Chapter 14
Fourteen
Wells
“Do all your guests have to make their own breakfast?”
Across The Chestnut’s small but well-equipped kitchen, Lacey abandons her inspection of August’s egg scrambling technique to glare playfully over at me.
“You’re spreading butter on toast,” she counters, fighting a smile. “Is that too much of a burden for you, Mr. Davis?”
It’s hard to even pretend I’m annoyed with her when she looks like this, bare-faced and wrapped in a fluffy white robe, her curls already escaping from the messy bun she pulled them into before we left the room.
Outside the kitchen window, glittering snowflakes are drifting down from the oak trees bordering the property. According to the weather report, it’s below zero outside, but I’m not bothered.
There is nowhere I need to go.
“It does seem like a questionable hospitality practice, pulling your guests out of bed to help with the cooking. On Christmas Day, too,” August teases, grinning at me over her shoulder. “I’ll have to mention this in my online review.”
Lacey shudders. “Oh my god, don’t even joke. Our rating went down last month because a guest gave us a one-star rating. The reason?” She shakes her head, looking disgusted. “They didn’t like how close the building is to the trees. Apparently, in the pictures online, it looked much farther.”
It seems ominous that my first impulse is to track down that asshole guest and give them a piece of my mind.
“That’s ridiculous. The Chestnut is about a mile ahead of any other place around here.
” I scoff, turning my attention back to the task she set me.
How anyone could take a single step inside this business and not be amazed at the love Lacey and her family put into it is beyond me.
Even the damn butter is freshly churned, and the bread is baked locally.
To my surprise, a pair of fluffy, robe-clad arms wrap around my waist, hugging me from behind. “You’re secretly a big cinnamon roll, aren’t you, Wells Davis?”
Lacey pulls away, returning to the tray of maple-glazed bacon she just pulled out of the oven, but not before pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Lace,” I tell her gruffly, my chest a little tight.
We haven’t talked about what, if anything, comes next for us.
Tomorrow, the plumber promised to have the part for my furnace ready to go, August is getting on a flight back to California, and Lacey’s staff is coming back to work, along with a fresh wave of guests.
Unconventional as it might be, being with these two people has been easier than any relationship I’ve ever had with a single one.
August and I are in different places in our lives than we were when we first met. We’ve changed, but the connection between us hasn’t. Then there’s Lacey, and even if seeing each other doesn’t present any immediate logistical challenges, she hasn’t mentioned a single thing.
All of this is so damn new. Right now, we’re caught up in our holiday fling, but no matter how good or easy it is, that doesn’t mean it will continue on after Christmas at The Chestnut.
It’s becoming harder and harder to convince myself I’m fine with that. After spending so long on my own, that time interspersed with the occasional date or relationship that went nowhere, feeling this way about not just one person but two is unsettling as hell.
“Alright,” August announces, sliding the pan from the burner, “I think we’re good on my end.”
We both stand back, watching as Lacey carefully plates up the eggs, bacon, toast, and breakfast potatoes, her lips pursed in concentration, as if the presentation is critical to our enjoyment of the meal.
“Thank you, Lace,” I tell her when she finally stands back, beaming at us.
August chuckles, pausing to kiss her cheek as he reaches past her to take one of the plates. “Yes, thank you,” he agrees as he straightens up.
As I move past him to grab my own, he smacks my ass.
We eat together, seated around a table in The Chestnut’s dining room. It’s a sunny day, but blustery, and we watch as birds are blown off course on their way to and from the garden bird feeder, talking about nothing in particular.
It’s been a few years since I bothered to make plans for the holiday, and even when I did, it was nothing like this. I’m comfortable and warm, basking in the pleasant surprise of how my Christmas Day has ended up.
Or I am until we finish our meal.
“Why didn’t you go stay with family, Wells?” Lacey asks as we’re gathering up the dirty dishes, preparing to go in search of other entertainment.
It’s difficult to keep my expression from reflecting my feelings about this question. “They live far,” I respond vaguely, hoping to leave it at that.
Unfortunately, I’d neglected to consider the two-on-one pitfall of this new relationship dynamic.
“Where? I thought you were from around here.” August definitely doesn’t mean anything by it; he’s only being curious, but I still find myself bristling.
“Doesn’t matter. We aren’t close.”
I pretend I don’t notice the two sets of eyes boring into my back as I shoulder open the kitchen’s glossy wood door. My relationship with my family isn’t something I’m eager to discuss today of all days, especially with people who—on paper, anyway—I barely know.
Setting the plates in the sink, I turn, frowning at the two people hovering behind me. Some of my irritation fades as I see the matching looks of concern on both August and Lacey’s faces. I groan, shaking my head as I step to the side to allow them through. “You’re both impossible.”
“We care about you,” Lacey counters, raising her eyebrows, as if daring me to challenge that sentiment.
Fuck, I wish I could argue with that. It would sure as hell make my life simpler. I can’t do it, though. Somewhere in the space of the last few days, I’ve come to trust that these two people really do care about me, and I care about them.
Where does that leave us?
“Look.” I scrub a hand over my face. “They aren’t bad people, I don’t hate them, but I don’t fit with them, either.”
I don’t tell them about the money or the competitive, unyielding expectations of the older generations. Me, my siblings, and my cousins were show ponies, trotted out to populate the family tree with a new generation of investment bankers, politicians, and real-estate moguls.
Expectations were high.
Support and love were low.
It didn’t take me long to realize I would never measure up, and by the time I graduated college, I was already distancing myself. My life might not be anything particularly special now, but it’s mine, and I’m not going to live by anyone else’s terms.
Seeming to sense my discomfort, August takes a tentative step toward me, his eyes searching my face. “I’m sorry if… We shouldn’t have pushed you on it.”
