Special Delivery: Special Delivery, Book 1 (33 page)

“In you go.” Randy hustled him inside. Once the door closed, he pushed Sam into the corner by the mirror. Behind them, Sam heard Mitch set the lock.

Randy’s hands were on Sam’s waistband, and his fly—Sam gasped softly as his jeans and underwear slid down his hips. He shut his eyes, hot and cold at once, completely terrified as Randy’s hands—warm as promised—grazed tenderly over the bare cheeks of his ass.

“Ten minutes,” he said silkily. “Start the clock, Tedsoe.”

Double or nothing.
Sam felt slight pressure on his butt as Randy knelt and settled his knees on the floor. Sam opened his eyes and caught sight of Mitch in the mirror, saw him leaning lazily against the door, his eyes intent on Sam’s bare ass. Doubt swelled up suddenly in Sam, swamping any remaining lust.

“They are a fine pair of peaches, Peaches.” Randy traced his finger down Sam’s crack.

Sam shivered.
Wait,
he tried to call, but his throat was too dry to speak. He licked his lips, swallowed and tried again. “Wai—”

Randy parted his flesh, pressed his tongue to Sam’s hole, and Sam’s speech got lost on a low, helpless moan.

Wet.
Sam pressed his forehead into the juncture of the mirror and the wall, curling his fingers into tile and glass as Randy’s tongue ran up and down the length of him. He licked lightly at first, and then came at Sam with fierce pressure, pushing against his anus, wiggling until Sam gasped, flexed, then gave way and let him inside.

Mitch is watching. Mitch is watching this happen to you.
The thought sent Sam into a terrifying orbit, and he searched for Mitch in the mirror. He stood on the other side of the room, arms folded. The only thing about him that had changed was his face, and as soon as Sam was aware of it, he couldn’t look away.

Mitch wasn’t angry. Mitch was…something. Aroused wasn’t the right word. That implied something nicer than what Sam saw. Mitch looked like Sam felt when he indulged in really dirty porn. This was what Sam felt without the guilt. This was a man watching raw sex and liking what he saw. It had nothing to do with Sam, though as soon as Sam thought this, he knew that wasn’t true, even before Mitch’s eyes lifted, caught Sam’s, and the tenderness came back.

You okay?

No words, but Sam heard them all the same, and they were enough. He relaxed a little, nodded imperceptibly and shut his eyes, sliding into the sensations Randy gave him.

And Randy was definitely giving him sensations. Sam sank into the corner, trying to find the counterpoint within himself to what he’d seen in Mitch’s face. It felt so good, what Randy did, and part of him—most of him—was turned on because this was nothing more than a lost bet. He let Randy do this because Randy wanted to use him, both for his own pleasure and to get a rise out of Mitch. The part of Sam that had spent the last ten years feeling guilty for wanting this screamed, and it took him away from full release. So as Randy licked and thrust and wiggled his tongue up, down, around and inside Sam’s ass, Sam pressed his cheek to the mirror and fought for breath as he battled to keep his shame at bay.

A hand touched his shoulder. Mitch stood beside him now, watching him intently. Sam let out a ragged breath and reached for him. Their fingers met at the edge of the sink, and the contact eased Sam. He shut his eyes and floated, the heat of Mitch’s fingers burning the shame away.

That is, until he felt a sharp slap against his ass.

It was Randy’s hand, and it came over and over until Sam released Mitch and glared at him. Randy glared back. “
My
ten minutes.” He pushed Sam toward the wall and fell to his work once more.

“Actually,” Mitch said lazily, “the time is up.”

Sam and Randy groaned in unison, and Mitch laughed.

Randy slapped Sam’s ass again, lightly this time. Then he kissed the dimple at his pelvis. His voice was shaky when he spoke. “Okay. You two are going to give me five minutes alone.”

Mitch’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Not for that.” Randy sank onto the floor, leaning into the wall. He ran a hand over his face. “Just to recover. Jesus, Peaches, the noises you make could make a man come in his pants. Please tell me I am fucking you later.” Sam, who had been trying to fasten his jeans over a burgeoning erection, faltered. Randy rolled his eyes. “Please tell me I am fucking
somebody
later. Or that someone is fucking me. Or jacking me off. Or sucking me off. Or
something
?”

