Working It

16

Ben

I had the next several days off, and now that the craziness of Fashion Week was behind us, Emmy and I enjoyed some sightseeing in Paris. I felt bad about getting so drunk at the afterparty. Emmy had taken good care of me, and I wanted to make it up to her.

We lounged on a blanket on the expansive lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower, her lying in the warm sun and me quietly reading beside her. I felt her watch me as I read. I was used to being looked at, critiqued . . . but the way Emmy looked at me was different. I skimmed the pages, feeling her gaze take in the way my lips moved as I read, watching my fingers turn the pages. She lifted her sunglasses, wanting an unobstructed view.

“What?”

“Have you and Braydon really shared a woman?” she asked, eyes squinting on mine.

I set the book down beside me. “Yes.”

“More than one?”

I wanted to be honest with her. “A couple. Does that bother you?”

“No.” Her eyes darted away from mine, looking longingly at the sunglasses she’d discarded. There was something she didn’t want me to know.

“It is something you’d like to try?” I asked.

She swallowed heavily. “I don’t know.”

Individually, Braydon and I were no match for a woman. But together, the two of us were devastating. We’d attracted some of the world’s hottest supermodels. It was all in good fun, but something about doing that with Emmy felt wrong. She caused the alpha male in me to want to mark my territory. She was off limits, not to be shared. But unless I read her wrong, I could tell the idea of Braydon and I moving against her, two rock-hard cocks to stroke and suck, was getting her hot. I cataloged her reaction. Her pulse quickened, fluttering wildly against her neck, and her nipples pebbled against the front of her tank top.

“Interesting. I wouldn’t have taken you for a threesome type of girl.”

“I’m not.” Her voice was tiny, a little broken murmur of uncertainty. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes blinking up at mine in complete surrender. She may have never considered it before, but it was obvious she was now. I was willing to bet if I reached a hand inside her panties, I’d find her wet.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. She wasn’t mine. I’d made that clear. And now I was being a selfish prick. If this was something she wanted, I should give it to her. If only to prove to myself that I could.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Fiona called last night after midnight. And Braydon didn’t seem surprised she was calling.”

My gaze dropped from hers down to the blanket. Shit.

“She’s not one of the women you two shared, was she?”

My heart throbbed in my chest. She’d asked me directly about Fiona and I didn’t see any way to avoid it. I knew she wasn’t going to be happy, though, and I didn’t enjoy the thought of hurting her.

“Did you and Braydon sleep with Fiona?” she prompted.

“Would that bother you?”

“To know that you had sex with Fiona? Yes.” Her voice was firm and I could only imagine the many thoughts swirling inside her head. “Was it just once?” Her wide gray-blue eyes blinked twice, finding mine.

With Braydon? “Yes.” I knew I wasn’t being entirely truthful, but my answer to her question was honest. It was the best I could do.

She twisted her hands in her lap.

I couldn’t help reaching for her, cupping her jaw to lift her chin. “Hey. Are you okay?” I whispered.

She nodded. “I guess so.”

I smiled and leaned in to softly kiss her mouth. “It wasn’t a big deal. Okay?”

Emmy stayed quiet. I prayed we could move past this. I didn’t want my past with Fiona fucking up my present with Emmy. She straightened her posture, but I couldn’t help but notice the movement shifted her farther away from me on the blanket.

Emmy

The fact that Ben had been intimate with Fiona was devastating. I couldn’t help picturing Ben kissing her, his mouth moving over her throat, his hands gripping her hips. I squeezed my eyes shut. My breath caught in my throat like someone was sitting on my chest. She was the anti-me, my nemesis. How could he have been with someone like her?

During the last several weeks, I’d convinced myself that Ben and I were growing closer—if not a real couple, at least moving in that direction. But if he was willing to share me with his friend, how serious could he actually be about me?