I shake my head, attempting a reassuring smile. “It’s fine.”
If we’re heading back to reality tomorrow, the last thing I want to do is spend the rest of the day thinking about my shitty childhood.
“Come on.” Lacey takes my hand, dragging me along as she moves backward toward the door, her lips curved in a coy little smirk. “We have a Christmas present for you.”
My eyebrows arch as the gray cloud that appeared over me vanishes as quickly as it came. I doubt there’s a man alive who could think of anything else with Lacey Lovette looking at him the way she’s looking right now.
“A Christmas present?” I echo dumbly.
Lacey doesn’t blink as her back hits the kitchen door. It swings open, bumping into my shoulder as I follow her through. “Mhmm,” she hums, her warm, brown eyes sparkling with mischief in the wintery light. “I think you’ll like it a lot.”
Not exactly a stretch, when she could slap me and I’d thank her for it.
August seems to be thinking along similar lines. “I know he’ll like it,” he tells Lacey, his voice a rich, amused purr from behind me.
As we enter the lobby, she turns, her fingers still twined with my own.
Her foot finds the bottom stair. It doesn’t take a genius to piece together what this gift is, or that August is correct in his assumptions.
By the time we’ve ascended halfway to the second floor, my dick is throbbing against the tight denim of my jeans, ready and eager for whatever they want to give me.
These two are going to be a tough fucking act to follow. Jesus Christ.
Nearly the moment the door to my room has closed behind us, I find myself pressed into the nearest wall by August’s warm, hard body. “Excited, huh?” His hand finds my stiff cock, squeezing through the material of my pants as his lips brush mine.
I raise one hand to grip the back of his neck, dragging him in for a searing kiss.
I hear myself hiss as his teeth graze my bottom lip, the sensation erotic enough to muddle my thoughts, distracting me from his shifting to the side.
I experience another sharp stab of desire as another, softer, smaller form presses into my side.
Her hands are working my belt open.
He’s kissing me, hard and all-consuming.
My head is spinning. Any apprehension I might have had is carried off as the overload of sensations and desire grows heavier by the second. I’m losing myself in him, in her, in all of us.
I have no idea how long it takes for Lacey to free my cock, but I groan into August’s mouth when she does, the cooler air of the room hitting my overheated skin.
My entire body convulses when a warm, wet tongue drags along the underside of my shaft. “Fuck,” I snarl as my free hand flies to Lacey’s hair, fingers twisting through the silky curls. “Again.”
She obeys at once, gazing up at me with dazed, heavily lidded eyes, as if this is as erotic for me as it is for her.
“How’s she doing?” August is still pressed against me, his lips on my throat, and I feel the deep, throaty rumble of each word.
A tremor runs through my body when Lacey lifts a hand to cup my balls, playing with them as she leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses up and down my cock. “Good,” I mutter, gritting my teeth as she finally goes in for the kill, sucking me down until my tip hits the back of her throat. “Yes. Fuck—”
Through the material of his pants, I feel August’s dick twitch against my hip. Then, he is gone too, and I’m far too distracted by the woman kneeling at my feet to focus on anything else. My free hand finds the wall behind Lacey, bracing myself as I begin to pulse in and out, fucking her mouth.
It’s not until large, male hands find my ass that I realize what August had in mind.
“Holy shit,” I snarl, my knees close to buckling as he leans in, dragging his tongue over my asshole.
There’s a quiet laugh, then he does it again, obliterating any rational thought processes I have left. There’s no way to think beyond this, or of anything at all except what they’re doing to me.
The overwhelming onslaught of sensations has me gasping and bucking, fucking Lacey’s mouth harder than I should in my mindless desperation. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, stroking what can’t fit in her mouth, and moaning even as tears stream down the sides of her cheeks.
Behind me, August’s hands are digging into my ass, holding me open for the filthy fucking things he’s doing with his tongue.
If I had even a shadow of shame or even general awareness left to me, I would be embarrassed by how long this lasts. They can’t have both been on their knees for longer than a minute, but it’s taking all of my remaining concentration not to drop to the floor, and I can’t hold back—I fucking can’t.
Tightening my fistful of Lacey’s hair, I drag her forward until my cock is lodged in her throat. The animalistic noises I’m making are unrecognizable to me as white-hot pleasure courses up my spine, prolonged by the first, circular motions of August’s tongue.
I can’t remember ever coming this hard, or this much.
When the pleasure finally recedes and my vision returns, I look down at the woman kneeling before me. Lacey is gasping, her eyes shining as she wipes away the cum that’s escaped from the corner of her mouth.
“Fuck,” I croak, mustering up whatever energy I have left to help her to her feet. “Was that too rough?”
Lacey sighs, wrapping her arms around my middle, hugging me like I was just the one who gave her a gift. Ha. “No,” she assures me, her gaze turning to August, who has appeared at my side. “You were right. He definitely did seem to like it.” She giggles, her eyes sparkling.
“It was a safe bet,” August tells her dryly, moving past us toward the bed. Pausing beside it, he looks back, smirking. “Come on, now that we’ve got Wells’ gift out of the way, I think it’s time to give you yours, Lace.”
Lacey squeals as I throw her over my shoulder, meeting August’s eyes as I stride toward him.
My heart lurches as that damned smirk turns to a crooked smile.
Tomorrow, we’re heading back to our regular lives. Even if I like them, even if this—whatever this is—makes me feel better than any actual relationship I’ve been in, nothing is going to come from it. It is what it is. There’s nothing to do but enjoy it while it lasts.
I grunt, holding August’s stare as I lean forward, dumping a giggling Lacey onto the mattress. “Let’s take care of our girl. Then, you’re up, Doc.”
The handsome doctor in question doesn’t argue as he reaches down and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it off without a second thought. “Sounds like a merry fucking Christmas to me.”