“I think we can arrange
something
.” Mitch led Sam out of the bathroom.

Once the door closed, he drew Sam into his arms, pressed him against his own erection, and kissed him hard.

When they broke away, they were both breathless, and they touched each other with tender caresses at complete odds with the crude game they’d just played.

Mitch squeezed Sam’s hand. “You only have to say stop, and it’s over. I still remember your word. And if you can’t say it, hold up two fingers.”

“I’m okay,” Sam said somewhat reflexively, but as he curled closer to Mitch’s chest, he realized, actually, that he was.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Randy appeared, agitated and disheveled.

“There’s no point in waiting five minutes,” he growled. “Can we go home and fuck now?”

Mitch looked wicked. “We haven’t even made it to the Bellagio. Sam would love the fountains.”

Randy narrowed his eyes at him and at Sam. Then, with no warning whatsoever, he put his hand boldly to Mitch’s crotch. Sam gasped in surprise, Mitch winced, and Randy grinned.

“Sure, we can go to Bellagio.” Still smiling, he tightened his grip on Mitch’s dick. “And I hope they turn as blue as your goddamned rig, you fucker.”

He strode off down the hall, and Sam and Mitch followed, but despite Randy’s sense of victory, Mitch smiled too. In fact, Sam didn’t know that he’d ever seen him happier.

They walked to Bellagio, Sam gawking at everything along the way until they finally came to the huge, arcing sprays of water in front of the casino. As the water danced to the music, Sam simply stood there and gaped. When Mitch put his arm around him, he didn’t think twice, just leaned against him and settled in to watch.

It was about then things started to get weird with Randy.

“I’m thirsty,” he declared abruptly. “Let’s go to Krave.” Before anyone could object or even agree, he grabbed Sam and dragged him in the direction from which they’d come. By the time they arrived at the bar, everyone was thirsty, and Sam was ready to collapse into a booth. He barely had a sip of his drink before Randy took it from his hand, passed it to Mitch and hauled Sam onto the floor. “Dance with me, baby.”

Sam tried to glance at Mitch, but he couldn’t see him. “Randy—” He gasped as Randy gripped his hips and ground them against his own.

Sam gave in and swayed to the music. He had to admit it was fun to be out in the middle of so many men, dancing with someone clearly determined to get into his pants. He wrapped his arms around Randy’s neck and let him hook his thumbs in his waistband. “Does Mitch ever dance?”

Randy slapped him on the butt. “Will you stop thinking about him for two seconds?” Then he paused, noticing the way Sam jumped at the slap. “Hmm. So you want a bit of slap with your tickle, do you?”

Sam wished he could have ingested more alcohol. “A little.”

“You let Mitch spank you?”

“I thought we weren’t talking about him.”

Randy pressed his hand on the globe of Sam’s ass. “This is spanking. It’s very different. Did you let him?”

Sam nodded hesitantly. “Twice.”

“And you liked it?”

Sam nodded again.

Randy moved them to the music, nibbling occasionally at Sam’s neck. “I want to spank you.”

Sam didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything. But he thought about it. And thinking about it made him hard. “We’ll ask Mitch.”

Randy’s breath was hot at Sam’s nape. “It’s your ass, Peaches. You make that decision.”

Sam shook his head. “I’ll do it, but I’m asking him if he wants me to first.”

“He’ll want you to.”

“I’m still asking him.”

They danced a little longer. The song changed, and Sam wanted to go sit down, but Randy wouldn’t let him. And once the music started up, Sam didn’t want to go either.

“Bananarama
again
.” His hips swayed of their own accord. “God, I love this song. I love this whole album.”

Randy looked bemused, but Sam ignored him and danced in earnest. He slipped out of Randy’s arms but didn’t go far, because when he got to the chorus, he spun around and pressed his back to Randy, humming along as he put Randy’s hands on his hips and got serious with his boogie.

Randy nuzzled his neck, sliding his hands over Sam’s body as he moved along with him.

