Gordon, Solara - Jet Lag Blues (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) (2 page)

Chapter Two

Val stomped her feet, knocking snow off her shoes. The room’s outside entrance forced them through the ankle-deep accumulation covering the parking lot. Mason’s voice carried over the wind whistling up the open stairwell.

“Thanks for the ride. If we need anything, we’ll let you know.”

A car door slammed, followed by another. Rustling of bags and Darryl’s “damn” reverberated up the stairs. She couldn’t help grinning. Had he misjudged the powdery flakes like she had?

Pulling the room key from her coat pocket, she unlocked the door. Darkness greeted her. She fumbled along the closest wall until she found a light switch. A bedside table lamp glowed warmly. Blinking, she inhaled sharply. Three days in this place? Tight quarters and her hormones in heat? Val moved further into the room.

Footsteps echoed up the steps and through the open door. Mason and Darryl’s laughter grew louder with their approach. Val dropped her bags on the bed and went to help them.

Mason entered first. His six-foot height matched hers in heels. Snowflakes melted against his rich brown hair. He thrust his bag-filled hands at her. “Darryl’s got the rest up to his elbows. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Shaking her head, she placed the bags on the foot of the bed. Dare she peek inside? Both refused to check out with her and kept looking at each other with smug smiles. They’d taken quite a few minutes in the men’s toiletries aisle talking. She’d overhead lubricated versus unlubricated. Then one of them headed over to the pharmacy claiming they needed aspirin.

Curiosity almost got the better of her. Darryl’s
whoosh
interrupted her. He rushed in shaking his head and red hair, sprinkling her with the wet spray. Mason was right behind him peering over his shoulder.

“Hey, do you mind?” She grinned at the two of them. Somehow the image Darryl’s five-eight height sandwiched between her and Mason flared in her mind. A delicious need sparked to life in her pussy. What could a group hug hurt?

She moved forward and snaked her arms around Darryl’s waist. Pressing tight against him, she slid her arms past his back, reaching for Mason. Instead, she encountered plastic bags. Her partly closed eyes flew open, meeting Mason’s quizzical gawk. He nibbled his lip as though he stopped himself from commenting. Again, he was holding back. Why? She didn’t get it. His aloofness was beginning to bother her. The anxiousness pricking of her conscience sent chilled tendrils coursing down her back.

Darryl’s “hmmm, warmth” broke her musings. Mason’s slight shake of his head prevented her from voicing her concerns. For now, she’d be quiet. But sooner or later, she’d get her questions answered.

“How about letting me all the way in so I can warm my backside?” Mason joked. “The wind is getting colder by the moment.”

Val took two bags from Darryl and turned toward the small kitchenette at the back of the room. One third of the countertop was taken up by the refrigerator, coffeemaker, and microwave. Another third contained a small sink. Setting the bags down on the remaining third, she opened one of the three available cabinets, discovering a hot plate and a variety of pans. Surveying the contents of the other two, she located plates, glasses, and utensils.

Her earlier reaction to the room made her smirk. The size and compact arrangements didn’t seem as tight. Off to the side, a table and three seats butted up against the partition separating the bedroom from the kitchenette. The bed faced the main doorway and single window.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Turning, she found Mason approaching her. He appeared more at ease. His prior stiff posture and hard glare were gone. She waited until he was very close. Leaning into him, she brushed her lips over his. He didn’t pull away. Taking his packages, she whispered to him. “I don’t know what’s up, but please relax. I hate seeing you uptight.”

Mason shrugged and began unpacking food and toiletry items.

Darryl joined them carrying their suitcases into the small closet. “There are a few hangers in here. Did either of you get anything that needs hanging up?”

“Our uniforms will use a couple. How many more do you need?” She moved to the bed and picked up her packages, counting the items needing immediate care. Rounding its corner, she stumbled over two bags. The contents spilled across the floor.

Val reached for the small box near her foot. Darryl hurried over and began grabbing things stuffing them into the open sack. “No, I can get it easier. You go ahead and hang up your stuff.”

