The Sextet Presents... Playing in the Raine [A Toy Story] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (6 page)

“Reply
.”
The cursor ticked off the seconds as he tried to compose his rejection.
By the sculptures.
How the hell could he break a date with someone who took an interest in his passion? If he could combine her personality and likes with the body of his redhead…
Damn it.

I’m looking forward to meeting you too, Raine. By the sculptures. Vince.

“Send
.”
He waited for confirmation of the sent message, fighting mixed emotions. How could he have a visceral connection to one woman and an intellectual attraction to another? Throw in a commitment to two men he loved, and he had a mess, not to mention a hard cock. All jacked up and no place to go. With Matt and Rafe holed up in their private sanctuaries, his hand offered the only relief.

Shutting down his computer, he set it back on the dresser and got comfortable against the pillows. His palm rubbed circles over his lower abs then up and across his pecs. He teased his inner thigh with his other hand, working closer and closer to his balls. Quick back and forth flicks on his sensitive nipples sent fire running to his dick. Did Raine and his auburn-haired beauty know men’s little nubs liked attention as much as women’s tempting berries? Rafe was an expert at driving him crazy with titty play.

His fingers eased toward the smooth strip of skin between his nuts and his asshole. He’d love to have Matt’s thick erection pushing into him from behind. Running his thumb up the ridge of his cock to the slit, he gathered a taste of leaking fluid and licked it. A downward stroke. Then up again. And down. He squeezed his sac. Would his fantasy lady enjoy sucking his nuts? Of course she would.

Massaging his balls, he edged his other hand down to pump his dick. His abdominals shuddered, a pre-ejaculation warning of impending orgasm. Did Raine like going down on guys? A sudden contraction in his scrotum sent a rush of cum shooting from his slit, forcing a hoarse cry from his throat. A flood of lightheadedness shattered his thoughts.

“Fuck!” He panted through the racing of his pulse in his ears. His heart pounded in his chest. The vision of his lovers and the pair of women pleasuring him burned into his brain.

Was one woman enough?

* * * *

Pacing her living room floor, Raine glanced at the clock on the wall.
Wonderful. I have to get up for work in four hours, and I haven’t slept a wink.
She plopped on the couch and lifted her computer onto her lap. Neither Matt nor Rafe had e-mailed her since her dates with them. As of an hour ago, Vince hadn’t replied to the message she’d sent him before she’d attempted to go to bed the first time.

She typed in the password for her PlayingInTheRaine account. One last check and then another try at sleeping. A new message. Her stomach somersaulted. Was it from one of her younger men? Clicking on her in-box, she bit her lower lip and held her breath.
VNiccolo. Vince.
Her insides twisted tighter.
Click
.

I’m looking forward to meeting you too, Raine. By the sculptures. Vince.

He still wanted to meet her, and none of them had asked her age yet. How long could she put off telling them she was at least a decade older than each of them? Would they even care? Gads, she hated the uncertainty Gil-the-slimeball had instigated. She didn’t look or feel old.
I’m
not
old!

Shutting down her laptop, she headed to bed, determined to get some sleep. The pillow cradled her head and she closed her eyes, but her mind refused to shift into rest mode.
The new state park project. The diversion of traffic from the west side of the Columbus Bypass during exit- and entrance-ramp reconstruction. The impact study on the expansion of rural highway between Marietta and Zanesville. Vince. Rafe. Matt. Young, younger, youngest. Gahhh!

If she rolled over and buried her head under the pillow, would she pass out from lack of oxygen and finally sleep? With her luck, she’d probably suffocate and die.

Fine. I give up.
Scooting to the edge of the bed, she stood and stretched. Twelve hours on the job would become sixteen today. She didn’t have anything better to do than work until her trip to the art museum this evening anyway. Maybe once she found out if Vince was the third man in the coffee shop trio, her nerves would calm.
Not likely.
Because then she’d have to decide whether or not to confront the men who clearly knew each other and had to be aware of the personal ads they’d all placed. Would they deny setting her up? Were they perverts looking for a gangbang victim?

If she had to wager a guess, she’d have to say no. She was usually a pretty good judge of character, and they seemed to genuinely like her.
Forget work. I need a plan in case…in case what?
They want to share me?
Or possibly if she wanted them to share her? Well, that almost went without saying.
Think, brain, think!

Chapter 7

Kicking off her pumps, Raine plunked on the stool at the breakfast bar with a salad and half a glass of red wine. Enough food to take the edge off her hunger and enough wine to put her to sleep for an hour-long nap. Hopefully, her dark circles wouldn’t stand out too obviously against her pale skin. She’d gladly forgo her daily workout to avoid letting exhaustion make her look every minute of her thirty-eight and five-twelfths years.

She poked at the mix of spinach, tomatoes, and feta cheese until her stomach stopped cannibalizing itself, and she downed a last swallow of wine. Not bothering with the dishes, she dragged herself to her bedroom, stripping out of her suit before collapsing on the mattress.
Alarm. I’ll never wake up without an alarm.

Levering up on her elbow, she reached for the clock on the nightstand.
6:00 PM.
She turned up the volume to high so she’d be sure to hear it. Her vision blurred from sleepy, watery eyes, and she surrendered to a huge yawn. Nap time.

* * * *

Raine’s heart pounded in her chest as she hurried up the steps to the art museum. She detested lateness, and here she was, having to run to the designated meeting place to arrive on time. Vince was probably checking his watch as he stood by the sculptures of the traveling South African art exhibit. The bell tower began singing its hourly tune beyond the entrance to the building, the sound pushing her to go faster.
Bong, bong, bong
.