Maybe that was exactly why I shouldn’t question this. If Ben was okay with it, shouldn’t I be? This was all just casual exploration. I was in Paris, the most romantic and seductive city in the world with the opportunity to enjoy the company and intimacy of two male models. I knew what Ellie would say. Go for it! So why was my stomach in knots? And why did my mind keep replaying the subtle way his jaw had tightened when I’d acted open to the idea? Part of me wanted this—if only for the chance to read Ben’s reaction, to see if this really was okay with him.

I quieted the portion of my brain yelling at me that this was nothing more than a sick little competition. The need to conquer something that Fiona had done wasn’t healthy, and I hated myself for thinking that way. I shouldn’t need to compete with her. It was childish and petty, but it was how I felt. No denying that fact.

I just needed to shut off my brain and let my body take the lead.

Ben and I hadn’t talked about Braydon again, but several days later an envelope was delivered to my room midmorning. I slid out the thick notecard.

Join Braydon and me for dinner and drinks—8pm—Grand Capri

I’ll send a car for you at 7:45

Ben

He wasn’t asking. He was telling. But before I had time to freak out or ponder his intentions, another knock at the door grabbed my attention. The concierge delivered a large box. I carried it inside and placed it on the bed. Lifting the top, and shoving aside mountains of white tissue paper, I discovered a dress. Not just any dress, but an evening gown. My mouth dropped open. It was a Vera Wang: sleek and expensive-looking black silk, halter-style top with built-in bra cups, and a long slit cut up one side. It was a classic style that I knew would still be stylish years from now. I hugged the soft material to my chest, savoring the feel of it. I’d never owned something so pretty.

Moving aside more tissue paper, I lifted a shoebox from the bottom of the package. A pair of shiny black Christian Louboutin platform heels. There was a note inside of the shoes—on a damn Post-it of all things—that said: Only what you can handle.

My blood pumped erratically and a hot shiver ran through my body.

What did that mean? If all I wanted was dinner and then to come back here alone, or just with Ben, that’d be fine? Or if I wanted them both . . . was that on the table too? God, this was awkward. What had he said to Braydon? No. That was crazy. Just because I was a bit curious did not mean I was going to go through with it. I was willing to go out with them tonight, but that was it.

I had all day to ponder these and loads of other questions before my date. But it also afforded me the luxury of time to get ready. I figured a long bath would help me relax and I could devote some much-needed attention to my neglected e-reader. Pity, my mind was spinning.

A text from Ben that afternoon asked how I was feeling.

Me: Nervous

I chuckled at the brutal honesty in my response. So much for playing it cool.

Ben: Don’t be, baby. Remember, only what you can handle

His words did nothing to calm me. He sounded so in control, so certain. I could only hope he was, because I was neither.

Ben: I’m sending someone over to help you get ready. She’ll be there at 5:30—if that’s okay with you . . .

Me: Sure

I wasn’t used to having someone fuss over me, but if Ben thought it would help, this was his world, and I was just playing in it.

I bathed, shaved, and smoothed sweet-smelling cream on my arms and legs. I had just finished blow-drying my hair when Lucia arrived at five thirty. I was slightly worried she’d just be in my way, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. She quickly took charge, introduced herself with a friendly handshake, then unpacked her black rolling suitcase full of makeup and various hair-styling instruments. She directed me to sit and then assessed my skin and features. I was relieved to hear she spoke fluent English. Ben had thought of everything.

“What type of look would you like?”

I had no idea. “Oh, just something natural.”

“What colors are you wearing tonight?”

“A black dress and shoes.”

She nodded. “Special occasion?”

Heat flooded my cheeks as a wave of embarrassment washed over me. How did I explain my situation with a model who wasn’t quite my boyfriend, yet I wanted him to be . . . and that I’d be going on a date with him and his equally delicious model friend for an apparent threesome? No . . . that wasn’t something you told people. Though I knew Ellie was likely to get it out of me, especially if tequila—or as I liked to call it, truth serum—was ever involved. “Something like that,” I offered.

