“Hey, look, there’s a cricket game on the beach,” Kyle said, shifting his finished plate back to the service cart and pointing to the activities announcement that accompanied breakfast.
Manny threw his linen napkin at him. “Dude, your blue blood is leaking out.”
“Fine.” Kyle tossed the napkin back. “How about surfing? I saw a sign for lessons.”
“I’ve always wanted to try surfing!” Rebecca squealed.
“Seems like there are a lot of things you’ve always wanted to try,” Kyle said. “Just glad to help you get your chance, babe.”
Her hand made that subconscious move to her collarbone, but Kyle captured her fingers and brought them to his lips, flashing her a knowing smile that was just between them.
One day she’d tell Manny the story behind that scar, when or if he asked. Suddenly it seemed like such ancient history, barely worth rehashing. Her collarbone had broken twenty years ago, and yet she only now started to feel healed.
Manny hopped out of bed. “Cool. I’ll call the desk and make the arrangements.”
Kyle nodded and grabbed his phone. Rebecca nibbled at her toast while he scrolled through his e-mails. “Shit.”
“What?” Both Rebecca and Manny asked at the same time.
“The polls have my mom’s lead shrinking to within the margin of error. Thomas added three more fundraisers next week, so I’m up to eight now. Starting tomorrow, I’ll be working my way down from Buffalo.” He looked up at them apologetically. “I’ll be on the road for days.”
“Better make today good enough to last you then,” Rebecca said, surprising herself when her thoughts turned out to be words. She blushed stupidly and then blushed again for blushing in the first place.
Kyle laughed. Sauntering over in his boxers, wiggling his hips. “You fishing for something else to ride besides those waves, baby?”
She giggled and peeked beyond her fingers as his cock winked at her through the slot in the front.
Kyle tilted his head, his potty mouth caught in that irresistible smirk. “’Cause we got what you’re looking for. Don’t we, Manny?”
Manny jumped on the bed and did his best imitation of Magic Mike. “Oh yeah, baby. You know what they say about the motion of the ocean.” With his hands behind his head, he rolled his abs like a Hindi swami, tongue out and flicking the air.
Rebecca cracked up, doubling over from the sheer ridiculousness. “Stop…please…I can’t take it.” She gasped for air as Manny started to hump her leg. “You are both maniacs!”
They finally relented with a fit of laughter. Kyle pointed at her, grinning like Jack Nicholson in
The Shining
. “And don’t you forget it.”
Rebecca’s giggles trailed off into a lilting sigh. Without doubt, Rebecca was in over her head. But she never thought drowning would be so damn fun.
Chapter Sixteen
Another smoke-filled private club, another two million secured for his mother’s campaign. Kyle left the polished walnut podium of the old-money meeting room where many alliances had been forged during the New York Private Equity Society’s storied history with national politics. It was dirty business, weaving together a string of legal donations that basically amounted to a small fortune from a singular private interest group. Thomas replaced Kyle at the podium, thanking everyone for coming, imploring them to have another cigar and enjoy the rest of the evening.
Kyle checked his watch, trying to determine how much longer he’d have to be on the hook for his part in this last shakedown. He laughed inwardly. Nobody could tell him it was anything more than that. Kyle wasn’t the architect of these deals, only the conduit, a liberator of wallets and a keeper of secrets. He focused on the greater good—the things Olivia wanted to do for the country—like a beacon guiding him through the fog.
But his attention waned, counting the seconds that he was obligated to smile and shake hands, schmoozing those fat cats with tales of heroism and promises of lenient tax shelters if his mother was elected. Manny would be home from work soon and Rebecca owed them both a striptease since her Browns lost to the Steelers in yesterday‘s game.
Bermuda already felt like an eternity ago, though it had only been a week since he’d left them for the campaign trail. He wet his bottom lip, imagining Rebecca slinking out of her work clothes while he and Manny sat transfixed on his god-awful blue futon.
“Stan’s friend, right?”
Kyle registered that someone standing in front of him was speaking. He focused on the shorter man who had his hand extended and displayed a dubious smile on his gaunt face. The guy looked familiar, but Kyle wasn’t able to place him.
“Sorry, don’t know a Stan.” He shook the man’s hand, smiling back dutifully. “Good to meet you, though. Kyle Hunter.”
