Threes Company (10 page)

Adam moaned.

"With Wil's cock in your ass, you know how good you look?"

This time Adam and I groaned together. My thrusts were losing rhythm. I wasn't going to last long.

"You like him inside you, don't you?" Simon's voice was husky, low. "He fills you up so good."

Simon's words, his voice, his face, Adam's body, his moans… God, I was so on edge, so close, but I didn't want to come. Not yet.

I pulled out slowly, reluctantly, and my cock ached in protest. "Simon?"

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Simon was quickly beside me, easing back into

Adam. They both groaned, and Adam's body started to writhe. "Oh, Sy. God, yes."

Simon slammed into him, harder, harder; his fingers dug into his hips as he pounded into him.

All I could do was watch.

And pump and squeeze myself, trying to ease the ache, the throbbing need.

"Can't hold it," Simon grunted, then bucked one final time and stilled over Adam. His body was taut, his muscles stretched tight and his head fell back as he came.

Simon groaned and slid out of Adam. "Finish him, Wil," he mumbled, before lying down next to Adam, kissing him, while I took my place behind him. I lifted his hips, pushed down on his back, and slid my cock back into him.

He lifted his mouth from Simon's only to groan as I plugged him. Simon's hands encased his face and pulled Adam's mouth back to his, kissing with open lips and sliding tongues. I sank every inch of me into him, rolling my hips and bucking deeper, making him whine and groan.

I pressed against his gland, making him buck.

"Oh, Wil! Right there! Yes, please. Again!"

I did as he asked, over and over, until he screamed into Simon's mouth. His ass clenched around me, and I was

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done. I couldn't fight it anymore.

I didn't want to.

Adam's cock spurted in thick bursts onto the bed beneath us, and I swelled inside him, pleasure ripping through me, pulsing hot and thick into the condom.

We collapsed in a sweaty, sticky, sated mess of limbs and ragged breaths.

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

Adam chuckled.

"Yeah."

* * * *

The next day officially marked the one-week-to-go on my vacation calendar.

Seven days.

Then six.

And then five.

Adam and Simon had been great. Well, better than great. Perfect, really. They had to work, of course, but I ran with Simon in the morning, then he'd join me for coffee while we ate breakfast. Adam would join us after his swim, always smiling, outwardly happy that Simon and I seemed to get along.

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And we did. Conversations with Simon were

usually more professional: business, sales percentages, marketing. It was hard to tell if he was avoiding personal questions, or if he enjoyed having someone to talk shop with.

Conversations with Adam were usually fun and

flirty. I'm not saying he couldn't have sensible, intelligent conversations, just that we usually ended up laughing and talking crap. He asked me never-ending questions about my ex, Rod, and best friend, Callie, about other friends, and about my hometown. He avoided asking questions about my family, I presumed, so I wouldn't ask about his.

And that was okay. If he didn't want to talk about it, I certainly wasn't about to push him.

But the discussions between us, as a whole, were becoming more personal. So was the sex. Maybe it was my imagination, maybe it was me wishing, but it seemed to me the touches got softer, the kisses got sweeter. More intimate. It was still hot—damn hot. The different ways three men could fuck seemed endless. Simon usually orchestrated what we did in bed, and he was rather…

inventive.

They spent every night in my bed, the three of us wrapped around each other. Waking with the sun, we'd run while Adam swam, we'd have breakfast, they'd go to work,

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and I'd spend the day doing not much at all.

Like I said. Perfect.

But on Saturday, my fourth to last day there, an hour before the lunch shift started, Simon was taking a ten-minute break and had joined me at a table overlooking the water, when one of the kitchen staff walked out. She was a slim, redheaded woman, about ten years older than us. She seemed peeved.

"Simon?"

"Yes, Sydney?"

"Can I have a word?"

Simon sighed. "Yes," he said, his patience worn thin. He made no move to stand, or leave, indicating to her she could speak in front of me. "What is it?"

Sydney looked at me, then to Simon. "Um, the seafood delivery never came."

Simon gritted his teeth. "You called them?"

"Yeah, I did," Sydney sighed. Then she grimaced and said, "Miguel never placed the order."

Simon looked at his wristwatch. "Fuck!"

He stood abruptly, mumbled an apology to me then quickly walked with Sydney back into the kitchen.

I felt sorry for Simon because he had to deal with disrespectful and inconsiderate staff, but I could tell from the ire rolling off Simon that this Miguel would bear the

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brunt of it.

I didn't want to see that.

I figured the kitchen staff, namely Sydney, was in for a less-than-pleasant lunch shift. It was a Saturday and if last week was anything to go by, new clients would be arriving for their weekend stay and things would start to get busy.

I stood and followed them into the kitchen, into an area that, as a guest, I was probably not supposed to go.

"Need a hand?"

Simon stuck his head out from the cool storeroom, obviously a little more than surprised to see me. "Wil, what are you doing?"

"Offering my help."

"No," he said flatly. Then as an afterthought, he added, "Thank you, but no."

I looked to Sydney and another staff member, who were both regarding us, and when they looked behind me, I turned to find Adam. He must have followed me in.

"Look, Simon," I started. "You need another set of hands. And you have them. Me, sitting there staring at the ocean." I held up my hands. "A pair of fully qualified chef hands doing nothing."

Simon shook his head. "Wil, you're a guest here. I couldn't ask you to do that."

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"You didn't ask. I offered." I looked then at Adam, who was watching us like a tennis match. He seemed a little apprehensive, like this could go either way. I looked back at Simon. "I could go to the fish market, but I don't know my way around. You can't go, because you're expecting the weekend's bookings to arrive." Everyone was staring at me, and I figured it was all or nothing. Simon hadn't even blinked. "And I assume Sydney has prep to do before lunch starts?"

