“Don’t recall,” huffed Kit, still wheezing slightly from laughing. “Actually, now that you mention it, it may have been.”
The gentle thumping of raindrops against the canvas dome drew Evie back into the scene. Ross lay on his back, almost invisible beneath the naked girl straddling his lap. He remained recognizably Ross, though. His long legs darkly furred, and his blunt-tipped fingers held tight to his lover’s hips, in the same way he often held Evie. Kit—Kit straddled Ross’s legs, his cock risen and pressed tight to his stomach already shiny with precome. His gaze focused entirely upon the girl’s bobbing bottom, over which he ran his hands in repetitive circles, his thumbs delving into the dimpled crease.
“What did you use for lube?” she asked.
Kit’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Good god, woman! Talk about practicalities.”
“Well, if I’m going to be spun a tale. I’d like it to be believable, and I’ve heard it’s painful without.”
He was on her immediately, making her realize that had been a titbit of information she’d have been wiser not to impart. “Meaning you don’t actually know?”
“No. I don’t.” Evie sat on her hands, waiting for a follow-up question. At the least she expected him to ask how come. Anal seemed to be all the rage these days, if lifestyle mags and some of her friends were to be believed. Personally, she’d never felt any burning need to have a cock thrust up her bottom. She shook her head. Post
Queer as Folk
, she wondered if women were taking it up the arse as some topsy-turvy measure to be part of something they couldn’t.
“They were fucking pretty hard.” Kit took up the story from where he’d left off, leaving her to blush, and feel prudish and resentful. “I put my hand on her bottom just to let them know I was there and up for some action too, and they both slowed down, which I took as an invitation to go ahead. Being young, we didn’t have any lube, because that’s what you normally use when you can’t get her excited enough, isn’t it, and naturally Ross and I considered ourselves talented enough to not need such aids. Luckily, we did have some cooking oil, which went everywhere and made a god-awful mess of the sleeping bags because the buggers wouldn’t keep still while I was pouring. Still, it did the trick.”
Evie felt herself in Kit’s body at that moment, poised and ready, slippery with oil, the coating of which glistened upon his skin. Simultaneously, hesitancy threatened to cripple her. More rode on this moment than simply the fulfilment of a fantasy. Would he and Ross still be smiling in the morning, or would the aftershocks put dents in their solid friendship?
“I think I was more nervous than she was.”
The fantasy continued as she pictured him pressing forward, expecting resistance.
“I think she’d done it before, because I slipped inside without any trouble. Actually, I wondered if she hadn’t sought us both out deliberately and that this had been what she was after from the start. Certainly, she was on fire. She pushed back onto me, impaling herself to the hilt, while I was trying to be considerate and taking it slow.
“Fucking arse is not the same as conventional sex. Don’t let anyone tell you it is,” he mused. “It’s hotter, tighter. It’s a bit more difficult to keep control, and no matter how many times you do it, there’s always that little nagging voice in your head telling you it’s taboo, and that you’re downright dirty for even thinking about it, let alone doing it. As for doing it while another guy’s already fucking her, that just about makes you Satan himself.”
The slide into Kit’s mindset gave Evie a curiously warm glow. Sex might make him feel guilty, but she’d swear Kit got a kick out of being bad. He wasn’t exactly being good now. Spinning yarns of DP sex to your best mate’s girlfriend while sitting in a derelict house wasn’t your typical Saturday afternoon, after-shopping pursuit. Again, her gaze fell to his loins. Oh, boy, was he hard!
“Ross, god bless him, was whining and thrashing about. I know I was shaking. We had to fight to keep ourselves still and let her control the movement, and meanwhile, the whole experience is intense and novel in a way you can’t imagine. I mean, there’s this beautiful woman between us, and her arse is so sweet that I’m on a hair trigger, and every time she moves I can feel Ross’s cock like it’s butting up against my own. Every little jerk, every pulse, even…well, especially, when he came. In fact, that did it for me, feeling the pair of them come. Complete engine shut down. Nirvana. Absolutely fucking incredible.”
Kit fell silent and for a moment, Evie patiently waited for him to continue the tale. Only when he turned his head and smiled did she realize she’d gripped his arm tight. Evie slowly uncurled her fingers. Thankfully, his jacket had protected him from nail marks.
“What happened afterwards?” she asked.
Kit shook his head. “Nothing. We hung out for a while the following day, and then Ross and I packed up and came home.”
“You never saw her again?”
“Nope.”
Evie brushed down her clothing. Looking at Kit, it was easy to imagine him walking away from an encounter like that, but Ross… Her Ross wasn’t the sort to get involved in trysts and walk away without carving a great big scar in his psyche. Ross, despite his brawn and largely down-to-earth character, couldn’t let go of anything without mourning its passing. “It only happened that once, didn’t it?”