“Wilson Goodman. I’m with Foster & Burns. Hedge funds. Nothing under fifty million passes my desk.”
Kyle narrowed his eyes, trying to make the connection. “Prestigious firm. Hoping we can count on your support.”
“Jury is still out. Sometimes it’s the ones you never saw coming that end up the victor.” Wilson’s lips twisted into more of a smirk. “But good luck with the campaign.”
Kyle tilted his head, raising his chin as though he’d suddenly caught a whiff of something rancid. “Thanks. And thanks for coming.”
“You bet,” Wilson said with a wink, and headed in the direction of the bar.
With that, Kyle decided he’d paid enough dues for the evening and signaled Thomas that he was leaving. Screw an explanation to that tightwad. He was officially off the clock.
Outside, fighting the pedestrian evening rush to his car, Kyle checked his phone for messages and immediately opened the one from Manny. Three pictures of Rebecca in various states of undress had him jogging the last block.
No fair,
he texted back. Then added,
I’m on my way.
Hurry up. She’s killing me
, was the reply.
Let’s take her out tonight. I know a place
, Kyle texted.
Manny sent him another picture, this one a selfie of the two of them kissing.
She’s got that interview tomorrow, early on Channel Five. Besides, wouldn’t you rather stay in?
Kyle’s lip quirked at the corner. Manny had a point.
Yeah, if you mean buried balls deep in both of you. Tell Rebecca we’re going to make her scream tonight.
Every day, Kyle felt more of a tug to have the kind of normalcy he had felt in Bermuda with them. Full-on PDA might be out of the question, but maybe a private booth in one of the city’s many dimly lit and ridiculously expensive restaurants would allow them a discreet night out.
Soon, but not tonight.
Order something for delivery. You’re going to need your strength.
Kyle’s BMW roared to life, and he tried not to have a tantrum over the sluggish crawl that was Midtown during rush hour. The radio was meant to calm his nerves. Only, who liked hearing your mother’s reputation dragged through the mud in a thirty-second sound bite? Well, Olivia had links to her own bulldog private interest group. He texted Thomas, asking about the timetable on releasing their political hounds. As November loomed, everyone’s hands got dirtier. The election couldn’t come fast enough, for better or worse.
Once in the Veritage lobby, he greeted the concierge on duty. “Tescadero, please.”
By the intercom, a stout, older man slowly traced the list of names.
A fidgety spikey-haired delivery man placed a bag on the counter moments after. “This is for 16F.”
The concierge chuckled and smiled at Kyle. “Looks like you’re just in time for dinner.”
“I’ll take it up,” Kyle said to the deliveryman, reaching into his pocket. “How much?” He removed his phone and placed it on the console, snagging the wallet stashed below.
Another voice came from behind him—a voice from earlier that evening. “Going door to door for votes now, Hunter? You don’t give up easily.”
Kyle handed the deliveryman the cash and turned to see the guy who had cornered him at the fundraiser.
“Here to see your friend, I suppose? Stanley? Danny?”
Kyle finally placed that pinched, thin mouth and closely set eyes. “His name’s Manny.”
“Ah yes. It is.” Wilson narrowed his eyes and an amused kind of meanness passed over his face, making Kyle sure that he’d known Manny’s name all along.
The deliveryman waved the fifty-dollar bill in the air and cocked a hopeful eyebrow at Kyle. “You want change?”
“Huh? Oh...no, keep it.”
Smiling, the man handed Kyle the bags full of aromas.
Ronald cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir, I imagine you’ll be bringing up the food?” He held the intercom handset to his ear. Kyle nodded and Ronald pressed a few buttons. “Mr. Hunter is here in the lobby, and he’s bringing your takeout order.”
“And Becca?” Wilson drawled, calling Kyle’s attention back. “Does he still have her stashed away in that apartment?”
Kyle’s nostrils flared a bit as he took in Wilson’s suggestive tone. He was pretty sure he didn’t want to know where this conversation was going.
“Yeah…”
“I miss that girl. Gorgeous…ti—teeth.” Wilson winked at him. “Tell her to call me.”
Kyle had a vision of poking his eye out. “Food’s getting cold,” he said, signaling to the elevators.
Wilson signaled in the other direction. “I’m going to stop for my mail. No need to hold the elevator.”