“Mitch doesn’t dance.” His lips tickled the flesh of Sam’s ear.

“That’s too bad.” Sam arched into him, snaking his hand up over the back of his head.

“You’re not quite as bashful as you were before.” Randy continued teasing his ear.

“You had your tongue in my ass,” Sam pointed out. “It’s hard to be shy after that.”

“I want a lot more in your ass.” Randy darted his tongue briefly into Sam’s ear.

Sam shuddered and threaded his fingers into Randy’s hair. “Maybe. Let me take this slow. I’ve never done it before.”

“Peaches, you have had sex before.”

“Not with two at once. Not—not fucking. Not all the way.” He thought of the twink video, of the double penetration, and he faltered. He couldn’t let himself think about that.

Not yet.

Randy’s hand closed tightly on Sam’s hip. “Then how about just you and me?”

Tyke’s warning from the bar came back in a rush.
He’ll try to scare you or steal you.
Sam pushed out of Randy’s arms and faced him, arms over his chest.

“No,” he said with more emphasis than he’d ever given the word in his life. “Does he mean that little to you, that you have to take everything he has?”

He was ready for Randy to argue, but if anything he went still, and for a second, Sam did too, not even aware of the music. Randy seemed…lost. “He has you, does he?”

Now Sam did blush. “I didn’t mean—” He looked away, his heart hurting. “I have to go home, before too long. And he knows that. I’m having a good time. I like him. But I don’t know how it would ever work with us long-term.” His chest tightened further, and in a panic, he brushed the thought away. “I need to go get my drink.”

Randy grabbed his arm—gently—and held him there. “I’m sorry.”

The sincerity of his words caught Sam. “It’s okay.” Sam wasn’t sure what he was accepting an apology for, but something told him this didn’t happen often with Randy.

Randy held out his arms. “Finish your song?”

Sam hesitated a moment, then let Randy arrange his arms around Sam’s neck. “I do need to get my drink, after.” Sam relaxed into the dance and began to sway. “I wonder if they’ll play Kylie?”

“Do you have a favorite song?”

Sam gave Randy an affronted look. “There isn’t just
one
.”

“One you want to dance to?”

Sam considered this. “If I got to pick anything? ‘Made of Glass’. But it’s kind of a rarity. They won’t have it here.”

The song finished, and they went to the table where Mitch lounged sipping his beer, waiting.

“Need to go out for a cigarette?” Randy slid into his chair, sounding oddly hopeful to Sam.

“Nope.” Mitch squeezed Sam’s knee. “Have fun?”

Sam tipped his beer to his lips and took a long drink. “I love dancing.”

“I remember,” Mitch replied, and Sam smiled, feeling warm.

Randy rose. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the crowd.

Sam watched him go. “Is he okay?”

Mitch watched him too. “Not sure. What’d you two talk about on the floor?” When Sam shuttered, he sighed. “I already know he tried to get you to have sex with him alone, so if that’s what has you worried, let it go.”

“How—?”

“Because he’s Randy.” Mitch took Sam’s hand and stroked it. “What’d he say?”

Sam ran through the strange exchange that had been most of their conversation before he remembered the part he needed to tell Mitch anyway. “He wants to spank me.”

Mitch’s face changed, a shadow passing over it that reminded Sam of the bathroom at the Paris casino. “And what do you want?”

“I want to know if you mind.”

Leaning forward, Mitch kissed Sam on his temple. “Sunshine, I am never going to care. I don’t care who you fuck. Even Randy. You can fuck anybody you want to without me. Just tell me about it, so I know.”

“But I don’t want to fuck anybody without you,” Sam protested, and Mitch smiled.

“I know.”

Sam met Mitch’s gaze, and for a minute he forgot he was in the bar, in Vegas, or even on the planet. Then, as if from far away, he heard the music. His eyes widened, and he gasped. “Kylie!”

Randy appeared, triumphant. “They didn’t have the one you wanted, but they did have ‘All I See’. Will it do?”

Sam laughed, dropping Mitch’s hands. Randy held out his hand, beaming wickedly, and Sam rose, going eagerly to him now that he had things settled with Mitch.