Enticement (8 page)

They paused at they end of the verge and waited for the car approaching to pass. “You have no idea what I want.”

“I wouldn’t lay money on that.”

Having passed them, the car swerved ninety degrees and mounted the curb. Seconds later a crumpled can sailed towards them, founting dregs of lager. It landed woefully short of their position and rolled into the gutter. “Fuck off, Skye. You fucking murdering bastard. You’re not welcome here,” yelled a duo of voices from within the car.

Kit turned his back on them and started walking back towards the house with his head bent low and his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

And so it begins, thought Ross as he jogged to catch Kit up. “You all right?”

Although paled by the experience, Kit nodded his head. “Name calling I can weather. It’s no more than I expected and no worse than I got every summer I spent here. The local boys never liked me on their turf.”

“That’s because you nabbed all the girlies.” Kit, who haled from beyond Kirkley and its adjacent parishes had, even at the age of fourteen, seemed like an exotic creature from another planet. Ross recalled how his friend’s arrival in the village each summer would cause a wave of gossip and an upsurge in the sale of mascara. The intrigue over whom Kit had been with, or had even just been seen talking to would last them all summer. The older Kit grew, the more intensely the hearsay raged. There’d been too many people around with already sharpened staves when the news about Sammie had spread.

“I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t need to go over it,” Kit growled. He kicked open the front gate and barged through. Ross allowed the wrought iron to bang a few times before he followed.

“I’ve not told Evie,” Ross said when he joined Kit by the front door.

“What’s there to tell? Nothing happened, Ross, we both know that.”

“Yes.” More doubt filled his voice than he’d intended. It didn’t matter how determinedly Kit tried to brush things off, the past had a way of sneaking up on you, and deliberately hiding it from Evie, when no doubt the whole village would be talking about it within a few days just smacked of guilt. Not that he believed for a second that Kit was guilty.

Evie opened the front door while both he and Kit were fumbling for keys. “You’re back quick. Thought you’d be hours. You haven’t run out of things to say already, have you?.”

“It was just a bit busy,” Ross mumbled. He inwardly cursed himself for the lie. Kit offered him a wary smile. “Besides, we can open some wine and spend the evening together.”

“A great idea,” seconded Kit. He made himself comfortable on the nearby sofa, whereupon, Evie’s kitten leapt upon his lap. Kit shooed it away. Ross ruefully found a space on the floor and set about stoking some life into the fire. If they were planning on settling in for the night, they may as well get comfortable. Evie produced wine, chips and dips a moment later, and they fell into a discussion on films. Consequently, despite all his mutterings about keeping things from Evie, Ross pushed the episodes in and outside of the pub, and Kit’s past, to the back of his mind.

Afternoon extended into evening, the night descending over Kirkley like a thick, swaddling fog. Kit took charge of the kitchen, leaving Evie and Ross to fight it out for the TV remote. For the second night running, food, alcohol and candlelight smoothed the irritation Evie felt at Kit’s presence. If he’d been vexingly flirtatious and charming this morning, by night Kit transformed into a beguiling angel. Candlelight softened his sharp features and made his already deep, dark eyes shine like rain-washed slate. He didn’t touch her, his body language towards her was no different to that with Ross, and yet he managed to imply everything and nothing with a few choice words and his glittering gaze. Just the way his words curled around his tongue as he spoke left her feeling wet, so much so, that when she finally fell into bed with Ross, the urgent quickie they shared barely quelled her feelings of rampant lust.

“Evie… Evie…” The sound of her name being called seemed to echo into her dreams, where a strange conglomerate of Ross and Kit had transformed the bottom of the garden into a hermitage with internet access, from which he liked to record podcasts on the nations favourite sexual fantasies, peeping through windows being his personal favourite. He’d stare though various upstairs windows in the village and phone her up to describe the lewd goings on inside, until one or both of them ended up unbearably aroused and desperate to shag. Then only in the absolute dead of night would he come to her as an elusive incubus.