Kit shrugged. “Whether it did or didn’t isn’t part of the story. If you want to know more, first you have to share. Fair’s fair, Evie.”
Share? “I thought we agreed this was in lieu of rent.”
“Chicken.”
“I’ve nothing to share.”
“Sure you do. Everyone does.” Kit leaned towards her as if to take her clasped hands, but Evie moved them out of reach. She didn’t want him coaxing her, and definitely not if it involved physical contact. No, Kit, was far too dangerous to be allowed that close. She leapt off the sofa and made a performance out of checking the time. Ross would be home by now, having finished his morning surgery. Time she headed home for their typical Saturday afternoon picnic of cheese, crisps and pickles before heading over to the Boar for a few rounds and a late fish and chips supper.
“It needn’t be about you and Ross. It could be you and whomever you please,” Kit coaxed. “It could even be a secret fantasy. Maybe you could tell me how you discovered your fetish for watching guys jerk off.”
“It’s not… I don’t… Much.”
I walked out on you, didn’t I?
Evie inwardly justified herself. Just because certain things were prone to pushing her buttons, didn’t mean they were at the full on fetish stakes. “I’m going home. Ross’ll be home.”
“Okay,” Kit said, rising. “I’ll make my own way back.” He followed her into the hallway and held open the front door while she checked her pockets to make sure she had everything, including the car keys. “You still owe me a story though, Evie. I’ll let you run away this time, but don’t think I’ll forget.”
She ticked the engine key towards him. “I don’t owe you anything.”
He waited until she’d turned around before muttering, “Okay, we’ll play dirty.”
Evie whirled on the spot. She glared at him, but Kit allowed his gaze to wander to where a robin sat perched upon the sacks of rubbish. “Bye,” she snapped. “Don’t hurry back.”
After Evie pulled out of the drive and chugged off down the lane, Kit deadlocked the front door and wandered upstairs to his old room. Barely a scrape of familiarity remained; just a few patches of wallpaper and a threadbare rug, which he lay down upon and stared up at the hole in the roof. He hadn’t been entirely honest with Evie. It hadn’t been about the girl at all, only ever about Ross and himself. When their eyes had met in the darkness of the tent, and they’d made that silent pact to have her together, what he’d really been thinking was what it would be like to fuck Ross. No, they hadn’t touched one another except by accident on that occasion. Yes, they’d concentrated upon the woman between them, but ultimately, for him, it had been all about Ross.
Ross’s hard naked body beneath him, the tickle of his hairy legs, and the scent of him that lingered long after sex. Yes, he’d seen Ross naked before that point, but he’d never seen him naked and hard, or anticipated that he’d look so goddamn magnificent.
The erection that had faded when Evie marched off stiffened again, making his trousers uncomfortably tight. Kit unzipped and wrapped his hand around his cock.
Night after night, they’d slept beside one another in their purple dome, so many nights cocooned in Ross’s scent, and he’d never dared act upon his desire. The girl had made everything possible. She’d opened his eyes to the future. Images of later days scrolled across his field of vision. Erotic patterns formed in the clouds beyond the hole in the roof, and in his mind, Kit rewrote the camping trip, removing the girl from the scene. He’d forgotten her name eons back, and the remainder of her faded just as easily. Instead, he bucked into the fiery heat and tight clasping grip of Ross’s arse. He held him, stroked his palms across Ross’s chest, and pumped his cock until Ross rolled his eyes into his head and came in fountaining spurts over Kit’s fingers.
Kit’s hand stilled upon his own cock. He focused his efforts around the head, pressing gently into the sensitive spot below the eye. If only everything had gone as smoothly as his make-believe, instead of them pussyfooting around each other for eternity before making a move. That dance of denial had gone on, and on… Shit! It had to be three years.
Three years of rampant fucking denial, pretending they were just mates and nothing more. Of course, every now and then one of them would reach breaking point, and then they’d both go out and get plastered, and end up picking up some poor unsuspecting girl, and bringing her home together, and giving her the time of her life. Not one of those women ever twigged that the reason for all that lavish attention was so he and Ross could vicariously fuck one another, because neither of them had the guts to act upon their feelings. Too afraid of having read things wrong and destroying their friendship. Too scared of being punched in the face.
