Gordon, Solara - Jet Lag Blues (Siren Publishing PolyAmour) (5 page)

Mason sat down opposite them, holding out a box of tissues. His other hand held two, damp from wiping his eyes. “Need these?”

Val pulled several from the box and handed Darryl some. “Thanks. Whew. I’m thirsty.”

Darryl dragged his improvised ice bucket closer—a small wastebasket a third full of melted snow. He drew the almost empty wine bottle from it. “How about this?”

“Hey, you’re getting me wet.” Val scooted closer to Mason. “How are we supposed to drink it? Out of the bottle?”

Darryl shoved the bottle back in the wastebasket. It wobbled back and forth. He started to stand, taking a hold of the basket, causing it to rock more.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” Val warned, sliding further away.

“Hang on.” Mason stood. “I’ll get a towel and some glasses.”

He picked up the basket and headed to the kitchenette. After dumping the water out, he sat the wastebasket beneath the counter. He returned with the towel-wrapped bottle and three clean glasses.

“What’s next?” he asked, filling their glasses. “Another movie?”

“Maybe, if one of the other channels work.” Val started to reach for the remote.

“Maybe a game,” Darryl offered, twisting the empty bottle between his hands.

* * * *

Val fingered the remote, glancing back and forth at Mason and Darryl. What was running through Darryl’s mischievous mind? His grin and wink at her indicated his thoughts ran in a direction she wasn’t sure she understood. Mason appeared to be at ease with Darryl’s suggestion. He leaned on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of him, smiling. Had they finally talked and had a meeting of the minds? Val took a large sip of wine and swallowed.

“Uhmmm—what did you have in mind?” she ventured, hoping she wasn’t getting in over her head.

“Oh, nothing too hard.” Darryl laid the bottle on its side between them and spun it. “Remember Spin the Bottle?”

Mason groaned. “God do I. Try kissing a girl with a mouth full of braces and not get yours locked up with hers.”

“Yeah, you and Missy Snider.” Darryl chuckled and stopped the spinning bottle. “No, not quite that bad. How about a version of it but we up the ante?”

Val bit her lip to keep from snickering at the look on Mason’s face. His lips parted and shut while his eyes widened. Whatever Darryl had cooked up, he hadn’t told Mason. Maybe they could still back out.

“Explain, please. I’m holding back my answer till I know more.” She crossed her arms tight against her chest.

Damn, she wished she’d stopped at two glasses and not drank more. A giddy feeling began creeping up her stomach and threatened to make her laugh each time Mason blinked and licked his lips. Crap, she was buzzed, maybe even tipsy.

Darryl explained his game idea. But what was this about the bottle and kissing or answering a question? “Go over that again.”

“Yeah,” Mason added. “I wanna make sure I got this right.”

Darryl sighed. “Okay, we’re doing Spin the Bottle with a twist. If it lands on Mason when I spin it, instead of kissing him, I can answer a question. You or he can ask it. If it lands on one of us and you don’t want to kiss us, you can answer a question. Got it?”

She looked from Mason to Darryl. Mason’s shrug and nod didn’t help. At least she hadn’t gotten in over her head so far. “Yes. It doesn’t seem hard.”

Darryl’s grin grew. He almost smiled. Val pulled her knees to her chest. Maybe she’d better take back that last thought.

“Wait. There’s more.”

Val groaned and hugged her knees tighter to her. Mason shifted his position and glared at Darryl.

“The question must be in the form of truth or dare.” Darryl looped his fingers together behind his head and kept on grinning.

“Well, I’m game,” Mason stated. “But instead of dare, how about strip?”

“Strip?” Val spit out.

“Yes, since dares you usually can do within reason. How can we in this small space? We’ve got lots of clothes.”

Val squirmed and looked from Mason to Darryl. Both of them watched her intently.

“All right, here’s my condition then. Each round is five turns and only two kisses can be chaste, like a peck on the cheek or lips. I get to choose how long the kiss lasts and number of them. Maybe even a French kiss or two as the game goes on.”

She wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other as if one of them waited for the other to give in. By now, the rest of the wine had to be sneaking up on the guys as well. Maybe they’d all chicken out. Or would they?

Chapter Eight

“So if the bottle lands on Val, either she answers a question truthfully, kisses one of us, or strips an article of clothing. If it lands on one of us, we answer the question or strip unless Val is the one spinning the bottle.”

Mason paused and drew in a deep breath. He licked his lips and tried to swallow. His dry throat refused to cooperate. It wanted to constrict every time his stomach fluttered.

“That’s right. I’m ready. How about you?” Darryl glanced at Val and then him.

Mason caught Val’s quick nod as she stood. He grabbed his glass out of her way.

“Good.” Darryl rubbed his hand together. “And you?”

Mason took a sip of wine and gulped hard. Val had dropped her robe, revealing her babydoll pajamas. The top barely covered her buttocks as she turned around. Thank God she had panties on. He could make out their decorative edging through the top. If he looked higher, he bet her nipples stood at attention. He took another drink.

His gaze continued down her legs, noting each curve and dip. What was it about a gorgeous pair of feminine legs that got him going?

Val stepped over her robe and bent over right in front of him as she began teasing Darryl. “No, I’m not stripping already. I’m gonna put more layers on before I start playing this game.”

Her panties pulled tight, outlining the cleft of her twin cheeks and her pussy the further over she bent. He almost spit his mouthful of wine when she glanced between her legs and winked at him. His throat tightened, and he tried to breathe. Had he been leering that hard?

Val smiled and straightened up. “Mason, you’ve been awfully quiet. What do you think about putting on more clothes before we start playing?”

“Uhm-m-mm. Sure. Why not?” He tried swallowing again. Leave it to his crazy stomach to rev up again. If he put on enough clothes, maybe he could avoid answering questions or kissing Val more than a couple of times each round. Hell, he’d love to French kiss her and get her lush curves against him.

Mason glanced at Darryl. Had he caught on to his feelings about Val? Darryl’s willingness to share other women at the same time didn’t bother him. But, they weren’t involved with them. A few, they knew as mutual friends. Others they’d known separately, and things had happened on an impromptu basis. How would Darryl react with Val? Past experience knotted Mason’s gut.

“All right,” Darryl stated, “more clothes it is, but…”

Val stopped two steps from him. Mason didn’t like the smirk curling his lips.

“…no more than three shirts, two shorts or pants plus underwear, and a couple pairs of socks.” Darryl moved to the edge of the bed. “Val, your robe can count as one layer if you like.”

Mason rose and faced them. “Okay, then we can remove one sock at a time and have it count. Jewelry doesn’t count.”

“You’re on.” Val burst out laughing and rushed toward the closet. “I call dibs on a T-shirt from each of you and a pair of Darryl’s socks.”

* * * *

Twenty minutes passed as each took a brief turn at adding layers and discarding unwanted items. Val sat next to Darryl wearing one of his oversized T-shirts beneath her robe, Mason’s smaller one made up her top layer. Velour pants and Darryl’s socks along with her slippers completed her outfit.

Darryl added two pairs of socks and a couple more shirts. His uniform pants and a pair of briefs finished off his layers.

Mason sat on the floor struggling to pull on his second pair of socks. “Now I remember why I hated wearing two pairs of socks as a kid.”

His unbuttoned uniform shirt moved as he worked to settle comfortably between Darryl and Val. Under it, he wore two shirts and his uniform pants over his shorts and boxers.

Val giggled each time he squirmed. “Ants in your pants?” she teased.

“Nah. Settling everything in the right place.” He blew a raspberry at her as she tugged her robe back on her shoulder.

“Foul. I saw your pajama top under there. You got an extra layer,” he countered.

“Yeah cuz your bare chest is acceptable. Mine isn’t, so I get to keep it.”