Lucia applied natural makeup: dusted bronzer across my cheeks and forehead, lined my eyes with charcoal, applied several coats of mascara, and dabbed my lips in rosy-pink gloss before handing me a mirror. I loved it. I looked elegant and very pretty. Having this special treatment made me feel confident and put together. A small miracle, considering how nervous I was about tonight.

I felt like a princess getting made up for her wedding day. When in actuality, somehow I found myself headed off for a date with two men. I wondered how Ben really felt about this. I knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious with me, but when I’d brought it up, his jaw had gone tense and his whole body posture had changed. Unless I had imagined it.

When I’d learned of his past of sharing women with Braydon, I was surprised more than anything. Heck, I didn’t think that kind of thing actually happened outside of porn videos. I’d never been particularly drawn to the idea of ménage. Yet the idea of Ben, and another man—not just any man, but Braydon—both pleasuring me was like system overload. I couldn’t deny my curiosity.

After my makeup was done, Lucia curled my hair in big, loose waves and ran her fingers through before setting it with hairspray. I never took the time to style it this way, and I loved what she’d done.

After she packed up and left, I took my evening gown into the bathroom to get dressed. Since the style couldn’t accommodate a bra, the only undergarment I put on was a tiny scrap of pink lace, one of the few thongs I’d packed.

The smooth silk glided over my hips and fell into place, brushing the tops of my ankles. I tied the halter straps behind my neck, letting the silky ribbons form a bow. I took in the plunging neckline that hugged my breasts perfectly. I’d been worried about going without a bra, but this seemed to work.

The addition of my little diamond-studded earrings made me feel a little more like me. When I turned to face the mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back. She looked sophisticated, confident and sexy. Inside, my emotions were a mess of nerves and insecurity. But at least it didn’t show on my face.

I shoved my feet inside the beautiful pumps and wiggled my toes. The peep toe opening showed a glimpse of my red toenail polish. I was ready as I’d ever be.

Ben arrived alone in a black limousine. I was grateful for that. I didn’t think I could handle seeing him and Braydon together quite yet. He stepped out of the limo and greeted me on the curb. He looked dashing—smart and sinfully sexy in a black Armani suit and black shirt open at the neck to expose his sexy throat. The dark clothing made his eyes stand out, shining brighter than usual and looking more green than hazel today.

He bent to kiss my cheek, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne washed over me. “You look lovely,” his whispered, sending a shiver down my spine. His gaze lingered at my breasts, which were squeezed together by the form-fitting dress, before his eyes finally lifted and settled on mine.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked.

“This is for you, Emmy. It can be anything you want.”

I couldn’t help but notice he didn’t answer the question. His hand on the small of my back led me to the limo and I climbed inside. It was dimly lit and spacious—the smell of leather and a trace of Ben’s cologne were waiting for me inside.

Sitting down across from me, he lifted a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket. “Would you like a glass?”

“Something stronger if you have it,” I murmured, arranging the dress around my legs.

He nodded thoughtfully and poured us each a measure of vodka over ice and added a splash of cranberry juice, almost as an afterthought.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting the glass and taking a sip. Mother, that was strong.

“It’ll be just a few minutes for us to pick up Braydon, and then about a twenty-minute drive to the restaurant.”

I nodded. “Fine.” I focused on my drink, suddenly unable to meet his eyes at the mention of Braydon’s name. Why should I feel guilty for wanting this? It wasn’t cheating since Ben approved and he’d be there with us. Nor was I in a real relationship with Ben. Besides, I wasn’t entirely certain that anything would even happen.

The alcohol on my empty stomach had an immediate effect, relaxing me despite the quiet intensity radiating off Ben. He didn’t once take his eyes off me.

When we arrived at Braydon’s hotel, he opened the door and climbed in, choosing to sit beside Ben so they were both facing me.

“Damn, jellybean.” His eyes roamed my exposed skin, taking in my dress and heels.

