Golden Dancer (18 page)

Trelain pushed farther. “Feel okay, Mac?”

Mac nodded.

Oh, Jeez, the plug slid in, then out, then in, then—okay it felt good, damned good. His breath came in gasps.

He heard Daniel chuckle. “I think he likes it.”

Mac realized he was pushing back onto the plug, but he couldn’t stop.

Daniel leaned over and watched Mac’s ass as Trelain pressed the plug in. A bit odd to have his butt be center stage, but it felt too good to complain. “Stick it in good and tight, and let’s get him fucking.”

Oh yeah, that was the best idea he’d heard. Trelain pushed, seating the plug deep in Mac’s ass, then scooting onto his back again and raising his legs wide on either side of his hips. The posture was obscene and the sexiest thing Mac had ever seen. The insane stimulation of the plug and the sheer eroticism of the picture in front of him kicked him in the ass. He just threw his body on top of Trelain.

Daniel slipped a condom in his hand. “Here. You’ll need these since you’re going to fuck us both.”

Oh crap! Mac slipped the condom on in one motion, fitted his cock to that waiting hole, and pushed. Oh God, Trelain’s body welcomed him as it always did. They were made for each other.

“Oh God, bloody brilliant. I missed you so much, Mac. Oh, fuck me.” Mac loved it when he said that.

Heaven. Hot, slick, squeezing his cock in all the right places. Perfect. He’d waited his whole life to find perfection. He rammed his hips into the waiting ass, feeling Trelain’s legs wrap around him as he stared down into the beautiful face, half angel, half tempter. He loved this position. So much more intimate than doggy-style. He leaned down and captured the beautiful mouth, letting his tongue slide deep into that heat while his cock flamed like sweet fire in the dancer’s hole. He just wanted to fuck forever, until…

There was a whisper in his ear. “My turn, sweetheart. You can’t imagine how beautiful you are fucking Trelain. Like some god of intercourse. I can see that big cock going into his hole, and it’s driving me nuts. I gotta have it. Please, baby, please.”

Oh shit, nobody begged like Daniel. He pulled out of Trelain, grabbed a new condom from Daniel’s hand, and then stopped, staring at the picture before him. Both men lay on their backs, legs pulled up. Trelain’s hole still gaped from where his cock had been ramming, while Daniel’s was closed tight but glistening with lube. He moaned so deeply, it was almost a howl.

He tore off the first condom, dropped it on the floor, and slipped on the second. Daniel pulled Trelain’s face toward him. “Watch, baby. See the big cock go in me.”

“For fuck’s sake, hurry, Mac.”

Mac took the order and pressed his body down on Daniel’s legs, pushing them back to his shoulders as he thrust the cock, now raging to come, into that tighter than tight ass. “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.” His butt swollen with the most perfect burn from the plug, and his cock squeezed into a space to die for, he hoped the moment never ended. Trelain was watching avidly, making whimpering noises and stroking his own cock. Mac thrust, pulled out, thrust. Each push in got a moan from Daniel and a whimper from Trelain. Mac had never felt so powerful. How could he be here? How could this perfection be his?

He grabbed another condom from the waiting string lying on the bed, pulled out of Daniel, and plunged into Trelain. Crap, he loved this. He thrust hard into the dancer’s agile body, then pulled out, swapped condoms again, and pushed into Daniel. Both men were going nuts, almost as excited watching the other get fucked as getting hammered themselves.

He plowed into Daniel’s ass. Trelain leaned over and licked the big, bobbing cock.

“Holy shit, yes, baby.”

Mac pistoned, supported on his arms, hips thrusting hard. Daniel rose up to meet every thrust while Trelain sucked. The smell of raw sex filled his nose. Hell, he swore he could see the smell, it was so thick. “Trelain, baby, your turn.”

The dancer handed a condom to Mac as he rolled to his back and pulled back his legs. His ass glowed bright pink and was covered with lube. What a target. Mac pulled out of Daniel and shoved into Trelain.

In and out from one to another. It was fun and a challenge, his whole body trembling from the strain of not coming, of focusing on giving these two men pleasure. He loved it. His cock sang from the incredible friction of two tight holes. Beyond description. Beyond imagining. Sweat poured down his forehead and dripped onto that golden glowing skin beneath him.

