’m good,” I reply with a bit more fervor than I feel. “I’ll be right out.”
“Okay. Umm… Well, you’ve been in there for quite some time and people are asking where you are.”
“Crap. Hold on.” I quickly wash my hands, check my face in the mirror and readjust the ponytail at the back of my head. “I’m here,” I say, opening the door.
“Tony said they are missing two swings from the third-floor rooms, but the second floor is all set up. Caleb and his crew are finally here. I’ve got them in the basement, putting together both Saint Andrews crosses, the kneeling benches and stockades, and the pony play spanking horse.”
“What about the dungeon bed the McKennas requested?”
“The workers are already on it,” Janet says as she checkmarks her list.
“Good.” I glance at my watch. “We have about an hour before people start arriving. I’m going to see if the food is ready.”
“Two men are in the kitchen looking for you,” she says with a Cheshire grin. “Two gorgeous pieces of man-candy. Brodrick Webb and John Garrett. Are you for real?”
I roll my eyes. “What do they want?”
“I don’t know. They were just asking for you.”
“Alright. If you need me, call me.” I wave my cell phone in the air as I make my way to the kitchen.
When I first arrived at the mansion, I was so overwhelmed that I thought I was going to puke, but the McKennas are genuinely nice people and they made me feel welcome. So what if they aren’t a traditional couple? My mom always said you should never judge a book by its cover.
I let out a loud snort. If Mom could only see me now.
If I’m truthful about all of this, I’m slowly finding out that I’m not that traditional either.
I make my way to the kitchen and, thankfully, don’t see John or Rick—or should I call him Brodrick? Whatever. I go back to the main room to finish there.
I’ve divided that room into eight sections.
Since there are more than eight romance genres, I started with Mrs. McKenna’s favorites: erotica/BDSM, romantasy, and paranormal.
Then I added Mr. McKenna preferred reads: MM, historical, and Western.
To complete the room, I included sci-fi and alien/monster romance.
The fourteen bedrooms are also themed with subgenre details, leaving the basement as the dungeon.
I told the McKennas what I’d picked and they were thrilled. Then the team and I went to work to put together a life-size picture book in each section, based on the genre theme.
Now, with less than fifteen minutes before guests begin arriving, the set-up crew leaves, but not before they tell me how much Brodrick and John helped out, and how they went above and beyond with setting up the equipment and props.
Hmm. Guess Brodrick and John aren’t lazy or entitled.
“Call me if you need a hand to break down,” Janet says as she grabs her purse.
“Janet?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for everything today. I wouldn’t have finished in time without you,” I say with a smile.
“You’re welcome.” She gives me a salute and leaves.
I head back to the room I’ll be sleeping in during the party. As I pass by a server, he hands me a plate full of delicious food and a large bottle of water. “Dinner, girl. You deserve it.”
No doubt. I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m starving.
In my room, I set the plate down on the desk, then lock the bedroom door and start eating. The room feels slightly warm, so I open the window to let in the cool breeze. Muted conversations are also carried in—that must be the guests arriving to the party.
My curiosity is killing me. I want to see what everyone is wearing. But if I leave this room, will I get into trouble if I get caught? I think about it for all of five seconds, then set aside my dinner and cautiously leave the bedroom.
Since I’ve been all over this mansion, I have a fair idea of where every door leads. The first hour is food and drinks, so most of the party attendees will be in the ballroom. I should be able to sneak around without being seen by any guests.
Down one small corridor, to an empty storage room, then into another, and I’m at a door that leads into the ballroom. If I’m not mistaken, this door opens behind the BDSM section.
I turn the knob and crack the door open until a sliver of light slips in. I hear people conversing, but can’t see them directly. I open the door a little more and slide my body out until I’m hiding behind the temporary partition that forms the back half of the giant book.
Through a crack, I finally see the guests. Some are in groups chatting. Others are getting food. And a few—I suck in a silent breath—are already diving into their sexual appetites.
Why do I think it’s hot as hell to watch people having sex? Have I always found it erotic? I guess so, since I’m hiding and watching two—now three—people going at it in public.
