The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (13 page)

the other side, covered the bowl with a clean dishtowel, and moved it

to the range.

“So you think she’s playing us against each other?” Dane sounded

a bit disgruntled about that possibility.

Spence checked his list. Stuffed chicken breasts with a white

wine-portabella reduction. Moving to the cabinet, he pulled out a bag

of wild rice. Best to start it cooking now. He would pound the chicken

while the rice simmered.

“No, she isn’t manipulative.” He left the “like her brother” unsaid.

“She enjoys being pursued. Or at least having more than one guy

wanting to go out with her. What woman doesn’t want her pick of

men?”

“Okay. Since neither of us is willing to back off, I guess that

means whoever isn’t chosen bows out gracefully and hopes for a shot

another day.” Dane stowed his pesto in the refrigerator, removing a

package of veal cutlets.

“Assuming she actually says yes to either of us.”
Hmm. Veal.
Not what he would choose for a partially vegetarian meal. “Teasing

doesn’t necessarily lead to anything more.”

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“For my dick’s sake, I hope you’re wrong.” Dane chuckled.

“Damn. She. Is.
Hot
.”

Spence had to agree. Cayenne was much too mild a description

for Wren. Closer to habanero. Sizzling. Fiery hot.

He added seasonings to the rice and turned on a low flame

beneath the saucepan. “She does amazing things to a pair of jeans.

The potential was always there. She just needed to get out from under

Jay’s shadow. And he didn’t help by constantly embarrassing her.”

“You know, he always felt threatened by her intelligence. He isn’t

such a bad guy, just a little insecure. Proving he could play any sport,

have any girl was his way of getting attention. Wren got straight As,

earned a full-ride academic scholarship, and had a boatload of praise

from their parents.”

Positioning a chicken breast on the cutting board, Spencer raised

his tenderizer mallet.
Splack-splack! Splack-splack! Splack-splack!

The sound echoed beside him. He and Dane pounded in time. They

should’ve been partners instead of competitors.

* * * *

Wren grinned at her reflection in the mirror. If Spencer and Dane

knew she’d installed an intercom system between her downstairs full

bath and the kitchen, they’d either die laughing or kill her. One push

of a button and she could listen for beeping timers and men arguing

over who got to sleep with her tonight—while she changed into

something more...appropriate. Oh, they’d kept their voices low, but

not low enough to keep her from hearing their agreement.
Whoever

isn’t chosen bows out gracefully and hopes for a shot another day.

Choose.
Eenie-meenie, mine-ee,
freaking
mo! How could she choose one over the other? Both were prime specimens. They made

her heart pound and her clit throb. On her sexual thermostat, Dane

and Spencer equally turned her up to broil. Hell, she’d resorted to the

self-cleaning setting for years.

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Argh. I can’t pick one.
Shimmying into her early birthday present to herself, she wracked her brain. How to decide? One tonight, one

tomorrow night? But who first?

She frowned as she adjusted her breasts in the demi cups. Left

nipple tucked just out of view. And now the right. A perfect pair.

The mouth of her reflection turned upward. Hmm.
A perfect pair.

Left and right. Spencer and Dane. Now
that
idea held promise. They could take turns, right? She was willing to share. Or maybe...Last

week’s session with Richard had left her wanting more. Dane had

joined Spencer in her daydream. A new fantasy. Hot damn! Why not

both of her delicious chefs joining her for a post-meal walk on the

wild side?

Slipping on her new black leather pumps, she took a last look in

the mirror. Damn. If this outfit didn’t convince them to share and

share alike, nothing would.

* * * *

Splack-splack! Splack-splack! Splack-splack!
Spencer raised his mallet again.

“My, oh, my. I never dreamed I’d get to watch two men beating

their meat together.” Wren’s giggle invited him to join in.

Dane’s burst of raucous laughter blended with his own as Spencer

looked up at their hostess. He froze mid-laugh.
Holy shit!
When Wren said she was changing clothes, he hadn’t pictured black leather and

silk stockings. His erection fought to get out of his Jockeys. Words.

Say something.
He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue had suctioned itself to his palate. Okay, so maybe no words existed to

describe how fucking sexy she was. And she wore a wide grin with

her biker babe attire.

“Don’t you like my new outfit? I suppose I could take it off.” Her

fingers toyed with laces of her almost cup-less...corset-thingamajig.

“God, no!” Evidently Dane hadn’t lost his ability to talk. “I love

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your taste in clothes. You plan on dominating us?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe. Maybe not. Get back to work.”

Spencer adjusted his grip on the mallet. Hell, he’d gladly beat his

meat if she told him to—so long as he got to look at her gorgeous

body.

* * * *

Singed. If he touched her, he would go up in smoke. Dane

watched Wren sashay her way to the refrigerator in the empty cook

station. Sneaking a glance at Spence, he wondered how either of them

would survive the afternoon. His friend had the glazed look of a man

about to lose his horny mind. Good thing the kitchen didn’t have a

mirror. That same expression probably occupied his face as well.

Clunk. Clunk.

He and Spence turned toward the sounds. A pair of Smucker’s ice

cream toppings stood on the center island next to Wren. Caramel and

hot fudge, judging by the colors of the bottles.

Clink.

A jar of maraschino cherries. Was she making a banana split? Or a

sundae?

Clunk.

Whipped cream in a can.

Next, she strode to her luggage, unzipping the suitcase—the one

that had held her leather outfit before she changed into something

more comfortable. What else did she have in her bag of goodies?

A bright orange...dildo? On a business trip?

Jerking his gaze to his fellow chef, Dane widened his eyes and

nodded in Wren’s direction.
What the hell is she doing?