He was buried deep in Trelain. So good. Too good. Oh crap, he was fucking two men. Burying his cock in their asses one after the other. Porno movies didn’t come close. Nothing had ever been this sexy. Oh shit. He reached for control, but heat swamped him. The smell of sex filled his head. Crap, crap, out of control. Had to come. Trelain. Yes. “Come with me, baby.” He thrust, Trelain moaned deeply, the butt plug burned, in, in, in. Flash, like lava up his spine. Trelain screamed and kept screaming as his perfect cock spewed cum. Daniel curled on all fours and licked the thick liquid from the golden chest like a cat with a bowl of milk. Sheee-it! Mac exploded, cum pouring out of him into the golden dancer’s exquisite, perfect, made-for-him ass as his body convulsed in wave after wave of ecstasy. Then, barely conscious, he watched Trelain reach for Daniel, who knelt up and thrust his leaking cock between those beautiful lips. Oh God, he could come all over again watching those cheeks sink in as the dancer sucked the big man into instant oblivion, and the taut throat worked as Trelain swallowed a load of Daniel’s cum.

Mac fell forward onto Trelain’s warm body and felt Daniel sprawl across his back. Ruined. Perfection. Could anything else ever match it? The butt plug throbbed happily in his ass. He moaned. “Do we really have to get out of this bed and visit your mother?”

Trelain moaned back. “Sorry, love. I promised Mum.”

Jesus, that could be a whole different kind of pain in the ass.

Chapter Twenty

Elinor Graystill was not a pain in the ass. A paradox in the ass maybe. An enigma in the ass. Mac looked at the lovely, fiftyish woman, her dark gold hair perfectly smoothed into a simple chignon at the back of her neck. Trelain got the refinement of his perfect features from her, while his paler coloring must be an artifact of the long-dead Russian father.

Their hostess occupied the head of the table. Daniel had been seated next to her on one

side and a pretty young debutante-type girl on the other. Obviously, Mac’s mom hadn’t exaggerated. This girl was a new filly in what must be a stable of potential brides for Trelain. Trelain sat beside the girl, with Mac on his left. The slim dancer’s fingers played maddeningly with Mac’s thigh and fly under the table in what Mac knew was a cheeky rebellion against his mother’s determined blindness. Mac would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t so hard, his suit pants were bursting. Yes, suit pants. He could barely believe it, but Daniel had dragged him to a tailor for an emergency fitting of a suit that would have cost Mac a month’s salary, maybe more. Had to admit, he looked good, and the thing fit so well, it was barely uncomfortable.

Three other people completed the setting for eight—a cleric of some kind, Reverend Burnhart or Burnside, and a married couple, Mary and Aaron Something-or-other. All three seemed to have been in this position before, aka Trelain’s marriage market, and all seemed varying degrees of uncomfortable. The woman, Mary, an attractive brunette in her forties, seemed particularly sympathetic.

She smiled at Mac. “How do you and Trelain know each other, Mac?”

“I’m a reporter. I did a story on the company’s performance of
Spectre of the Rose
and met Trelain that way.”

“So you’re an arts reporter?” It was a testament to the power of the suit that she only looked a tiny bit skeptical.

“No, hard news, but I grew up around ballet, so I was a substitute for the usual guy.”

They’d gotten to Mrs. Graystill’s home pretty late, thanks to a lot of fooling around in the shower, and they had rushed into dinner with no time for chitchat. Mac wasn’t sure what Trelain wanted everyone to know. This last remark got his mother’s attention. “How did you happen to grow up around ballet, Mr. MacAllister?”

Trelain wasn’t grabbing him trying to shut him up, so he smiled. “Actually, I believe you know my parents. Devin MacAllister and Shauna Rendell.”

She cocked her head and glanced at Daniel. She probably told herself Mac and Daniel were a couple, since she couldn’t admit Trelain was gay. Of course, having two men with Trelain must confuse the hell out of her at some level. But he hadn’t quite thought about her relationship with his parents. Would she be talking to Devin? Of course, Devin knew that Trelain was gay and—oh shit, this was all too complicated.

After a brief hesitation, she smiled. “I adore your parents, Mr. MacAllister. They are fine, inspiring people.”

“Then perhaps I can persuade you to call me Mac?” He hoped the grin was winning.

Again there was a hairbreadth pause as her eyes flicked toward Trelain. The woman was nobody’s fool. She knew what her son was and just refused to accept it. “Of course, Mac.” She turned to Daniel. “Now please tell us of the marvelous acquisitions in your collection I’ve been reading about.” She turned to the girl. “Missy, Mr. Terrebone is one of the world’s great collectors of modern art. Pay close attention.”

The girl looked so lost, she’d never catch up. But she had to get that the beautiful man beside her was far more interested in Mac and Daniel than he was in her. Trelain wouldn’t ever be rude, but he did ignore her pretty efficiently. Mac felt sorry for her and pissed at Trelain’s mother for putting the girl in such a position—to say nothing of her son.

