One-Two Punch (29 page)

“Fuck,” Ky groaned. “Lube’s upstairs.”

“Wait!” Beth scrambled up and darted over to the front desk. When she opened the top drawer, Harry realized what she was doing. If he hadn’t been so desperately aroused, he would have laughed. He really needed to thank Dominic.

Harry looked over his shoulder and caught Ky’s startled expression as Beth handed over the lube and a condom.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Ky muttered, hurrying to put on the condom.

Beth explained anyway. “Dominic’s the lube fairy.”

He paused at that and then shook his head. “Now I
really
don’t want to know.”

Harry didn’t even smile at the exchange. He was too focused on the way Ky’s hands, slippery with lube, massaged the taut muscles of Harry’s ass, how every squeeze of the hard fingers sent a jolting pulse of pleasure straight to his cock. A fingertip brushed Harry’s anus and his muscles clenched at the sensation. He was taken off-guard by the overwhelming rush of need that the small touch evoked.

“May I?” Beth’s raspy question brought Harry’s head around. At Ky’s short nod, she squeezed lube into her palm. The sight of her fingers curling around Ky’s erection, the way his head tipped back at the slippery slide of her hands—it stopped Harry’s breath. He stared, transfixed, unable to even blink.

Ky closed his fingers around Beth’s wrists. “Enough,” he gritted out. She released him obediently as Ky turned his focus back to Harry. Beth must have seen the flash of nervousness that passed over Harry’s face because she crouched in front of him, cupping his cheeks in her hands. She kissed him gently, thoroughly, and he leaned into her, deepening the pressure. Beth’s tongue slid into his mouth as Ky worked the head of his erection into the tight entrance. Once the tip of his cock was buried in the squeezing clamp of Harry’s muscles, Ky paused, panting.

Harry felt the hesitation and pushed back, impaling himself further on Ky’s burning shaft, wanting to take it all, to feel the entire length of Ky’s cock filling him, heating him from within. The small movement ripped apart Ky’s last shred of self-control and he slammed into Harry. The single thrust was too much—a hoarse cry tore from Ky’s throat as he exploded into Harry’s tight, hot depths.

As Ky slid free, Harry caught his breath, sitting back on his heels.

“Okay?” Ky asked, his voice rough.

“Yeah.” He actually was, Harry realized. “Except for this,” he grunted with a pained smile, gesturing at his lap.

“For me?” Beth asked. Her tongue peeked out, touching her upper lip at the sight of his engorged cock.

“Be my guest.” He accepted her offer, his voice raspy.

She pushed Harry to a sitting position and straddled him, sinking slowly until the head of his cock brushed against her hot, slick crease, nudging between her labia.

“No more torture, Beth, please,” Harry groaned, unable to take another second of delay.

At his words, Beth dropped to his lap, driving him through her like a burning spike, buried so deeply that he bumped her cervix. Ky knelt behind her, his hands cupping her breasts, his fingers plucking at the rigid points of her nipples.

“Fuck,” Harry grunted as her inner muscles gripped his length. She lifted up, holding herself above him. Unable to stand the teasing another second, Harry grabbed her hips and yanked her back down. Ky pinched the tips of her breasts and her body tightened around Harry’s erection. He felt the tremors of her orgasm begin as her head dropped back against Ky.

Harry took over, lifting and lowering her body in jerky movements, his control shattered by the pulsing spasms of her pussy around his cock. Shuddering, he pulled her tightly to him, locking her onto his lap. The tendons in his neck pulled tight as he exploded, pulsing into her in unending jolts of incredible pleasure. Toppling backward, he pulled Beth and Ky over with him and they collapsed into a boneless heap.

Harry was sliding into sleep, Beth limp and unconscious on top of him, when he heard Ky’s short laugh.

Opening one eye, Harry grunted, “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…us. The three of us, on the gym floor—it’s just all so fucking incredible.”

“Yeah.” Harry, holding a sleeping Beth securely against his chest, rolled to his side to kiss Ky, a gentle brush of his lips. “Pretty fucking incredible.”

It was late morning when Beth woke up but both men were still sprawled across the bed, sound asleep and snoring. She grimaced cheerfully at the noise. This arrangement could have its downside, after all—snores in stereo. They had stumbled upstairs around four that morning, stiff and sore from the gym floor.