Spence shrugged, a pussy-eating grin on his face. He waved his

finger between himself and Dane, then pointed to Wren.

Ahh. Interesting idea.
Neither had to go home alone. He nodded at Spence. But would she go for their plan?

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Bzzzzzzzzzz.

That noise couldn’t be what it sounded like. He turned his

attention back to their chemist in stripper’s clothing. She sat atop the

island with one silk-clad leg crossed over the other, toppings to the

left, whipped cream and cherries to the right. She rubbed the vibrator

along her inner thigh, upward across her stomach and one breast.

Picking up the can of whipped cream, she squirted a dollop on the end

of her toy and slipped it between her lips. Her tongue caressed the

underside as her playmate glided in and out. Creamed cock—

evidently her favorite.

His lungs threatened to explode. A shiver skittered from his balls

up his spine. Damn, he could almost feel her lips and tongue

welcoming his dick into her mouth. And Spence would go down on

her and fuck her while she performed the amazing blowjob. Their

love of cooking wasn’t the only interest they would share.

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Chapter 2

Spencer’s breath came in short, panting gulps. Wren was putting

on an X-rated show for them. The orange penis disappeared in her

mouth as she deep-throated the unappreciative hunk of rubber. Her

fingers tugged down one cup of her leather corset, revealing a

beautiful, round breast. She brushed her thumb over the hardened

nipple and groaned.
So fucking hot.
Nothing turned him on more than watching a woman touch herself.

She slowly pulled out the vibrator, her lips caressing as it

withdrew. Damn, he’d bet she gave great head.

She uncrossed her legs. The skirt rode high on her thighs, hinting

at what she wasn’t wearing beneath it. From this angle, with her legs

spread open, he glimpsed a peek of pink flesh surrounded by

dark...curls maybe. No panties. Another of his high school fantasies

about her. How much longer could he watch without going off the

deep end?

Giving the vibrator a final lick, she placed it in that flirty space

beneath her skirt and shuddered.

Christ, enough was enough. He dropped the mallet on the cutting

board, waved an arm at Dane to join him, and strode to her perch.

Lifting her chin so she looked him in the eye, Spencer gave her a

quick hard kiss. “You’re one hell of a cock-tease.”

Her smile was anything but innocent. “Who says I’m teasing?

Maybe I’m hinting.”

“Hinting at what, exactly?” Dane’s raspy question attested to the

frail hold on his control.

That’s what Spencer wanted to know, too.

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* * * *

Wren realized the moment of truth had come. Did she possess the

bravery to ask for what she wanted? She grinned instead of having a

meltdown.

“When a woman hauls out Reliable Richard by herself, she’s in

the mood to masturbate. When she flaunts Richard in front of a man,

she’s extending an invitation.” Her heart pounded. Would they accept

her proposition?
Only if I ask.
“When a woman does the same in front of two sexy chefs, she wants to skip dinner and go straight for a

double dip of ice cream for dessert.”

Dane and Spencer shared an unreadable look.

Time to clarify. “I made up my mind. Both or neither.”

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Had her brash request

condemned her to a night alone?

Spencer rested his hands on the outside of her thighs. “While you

were changing clothes we decided not to fight over who would hook

up with you. We both like you, but won’t let a woman ruin our

friendship. Dane and I have been friends for a long time.”

She’d missed part of their conversation. They were turning her

down. Her stomach fell to her stilettoed feet. Another evening with

Richard.

Dane frowned. “You don’t want to ruin our friendship, do you?”

She shook her head. No, she wouldn’t let her measly sexual

fantasies come between friends.

“That’s why we decided to share.” Spencer leaned in close,

nuzzling her neck.

A ripple of excitement shocked her heart into beating again. “You

mean...Oh, share.”

“As long as you understand neither of us is into rump roast shish

kebab.” Soft lips brushed her jaw.

“Of course not. So you’re saying yes?”
Yes, yes, yes.

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Running a finger from her knee to the edge of her skirt, Dane

chuckled. “If you say pretty please with whipped cream, caramel, hot

fudge, and a cherry on top.”

“Pretty please.” Damn, she felt bold. “And we’ll share the

toppings.”

“Mmm.” Spencer’s warm breath tickled her ear. “I’ll bet you’re

tasty without any garnish, but I think we’ll start with hot fudge sauce.

Let’s make it warm.”

He pulled away to reach for the bottle. “Here, Dane. Pop this in

the microwave. And we should probably undress Wren so we don’t

make a mess on her sexy clothes. I’m thinking the stockings and heels

can stay. What do you think?”

“Love the stockings and stilettos. Don’t want to get sticky stuff all

over the leather, though.” Dane took the bottle of fudge from Spencer,

popping off the lid and putting it in the microwave to heat.

Warm chocolate on her skin, followed by warm tongues licking it

off. Wren could barely wait.

Spencer lifted her off the counter, standing her in front of him. His

fingers worked the laces of her bustier. His lips trailed along her bare

shoulder to her neck. And then he worked his way along her jaw to

her mouth, tracing her lips with his tongue. She opened for him, and

he dove inside. Her pulse echoed in her ears as he explored every

surface. His tongue fought hers for control. He and Dane might be

two against one, but she didn’t do submissive. She nipped his lower

lip. His groan vibrated through her skull. So he didn’t like submissive,

either.

“Time for that skirt to go.” Dane had the zipper down before she

remembered the mini had one. Tugging the scant piece of leather over

her hips, he let it drop around her ankles. “Need help with those

laces?”

She swallowed Spencer’s grunt, nearly jumping out of her skin

when one pair of hands cupped her breasts and another pair loosened

the laces. More clothing slid past her hips to the floor.

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“Jesus, Spence, you have to see her spectacular body.”