Three Hearts Beat as One (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (3 page)

“No, I like the idea,” said Chase, sincere in his twenty-something earnestness. Devin had been that sincere and trusting once upon a time! “Let’s try it, Devin. Like we discussed. The right woman could cement our love even stronger. We wouldn’t be jealous, because a woman isn’t competition. A woman is a creature with different attributes that you can’t compare to a man—
ah!
”

Perhaps to shut Chase up, Devin had evilly pressed the ice pack to his massive erection. Holding it up against Chase’s pubic bone, Devin rubbed it about until he felt the freezing ice take effect. The shrinkage wasn’t major—of course not, with a lusty stud like Chase—but the cock condensed enough for Devin to slide the rubber ring over the mushroom-shaped glans.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, tilting his pelvis into Chase’s groin and wriggling his tongue against his lover’s lower lip. He wanted to take Chase’s mind off the third woman idea just as much as he wanted to tuck Chase’s balls inside the black hoop. It was a “meat packer” type of cock ring that exposed the erection nicely, giving it the extreme and sensual molding that sent Devin over the edge with desire. Chase maintained a bikini wax that had taken Devin some getting used to. Devin was a cowboy, not a damned underwear model, but now he was an enthusiast of the bald balls look, especially when they jutted forward boldly like that, molded in the cock ring.

Devin yanked the ring snug and admired the bulging scrotum. It added to the stimulation to see how proud Chase was, tilting his pelvis forward arrogantly, one hand languidly behind his own neck. It would’ve seemed conceited in any other man, the way Chase preened and strutted, often admiring himself in the mirror. But Devin could only worship Chase even more, knowing Chase had the self-image that Devin himself lacked. It was wishful thinking to watch Chase pose in the mirror. Maybe some of Chase’s pride would wear off on Devin.

Devin spit in his hand and spread it over the taut cockhead, rubbing the sensitive slit with his thumb. He knew his fingers were calloused from roping and lassoing on the ranch, but that added to the dominance he liked to exert on his lover. If he couldn’t preen with confidence like Chase could, Devin could control his mate, manipulate him until he was—almost literally—putty in his hands. What Devin lacked in self-confidence he made up for in his masterful manipulation of the other man.

Soon Devin felt Chase’s fingers sliding away from the back of his neck. Chase’s eyes rolled up into their sockets as Devin stroked the big, bound cock, and he knew he had him. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Let yourself go. Let me stroke you into oblivion. Let my fist guide you into ecstasy. Forget about everything else. It’s just my pumping fist squeezing your big dick, ready to explode against me.”

Chase’s knees were obviously melting, as he started sliding down the metal shelf. But Devin wound up turning himself on so heavily, all in one instant he found himself on his knees, inhaling the bulging dick down his throat. Chase emitted a bearish, guttural groan, slapping his hand to the back of Devin’s head to cradle it to his crotch. Devin slurped and gulped in a mindless fury, relishing the full feeling of the velvety cockhead at the back of his throat, swirling his tongue around the few drops of salty jism that oozed out the slit.

God, he loved this man.

And he knew it showed through in the lust he put into his cocksucking.

He sucked heartily, his throat muscles closing around the girth of the cock. When he felt the fine tremor vibrating the front of Chase’s thighs, Devin knew he had him. Devin’s tongue felt the underside of the cock undulate with the force of the exploding semen. He was so aroused he humped his lover’s leg like a dog, clamping down with his own powerful thighs, taking great pleasure in rubbing the length of his own dick against Chase’s knee.

There. Absolutely delicious
. Devin furiously swallowed jet after jet of delicious semen, but even he didn’t gulp fast enough to drink the flood, and some dribbled out the corner of his mouth and down his chin.
What a glutton I am.

Yeah. A glutton for Chase.

Chase’s hips jerked and twitched, and the poor man hissed in air. Devin swilled like the pig he was, taking pride in the smacking sounds he made, glad he could display his love so loudly. He loved rubbing his thumb against the underside of the cock, feeling the surge, his lips slowing down against the squeaky glans.