Carefully extricating herself from the sleeping bodies, she slipped out of bed and headed for the shower, humming cheerfully. Everything had turned out so much better than she’d even imagined it could—so far, at least. She decided to make an attempt at breakfast—ever since Ky had moved in, they actually had groceries in the fridge.

Beth unearthed a waffle iron, obviously never used since it was still in its original box—a gift from Harry’s mother or sister, she assumed. There were even fresh strawberries, she discovered. Having Ky around had its advantages, Beth decided, and then smiled, remembering the previous night.

Several advantages, she amended mentally.

She started the waffle batter enthusiastically, managing to spatter her short dress in the first few minutes. Ignoring the mess, she threw some sausages in a pan to cook and began pouring the batter into the iron.

A knock on the apartment door made Beth jump and she glanced down at herself.

The dress was short and she hadn’t bothered to put any underwear on but, as long as she didn’t attempt any cartwheels, she was decent. After wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she hurried to the door and pulled it open.

A stocky black man stood there and Beth knew immediately who he was, even though Ky’s features were sharper, his eyes lighter and narrower.

“Is Malachi here?” Ky’s father asked, discomfort seeping out from beneath his stoic expression.

Beth shook herself from her surprised freeze and stepped back from the doorway, holding the door wide. “Of course. Come in.”

“Don’t you want to know who I am before you invite me in?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“You’re Ky’s dad.”

He gave an awkward nod and stepped inside. “Malcolm West. Most people don’t see any resemblance between us.”

Shrugging, Beth led the way to the kitchen. “You have the same…hmmm…
confident
attitude.”

Mr. West gave a bark of laughter at her diplomatic phrasing and Beth smiled over her shoulder at the sound. “You laugh like him too.”

In the kitchen, she gestured toward a chair.
I need to warn the guys
, she thought.

They were more than likely going to wander into the kitchen naked and holding hands.

His dad knew he was gay but it was one thing to know it and a whole other thing to see him and his lover exposed in more ways than one.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Malcolm and hurried down the hall. When she stuck her head into their room, she saw Ky sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Harry pull on a pair of sweatpants with narrow, molten-gold eyes. Both the men glanced up at her when she slipped inside, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Your dad’s here,” she told Ky in a low voice. “I just thought you’d want a heads-up.”

Ky’s shocked expression quickly settled into a scowl. “You didn’t let him in, did you?”

“Of course I did. He’s in the kitchen.”

His glower deepened. “Well, you can just tell him to leave. I don’t want to talk to him.”

Hands on her hips, Beth gave him glare for glare. “That’s just too bad. He came all this way to see you—the least you can do is walk the twenty steps into the kitchen and be polite. So wipe that sulky look off your face and go talk to your dad before I have to kick your ass.” With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her firmly, restraining the urge to slam it.

Pasting on a smile, Beth returned to the kitchen. Malcolm had taken over the waffles.

“He doesn’t want to see me.” It was a statement, not a question, but Beth quickly shook her head.

“He’ll be out,” she said confidently.
If he isn’t
, she thought grimly,
I’ll go in there and
drag him out by his ear.

Malcolm forked a crispy brown waffle onto the top of a stack building up on a plate. “I’m a little confused…are you his girlfriend?”

Oh boy. This could get complicated
, she thought. “I think I’ll leave it to Ky to explain.”

As she sidestepped the question, Beth pulled some plates from the cupboard. Malcolm gave her a curious look.

“You’re his friend—the one who was kidnapped.”

Beth winced. “That’s me. Thank you for your help, by the way. If you hadn’t told them about the cabin, they never would have found me in time.”

He cocked his head. “What did happen?”

“Ky didn’t tell you?” Beth asked in surprise.

Malcolm shook his head. “He called, said you were found and that you should be okay—you were at the emergency room at the time—and then hung up.”

Rolling her eyes, Beth stabbed some waffles and loaded them onto her plate.

Malcolm had rescued the sausages too, and she balanced a few links against her waffle stack. “He’s a surly bastard.”

Ky’s dad snorted.

“Well, the short version is that I managed to get away from the cabin—using a maneuver that Ky taught me, by the way—but ended up walking in circles, slowly freezing to death. Or dying of thirst—I’m not sure which would have come first.”

“Hypothermia.”

Beth gave herself a little shake. “Anyway, they did find me in time. Apparently, I’m really easy to track.”