Daniel talked about some of the works of art in his collection, making a real effort to include Missy, and gearing his description toward her. By the end of the lecture, Missy beamed at him and was obviously ready to switch marriage partners. His kindness earned him some points with Mrs. Graystill.

The husband of the couple, Aaron, charged into the conversation. “Hey, Dan, do you know anything about that art theft a half year or so ago? It had a name something about a dancer. I remember that. Did anyone ever find it?”

Mac sipped some water to keep from laughing. No one called Daniel “Dan.” And what was he going to say? The billionaire didn’t blink. “I’ve read about that. Yes, it was called the
Golden Dancer
, a very unique and abstract piece of sculpture, quite old and unusual for its era, as I understand it. I haven’t read anything about it being recovered. Has anyone else?”

Smooth. Very smooth. Only Mac would have noticed the slight pause before Daniel’s perfectly manufactured answer. Now, what was Mac going to do about it?

* * *

Shit, it was early. Mac opened an eye and realized there actually was light coming in around the thick curtains of the elegant bedroom. Trelain’s back pressed warm against his chest—and against his morning wood. And he thought he’d never fuck again. After returning from Trelain’s mom’s, the dancer had taken out his total frustration at his mother’s stubbornness by fucking Daniel and sucking Mac into literal oblivion. They’d all fallen into a deep sleep.

But Daniel’s warmth was missing from Mac’s back. The guy was an early riser most days, but c’mon. It was Sunday, and maybe some serious Mac butt fucking was in the offing.

Mac raised his head a little from the pillow and heard movement in the bathroom. The light went out around the door frame and the door opened softly. Mac started to make a joke about his massive erection, but there was something sneaky about Daniel’s quiet footsteps. He lowered his head and slowed his breathing.

Daniel opened a drawer, then went quietly back into the bathroom. Again the light came on. Hmm. Maybe he was just trying not to wake Mac and Trelain, but… Mac quietly tossed off the covers, grabbed his cargoes from a chair arm, put them on commando, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then he jumped back in the bed and pulled up the covers. Trelain murmured in his sleep. Mac arched around him without actually touching his back and waited. He was going to “have some ’splainin’ to do” if Daniel came back to bed. The light went off, the door softly opened, and Daniel walked out of the bedroom and into the entry hall. Mac only caught a glimpse, but he seemed to have on the same suit he’d worn last night. So if this was a business meeting, why all the secrecy?

He heard the front door to the suite close. Decision time. Deep breath. What the fuck was he doing? Oh, hell. He backed out of bed, pulled on his sneakers, grabbed his backpack, and with a quick check on Trelain, ran out of the suite. Nobody in the hall. There were only four apartments on this floor, so he wasn’t likely to run into anyone. He hurried toward the elevators until he got around the corner from the elevator lobby and stopped. A
ding
sounded, then Daniel’s voice talking to the elevator operator. As soon as he heard the door close, he rounded the corner and headed down the stairs. Twenty-six floors. Thank God he was a runner. He hit the lobby gasping for breath. A quick glance showed Daniel getting into his limousine parked in front. Mac rushed to the door, and as soon as he saw the limo start to move, jumped into a cab at the corner. The cabbie looked up, and Mac grinned. “Man, I’ve always wanted to say this. Follow that car.”

The limo rounded the park and stopped at another of the small, discreet hotels that edged its perimeter. Mac exited the cab a block away and watched Daniel walk to an outdoor restaurant at the front of the hotel. Maybe it was just a business meeting. Not a very clandestine location for a sinister rendezvous.

Mac paid the cabbie and took up a location at the edge of the park across from the restaurant. He sat on a bench shielded by bushes. Crap, what a pig he was. Why had he followed Daniel? The man gave him gifts, brought him to New York to see Trelain, even bottomed for him. This was the repayment. But shit, this was his life. He sensed Daniel sneaking around, and his reporter’s blood screamed “story.” He hadn’t thought, just reacted.

Maybe Daniel didn’t steal the
Dancer
. Mac wanted to believe that, even though it wrecked his story. Oh God, he wanted to believe it because, if Daniel did do it, that kind of story was food to Mac’s starving writer. It was what he’d dreamed of. The story that drove him every day of his career. The affection for Trelain—yes, and for Daniel—these were new things. The love of a story was lifeblood. Mac didn’t want to be a shit. He didn’t want to spy on a man who had been so good to him. He wanted to leave, go back to the hotel, forget the whole thing. The butt plug screamed in his ass, and he wanted to fulfill its promise. He stared at his hands hanging between his knees and felt that clutching gnaw of adrenaline chewing in his gut. Shit, he had to take one more look.