Nodding, she sidestepped and walked to the closet area. Mason’s attempted indifference didn’t get past her. He refused to look her in the eye. It served to confirm something was up. She’d only gotten a quick look at the box in Darryl’s hand and part of the print was covered. If she read it correctly, sex and protection were in the mix. Warmth crept up her neck and across her cheeks, adding to the nervous energy pooling in her stomach.

Unpacking her suitcase, she hung her extra flight attendant uniform alongside her coat. What she needed was a long soak to take the chill out of her. With only a shower stall, she’d have to make due with a quick hot shower. Hopefully, there was enough hot water for the three of them.

At the rear of the closet, three shelves provided added storage. She placed her extra clothing and toiletries on one shelf. Her panties and bras looked out of place out in the open. Would the guys ignore them or remark about them? She loved color, especially soft pastels. There were no regulations on underwear colors, so she wore what she liked. Besides, Darryl already knew about this like she did about his white briefs and T-shirts.

Mason was another matter. He rushed past her, clutching a piece of red cloth as he headed toward the bathroom.

“I get dibs on the shower,” he called out, clicking the door shut.

“What’s with you two and the looks at Walmart?” Val shook her head and walked over to the table where Darryl sat clipping price tags off his purchases.

“Nothing, hon. You know how guys talk.” His wry grin set off an uneasy feeling. Their actions raised her anxiety level. Rubbing her arms, she sat in the chair next to Darryl.

“I suppose I’m cooking. Unless one of you can do it without messing up everything and setting off the smoke detector.”

“You know the extent of my culinary skills, and Mason’s limited repertoire doesn’t cover what we bought.” Darryl offered his hand. “Besides, you look like you could use a hug. What’s bothering you?”

She could say nothing, like him. Keep her uneasiness bottled up. Of course, it wouldn’t help the butterflies and acid mix bubbling in her stomach. How much did she say without Mason present? Three days together in close quarters could make or break their friendship, along with her and Darryl’s relationship. Deciding the less said, the better, she leaned against him. “I’m just tired and hungry. And a bit worried about Mason. He seems stressed.”

* * * *

Darryl slipped his arm around Val’s waist, snuggling her closer. “He’s been working some strange hours. I imagine a few days off is what he needs.”

He kissed her cheek and hugged her. “Why don’t you start dinner while I unpack Mason’s and my stuff?”

“Only if I get to decide what we have.” Her folded arms and intent expression made him swallow his cheeky retort. Three days with each of them in foul humor? No, that was unacceptable.

“How about this? We decide on a themed meal and open the wine we got.”

He wished Mason had talked more while they were at Walmart. His cryptic answers left too many variables unknown. He’d agreed Val was a hottie. That he liked her. But his less-than-enthusiastic discussion in the pharmacy area puzzled Darryl. Time for clarification had come.

“Let me ask Mason what he wants hung up and grab a shower myself. I promise to leave you a few drops of water.”

Rising, he grabbed a pair of sleep shorts off the table and brushed his lips across hers. “Don’t stress. It’s gonna be okay.”

Chapter Three

Mason stripped off his light blue boxers and kicked them away with his foot. His semi-hard cock stuck out as though it accused him of being guilty. He didn’t need more reminders of where his thoughts ran every time he looked at the box of condoms Darryl had insisted on getting. The heated air from the overhead fan felt good circulating along his aching shoulders and neck. Turning toward the shower, he saw his reflection in the full-length mirror.

“Shit, I’d worry, too, if I saw someone scowling like that.” He forced a smile to his pursed lips. It looked just as ridiculous. What had him so tense?

His otherwise neat hair stood up in several places. How many times had he run his hands through it since entering the bathroom? The tired lines creasing his brow and the rigid set of his jaw didn’t fool anyone. He was upset. Why? Getting that figured out would help him regain his composure.

