“Traffic lights,” he muttered. “That’s safer. I’m green. Very fucking green,” he prompted when I evidently hesitated too long. “Suck my cock, Edwin, or I’ll?—”
“Yeah, you and whose army?” I snarked.
Trace chuckled. “Suck him, Eddie, or I’ll have to punish you.” I just knew he had his hand on his dick.
OhGod.
With his threat on the verge of causing my own cock to detonate if I rubbed it on the sheet one more time, I adjusted my position, then licked a wet, wide stripe over James’ sack. He gasped loudly. I repeated the action, then when he was writhing and cursing, used my tongue to gently roll his balls around in my mouth. Not everyone liked this, but it set James on fire.
His thighs were trembling by the time I let him go, his eyes unfocused. “I want you to fuck my mouth,” I told him. “You simply cannot be too rough. Use me like a toy.”
As I closed my lips over his cockhead, he grabbed a fistful of my hair. His moans as I took him deeper, retreating then sinking lower, got progressively louder. I finally sank down until his fatcrown bumped the soft tissue of my throat. “Oh fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna come…”
He lasted a little longer than that, but not much. Hot torrents of spunk pulsed and pulsed as he sobbed his way through an orgasm that sounded almost painful. I swallowed every drop, then eased off him slowly, licking and sucking him clean until he fisted my hair even tighter and croaked, “Enough.”
His eyes were closed by the time I drew the covers over him. “Trace needs you too,” he murmured, sliding into sleep. “We both need you. No jealousy today.” I watched him lose his hold on consciousness. It took less than a minute before his breaths evened out. I leant forward to press a soft kiss to his temple. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”
I could feel Trace’s erection like a branding iron at my back. “Want to put that somewhere tight and welcoming?” I offered, affection for James warring with a need for physical relief on top of my emotional satisfaction.
“You have no idea how much I’d love that, but I’m so close, I think I’d come before I got you prepped. Can I fuck your thighs?”
It was fast and hot. I’d barely got a rhythm going with my hand before Trace groaned and shot his load over my balls. His orgasm hastened mine and I made a mess of the bedding as I trembled through a climax that rattled my bones. We lay in a heap for a while, until he rolled off me with a sigh. “I’ll get something to clean us?—”
“Later,” I overrode him with a plea. “Cuddle me while I sleep?”
“I’d like that.” He sounded drowsy again. We arranged the covers over us all, shifting James over a fraction and tucking Trace in tightly behind me. He kissed the back of my neck, a spot he somehow knew I loved being touched. “I will have to head home today.” He sounded regretful.
“I know. Do you want me to set an alarm? James will get those brochures. You’ll have to wake me up before you go.”Don’t leave without saying a proper goodbye.
I set my phone alarm, then handed it over to Trace, reminding him I wouldn’t even hear it in my deep, corpse-like sleep.
As I slid quickly into oblivion, my last thought was how I wished I could spend most days sandwiched between these two men, and what kind of karma I’d need in order to make my fervent wish a reality.
24
JAMES
The summer blazed on.After we spent several long and physically arduous nights dismantling the laundry-drying shelter and rebuilding it in the narrow strip of land between Bluebell and the hedge that partitioned the two gardens, Edwin buried himself in his art, having finally chosen a new pen name for his realistic pencil sketches along with a brief biography of ‘the artist’. Baxter was in the process of setting up a new, watertight online persona for him, along with a bank account and everything else he’d need for a successful business. I didn’t know how she managed it, but Edwin had total faith in her abilities and it had been working for him for decades, so I guess I didn’t need to understand it.
Trace sent a courier with his books and a whole heap of smaller boxes that he requested we didn’t open. I assumed they were items he used for his magic, although I didn’t ask, and he didn’t volunteer any information. I took great care with the books, spending several hours sorting and then arranging them on the bookshelves Isher had built. Can you say ‘built’ when they were conjured out of magical thin air? They seemed real and solid. I felt honoured Trace trusted me enough to do this for him. He called every couple of days on the landline — whichI hadn’t even known Edwin had until it rang the first time and made me jump. I mostly felt too awkward to speak to Trace on the phone, especially since the last time he’d been here I’d let him watch me and Edwin in bed, a memory which turned me on and made me shiver with embarrassment in equal measure. So I was content to hand the phone to Edwin and continue making Trace’s carriage look like a welcoming home.