I smiled shyly while Ben handed him a bottle of beer, seeming to anticipate his drink of choice.

“She looks good enough to eat,” he told Ben, accepting the drink and taking a long sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “I bet she tastes even better.”

A zip of heat flashed up my spine.

“She’s fucking delicious. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had,” Ben whispered, his husky voice dropping lower as his eyes traveled along my cleavage once again.

Braydon swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Is she bare?”

“Completely. She’s soft and smooth.” Ben’s voice was a low growl.

Oh. My. God. My pulse hammered behind my ears. They were talking about my lady parts like I wasn’t even here!

Ben moved across the limo, settling on the seat beside me. His fingertips moved to my neck, trailing softly and tilting my jaw so he could press his lips to my fluttering pulse. He laid delicate, damp kisses all along my jaw and throat. His lips moved up my neck, kissing my cheeks softly before pressing a tender kiss to my mouth.

My eyes slipped closed, enjoying the attention. Ben’s coarse cheek against my skin sent sparks of heat between my legs. When I opened my eyes, rather than looking at Ben, who continued softly kissing me all over, my gaze wandered to Braydon, on the seat across from us. His beer sat abandoned in the cup holder and the growing erection in his dress pants was obvious. He was enjoying the show.

Ben’s hands moved to untie the ribbon behind my neck, and my heart slammed wildly in my chest. Panic gripped me but I was too turned on to stop him. Once I was exposed to Braydon, I knew there’d be no going back. But I didn’t want to stop this. Ben’s deft fingers did away with the tie and lightly caressed my skin as the halter top was unfastened.

Braydon’s deep, penetrating gaze slipped from mine to watch as the dress dropped away from my chest. My breasts, aching and heavy, responded instantly to the cool air conditioning, my nipples hardening.

Ben’s eyes met mine as his hands lovingly cupped my breasts, softly stroking his thumbs across my nipples as he watched my reaction. I pulled in a shaky breath, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.

Hitting the button for the intercom, Braydon spoke in Italian to the driver, telling him to keep driving, I presumed. Then he came to my other side. I was flanked by two gorgeous men. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined being part of a scene like this, but I was undeniably turned on and excited by the idea of it.

I’d assumed we’d take things slowly, share conversation, dinner, plenty of drinks to up my courage, giving me time to feel out the situation and see if I wanted more. Apparently, they were not okay with waiting. But the damp spot in my panties told me neither was I.

Braydon’s hand cupped my breast and he rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, emitting a soft groan when his palm made contact with my plump flesh. “Can I taste you, jellybean?” The top of my dress rested in my lap, my breasts fully exposed.

I nodded and watched as he lowered his head, his mouth softly closing around the tip of my breast and suckling gently. His warm tongue licked me in easy strokes while Ben moved in to kiss my neck once again. Ben’s warm mouth moving against my neck, and Braydon’s damp tongue teasing my nipples, was all too much. I squirmed in the seat, whimpering loudly, and gripped a hand on each of their thighs. There was no denying they were both rock hard in their dress slacks.

Ben broke away from the kiss—his breathing accelerated and eyes filled with desire. Braydon slowed his movements, kissing and nibbling each of my breasts while Ben lifted my skirt to find the lacy edge of my thong. He tugged it down to my knees and over my calves, carefully disentangling it from my heels. Then he stuffed it into his suit coat pocket without a word. His eyes held mine and I nearly whimpered at how sexy he was when he was in control like this. I was his to use as he saw fit. And I knew he’d take care of me and make me feel good.

With the dress bunched around my waist, Ben pushed my thighs apart and Braydon trailed ticklish fingertips up my inner thigh. I’d never been intimate with someone I barely knew, but somehow I already felt comfortable around Braydon. He was open and sweet and he’d helped me selflessly the other night with Ben. I already had a certain level of trust with him, and of course he was exquisitely gorgeous. Where Ben was dark and intense, Braydon was open and friendly.