Evie stirred, hot and parched, arousal stripping her body. Vision still hazy with sleep, she rolled onto her back. A streak of light streamed around the edge of the bedroom door. Kit must have left the landing light on when he’d followed them upstairs to bed, and then she guessed the cat had found her way upstairs and nudged the door open. Evie tensed, anticipating an imminent dip in the bed and the delicate press of paws upon her body as the little kitten sought out the ideal spot. Instead, something weightier settled upon her ankles. Groggily, she peered at the foot of the bed. Kit gazed back at her. The pale outline of his body shone with lamp begotten hues—shades of orange, brown and bronze.

“What is it?” she asked, aware that beyond the solid composition of the bed and its tactile reality, the room was drawn with hazy strokes.

Kit didn’t answer. Instead, he lifted the foot of the duvet and dipped his head below the cover.

“Kit?”

His hot hand settled upon her shin and slid upwards to her knee. Evie squeaked in alarm. She clamped her legs together tight, even as she felt herself grow moist. Tension screamed within her muscles as Kit’s hand moved higher to caress her inner thigh. He ducked under the duvet and crawled over her, until he covered her like a second blanket, bare skin gliding against bare skin as he settled into position. His thighs pressed to her thighs, hips aligned like two neatly stacked blocks. A scream echoed inside her chest, but when she opened her mouth all that emerged was an excited gasp.

Ross lay snuggled up beside her, his breathing even and content, undisturbed by the rustling of the duvet or the significant tilt of the mattress. Kit couldn’t be doing this. And she couldn’t be excited by just how incredibly wrong and yet right it all felt.
It’s a dream. Had to be.
She hardly dared to open her eyes and meet the inky depths of Kit’s pupils. His weight above her felt real. The hot brand of his cock against her thigh more so. Kit clasped her wrists and lifted them over her head.

“Open your eyes, Evie.”

“No. This isn’t real.” The words resonated inside her head.

“It’s real. Say the word, Evie and I’ll give you what you’ve been thinking about all day.”

Pinned, by both his body and his words, Evie kept absolutely still. She had thought of him. Not willingly, but her mind had wandered. Snapshots of him in sultry repose masturbating in the spare room, and of him and Ross in the tent with the girl had troubled her ever since she’d left Rose Cottage that morning.

“He won’t wake, Evie,” Kit coaxed, his voice whisper soft against her ear.

“We can’t. We can’t do this,” she protested. Fear coupled with anticipation roused every nerve in her body as her denial rang hollow. The tiniest shift in his position sent shivers chasing across her skin. Moisture bathed her skin, and between her thighs the lips of her vulva plumped, ready for his assault. The mere thought of him sliding his cock home only further opened her up to him, and another gush of moisture bathed her opening. Her hips lifted in urgent need, so that his erection nudged between her labia.

“Oh, god! We can’t.” She glanced warily at Ross again, so blissfully unaware of her duplicity. Everything. Absolutely everything about this moment was wrong. Dreadfully, horribly wrong. If Ross woke now, the hurt and betrayal he’d feel would crush any spark of love he bore for her completely. Kit surely wasn’t worth that. So why did she feel so excited by his presence?

His cock pressed tight to her cunt, rubbing against her in an alluring simulation of sex. Not entering her, and not directly stimulating her clit, but arousing her all the same. “Say the word, Evie, and I’m all yours.”

“He’ll be so hurt.”

So why did she feel so excited? Why instead of screaming and fighting Kit off with every available object was she raising her hips in time with the roll of his body? She looked up into his eyes and caught only a glimpse of darkness before a kiss swallowed her remaining whimper of denial. The truth was, despite how she felt about Ross, she wanted Kit exactly where he was: poised to enter her, on the verge of fucking her into oblivion.

His tongue traced one puckered nipple, setting her squirming again. Three fingers struck gold between her legs, pushing into her with embarrassing ease. She was so wet and eager, his fingers met with no resistance and she cried out when he withdrew them. The cry transformed into a whimper as his cock replaced the digits, and their bodies slammed together.

So hot. Too hot.