Darryl cleared his throat and sat the bottle between them. “If Val gets to the point of losing her last layer, panties and top, she has to shuck both, okay? Or she loses a kiss, type of our choice.”

“I guess so,” Val replied, shrugging.

“Mason?” Darryl spun the bottle. “Your answer before it stops. After that, the game begins. No more changes.”

The bottle began to slow. He could feel both of them watching him, waiting for his answer. One last turn and…

“Fine,” he blurted out. The bottle pointed to him. Shit, now he had to go first?

His gaze rose to Darryl. “I ain’t kissing you.”

Darryl laughed and handed him the bottle. “No, you get to spin first. And I ain’t kissing you either. Not even buzzed.”

“I think we’re all buzzed,” Val offered, leaning back against the bed and yawning.

“Think you can stay awake?” Darryl challenged.

“Oh, yeah, cuz I’m not losing.” She sat upright. “Spin the bottle, Mason.”

He laid the bottle on its side and spun it hard. Around it went. Once, twice, thrice and began slowly turning back toward him.

Darryl waited until the bottle stopped near Mason. “One last change. If it lands back on you, you can pass, spin again, or put back on a piece of stripped clothing.”

“I pass.” Mason picked up the bottle and handed it to Val. “Your turn.”

Three spins later, Mason breathed easier. Val was down a slipper, Darryl one sock, and he’d gotten a chaste peck on the cheek from Val. His turn again. The bottle pointed at Darryl.

“Gonna lose something or try a question?” Darryl queried. The glint in his eye sent a slight chill across Mason’s shoulders.

“Sock off.” He peeled one off and grinned. “Your turn.”

Darryl spun and chuckled as the bottle stopped near Mason. “Other sock?”

Mason handed over the mate.

“Two more spins and the round is over,” Val crowed.

“Yes and two chances you could lose a couple more pieces of clothing or up the kiss type,” Darryl countered.

Mason knew Darryl loved competing. He also liked challenges. He probably calculated the odds of losing versus winning in his steel-trap mind. Few saw or knew that side of him. Darryl preferred to take a softer and laid-back approach to life. Did Val realize she’d challenged him?

Mason glanced at Darryl as he handed Val the bottle. He winked and barely nodded before turning back to Val.

“I believe it’s your turn.”

* * * *

Val sighed and spun the bottle. Damn Darryl and his competitive streak. She had one chaste kiss left along with two full on the lips or a French one still at her disposal. She turned her attention to the slowing bottle.

Maybe she’d French Mason. The thought made her stomach flutter, and a warm glow flowed over her lower half. She’d forgotten how his washboard abs and toned pecs turned her on. Darryl was firm and muscular. Mason’s defined male curves heated her libido in a different way.

The bottle swung past Mason. Or would she end up kissing Darryl? He just might end up with his sock instead.

“Oh ho.” Darryl laughed. “It seems the bottle has yet to decide.” It slowly passed him and inched toward her.

Val held her breath, knowing her decision. “I—”

The bottle rolled by her.

“Mason’s the man.” Darryl’s tone irked her. She swore he intended to toss her to Mason. How dare he without asking!

Right, her conscience chided.
You’ve wanted Mason. Here’s your chance, or are you chicken?

Val hesitated in announcing her decision. If she did French Mason, would Darryl lay off and let things happen on their own? Perhaps she needed to ask a question and start them talking about things. Still, without knowing how Darryl might react, she wondered if tossing caution to the wind was a good option.

Rather than risk it all, she decided to chance a full on the lips kiss and see how either reacted.

“Mason slide over here and pucker up.” She patted the area next to her.

She snuck a glance at Darryl, hoping to catch his uncensored response. He grinned and leaned back on his hands, while folding his legs in front of him. Turning to Mason, she smiled and crooked a finger at him.

“I don’t bite. If I do, I promise it won’t show…much.” She drew out the last word and snickered. “Well?”

Mason scooted over and leaned toward her, lips puckered and his eyes wide open. He arched his eyebrows up and down as he tilted more.