Chapter Twelve #2
“Your perspective is healthy.” Hamish nodded approvingly.
“But not always realistic. I’m not certain I’d be so sanguine if you two were discussing me behind my back. Not necessarily jealous—but not super comfortable, either.” Tyson rubbed his thigh.
I grabbed his hand. “I didn’t say this was going to be easy. Am I going to spend my time thinking about it? Hopefully not. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know how na?ve that sounds.”
“Not na?ve.” Hamish held my gaze with his super-intense green eyes. “Idealistic? Positive? Those aren’t things I get to associate with everyone I know.”
“Probably not. You see people at their worst.”
“Yes. My job is to shepherd them through it. I don’t always succeed—but I do always put my very heart and soul into my job.”
“You take care of people.” Tyson grasped his hand. “Who takes care of you?”
“I have people I can turn to.”
“We want to be the people you turn to.” He said the words with vehemence.
“He’s right.” Here I could offer up total agreement. “We can lean on each other—that’s one of the reasons why this relationship will work.” Because it just had to. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing these men.
Hamish squinted. “I…that’s a tall order. I’ve been independent for a very long time.”
“In a sense, so have I.” I wasn’t going to launch into a recitation of my life. They didn’t need to know all the shit I’d been through. “Okay—so we’ve resolved that.”
“I’m not certain we have.” Tyson frowned. “But I’m willing to drop it for now.”
“Great! So on to games and fun.”
Hamish eyed me warily. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to be intense?”
“You and Tyson making out? It’s going to be hot.”
Both men turned their full attention to me—Tyson arching an eyebrow, which he did a lot, and Hamish widening his eyes to an almost comical level.
I shrugged. “I don’t care if it’s hand jobs or blow jobs or—”
“Is this why you strategically placed a box of tissue on the coffee table?” Tyson’s voice was as dry as the Carcross Desert up in the Yukon.
Always seemed weird for me that a desert was up in the far Canadian north—which was probably why that peculiar bit of trivia had stuck.
I cleared my throat. “I thought one of us might sneeze.”
Tyson let go of Hamish’s hand and coughed his bullshit into his hand.
Hamish snickered.
Which drew attention from both Tyson and me.
Upon clearly realizing he was the new center of attention, his cheeks pinkened. “Well, you know, I just…”
Tyson grasped his hand again. “You can always say no.”
“What if I don’t want to?” He jutted his chin. “What if…” He blinked. “What if I’m curious? What if I believe this is my one chance?”
“Chance for what, sweetheart?” Because I didn’t like the idea that he felt he would never meet anyone else. I didn’t want him to meet anyone else, of course. I wanted him to choose Tyson and me.
Forever.
You’re getting ahead of yourself. You barely know them.
Except…I know all that really matters.
Specifically their ethics. That they couldn’t walk away from their professions—even for me.
Hamish licked his lips. Then slowly, he raised the hand not clinging to Tyson’s.
Before I could respond, Tyson grabbed that hand. “You never need to ask permission to speak. We want to hear what you’re thinking. Know what you’re feeling. If we ever make you feel like your contribution is unwelcome, we want you to call us out on our bullshit.”
“I couldn’t have said that better myself.” Only the truth—I really couldn’t have.
Hamish swallowed. “I want—” He closed his eyes briefly. But before I could entreat him to open them, he did it. “I want to give Tyson a blow job.” His cheeks went positively scarlet.
Tyson leaned over, grasped Hamish’s cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss. A deep, hot smooch with tongues that had Hamish gripping Tyson’s shirt.
Obviously to pull the man closer—which reassured me.
Simultaneously, both men moaned.
My cock perked right the fuck up. I was so grateful that, with all the arm injury crap, my plumbing still worked.
I wonder if Cole’s does as well. Maybe I shouldn’t be thinking of him…
except I want to see him having what I have.
Two incredibly generous and sexy people who cared for him.
I dared to hope one day my men would love me as Michael and Caressa clearly did Cole. I shifted.
Tyson chuckled as he pulled back from the kiss. “This turning you on?”
“Hell yes.” I would accept any discomfort to watch these two.
As Hamish held my gaze, he slowly eased away from Tyson. He pushed the coffee table back—thank God it wasn’t solid oak—and then he insinuated himself between Tyson’s thighs.