Reluctantly he settled back on his heels to admire the pulsating cock. He was happy he’d satisfied Chase. He could tell by the way Chase’s hand lay like a piece of tissue against his corrugated abs, the way his head lolled on a weak neck. Devin knew that was the best way to keep a leash on his pet lover. He wasn’t the only hot cowboy in the Hell’s Delight area. But Chase sure as hell was the only former underwear model turned dildo storeowner. Devin had to bring his A-game, or Chase would get bored.

“Holy shit,” panted Chase, settling his ass onto a shelf that held boxes of flavored condoms. Now he weakly patted Devin’s head like the dog he was. His long cock pulsated visibly, nearly purple with the stricture of the ring. “Good God. I can’t believe how good you are. And you claim you never sucked off a guy before you met me.”

“Never,” affirmed Devin, pride welling in his chest.

Chase opened his eyes and graced Devin with that sly, devilish grin. But he only said, “Let’s go to that new Senegalese restaurant. Oh, but you’re probably not hungry now.”

What an arrogant asshole
. But Devin had to grin, too. It would be a mistake adding a woman to their mix. He just hoped a woman acceptable to both of them didn’t cross their paths anytime soon. He could keep postponing it if he kept finding faults with the women Chase pointed out.

“Now, let me finish talking before you kill me.”

Lacey allowed Katrina to take a bite of her fish and okra stew, but she didn’t have much patience. She knew the jerk Katrina was trying to set her up with. He was a successful highway patrolman, but he’d made the rounds of every single gal in Hell’s Delight and had failed to click with anyone. Maybe because he was a player, always flipped the collars of his polo shirts up, and liked to talk about all the available women in Thailand.

“Bob Sampson has come a long way since that ill-fated date with Connie Columbo,” Katrina insisted, her mouth full of slimy okra. She waved her spoon about casually. “I’m sure that after that disaster, Bob would never take a date to his ex-wife’s cat show again.”

Lacey took a bite of a black-eyed pea fritter and chewed listlessly. “There’s just no chemistry between me and Bob Sampson, Katrina. And it has nothing to do with those too-tight white shorts he wears when playing tennis. If there’s no chemistry, I simply can’t fake it.” She and Ben had had chemistry in spades. Maybe that was the problem. Next time she should go for someone who made more sense from a practical standpoint, and ignore chemistry. She should give more points to a guy with a good retirement plan than a guy with good hair, twinkling eyes, or a sense of humor.

Katrina looked at her friend with pity. “I know. It’ll take you awhile to get over Ben. You were with him a long time. Maybe just use Bob Sampson as a rebound guy.”

Lacey genuinely chuckled at that. “Rebound guy. Sure, if I found a guy worthy of being a rebound guy, I’d go for it. Unfortunately, I don’t think Bob could even be a rebound guy. I’m not that good of an actress.”

“I can’t fake chemistry either,” Katrina agreed. “I don’t know how these women do it—maybe take tons of acting classes. I think chemistry is the number one ingredient in a relationship. Marco and I have it coming out our ears.”

Inadvertently thinking of something coming out of Marco’s ears reminded Lacey of his unruly, never-trimmed facial as well as ear hair, and her stomach clenched in nausea.
Ew
. “Good thing we’re not all attracted to the same men, huh? There would be a stampede down the street for the same two or three guys.”

“At least the losers would never procreate.” A vast change came over Katrina’s face. Now she wore a ridiculously coy expression as she looked somewhere over Lacey’s shoulder. “Ooh, speaking of chemistry. The two hottest guys in Hell’s Delight just walked in. It’s just typical that they’re gay.”

Of course Lacey turned to look over her shoulder, this being the most stimulating thing anyone had said all day, but Katrina grabbed Lacey’s hand. “Don’t look.”

“Why not? If they’re gay, what do they care who’s ogling them? They’re probably used to it.”

“It’s not the gay hunks I don’t want you to see.”

Oh no.
That could only mean one thing. Lacey wrenched her hand away from her best friend’s grip and looked anyway.