Funny, the thought hadn’t even crossed Kyle’s mind.
“Fuck, man, what took you so long?” Manny said, opening the door shirtless, with his jeans unfastened, revealing a hint of smooth hair and the waistband of his boxer briefs. His voice swept heavy over Kyle like a cloud of smoke obscuring everything else.
“Food,” Kyle said, holding up the bags.
“Later,” Manny answered, grabbing his other hand and pulling him into the apartment.
Kyle looked around. Rebecca waved at him from the futon in the opposite condition: bare from the waist down.
She gave him a guilty pout. “We tried to wait.”
“That’s OK.” Kyle pulled on his necktie. “I catch up quickly.
* * *
It hadn’t been all that long since they had seen Kyle. Just a week ago they’d all landed back in the States and said their sad good-byes as Kyle boarded a commuter flight to Buffalo, but it felt like an eternity.
Every night, Manny had made love to Rebecca before falling off to sleep like some kind of cozy pedestrian couple. Only most nights they face-timed the whole thing with Kyle stroking himself to the sight, eighty miles away.
Now Kyle looked like a man rescued from a desert island, wild-eyed and starving. “Come here, you,” he growled at Rebecca and lifted her into his arms by scooping her under the ass. Rebecca could only hold on as he swung her around and pulled her onto his lap.
“I’m going to get your pants all dirty,” Rebecca said, waving her ass above his knees. Manny slid his jeans and boxers down in one clean sweep of his palms. He stepped on the cuffs one by one to get them off and knelt behind her on the floor.
Kyle pulled her down onto his crotch and ran his fingers over her slit. “That’s what dry cleaners are for, baby.” Manny watched the tip of Kyle’s finger circle at her entry.
He added one of his own. “I love how wet you get when I’m licking your pussy,” Manny said and kissed the two adorable divots where her slender back met with her sweet bottom.
Kyle hummed his approval against her neck as he kissed her there.
Rebecca went to work on Kyle’s belt and zipper, and Manny tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it. When she started rolling her hips, Kyle’s glistening cock made an appearance, sliding between her folds.
Manny licked his lips. “Look at that. My two most favorite things to eat, all in one mouthful.”
Rebecca giggled, and Manny wrapped his lips onto her labia, ready and waiting for when Kyle’s cock slid over his tongue. When Kyle withdrew, Manny lapped her clit until he returned with a slow thrust. Above him, they each moaned in unison.
Nothing sounded so perfect. Manny felt like a kid in a candy store with every treat he wanted laid out for him. Kyle pushed forward again, and the tang of his precum settled onto Manny’s taste buds along with Rebecca’s sweet musk. Manny inhaled and wanted to drown in the sensations. He pulled on his cock in long stokes and took another pass at Rebecca’s clit. Her moans were tamed this time by Kyle’s tongue in her mouth.
Kyle pulled her hips to him and pushed his swollen cockhead into Manny’s mouth one more time. “Ahh…I can’t fucking take how hot this is. I’m going to come if we don’t switch it up.”
Manny swiped his tongue into the salty groove. “That’s the point.”
“Oh no. It’s been a whole week. I plan to be buried deep inside both of you each time I come tonight.”
Rebecca pressed her palms to his chest and let her hair fall in his face.
Manny heard Kyle inhale strongly and blow out a contented sigh. “Each time, huh?”
“Oh, believe me. I’m good for two.”
Manny grabbed Kyle’s thighs and pulled him forward, managing to get his entire shaft to the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked him hard, letting his tongue massage the sensitive underside. When hot jets of seed rushed down his throat, Manny found himself grinning.
Kyle’s voice jumped an octave and cracked on his words. “Did I say I was good for two? I meant three.”
Chapter Seventeen
The only scrambling Manny liked to do in the morning was with a couple of eggs, but Rebecca had taken an hour on her hair and Kyle had spent just as long tearing up the whole apartment looking for his phone. “Zero-six-hundred, Rebecca. We only have twenty minutes to get you to the studio.”
“All right. OK. Just let me get my purse.”
Kyle threw his hands up. “Damn, I definitely had that thing last night. What the fuck?”
Manny shrugged. “I called you and it went straight to voicemail. It’s probably dead.”
“We’re taking Holly, right?” Rebecca asked, smoothing one unruly curl to no avail with her palm.