At least he hadn’t wasted time worrying over being gay. Kit knew sexuality wasn’t as simple or fixed as that. He knew he could get off looking at another guy’s cock, just as easily as he could staring at a pair of tits. Hell, once the whole deal with Ross had blown up, he’d even gone out experimenting. He’d sucked cock and wanked a few guys. Then, when out of the blue everything suddenly fell into place with Ross, it’d promptly fallen apart in a way that hadn’t just spoiled their friendship. It’d kept them apart for six bloody years, on opposite sides of the globe.
Japan
had seemed so easy. No connections, nothing familiar. No strings and easy peasy money. Kit hadn’t set out to become a host. He hadn’t set out with any idea at all other than leaving Kirkley far behind. He’d walked into the airport that day with a suitcase and a credit card, and ended up in a
ryokan
in Tokyo. There he’d met Tsuyoshi, who’d taken him to Cloud One the following evening and found him a job. He’d spent most of the first eighteen months of being a host steaming drunk. He’d blamed the job, but really that was an excuse and a nice easy way to blot out the memories of home. Then one evening he’d woken up and realized he’d be dead within another few years if he didn’t start looking after himself. He cut his alcohol consumption down to a reasonable level and learned how to pour drinks sober. The thing with being sober was that he could actually do his job better. The ladies liked him. He started getting laid again, not always in circumstances of his choosing, but he never let himself get too heavily swayed by the size of anyone’s purse. He built himself an easy life. No strings, no hassle… No love. Right until the grenade had landed—Flora’s death. A summons quickly followed, and he’d come back. But the darkness he’d flown remained. Boy did it remain, and sooner or later it’d all come tumbling out for Evie’s benefit, because people never could resist a scandal, or sticking their noses in.
Kit let go of his cock, his erection gone. He didn’t know what he was doing here, but now that he was here, he couldn’t leave. This time he’d have to weather the inevitable storm. He’d been in Kirkley twenty-four hours; likely, word of his presence had already been passed along.
Not that it mattered since he had only one single-minded goal—to get himself comfortably settled with the girl and guy of his dreams and spend a hell of a lot of time screwing them.
Chapter Four
“What time did he say he’d be back?” Ross asked, looking up from the remains of his recently demolished baguette. He dripped his finger in the remaining crumbs and held it aloft.
“He didn’t.” Evie leaned over his shoulder and sucked his finger into her mouth. She released it with a pop, cleaned, a moment later. “How come you took Whiskers with you this morning? I had no one to cuddle.”
“Whiskers? Evie, you can’t name her after a brand of cat food.” He glanced towards the kitten, still curled up inside the cat box. “I did mention that she still needed a few more shots and I had Iris to appease.”
“Fine, I’ll think of something else,” she huffed, leaving the table in order to scoop up the sleeping kitten.
Ross scraped his chair back, following her route with his gaze. “I’m sure Kit would have given you a hug if you’d asked.”
Evie eyed Ross curiously. He’d pulled his mouth into a somewhat sour expression with his tongue pressed to his teeth. “And why would I want to hug Kit?” The question restored his grin.
“I never said that you wanted to, only that he was available.”
So, he did realize his mate was more of an enticement to sin than was wise to leave alone with your girlfriend. Well, assuming said girlfriend had no willpower, which, of course, she did. Although, Kit hadn’t really tried anything on, he’d just told her a story—an undoubtedly fictitious story.
Aware that Ross’s attention hadn’t waned, Evie concentrated on the kitten, afraid that her expression would reveal her inner turmoil. The panther and the pussycat, she thought. They’d both arrived on the same night, and both tugged at her heartstrings, if in entirely different ways. At least the furry addition to the family didn’t leave her heart pounding with turmoil every time they touched. She’d been buzzing from the contact with Kit ever since she left Rose Cottage, her mind still burning with his tale. What had he been trying to achieve with that story? She certainly couldn’t look at Ross in quite the same way, even if she had decided it was pure invention. Maybe that had been Kit’s purpose.
“Something on your mind?” Ross asked. He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.
“Nah, no, it’s nothing.”
“Good.” He squeezed her shoulder. “As long as you’ve forgiven me for last night.”
Last night! She’d never ever forgive him for bringing Kit home, or for not mentioning that they were being spied upon during sex, although she might be appeased. She smiled winningly at Ross, hoping he’d get the message that after her fraught morning with the nefarious Mr. Scrumptious, she needed a good workout.
“Hey, I’m gonna get changed. Back in a few,” Ross said, squashing her fantasy of them getting frisky against the side of the fridge.
Evie listened to the thump of his shoes on the stairs. A few minutes later, he thundered down again, and went out of the front door. Surprised, she strolled into the living room intent upon the window. Halfway there, the phone rang, startling the kitten, who began to squirm. “Hello,” she muttered into the mouthpiece, still juggling the yowling fur ball.