She thought she could handle it, but the physical effect of seeing Ben with Brittney was sudden and overwhelming. First she felt light-headed and nauseous. Then she felt faint and weak.

And of course, just her damned luck, Ben looked
right at her
. As though his eyes had top-flight radar to instantly scan every room for his ex-wife. He couldn’t have possibly have known she’d be there tonight. The restaurant was new, so it wasn’t like she was a regular. No. He looked right at her, and…
smirked.

And rubbed his hand a little more sensuously on Brittney’s lower back.

Brittney appeared oblivious that her flame was using her to taunt an ex. She just stood there chipper in her white go-go boots. Her halter top rode so high in back, and her white vinyl skirt rode so low, there was plenty of skin for Ben to caress while shooting Lacey looks that were so gleeful, he may as well have been chortling evilly.

“Look at me,” Katrina commanded.

Somehow Lacey found it within herself to turn away from her ex-husband. Blindly, her eyes brimming with tears, Lacey reached for her wine glass and chugged more eagerly than usual.

“That fucking bastard,” swore Katrina. “He did that on
purpose
, Lacey. I saw him with my own eyes. I never thought he’d be that lowdown, but he was doing that purposely to hurt you!”

“I know,” whispered Lacey.

“I never knew he was
that
sleazy and dirty! He always seemed like a happy-go-lucky guy to me, sort of mild-mannered, sweet, you know?”

“He had everyone fooled with that act,” Lacey said weakly. It was true. No one knew what went on behind closed doors. Lacey herself used to sometimes doubt the reasons girlfriends gave for splitting up with men. She never would again. Not after she’d experienced the Jekyll and Hyde antics of Ben Pearson.

“Oh, God, he’s heading this way. Don’t let him see you crying.”

“Better yet. Don’t let him see me at all.”

Lacey bolted. She had only a vague idea where the restroom was, but for once luck was on her side, and she picked the right hallway. Perhaps attempting to be faithful to a real Senegalese restaurant, it was one of those individual restrooms with only one toilet. But again luck was with her, and it was vacant.

Phew
. No doubt Ben would presume the truth—that she’d bolted to avoid seeing him and Brittney again. How much pain could one asshole possibly cause her? She’d been
so
painfully, thoroughly in love with Ben! Of
course
she had—she wasn’t in the habit of marrying any old dirtbag!

“Well, apparently I
am
in the habit of marrying any old dirtbag,” she whispered, gripping the sink as though about to puke.
How can I allow someone else to have such control over my emotions, over my life?
But wasn’t “learning how to control one’s emotions” an oxymoron?

Would she have to keep slipping out the back door for years to come whenever she saw Ben strutting down London Street, with or without anyone named Brittney, Ashlee, or Madison. It had taken her all of one date to fall in love with Ben Pearson—why did it have to take
months
to fall
out
of love again?

Maybe there was something to Katrina’s rebound theory. A guy didn’t have to be the best thing since indoor plumbing simply in order to have a
date
with him. She could surely survive one date with that California Highway Patrol douche, even if he did take her to his ex-wife’s cat show. Bob Sampson was clearly still hung up on his ex-wife. They could at least bond over that.

A few rebound dates would put a buffer between real, current life and Lacey’s outdated, romantic memories of Ben. At least it would give her some fresh memories to occupy her thoughts. Even if the new memories turned out to be distasteful. Hell, rebound dates might give her something to laugh about, at the very least.

There. I feel better
. Surely Ben had sat down at his own table by now. Lacey took several deep breaths to assure herself she wouldn’t burst into sobs. She didn’t want to splash her face for fear it’d make her look puffy, so she just dabbed at the bags under her eyes with toilet paper and barged on out the door.

And promptly slammed into a heavily muscled male body.

Just by that alone, she knew it wasn’t Ben. Ben was too lazy to work out, too hedonistic, too dead set on partying. No, the slab of male body that literally took her breath away was a fellow who placed working out as a priority in his life, maybe even an occupation.

Lacey looked up into glittery arctic blue eyes filled with good-natured humor. The guy held her steady by gripping her upper arms, and he held on just a few split seconds too long to be polite.