Could I ever do that? Have sex in front of people? I don’t think so. I’d be too embarrassed to show my body, particularly my breasts. Which means I shouldn’t be here watching them either.
I slip back into the storage area and head back to where I came from, but then I hear men’s voices growing louder.
Panicking, I race in the opposite direction, checking doors along the way until I find myself outside of Mr. McKenna’s private library—the one place he declared out of bounds for guests.
I check the lock on the double doors. Fortunately, it’s unlocked.
I rush inside, slide the doors closed and lock them.
As my heart pounds, I press my ear to the door to make sure no one has followed me.
“Well, well, well. Isn’t this an interesting situation.”
I whip around and find Brodrick and John standing by the lit fireplace, their faces alight with mischief.
Brodrick
John and I needed a quiet space to talk about what we want to say to Ava when we approach her, so we came to the library.
But now here she is, practically dropped into our laps.
From her deer-in-the-headlights expression, I question whether we should tell her about John and my mutual attraction to her.
“What are you two doing in here?” She’s trying to look composed, except she’s anything but.
“We could ask you the same thing,” John counters. He steps away from the oak mantle and walks to one of the brocade chairs. He casually sits and puts the crystal tumbler of Macallan No. 6 to his lips, his eyes never veering from our intended third’s face.
“I forgot something and had to make sure… But it was handled. Mr. McKenna didn’t want anyone in here.” She’s gently rubbing at her knuckles.
“I happen to know that Robert doesn’t mind that we’re in here. He knows we will respect his space like it’s our own,” I explain, hoping to ease the tension in Ava’s shoulders. “I’m assuming you’re done for the night. Sit and have drink with us.”
“Robert?” Ava’s eyes widen slightly before realization hits her. “Of course, you know the McKennas personally. And no, thank you. I don’t drink.”
“Are you sure? Ava, we won’t bite… Unless you want us to.” John chuckles.
“I better go. I have dinner waiting for me.” She steps awkwardly back and her body softly bumps against the door as she turns, twisting her long skirt and making her trip over her own feet.
John and I reach her side at the same time, before she face-plants on the wood floor.
“Oh, hell,” she mutters, while gripping John’s and my shirts for balance. “I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz. Thank you for saving me from making a bigger fool out of myself.” She releases her hold, but doesn’t move away.
Her eyes move to John’s lips before they dart to mine. John passes me a wicked smile, and an all-knowing look that she is interested in us. But that we need to move slowly.
“You know, it’s been a long day. Sit a bit before you head back to where you need to go,” I insist, leading her to the chair John vacated.
“It has been a long day,” she admits and sits.
“Here. This should settle your nerves.” John kneels before her like she’s a queen and passes her the glass.
Ava takes it. There isn’t much scotch inside, but she shoots it back. “Oh.” She coughs. “What is that?”
“Scotch,” John says, and takes the empty glass out of her hand.
“That is God-awful,” she says while covering her full lips with her fingers. “I don’t think I like scotch.”
“How about a glass of pinot noir?”
“Please.”
I pass her my wine, and this time, she slowly sips it.
“What do you think?” I ask.
Ava takes another sip, then she meets my stare. “It’s good. A bit too full-bodied for me, but I like it.”
“Really? For a person who doesn’t drink—” John begins to say.
“I lied,” she admits as she sets the glass down on the table. “I’m sorry. It’s just that… You two make me nervous.”
Her beautiful skin is turning pink again, and from the way John is squirming, his dick is straining against his pants as much as mine is.
“Do you know that you make me nervous?” John confesses as he gently takes Ava’s hand.
“Me? Why?” She doesn’t pull out of his hold.
“Because from the moment I saw you standing in the sunshine, I wanted to get to know you. Ava, I’ve seen what you’re capable of today—how talented you are at creating magnificent things with what you have on hand.
But now I’d like to get to know the person behind all that genius.
Let me get to know you.” John places a long kiss on her palm.
Ava’s breath hitches at the touch. Then she looks up at me. “How do you feel?”