Evie wanted to squeal. She had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself from screaming out his name. Countless emotions ricocheted inside her head, but she kept all the accompanying sounds she wanted to make locked up tight inside her. Only when he touched her clit as he fucked her with perfect ease did a hiss escape through her teeth. She gripped Kit’s bottom hard, digging in her fingertips until he slowed the rhythm of their loving. Then they rocked, so, so, smoothly, gliding, while staying absolutely silent.

It couldn’t last. It didn’t last.

Slowly, steadily the tempo built again, until the headboard thudded against the wall and Ross stirred beside them, rolling over to paw at her shoulder. “Hush, you’re dreaming. Hush, Evie. It’s okay. Wake up.”

The weight of Kit’s body still pressed down upon her. Evie tentatively opened her eyes to find Ross staring at her, not in open-mouthed disgust, but in concern. “You all right?” he asked.

“Huh!” she choked. She pulled her arms down from above her head, where she had them wedged under the bottom of the headboard and patted the duvet, still curiously aware of the fading heat of Kit’s presence. “You were dreaming, Evie. I’m not sure if it was good or bad. You were moaning quite a bit and thrashing about.”

The lingering trace of Kit’s cologne clung to the sheets and her skin. He hadn’t been here. It had been just a dream.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“No.” She blinked a few times trying to wake up. “No, it was nothing. Bad dream.”

“Sure you don’t need a hug?” He cast his arm over her stomach and snuggled up, placing a kiss upon her shoulder.

“Kit,” she said sleepily. “He didn’t actually work in a bar, did he?”

“Didn’t you ask him?”

“’Course. He didn’t really answer.”

She sensed Ross’s smile. He continued to nibble at her skin, his lips moving up towards the sensitive skin of her neck. “He worked as a host, Evie.”

Suddenly, she was awake. Wide-awake. “You mean like a gigolo?”

“Not exactly. No. Leastways, I haven’t asked if he had sex for money. He entertained women in the bar, talked shop and relationships and poured drinks for them. If it went beyond that…well…let’s just say it wouldn’t surprise me.” Ross fell silent.

“It isn’t important,” Evie provided. Whatever Kit had done in his past didn’t affect them now. It sure explained a lot about him though. Like why he’d seemed so at ease with her watching him.

Ross rolled onto his back again and his jaw stretched into a yawn. “Knackered,” he mumbled.

“Ross. One other thing, did you ever have a threesome involving Kit?”

The tense jerk of his shoulders answered the question more succinctly than any amount of words. “What has he been telling you?”

“All your dirty secrets, I guess. It’s true, then?”

Propped on one elbow, Ross met her gaze. He chewed his lip a moment and his brows furrowed. “I’m not sure I’d call it a threesome as such. That kind of implies we all got it on.” His frown deepened. “It just happened sometimes. Kit and I were mates. Sometimes we shared the same girl.”

“You mean it happened more than once?”

Ross shiftily glanced at the headboard. “Yeah. More than once. Jeezus, what the hell have you two been talking about to bring that up anyway? I thought you went grocery shopping.”

“We did.” Evie sucked her tongue as jealousy stirred inside her stomach again, despite her best efforts to quell such nonsense. What Ross had done before they met hardly mattered and had no bearing on the present. Besides, she wasn’t sure what about it rattled her so much. The fact that he’d obviously liked threesomes, that he’d engaged in them with Kit, or hadn’t engaged in one with her. “Ever have one that didn’t involve Kit?”

“No.”

She nearly pressed to see if he was up for involving her. They could creep into Kit’s room right now and pin him down on the narrow bed. Then maybe she could straddle him, while Ross watched, although the thought of being watched still unnerved her. Still, the notion of sharing brought back her earlier conversation with Kit, tucked up together on the sofa at Rose Cottage. Nothing he’d said then had been straightforward. There’d been a stonking great subtext to it from the outset. Kit had deliberately flirted with her, and given himself a hard on like a blooming torpedo. Far from sharing a few memories, he’d deliberately opened up a can of worms.