Sydney nodded. "Produce, mainly. I need to work on salads and steam the vegetables. And I'll need to start the sauces." She looked at me apologetically. "They're normally done by now."

Easy. I shrugged. Looking at Sydney—and

deliberately
not
looking at Simon—I asked her, "If you left now to go to the seafood markets, would you be back by the time lunch starts?"

She looked at the clock on the wall then looked at me. "Should be."

I looked at Simon. "Strictly prep work, no cooking, no service."

He sighed, resigned. "Wil…"

I smiled at him, knowing I'd won this one, and walked to the basin to wash my hands. When I turned back to them, Simon's expression hadn't changed, but Adam was

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now grinning. I turned back to soaping my hands to hide my smile.

Sydney pulled off her apron, grabbed her keys and she stopped. She pointed to different shelves. "Boards, trays, knives…"

"Go," I told her. "I've eaten here enough to know how you want it done."

She waved and disappeared. I could hear the

waitstaff banging around in the storeroom, which left me alone in the kitchen with Simon and Adam. I dried my hands and stepped around Simon, quickly grabbing the large bag of carrots from the walk-in refrigerator. He was still staring at me when I found the chopping board, peeler, and knife.

I smiled at him. "If you're just gonna stand there, you can help me."

Adam chuckled and Simon made a huffing sound,

his glare softening somewhat. "I don't know whether to be
really
grateful or
really
pissed off at you."

I looked over my shoulder, making sure we were still alone. I turned back to Simon. "You can thank me later."

Adam laughed this time and pulled on Simon's arm.

"Leave him, Sy. He's got work to do."

And I did. And I enjoyed it, this normally mundane

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task of prep work: chopping, dicing, julienning this, slicing that. I'd taken enough notice of what I'd been served over the last week to know procedure and plating, so that's what I did. I prepared single-serve salads in separate bowls, steamed carrots with a drizzle of honey, steamed beans with sesame seeds, creamy mashed potatoes and I even made the tomato and green pepper salsa.

I guessed at the dressings, and on tasting, I think I got it pretty close. The jus was on simmer, reducing nicely, and I was cleaning down my work station when Sydney got back fifty minutes later.

She slid the large white Styrofoam box on the

counter.

"Jeez," she said, looking around at what I'd done.

"Overachiever, much?"

I laughed. "Don't tell Simon."

Sydney snorted. "What, that you're good with your hands? I think he already knows that."

My mouth fell open, and I could feel myself blush.

Sydney just laughed. "Oh, come on," she said. "Don't be shy now. I've seen how they are with you."

She's seen how they are with me?
I glanced at her.

"What do you mean?"

She opened the Styrofoam box, pulled out some

fish, and rolled her eyes. "Simon and Adam."

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I shook my head in full denial mode. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sydney put the whole fish in a tray and pushed the tray away. She looked at me. "You don't need to deny anything here, sugar."

My mouth opened and closed a few times, I think, while my brain scrambled for something to say.
Shit, shit,
shit.
I didn't know what to say. She was openly acknowledging my sexuality, and I was stuck for words.

The tray of fish slid in front of me.

"Can you fillet fish?"

I nodded and swallowed thickly. "Sure."

So we stood side by side, filleting fish, and Sydney talked. I learned she did mostly breakfast and lunch shifts and any other shift Miguel wouldn't. She'd been working there for three or so years, and she really didn't seem to care that I'd all but admitted I was gay. Well, my inability to say anything otherwise had probably given me away anyway.

She knew, and she didn't care.

We could see the dining area start to fill up, and when the first order came in, I covered and put the last of the fish in the cool room, and left Sydney to it.

Both Adam and Simon were busy, so I left them to it too. I was in need of a shower to rid myself of the

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lingering fishy smell, but opted to change straight into my swimming gear and hit the water instead.

I swam then walked the beach until I was hot and then I swam again. When I'd had enough, I headed back to my room and showered. When I was respectable—and had plucked up enough courage to face Simon—I headed to the bar.

Adam was tidying up, and he grinned at me as

though I was an old friend he hadn't seen in years. He had the uncanny ability to make me feel… like I was the only one who mattered. Well, one of
two
who mattered.

It was hard not to smile back at him. "So, is he mad at me?"

"Who?"

"Who else?" I asked rhetorically. "Simon."

"Why would he be mad?"

"Because I disrespected his authority as the boss," I answered simply.

Adam shook his head. "I think you shocked him more than anything."

I chuckled. "I think I overstepped the friend-guest line."

Adam laughed loudly. "I think you overstepped that line with him more than a week ago."

I laughed, and then a familiar voice behind me

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startled me.

"Something funny?"

I turned to find Simon looking at us, trying not to smile.

Adam answered. "Wil here thinks he might have overstepped some guests-that-are-chefs boundaries." Then Adam chuckled. "He thinks you might be mad at him."

Simon's lips twisted into a pout, though I think he was trying not to smile. "Oh, I am mad at him."

"You are?" I asked, alarmed.

"Oh, sure," Simon said, smiling now. "I think there should be a suitable punishment dealt later tonight."

I chuckled in relief that he was joking and felt heat creep over my cheeks. "Oh."

Adam chuckled, and when Simon asked him if he

had any ideas for such a suitable punishment, he nodded. "I think he should sit and watch us." Then he moved in closer, and lowered his voice so only we could hear. "Wil has to watch us fuck. No touching, no jerking off, just watching."

Simon grinned, and I groaned. "That's so not fair."

Simon left us, smiling broadly, to go back to work while Adam taunted me mercilessly of how hot it was going to be, how turned on I was going to be, but really, he had no idea.