He was about to kneel when I tossed him a throw pillow.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that old.”
“Fuck old age. I use one.” I considered. “Because I need to protect them, admittedly, but why endure discomfort?”
Tyson laughed. “Somehow I can’t picture you on your knees.”
Hamish cocked his head. “Yes, that’s true.”
They both turned their intense stares on me.
“Hey, I enjoy giving head as much as receiving. Just because I’m a dominant doesn’t mean I won’t take my pleasure where I can get it.
” Now was probably not the time to mention I’d blown Cole a few times—as he had me.
I might’ve topped him a couple of times as well.
Because as dominant as he was—and he exuded the power he carried—I was still top dog in every BDSM relationship I’d ever engaged in.
Tyson cupped Hamish’s cheek. “Are you certain about this?”
“Oh hell fucking yes.” Hamish grinned shyly, removing some of the edge from his voice. He laid his hands on Tyson’s chest, gently encouraging him to sink back into the sofa. Then he trailed his fingers down to the hem of Tyson’s Henley. “I’d like this off. Is it too cold?”
“Babe, you have me burning up.” Tyson bit his cheek. “Too cheesy?”
Hamish giggled. “No.”
Still, I got up and headed for the gas fireplace. Despite knowing the environmental impact, I still liked having one on a cold night. And tonight’s outside chill needed to stay far away from this bubble of intimacy we’d created. I flicked on the fireplace and headed back to the couch.
To find Tyson already removing his shirt.
My mouth went dry. I was surrounded by beautiful bodies all day long. Well, bodies of all types, but certainly some of the most attractive in Vancouver.
But Tyson was in his own class. Solid abs. Silver chest hair that started from his pecs and arrowed down to his narrow waist.
Hamish slowly brushed his hands over Tyson’s nipples.
They hardened instantly.
“You like that?” The man sounded genuinely curious.
“Hamish, I promise I’ll say if something ever doesn’t feel good. But I love having your hands on me. Best feeling in the world.” He cut his gaze to mine. I read the message. That he’d say the same thing to me—if only there weren’t these fucking professional barriers.
Clearly emboldened, Hamish trailed his fingers down through Tyson’s chest hair to his abs. He traced the contours. “You must work out.”
“I do. Keeping in shape is important.”
“So you can chase bad guys.” Said with an oddly neutral tone.
“Not so much as before. I mostly solve crimes after the fact.”
“But suspects run. They have guns.” Hamish seemed oddly fixated on this.
Tyson ran his finger along the man’s cheek. “I always take care. Maybe for a time I didn’t. But now—” He glanced between the two of us. “A reason to live.”
I swallowed as I continued to watch.
He patted the seat I’d vacated. “Best view.”
Quite possibly. Because I’d be able to see both their faces. I sat on the couch sideways, tucking one leg under my ass and placing my arm along the back of the couch. Within a hair’s breadth of touching Tyson—yet still respecting his need for distance.
Much as I was sorely tempted.
Hamish undid Tyson’s jeans’ button. Slowly, he lowered the zipper. “Would you be more comfortable out of these?”
Indecision crossed Tyson’s expression. Because he worried that might be too intimate? Or because cold faux leather could be uncomfortable?
I rose, grabbed a blanket draped over a chair, and gestured for Tyson to stand.
He did.
As I positioned the blanket, I resisted the urge to grab his ass. “You might be more comfortable with them off entirely.” I grinned as I resumed my position.
Tyson met my gaze. Then turned his attention to Hamish. “That okay?”
Hamish nodded furiously.
So Tyson dumped his wallet, cell phone, and my keys on the coffee table. Then he removed both his jeans and his boxer briefs.
I might’ve salivated.
Then he sat back down and resumed his position—sinking into the couch.
Yeah, he’s going to need that support.
Hamish again placed his hands on Tyson’s abs.
I admired Tyson’s patience as his erect cock—curling up toward his belly—leaked a drop of precum.
I would’ve licked it up, but Hamish appeared more focused on Tyson’s chest. More entranced with the white hair.
I had a passing curiosity as to why he didn’t shave.
Except, goddamn it, that look was so fucking sexy.
He was also super pale—not surprising this deep into the winter.
Slowly, Hamish moved his hands so, eventually, they grasped Tyson’s cock.