Val got him so hot and bothered. Her long legs filled his mind with thoughts of her wrapped around him as he pumped her, bringing her closer to creaming all over him. Pictures of her in her pajama shorts sprawled on the floor came to mind. Her soft kisses in between movies left him wanting to touch her and deepen the kiss. Hell, even the feel of her breasts crushed against his chest as she hugged the stuffing out him recently had struck a nerve he hadn’t been aware of. Val was the one. The girl he’d missed out on. Now she was with Darryl. A guy didn’t hit on his friend’s lady.

Sliding his hands down his chest, Mason stopped at his waist. His back hurt from sitting in the cramped cockpit and stifling his emotions to the point of denial. Raising his right arm, he leaned to the left, stretching and pulling his cramped muscles. He repeated the same with the left side. Two deep bends backward and forward finished with a set of toe touches helped some. Each time he neared his cock, one image flashed through his mind—Val between his legs licking his balls and fondling his hardness. His fingers stroked the pre-cum leaking from the tip.

Coating the head, he rubbed his palm over and around his sensitive tip. A sharp hiss heated the air. His other hand cupped his balls, fondling them gently, adding pressure and friction to his actions. Turning slightly, he watched himself in the mirror. His voyeur side kicked in. He didn’t care who he was viewing. Only that he could see the act in front of him mattered.

His grip tightened with each glide toward his balls, slicking his shaft with his growing wetness. He relaxed his hand on his upward stroke, stopping short of his cockhead. God, he loved the building need and slight buzz he got teasing himself along the edge of coming. The longer he waited, the more it built in intensity and rush. He was so close.

His eyes squinted, though he knew his reflection stared back, matching him stroke for stroke. There was a certain turn on seeing his pleasure acted out before him. If he closed his eyes, he’d lose his peak and the rough buildup to a hot, hard come. A few more strokes and he’d be over the edge.

He bit his lip to prevent more sound from escaping. God, he was so damn close. “Yesss.” He was going to…

A hard knock sounded on the door. Darryl cracked open the door, asking “Mason, mind if I come in?”

Shit, what did Darryl want? Mason jerked his hands away from his cock and grabbed the towel closest to him. Wiping his palms, he tossed the towel on the floor like a bathmat and turned on the shower. His shampoo and soap sat on the edge of the shower’s small rear shelf. The semi-opaque curtain offered cover and privacy. He’d rather Darryl not catch him with a hard-on or start asking questions. “Give me a moment. I was just getting in.”

Lukewarm water spattered his hand as he thrust it under the running faucet. Rather than waste time adjusting the temperature more, Mason jumped under the spray as he pulled the curtain shut.

“Come on in. What’s up?” He hoped his voice sounded somewhat normal and maybe a bit tired.

* * * *

Darryl shut the door loudly. The click echoed briefly over the noise of the shower. He glanced around the bathroom. The cabinet-enclosed sink held four plastic-wrapped glasses and Mason’s watch. He smiled at the hastily strewn clothes.

“Val and I are hungry. Since she’s cooking, how about we come up with choices that are easy?”

“Uh, okay. What did you have in mind?” Mason’s shadowed movements indicated he was hurrying through his shower.

“Slow down in there. You’ve got a few. How about a picnic theme? Sandwiches, fruit, and snacks with some wine. Toss some blankets and a few pillows on the floor.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll be done shortly. Who’s next?”

“Me. I’ll hang up your uniform while you dry off. Leave the shower running, but cut back the heat. The steam is building up in here.”

“Thanks. Leave my shorts please.”

Darryl laid the hot red sleeping shorts atop the commode. Mason’s flabbergasted look when he’d realized they were the only pair left in his size was a hoot. He smiled, thinking about what Val’s reaction would be when she saw them. Red was not one of Mason’s favorite colors. Ah well, for the next couple of days, he’d have to make do.

“Leave my boxers, too, please.” Mason’s drawn-out “please” sparked questions Darryl decided to leave unasked. Poor man must be tired and dragged out. He didn’t bother with underwear at home.

* * * *

Darryl pulled the door shut, leaving Mason to finish his shower in peace.