7
Lucky!
Five short days full of unhurried kisses and possessive touches. Spent spoiled in the arms of two addictive people.
Five short days succumbing to his weak heart.
Lach seared every little detail in his soul.
Sex with Champagne moved like a battle. She didn’t like being fragile or pleasured but she loved to dominate. To take and give as she pleased. Aftercare, she got softer, determined to clean her men up and pamper them. She didn’t let Lach or Jorge lift a finger, finding sensuality in tending to every inch of their bodies. Kissing them. Licking them from forehead to feet.
And she didn’t share. At all.
Eyes on either of them earned glaring daggers, snarls and sneers. She wasn’t above flicking her wrist or throwing her actual wealth about to make a point. No one was good enough for Jorge or Lach except her. Interested eyes, nothing more than a stain on what she claimed as hers.
Fuck Lach wanted to be hers.
Even if it surprised Lach the first time he saw Champagne react. They’d gone to the beach off port and Lachlan took his shirt off. Jorge insisted he cover Lach top to bottom with sunscreen because, the day before on the deck, Lach’s neck got burned during a game of mini golf. Champagne had a fit in the room that night, applying all sorts of aloe, creams, and moisturizers to the area to cool it down as they watched a movie. Jorge calmly pointed out sunscreen mattered, showing off his favorite brand, and nuzzling Lach.
So, like a good man, he listened.
Seeing him and Jorge shirtless, however, a few girls started giggling and watching them. Champagne looked up from her book and tsked. Actually tutted at the young girls, and rolled her eyes so hard Lach thought they might fall out of her head.
Still covered in globs of sunscreen yet to be massaged in, Lach lost the air in his lungs to Champagne’s abrupt kiss. Not a soft or sweet one but the kind with tongue and teeth and a promise of a good dicking down that night. It drew a humiliating moan from Lachlan but, when she did the same to Jorge, he was grateful to not be the only one affected.
Then with the kind of sass of movie heroines, Champagne turned to the girls, raised a brow, and snubbed them before returning to her book.
Like a child.
Jorge laughed at Lachlan’s look of utter disbelief, returning to massaging the sunscreen in with a heavy blush on his sexy cheeks. Then he kissed Lach like he wanted to be swallowed whole. They lounged in chairs, played in the sand, and rinsed off in the water.
To Lach, Champagne was a storm. The rumble of thunder before crashes of lightning, gentle rain alleviating the sting after. She ran hot and left her mark on Lach’s entire being like a branding iron.
Jorge was more of a lazy spring morning, the scent of dew on the grass and the light breeze that cooled the air. He remained calm and easy-going, cool under pressure and blossoming with passion in bed.
Contrary to his broad shoulders and thick muscle, that scruffy blue-collar Puerto Rican face, and stony eyes that read dominance, Jorge didn’t fuck. He didn’t demand. He didn’t take.
He gave.
His kisses came strong and full of surrender. His body rose and begged for attention. He suffered without touch and lived off sweet kisses.
Lach rode Jorge once but found they both preferred the man’s face in the pillows, moaning for whoever treated him to a good pounding, being praised and soothed by his other lover.
The pair were two opposite ends to the triangle where Lachlan fit snug in the middle. He got to bend and break under Champagne, but got to push over Jorge, consume the man’s every cry of pleasure.
They were perfect for Lachlan. A dream. One that ended the next day, bright and early.
“What are you thinking about so hard?“
Shawna asked, her finger pushing into Lach’s temple. He pulled back, knowing she’d push until it stung if he didn’t swallow his sorrow and put on a cute face.
“Food,“
he grunted. “I’m gonna miss the buffet and not cooking.”
Shawna’s companion, Rangi, laughed. A hearty and boastful kind of laugh as her hand slapped off the table, glasses rattling about. “Whuu! Man after my heart! Nothing better than a meal whenever you want, no work involved.”
He liked Rangi and he could see how much Shawna liked her. It was a bit surreal, bitter sweet, knowing he and his friend were about to end this cruise with broken hearts.