“Ah, good afternoon, Ms. Latham.” Ross’s voice echoed down the line, presumably from his mobile, or else he’d nipped across the green to the call box. “This is
Rent a Fantasy
calling to let you know that your order is just five minutes away.” The emphasis on certain words made him sound like a cross between a double-glazing salesman and a cheesy game-show host.
“My what?” She laughed into the receiver. Phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, and now trying to extract the kitten’s claws from her shoulder, Evie tweaked back the curtain, but couldn’t see any sign of Ross.
“Oh, I am sorry, madam.” Ross’s voice lost its screech of excitement and turned butler serious. “Do you mean to say you didn’t order your free trial from this month’s catalogue of mouth-watering man whores?”
“Man whats?”
“Whores, madam. Mouth-watering man whores. They’re on special at the moment.”
Determined to find out exactly what Ross was up to, Evie returned to the kitchen and dropped the kitten into her box, before checking out of that window too. Ross stood at the bottom of the garden, huddled between their decrepit shed and the line of Norwegian Spruces. He appeared to be wearing his favourite pinstriped business suit.
“Well,” she hedged. Maybe he had something better than a kitchen quickie in mind. “Now that I think about it that does sound familiar. Perhaps if you reminded me of the order.”
“One man-whore, required for subjugation, extreme tongue gymnastics and repetitive solitary stimulation. Intercourse, verbal and otherwise, optional, but not required.” He sounded as if he were reading off a sheet. “You did request an outdoor location, but I’m afraid we only do home visits with our free samples.”
Laughing now, Evie opened the back door and made her way down the steps into the garden. “You know, I think I see him coming.”
“Oh, no,” he assured her. “He’d never do that without your express permission.”
“Ross.” She tapped him on the shoulder.
“Evie, you’re supposed to stay inside.” He hung up and pushed the mobile into his back pocket. “Honestly, woman.”
“Shh!” She slid her hand inside his jacket and up around the collar of his shirt, before teasing him with a gentle kiss.
“Evie.”
Evie grabbed him by the tie and walked him back towards the house, already planning out what to do to him. That tie would be coming off first and going back on around his wrists. She’d keep his belt fastened and just undo his fly to get out his cock, so she could see how aroused he got from licking her.
She saw Kit’s feet first, sporting a pair of black leather winklepickers. He stood at her eye-level at the top of the back door steps, holding the cat. “Both doors are open,” he said, his brow crumpled. “Are they supposed to be?” Then quickly followed with, “Oops, sorry! Guess my timing’s a bit off again,” when he caught sight of Ross. “Maybe I’ll just go make myself scarce in the shed, or my room, or something.”
“Forget it,” Evie snapped, unable to prevent her annoyance from permeating her voice. Sex was off the menu while Kit was in the house. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t standing over them, he’d still be listening, and he’d still be aware of what they were up to. For a fleeting moment she pictured him on the narrow single bed in the guest room, his leather trousers pushed down and his cock thick in his hand. She wasn’t making love to Ross with that image in her head.
“Evie,” Ross protested when she let go of his tie.
“It’ll save.” She gave him a second, sloppier kiss and patted his bum. “Why don’t you two go over to the pub and play catch up for awhile.” She stormed inside before either of them had the chance to argue.
Damn Kit! Damn him to the infernal pits of hell.
Ross gaped at the toes of Kit’s shoes for several minutes before closing his mouth. Trying to explain why the White Boar on a Saturday afternoon possibly wasn’t the best place for him and Kit to be seen would only provoke questions on a topic he had no wish to discuss. “You know your timing sucks. But then, it always did,” he said.
Kit glanced sheepishly at him and responded with a meek nod. Ross wasn’t fooled.
“You know my spidey sense tingles whenever you get your cock out,” Kit joked a minute later as they strode across the green, having first shooed the mewling kitten back into the house.
“Shame you take no notice of it, then.”
“Unfortunately, it only works over short distances, and you know I hate to miss out on seeing you in action.”
“Back off, Kit,” Ross hissed, picking up the pace. The burning prickle of high emotion trickled down his spine and through his nose, making him sneeze. It was crazy how his world could be so ordinary one day and topsy-turvy the next. He wanted to throw his arms around Kit and cling onto him, and at the same time longed to punch him in the guts for all the anguish he’d caused. Of course, he did neither. Although, maybe a muddy wrestle on the green would’ve diffused some of the rattling tension between them. Problem was, it’d probably turn into the foreplay of a bloody good shag, and that was somewhere they weren’t going, especially not with half the village likely to turn up to spectate, Evie included.
