An official sounding voice echoed in the plaza behind me. “Halt. Stand still and put your hands over your head.”
My smile grew as I headed for the bookstore's rear entrance.
Chapter Twelve
Richard's house didn't seem near as large as it had the week before. The closer I got to it, the more it shrank in size. How could three men live together and not kill one another?
My hand hesitated over the doorbell.
For the past six months, I sat on a barstool at the Haven every Friday night. How had I gotten myself into packing a few bags and moving into another man's house instead? Only the fact that I was pretty sure I'd be getting laid regardless helped to ease the tension.
The door swung open. Richard wore a huge grin. “I thought Matthew'd beat you here.”
“Me too. He sure is an excited shit.”
“I think he might be too much for even the two of us to keep up with.”
“Speak for yourself, old man.”
“Hey now,” he said, but his gaze told me he looked forward to all Matthew and I could dish out.
The anticipation of more sexual interaction with them calmed me, and my cock filled at the mere thought of how the night would go. Would Richard mind that I stood at his door sporting a hard-on? Not likely. He was as into fucking me as I was him. I was clear on that. Even if not much else about what we were doing made sense to me.
He motioned for me to step inside and relieved me of one of the suitcases. “Leave your stuff by the door until Matthew gets here. Then I'll show you around. You didn't get to see the whole place last time.”
I slid my laptop bag off and set it with my suitcase. We stood a few feet apart and stared at each other.
He clasped his hands behind his back. “I'm glad you came.” The words were low enough to qualify as a whisper.
The doorbell rang.
“That'll be our eager shit now,” Richard said.
Matthew sported a broad smile. His wavy hair was windblown, more scattered than usual. His cheeks were pink, flushed from the cool night air— or excitement. Did I want to know which?
Richard grabbed two of Matthew's bags, and the small man stepped inside the house. He didn't move to touch Richard in any way, and his rigid stance surprised me. Richard placed his hand upon the younger man's shoulder and patted him.
“Hi,” Matthew said. His smile dimmed. He didn't make eye contact with either of us.
Fuck this shit.
I traversed the distance between us and sealed his lips with a kiss. My tongue explored as I moved us backward until his back hit the wall behind him. The bag slung over his shoulder dropped to the floor with a loud thud, and then his hands were all over me. Richard came in close and gripped my hips.
This is more like it.
I wrenched my mouth away from Matthew's and groaned at Richard's touch. Matthew snaked his hand around me, and he pulled Richard in, pinning me between them. The two kissed over my shoulder. Damn, they looked best up close.
“God, kid,” Richard said. “I missed your kisses.” He licked a line down my neck.
“Yeah,” I said. The word spread out longer than normal for a one-syllable word. I rocked between them.
Matthew smiled at me, the look vulnerable with a hint of something more I hadn't ever seen from any other man. Or maybe I had. I just didn't want to remember what it meant or admit Matthew looked at me like that. I ran my thumb over his cheek; he focused his eyes on mine.
He leaned forward and kissed me again.
Yeah, this is better.
Much better.
It was exactly what I needed.
I threw my head back on Richard's shoulder and skimmed my hands over his thick thighs. His muscles twitched.
I breathed deep. He smelled clean, crisp. I wanted more of that scent, more of them.
Richard let go of me and stepped away. “Glad you're here. Both of you.”
Matthew tilted his head back to the wall. A low giggle floated out on his next breath. “I love moving day.” He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss upon my lips. I tensed. Something snapped inside me, a realization fifteen years of sleeping alone hadn't prepared me for. This wasn't just sex. I was spending the night with them.
Matthew laid a hand on my arm. “What's wrong?”
I shrugged him off. “Nothing.” I turned toward Richard. “So I take it we're waiting on the sex for later.”
Matthew laughed again, and Richard replaced his serious expression with a slow, delighted grin. He moved out of the foyer and gestured for us to follow. “Let me show you around the place. We'll start in the basement.” He threw us a coy smirk and headed into the kitchen.
When I didn't move to follow, Matthew glanced at me. “You coming?”
“He's really giving us a tour?”
“I think so.”
“I haven't lived anywhere requiring a tour.” Not since my parents’ house with its five baths and two dining rooms.
Matthew laughed. “Me neither.”
Richard popped his head around the corner. “Come on. You don't want to miss this.”
He directed us down a set of stairs just off the kitchen. The staircase opened to a large finished basement. A laundry area, weights, and a treadmill occupied one side of the space. The other half was divided off from the rest of the room with walls. Richard opened a door, and we slipped inside.
A double bed with a slatted headboard sat in the middle of the room. Chains hung from two slats. Each had leather-lined handcuffs affixed to the ends. On the small bedside table sat a jar full of condoms and lube. A few feet away from the bed was a long black bench with several rings for gripping or restraining. I knew it could be used as a spanking bench— the club had