“And the asshole who grabbed you?”

Her hand was shaking, so she put down the plate before she dropped it. “He’s locked up,” she said shortly and then changed the subject. Talking about Ed meant thinking about him, and she just wasn’t ready for that yet. “I’m sorry—I’m being rude.

Are you hungry?”

“Eh.” He held up a hand and waggled it back and forth. “Not really.”

“Nervous stomach?” she asked sympathetically. She didn’t blame him—Ky wasn’t the easiest person to talk to in a non-estranged situation. Malcolm just shrugged, closing the waffle iron with more care than was warranted.

“Ky’s lucky, you know.” Beth knew she was babbling but couldn’t stop herself. “To have a dad who stuck around. Especially since, and I’m just guessing here, but he doesn’t seem like he would have been the easiest kid to raise.”

Malcolm gave another one of the short laughs that reminded Beth of Ky. “Not the easiest, no.”

Beth took a bite of waffle as she tried to think of something to say. Ky could move a little faster, she grumbled mentally.

“So what do you do?” Malcolm asked into the heavy silence. Beth, grateful for the conversation starter, swallowed her mouthful of waffles so she could answer his question.

“I’m a receptionist at a paper company—nothing too fancy. I was fresh out of school with a degree in art, so I was lucky to get something that didn’t involve me asking, ‘Do you want fries with that?’ It’s only been six months, so it’s still tolerable.”

“Right out of school? So you must be right around Ky’s age—twenty-three?”

“Twenty-four, actually. I have almost a whole year on him, which I like to rub in his face, although Harry calls us both babies—”

“Harry?” A sharp note of interest caught in Malcolm’s voice. “Captain Harry Morris?”

Beth looked at him curiously. “That’d be the Cap’n. Do you know him?”

Shaking his head, Malcolm shifted another waffle onto the growing stack. “Just from Malachi’s letters and emails. Captain Morris’ name popped up a lot, so I thought, after Ky told me—” He broke off and stared at the counter, the muscles pulling along his jaw.

Feeling that it was her turn to save the conversation from crashing and burning in Awkward Town, Beth seized on the first conversational topic that came to mind. “This is Harry’s gym, actually. That’s how I met him…” She trailed off when she noticed Malcolm’s attention was fixed on the doorway. Glancing over, Beth saw why—Ky was propped against the wall, his moody expression still in place.

“Malachi,” his father said quietly. Ky nodded shortly and Beth took another bite of waffle, not sure whether she should take her food elsewhere or try to cram it down as quickly as possible so she could leave the kitchen. With a sigh, she put down her fork. It seemed that the fates were determined that she wasn’t going to eat anytime soon. She should market her life as a weight-loss regimen. Lots of sex and awkward reunions made for a pretty effective diet.

Leaving her plate with a last longing glance, she headed for the hallway, not able to resist giving Ky’s arm an encouraging squeeze as she passed. Surprisingly, Ky didn’t pull away.

Harry was reading, sprawled out on his stomach across the bed. Stretching out beside him, Beth craned her neck to press a quick, syrup-sticky kiss on the side of his mouth. Harry touched the spot with his tongue.

“Is that food I taste?” he growled playfully, abandoning his book to roll Beth onto her back.

“One bite of waffles,” she told him mournfully. “Okay, maybe it was two. How long do you think they’re going to take before they work out the whole father-son dealie-bob?”

“It could take awhile,” Harry said, his grave tone contradicted by the teasing glint in his eyes. “Hours, even.”

Beth groaned, flopping her arms out to her sides. “We could starve. Why don’t you keep a box of Twinkies stashed in your room somewhere?”

“Because that’s disgusting.” Harry looked at her in horror. “I refuse to eat anything that could outlive me—and stay soft. You didn’t keep a box of Twinkies in your bedroom at your apartment, did you?”

“Of course not. But I don’t have dramatic father-son scenes in my kitchen either.

Hence, there is no need for said box of yummy snacks.”

“Hence?” Grinning at her, Harry covered her outspread hands with his, pinning her to the bed. “Are you turning into a lawyer on me?”

“Nope,” Beth said lightly, ignoring the warm rush to her pussy at even his most playful restraint. “Hence is pretty much the extent of my legal knowledge. Well, that, and not to steal things. Or kill people. Or covet your neighbor’s wife—oh wait—I’ve gone from laws to Ten Commandments.”