The installation of a fridge and washing machine in the kitchen and the bathroom fittings had spurred me on to source small items like toiletries, washing-up equipment, some basic food stuffs, and even a cheerful blind to hang at the kitchen window. Edwin, on one of his rare visits — not because he wasn’t interested but because he said he didn’t want to stifle my new-found creativity — was very complimentary about my efforts, saying I’d evidently unlocked the queer decorating level and should get my gay card updated accordingly. I rolled my eyes at his ridiculousness and threatened to find myself a girlfriend to remind him I was still bisexual. He pretended to be shocked, but later that day, he asked me haltingly if I was truly happy or whether I’d been going along with his desires in an effort to please him.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Edwin!” I exploded, and yes, I did use his given name. “Is that what you think of me, that that arsehole Cormack ruined me forever from making my own decisions?” I’d been so steaming with indignation, I didn’t realise I’d said the FWNN’s name out loud until much later. “D’you really think me incapable of knowing my own mind? Yes, I like women, some of them, and I definitely like the way they look and smell and feel, but I also like cock, and no, I am not ‘going along’ with anything. You absolute fuckwit.” I punched him. Hard, on his rock-solid biceps.
Which hurt my hand a lot more than it hurt him, but whatever, I was cross.
Edwin, chastened, had managed not to laugh at my pained cursing as I cradled my sore knuckles, and apologised non-stop for an hour, in many and varied ways. I finally got sick of his puppy dog eyes and miserable expression and told him he could make it up to me by sucking me off. He took me then and there in the living room, with my jeans around my ankles, sending me spinning out of control with his filthy, talented tongue and his vampiric ability not to breathe until I spilled down his throat with a hoarse cry.
After that, we talked it out properly. Edwin promised to stop inventing theoretical scenarios whereby I upped and left him. In turn, I promised to try to boss him about a bit sexually. He absolutely adored it when I took control and made our sex life, such as it was, about how he could please me and get me off. It always took him next to no time to orgasm after he made me come, and although I wasn’t ready to actually fuck him, we were becoming closer physically in every other way.
Trace called to ask if it was all right with Edwin if he hired someone to dig up most of the grass and get the soil turned over. Edwin, of course, said yes, so I spent most of one very sleepless day trying not to stress about the noise and hoping the neighbours didn’t complain as a very small digger inched its way through the new archway to turn the once pristine lawn into a huge mud bath. At Trace’s request, I got the digger bloke to stack the turf strips in one corner as he thought he might need some of them. I fretted they’d dry out. He reminded me he was a witch and wouldn’t have much trouble persuading some frizzled grass to rejuvenate. I tried to switch off my tendency to worry.
An electrician made short work of connecting the carriage to the grid. Some workers came to join up the carriage to the water system and from there to the public mains. On the day they were finishing up, one of the guys, a beefy bloke whose arm muscles made me think he spent a lot of time at the gym, kept shootingme sideways glances. It made me nervous, until he asked me faux-casually if the owner of the property was about, then my anxiety tripled. I took a deep breath and explained he worked nights and wasn’t to be disturbed; Edwin had expected someone to attempt to extract a signature from him and had handwritten a note passing on that responsibility to me, thanks a lot, my vampire master.
The guy eyed the note, then me, tapping the paper thoughtfully. “Is he your boyfriend, this Mr Marshall on the job details form?” He jerked his thumb towards Bluebell.
I nearly said they’d got his name wrong before I remembered Edwin used a lot of alter egos and this parcel of land was registered under the surname Marshall. This bloke assumed he was my boyfriend?Oh shit! WhatdoI say? Is this a trick? Will Edwin mind if this outs him? Fuck…I definitely shouldn’t ever do that.