She rushed to the staircase in the lobby. The last of the seven muffled chimes rang out as she ascended the top step of the second floor. She had a clear line of sight to the display where she’d asked Vince to meet her. A dozen or more people had gathered in the area, and she scanned the crowd for a twenty-something grad student. Short, bald, and wearing a suit turned.
Dr. Mifflin.
His wife stood next to him, chatting with a professor from the English Department and the dean of the College of Fine Arts. More faculty, husbands, wives, and significant others, but no twenty-eight-year-old math PhD.

Crossing to a teak statuette of a woman with a baby at her breast and a basket balanced on her head, she glanced into the corners of the room she hadn’t been able to see from her previous position. He wasn’t there. Should she be relieved he hadn’t had to wait for her? Or should she be perturbed because
he
was late?

He knows where to find me. I can enjoy the exhibit as well alone as with a companion.
She focused her attention on the collection of woodcarvings. Each depicted a moment in the life of tribal natives. From the dates on the cards, they all seemed to have been made before the end of apartheid. Did they still live in poverty? Undereducated, oppressed, condemned to the same existence as their ancestors?

Bronze sculptures lined one wall. Bowls and baskets formed out of wire filled a display table. Moving to the next room, she studied the oil paintings and photographs, ignoring the twinge in her belly at being stood up. At seven-thirty, she gave in to the need to check her e-mail for a message from Vince. With her phone in hand, she walked downstairs to the lobby for a better signal.

No new messages.
Why the hell was she disappointed when she had two amazing men interested in her? Clearly, her presumption about all three guys in the coffee shop trio playing games had been wrong. Fine, she’d go home and look forward to Friday and Saturday’s outings with Matt and Rafe.

Tucking her phone in her purse, she shook her head and started for the exit.

* * * *

His instincts had been right. He should’ve broken his date with Raine. Vince bounded up the steps to the entrance of the art museum with little hope she was still there. Some things just weren’t meant to be, especially after his shitty day. Almost no sleep. Some idiot in the registrar’s office trying to tell him the paperwork hadn’t been filed so he could graduate. Car trouble. He should’ve gone home to bed.

As he yanked open the door, a mass of red hair hit him in the chest, along with the head attached to it. His hands flew up to stop the collision from turning into an accident with injuries. They landed on a pair of full tits instead of the arms he’d been aiming for. A shock zipped from his palms to his dick.

“Ack!” She stumbled backward out of his grasp, hands pushing at the curtain of hair in her face.

“Damn! I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Resisting the urge to steady her again, he shoved his hands into his back pockets. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

“I’m fine.” Her tone said she was more pissed than anything else.

Hell, he hadn’t groped her on purpose. She started forward again, giving another swipe at her hair, and her face finally came into view.
The redhead.
He almost choked on his quick inhale.

She pursed her delectable lips. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the final bachelor. A wee bit late for your date, aren’t you?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he almost missed her sarcastic commentary. “Raine?”
My blind date is my dream woman?

“Smart man. Let me guess. You’re late because—You know what? I don’t want to know why. I just want to go home. Tell your friends the jig is up.” She stepped around him and headed out the door.

She knows.
She’d recognized them, put one and one and one together, and come up with three guys playing games with one girl. The problem was they hadn’t targeted her. They weren’t toying with her. Shit, he needed to explain.

Pivoting toward the exit, he followed her out the door. As he scuttled down the steps, he glanced to the right then left to see which direction she’d taken, but she was gone. How had she disappeared so quickly?

A flash of color in his peripheral vision drew his attention to the side of the building. Raine’s auburn hair bounced with each step as she marched barefoot through the grass, her high-heeled sandals swinging from her fingers. Her mood matched her flaming mane, if her stiff posture was anything to go by.

He’d brought up trying to find a woman to complete his relationship with Matt and Rafe, and now he was the one fucking it up. Hesitating for half a second, he sprinted after her, wishing for running shoes and shorts instead of khakis and a new pair of oxfords. If she hadn’t altered her pace to a steady jog, he might’ve considered stopping to remove his stiff shoes.

“Raine!” Closing in on her, he slowed to her gait. “Please let me explain.”
Explain? Yeah, right. Raine, my lovers and I want you to join our threesome of bisexual dicks.
God, he was so screwed.

“Explain? You were half an hour late and didn’t bother to e-mail me saying you’d been delayed.” She swung around to face him, her hands on her curvy hips, pushing out those spectacular boobs. “
And
you and your buddies set me up instead of being honest. What? You thought having a contest to see who could score with me was funny? Or…or…Hell, if you wanted a kinky foursome, why didn’t you advertise for that? I might’ve answered that ad instead.” Her hair went flying every which way as a gusty breeze picked up the curtain of silk. “Doesn’t matter the age, men are all alike. Sex on their own damn terms.”

She was right. He, Rafe, and Matt hadn’t considered being up front with her from the beginning. They’d wanted to make sure she liked all of them before risking rejection, and he should’ve e-mailed her about his car trouble.

Looking at those sparking green eyes, he still couldn’t believe he’d found the redhead who made his heart race. Even pissed, she was breathtaking. “I’m sorry, Raine. I didn’t think to let you know my battery died. If you’ll have a cup of coffee with me, I’ll explain why we chose you. I swear we’re not the perverts you’re assuming we are. It’s kind of a complicated story.”