Ben’s fingers spread my plump lips, revealing my pink center, and Braydon groaned. “Fuck, that’s a beautiful pussy.”

I looked down, feeling self-conscious about being so exposed and quite obviously turned on—I was glistening wet.

Braydon’s large palm slid up my thigh, stopping just before he reached my sex. He’d paused to gauge my reaction. My eyelids fluttered in weak desperation, and taking that as a sign of reassurance, the pad of his thumb brushed against me. I shivered as the rough digit swept circles around my swollen clit.

“I want to watch you come, see this beautiful pussy get nice and wet.” Braydon’s voice was deep and washed in desire.

I loved knowing how hot I was getting these two men without even touching them. I nodded and his hand cupped my sex, his palm pressing against my clit. Pleasure shot through me. He slowly slid one finger inside me, groaning as his first then second knuckle disappeared inside as though the act of penetrating me was physically torturing him.

Ben laved attention on my breasts, sucking and licking more greedily than Braydon had. I curled my fingers in his hair and moaned. The action pushed my hips closer into Braydon’s hand and his pace increased.

Between Ben’s wicked mouth teasing my breasts and Braydon’s fingers pumping into me, my orgasm came hard and fast, slamming against me unexpectedly.

Tossing my head back against the cool leather seat, four hands held me steady as little tremors racked my body. Ben’s mouth crashed into mine, our tongues tangling as I let out a final cry of pleasure.

Holy shit, that was intense.

More intense than anything I’d ever experienced. And all they’d done was kiss and touch me in a few strategic places. I needed to pull it together. Ben pulled my thong from his pocket and slid it back up my legs, dropping one more soft kiss on my mouth.

The limo stopped and a smooth male voice spoke over the intercom. Braydon pressed a button and answered the driver in fluent Italian. Ben handed me my purse and took my hand. This was like a well-orchestrated event and I was the main attraction. It was almost too much. It bothered me how proficient they were at this. It was quite obvious other women had been treated to this same ecstasy.

Ben watched me with guarded eyes, checking to make sure I was okay with what had just happened, and I pushed the silent doubts away, determined to make the most of my magical night.

Ben helped me from the car, my legs still shaky, and guided me toward the door while Braydon trailed behind. Ben laced his fingers between mine, the action somehow possessive. Even if he was willing to share me with Braydon, our joined hands said we were a couple.

I felt at ease as we entered the beautifully decorated restaurant. Light tones in creams and whites contrasted the dark mahogany floor. The lighting was dim; Just scattered sconces and soft glowing candles dotted each linen-clothed tabletop.

I felt a little self-conscious being out with two men, like everyone knew what we were up to, what had just happened in the limo. But, of course, they didn’t. They were probably just ogling these two male models. And who could blame them? Braydon and Ben glided across the floor like they owned the place. I merely tried not to call attention to my trembling legs and still-flushed cheeks.

Ben pulled out my chair, and he and Braydon waited until I’d slid into the seat before gracefully lowering themselves into their own, like all of our moves were coordinated. Their eyes, still heavy with desire, watched my every move. As the server came by to fill our water goblets, I couldn’t help but wonder if they were each still hard and ready under the table.

I could hardly focus on the menu with the memory of our erotic limo ride still clouding my senses. Somehow I heard Ben suggest the filet and an accompanying glass of red wine. I merely nodded. It sounded delicious, even if my appetite was nowhere to be found.

Our drinks were delivered—a bottle of red wine for me and Ben, and a tall glass of beer for Braydon. He made me smile. It seemed that regardless of his opulent surroundings, he was comfortable in his skin. He’d removed his suit jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows. Ben remained the epitome of classic handsome sophistication. Forget the filet, he made my mouth water.

Even if they were both sexy models with truckloads of self-confidence, Braydon and Ben were each very different. As we talked, I learned Braydon’s upbringing mirrored mine: two loving parents, suburban home, and public school education. Rather than starting in modeling right away, he went to a university for two years before being discovered at the university gym.