Champagne leaned back in her chair, tilting her head to rest on Lach’s hair. To his other side, Jorge sat with a hand on Lachlan’s thigh. Like him, they didn’t want to stop touching. They honestly hadn’t for the last two days. Kisses. Nuzzles. The eyes of nosy cruise-goers be damned. Lach wouldn’t be embarrassed, determined to squeeze every last drop of affection from this perfect pair.
“So,“
Champagne started, setting her drink on the table. “You’re a firefighter, Rangi?”
“Lieutenant,“
Shawna corrected and lords above those hearts in her eyes could be seen from space.
Rangi leaned down and nuzzled their noses together before kissing Shawna’s forehead. The mask of cheerfulness slipped, only for a brief second, before she pushed that damn wide smile back onto her strong jaw.
“Yep. I was a little grunt for Cap Barrows over at , but her friend has a LT down for a serious injury and they needed the slot filled with experience.“
Rangi tossed back the rest of her beer and let out a sigh. “Gonna miss Crestfield, but those guys got me this cruise as a farewell. Damn lucky so I intend to make good on it.”
“You’ll do fine, Shug.“
Shawna leaned into Randi’s arm, voice cracking and the woman squeezed her tight.
Jorge cleared his throat, his own voice a tad hoarse. “Where are you headed? Still Ohio?”
Rangi leaned back and twisted her lips, contemplative. “Cattle Ford. Kansas. I’m joining the 26th.”
The resounding echo of confusion rattled the table. Shawna pulled back and jumped up, her chair hitting the floor with a clamor. “You’re going to Cattle Ford?!”
“Holy shit,“
Lachlan grunted, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.
“Small world,“
Jorge said with a chuckle. He reached out across the table to a slightly perplexed Rangi and offered a hand. “Jorge Rios. Foreman at Blue Cattle Construction in Cattle Forge.”
“And a devilishly handsome stripper at Brittany Ball on the weekends,“
Champagne added. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Champagne Everly. I own Transcend, a salon in the town center.”
Every bit of information pelted Lach like arrows tossed at his chest. He stood, throat unable to hold back his whimper. Both Champagne and Jorge jerked their heads to stare at him with deep concern etched on their faces but the tears burned at the corners of his eyes. Lach turned and walked, briskly, away.
He could just hear Shawna. “Damn. What are the chances we all live in Cattle Forge?”
A thousand tears later, with red-rimmed eyes, Lachlan stepped out of the bathroom stall. He thought he’d be alone, but the large body leaned against the wall, waiting with arms crossed, brought him to an immediate halt. Lach looked up at Jorge and frowned.
“Sorry.”
Lach meant to say it, but the man beat him to it. Why Jorge apologized, however, Lach didn’t understand.
“Why are you sorry?“
He asked, rubbing at his face, itchy from all the sobbing.
Jorge didn’t look up from the ground where his eyes remained on his boot. “I don’t know,“
he admitted, sounding frustrated. A little pissed, maybe. Like he wanted to scream but couldn’t. “We’re all in shock, finding out our little gaggle of folks are from the same small town, wondering what sort of good deed we did to earn this perfect fate and you take off… Are you upset? Did you want this to end tomorrow? Because if you want it to end, say so. Champagne and I— We can—“
Lach lurched forward and grabbed Jorge’s wrist. His hand had curled so tight into his cargo shorts, the fabric looked ready to tear. Dipping down to come into Jorge’s view, Lachlan tried to smile, heart aching at the broken expression the stoic man had for the ground.
For him.
“No. No. No. Never! I wasn’t upset. I was overwhelmed. Hopeful, a little embarrassed by how fast my heartache vanished, and like you just now, a little insecure,“
he admitted, moving his free hand to Jorge’s face. “Now, I’m just grateful. So, fucking grateful—“
Lachlan swallowed his words the moment Jorge’s mouth crashed into his, a large hand cupping the back of his head and fingers curling in his hair too tight. Kissed senseless and bent back until he thought he’d break, Lachlan groaned when Jorge retreated and stood them both up straight.
“We were racking our brains trying to decide how to kidnap you,“
Jorge whispered, their swollen lips brushing. “Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine you being right in our back yard. Knowing we don’t have to give you up…”
Lachlan laughed. “Pretty sure, since I grew up there, you’re both in my back yard.”
“I’m wherever the two of you are, Güero.”