Vivian Arend: Whirlpool

“I look like I’ve just been kissed senseless, don’t I?” He nodded. She pulled a fist back and pumped her arm in victory. “He is so going to fall. You’re a genius.” She kissed his cheek quickly then snatched up the notebook.

“Wait…”

If they were going to do this right, there was one more detail to arrange. He reached out and carefully unhooked the top two buttons on her blouse. She swallowed hard before nodding and plopping to the floor to kneel at his feet.

Jamie closed his eyes for a split second to regain control. Genius, right . His cock was about to explode at the thought of all the things he could have her do while sitting in that position. Damn, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. This is what happens when you speak before you think.

The door creaked open and they spun to face Braden. That was the first difference—usually they were both so involved in their work Jamie would barely react to Braden’s arrival.

Chelsea shot to her feet and backed away, the look of guilt in her eyes adding just the perfect touch, and Braden stumbled for a second as he strode toward the kitchen door. He looked her up and down, grunted in Jamie’s direction before disappearing into the kitchen.

Chelsea straightened her clothing, staring after Braden with a forlorn expression.

“It didn’t work.”

Jamie put his finger to his lips, and she nodded.

“You’re right,” she whispered back. “I’ll give it more time.”

But nothing further happened. Jamie waited for a glimmer of jealousy to show as Braden continued his routine, glaring at them while Jamie attempted to concentrate enough to catalog a few more items. Chelsea stood closer than usual, her fair hair falling over his shoulder at one point, the sweet scent of her lilac shampoo lingering after she moved away.

Braden might not seem interested, but Jamie found it more and more difficult to remember why he wasn’t getting involved with the woman. When Braden closed the door and Chelsea rushed off to the back of the house, muttering as she went, Jamie collapsed onto the couch in relief. He adjusted the raging erection crowding his slacks, trying to find a little room to ease the pain.

Sexual tension was one thing, but he’d been right in his earlier suspicions. The intensity and speed of the desire racing through him was not normal. A faint memory teased him. He’d felt like this once before, this overwhelming and unbidden lust, and his curiosity rose. Something unusual was happening here. Something more than getting caught in the crossfire of a woman attempting to make her love interest jealous.

He glanced around at the trinkets and boxes crowding the walls, and for the first time in a long time, the idea of spending an afternoon with the past held little attraction.

Jamie rolled over in the king-sized bed, aching and hard. The vision he’d woken from was more than enough to have his cock at full mast, precome leaking from the tip. Moonlight shone in the window across the bed and his limbs felt heavy.

The touch of a mouth, the brush of a hand…

It had been an awesome dream, and he wished he could slip back in to appreciate it to the full extent. He absently stroked his shaft, wrapping his fingers around his girth and pulling back the foreskin on each draw. He didn’t tug hard, just steady, like an easy rhythm of a lover riding him, her hips undulating as she let her blonde head fall back and…

Shit .

He sat up, his cock ignored for a moment. He was fantasizing about screwing Chelsea. Dammit, he shouldn’t be thinking about getting involved with her. No matter what Braden had hinted at, Jamie was sure Braden would prefer to rip the limbs off anyone who truly looked at her.

They might be trying to make the man jealous, but there was something rotten about lying in the man’s bed and fantasizing about fucking his woman.

Jamie scrambled to his feet and paced into the kitchen to grab a drink of water. The cool liquid slid down his throat like a balm. He wandered the apartment, naked, his arousal still begging for attention. Damn thing.

Finally more than he could resist, he gave in to temptation, slipping back to the bed and letting his mind go wild. He pictured Chelsea walking in on him, her soft fingers brushing his shoulders and pressing him to the mattress. He closed his eyes and let the dreamlike trance take over again, pull him away from logical, rational places and back into a fantasy world. An amazing fragrance hung in the air, honeysuckle sweet, spicy at the same time. It made him think about hot sweaty nights and bodies twisted together in passionate embraces. She lay next to him, and the bed shifted. His eyes popped open, fully expecting to see a person next to him.

No one—only his dreams. He fell back into the mystic.

They kissed. Her lips as they clung to his were succulent and mouthwatering. As she moved down his body, kissing his chest and licking his nipples, his balls drew up tight to his groin.

The scent of sex surrounded him.

Another body joined them, Braden cupping Chelsea’s breasts. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, leaving behind a trail of moisture. Jamie leaned over to taste the rosy tips of her breasts as well, and she hummed with delight. Braden’s flavor lingered on her skin.

Chelsea kissed him again before pinning him back and mounting him, her body accepting his rigid length into her warmth. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, then turned and kissed Braden where he lay skin to skin at Jamie’s side. Braden stroked a hand down her body, past her hip to rest it on Jamie’s thigh. The touch of the other man made a jolt of lightning streak through his groin, and he thrust his cock upward, seeking more pressure, more stimulation.

Another stroke, and this time Braden’s hand went lower, slipping between his legs. Large fingers cupped his balls and Jamie groaned.

He was surrounded. Completed. Chelsea rocked over him, her cunt like a fitted glove, squeezing and conforming to his length. Braden rolled his balls, rubbing the skin below them, reaching toward his ass, and Jamie shuddered.

His eyes popped open again. A cool zephyr blowing from the land out to the ocean snuck in the window and fanned his heated skin. His erection was achingly hard as he massaged his length. That much was true.

He’d never had a homoerotic dream. Hell, he’d never had a ménage dream either. Before the anticipation in his limbs could escape, he stroked himself to completion, letting the vision of both Chelsea and Braden bring him to the place of release. Her gentle kiss, the rougher contact of Braden—the softness of her lips, the coarse scratch of his cheek. Jamie had played around in college, jerking off with another roommate. They’d even tried a little more, but it had all been an exercise in futility.

Yet the thought of touching Braden, of being touched, was what he imagined as his release came. He covered his cock with his free hand to stop the spray of semen from hitting the sheets, the pressure and pleasure of his climax rolling through his body. Sticky seed coated his fingers, a few stray strands hot against his belly.

He lay still, blood pounding through him for a long time before grabbing a handful of tissues and wiping himself clean.

How in the hell was he supposed to keep working with Chelsea after this without wanting to explore the sensual side of the situation in more depth? Especially when the two of them seemed to be growing closer and closer? He’d been in Jaffrey’s Cove just over a week, and there was a definite friendship being established. Their playacting had morphed into something real as they talked for hours while they worked. Only Chelsea was still gaga over Braden, and Jamie… Well, he wished he wasn’t quite as attracted to the two of them, Chelsea and Braden both.