“I don’t suppose it’s changed in here,” Kit remarked, pushing open the barroom door.
Ross shook his head. As typical for a Saturday afternoon, the bar smelled of stale beer and wood smoke from the fire in the snug. A group of men were leaning over the pool table, while another set engaged in darts. Footie filled the huge screen along the back wall, and the sounds of the match boomed over the gaggle of voices. Having sidled in expecting the room to fall silent due to Kit’s presence, Ross looked around, momentarily bewildered by the lack of response.
“Let’s head into the lounge. We’ll at least be able to hear ourselves in there,” Ross muttered, before leading the way.
Pints procured, they settled at a table by the window. Kit doodled an obscene drawing in the dust on the window ledge, then scrubbed it out when a couple came in with their kids. The difficulty seemed to be in knowing where to start. In the end they mulled over Kit’s experiences in Japan and his plans for Rose Cottage, all of which hinged on Kit being mobile, since he planned on doing a lot of the work himself. “There’s a big car second-hand dealership out towards Harrogate,” Ross said. “We could all go over there tomorrow and see if we can pick something up.”
“Is that you, Christopher Skye?” The interruption turned both their heads. Expecting trouble, relief washed through Ross’s chest like the first rush of desire when he recognized the old lady hobbling towards them. Her young companion remained by the bar, in embarrassed shock. “It is you, isn’t it? Good grief, you need a haircut. Can’t see your eyes behind that overgrown frippery.”
Kit slid off his chair and stood to greet her. “Yes, Doris. It’s me. It’s good to see you.”
“Hm, well I can’t imagine why you’d think that. I seem to recall you scampering off as fast as you could in the past, afraid an old lady might hamper your style. Laura’s just the same. She only brings me over here because her mum twists her arm. Amazing what the young folks will do for twenty quid. My great-granddaughter, Laura.” She nodded towards the girl at the bar, who winced and dipped her head to concentrate on sucking up the Technicolor fruit and vodka drink she had sat before her, clearly embarrassed at having been caught checking them out.
“Don’t you even think about it, my girl. He’s far too old for you,” Doris bellowed, at which the girl slunk off towards the toilets. In all fairness, Ross could see why she had to be bribed into playing escort. “We don’t normally do Saturdays. Sunday’s our day,” Doris continued, in a hideously loud whisper. “But the boyfriend stood her up. Complete waste of space he is.”
Expecting a full blown account of poor Laura’s unfortunate choice of companion, Doris’s next knocked him for six.
“I didn’t think we’d see you back here.” Her wizened face fastened intently upon Kit’s face. “Flora always believed. It’s why she told the cat’s home to F off. Wiltshaw kept pestering her for money. He told her that if you had any sense you’d stay in whatever hellhole you’d found yourself in, and Kirkley would be all the better for it. Well, of course, Flora didn’t like that one bit.”
Nor it seemed did Kit. His smile wavered.
“I stayed with her to the end,” Doris continued, oblivious to the strain slowly colouring Kit’s face. “Flora was ever so upset you didn’t come, but I don’t think she’d have recognized you anyway. Poor thing had quite forgotten you’d all grown up. Kept telling us all that you only ever stayed for the summers and that you were with your parents. She kept calling my Laura ‘Sammie’.”
Ross heard the air stall in Kit’s throat. He didn’t realize the remark had much the same effect on himself until his lungs began to scream in protest. They inhaled in unison, two volubly loud breaths. Several heads craned in their direction. That was it; within minutes the whole village would know that Kit had returned, assuming they didn’t already. Laura still hadn’t returned from the toilets. Ross had a sneaking suspicion she was in there texting her mates.
Kit pulled on his jacket. “It’s been lovely seeing you again, Doris.” He cut her off mid flow and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Ross and I are off now. Things to do, places to be.”
“Tea,” she blurted, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. “You must come round, both of you. I still like to have my Thursdays. And Ross, you must bring that lady of yours with you. She’s such a dear. Everyone at the big house says how smashing she is. We’re all looking forward to the wedding. You’re not going to have one of those horrid registry affairs, are you?”
“I’ll mention the tea,” Ross muttered. Kit’s hand locked around his wrist. They didn’t speak until they were back outside and several hundred yards from the pub.
“Wedding? Have you got plans you aren’t telling me about?” Kit remarked as they strutted across the icy green towards the Post Office cum shop. Years of old habits swung them away from home and in the direction of their old hunting ground out by the ruins.
“Of course not. Although, even if I did I don’t see how it’d be any of your business. Whatever you think is going to happen between us, forget it. What you started six years ago, ended then too. You can’t walk in and out of people’s lives like that and expect everything to fall into place the way you want it.”