“I began small, doing photo shoots for fitness magazines, which eventually led to national campaigns and now international work as well,” Braydon explained while peeling at the label of his bottle of beer. He’d refused the pint glass he’d been offered, much to the server’s dismay. “Shortly after, I left college, no longer passionate about the business degree I was pursuing, and started living out of a suitcase, traveling the world for various modeling jobs.”

“How did the two of you meet?” I looked between them, wondering who would answer.

Ben nodded once to Bray.

“Our paths crossed numerous times over the past several years, usually Fashion Week in Milan or Paris, and of course New York City. We started hanging out and just sort of clicked.”

I nodded. I could see that they were comfortable around each other, even if they were quite different. Ben was more reserved, an observer, and when he coolly raked the room with those brilliant hazel eyes fringed in dark lashes, women and men alike took notice. Maybe it was because it seemed like he’d pose a challenge, or because they just wanted to see him direct that haunted gaze their way, but he had women clamoring for him, trying to get him to smile, and men wanting to strike up a casual conversation. He just didn’t seem real somehow. He was too stunningly handsome.

Our meal was delivered and my nerves settled just slightly.

“So how long have you two been together?” Braydon asked as we ate.

I expected Ben to correct him. To tell him we weren’t together.

“About a month now,” Ben said instead, his knee brushing mine under the table.

I forced the piece of meat down my throat. Interesting . . .

When dessert was offered, I opted for a berry torte. Ben and Braydon passed, each looking at me hungrily. Oh my, apparently I was on their dessert menu later. The thought was dizzying. The way Ben watched me take slow, tentative bites of the torte made me wonder if he thought I was purposely drawing out our meal. And maybe I was; but the truth was, this dessert shouldn’t be rushed. Sweet berries burst on my tongue and the flaky pastry was light enough to melt in my mouth. It was heaven.

“What made you change your mind?” Braydon asked, polishing off the last of his beer. “I thought you said you didn’t share Emmy.”

Ben exhaled slowly, his gaze settling on mine. “Tonight is for her. Whatever she wants.”

Braydon nodded slightly.

All too soon, we’d finished our drinks and Ben paid the check. Then he rose to help me from my chair. Which was good because I didn’t think my legs could be counted on to work properly just then. I pulled a deep breath into my lungs, wondering how the rest of tonight would play out.

Ben

Emmy was silent on the limo ride back to our hotel. And I was grateful for Braydon’s nonstop chatter on the latest basketball stats for his favorite team. It wasn’t something I followed, but I appreciated his effort to fill the silence. I had no fucking clue what I was doing. The idea of anyone else touching Emmy was fucking giving me a migraine. She’d come so easily for Braydon, and I knew that shouldn’t bother me, but it did. I could tell how proud of himself he’d been, that smug smile on his face. My hands had clenched into fists with the desire to wipe it from his face.

Shit. I’d agreed to this—for her—but damn if I wasn’t having doubts. I needed to man-the-fuck-up. She wasn’t mine. I’d told her that time and again. This shouldn’t matter to me. Yet it did. It’d be a serious lesson in restraint to keep from punching Braydon in the jaw when he touched her later. Even the way his hand reached for her, resting against her lower back as we led her to and from the car, annoyed me. How was I going to handle him putting his dick anywhere near her?

I poured myself another healthy measure of vodka and downed it, hoping to turn off my brain for the night. It clearly wasn’t working correctly. It wasn’t the head I was supposed to be thinking with, anyhow.

I met Emmy’s wide eyes from across the limo. Her breathing was shallow and fast, and her eyes moved between each of our forms. She didn’t seem bothered by what had happened earlier—more like turned on, curious, and eager. I both liked that and didn’t. She was this sweet girl from Tennessee, loving and tender, but with a naughty side, too. It was confusing as hell.

Fuck it. I slammed another drink just as our limousine pulled to a stop. I needed to be more drunk to deal with this shit.