Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) Page 14

  “Your cocktails, sir.”

  A waiter stood before us holding a tray. Atop it were two flutes with fizzing rosy liquid, complete with a strawberry.

  “Ah, perfect.” Andre smiled and released my hand as the drinks were set before us. The waiter walked away.

  “Cheers,” Andre said, picking up his drink and passing mine to me. “Here’s to threesomes.”

  I giggled and glanced around to make sure he hadn’t been overheard. “Yes, threesomes.”

  I took a sip of the sparkling liquid. The bubbles popped on my tongue and the sweet taste of the strawberry filled my mouth.

  We sat for an hour, enjoying our drinks and chatting. I was enjoying a little people watching too, wondering if the experience would maybe spark an idea for a poem at some point. I was sure it would.

  “I suppose I should think about getting home, to change.” I glanced at Andre’s watch. “We’ll be meeting Tristan soon.”

  “Get changed here,” he said.

  “Well I think that might give the other guests a shock.” I laughed.

  He grinned. “Well not here, in the restrooms. I think you’ll find them quite adequate.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Go and see what you think? It will save time.”

  “Okay.” I was curious now. I wanted to see what the restrooms were like at The Ritz.

  “I think it’s down there, on the right.” He nodded in the direction the waiter had gone.

  I stood and picked up my bag. “I’ll be back in a little while then.”

  “There’s no rush.”

  I headed in the direction Andre had pointed me. As I stepped into the ladies’, I realized they were no ordinary lobby toilets. The overwhelming color was pink, there was a grand jungle-themed mural on the wall and beneath it a sofa with golden legs. A row of sinks stood beneath framed mirrors, each one holding a selection of complimentary toiletries.

  “Wow,” I said quietly.

  It would certainly do to get changed in.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Bracelet Lounge was busy when we arrived, with people squashed into all corners and the bar staff working hard.

  Andre steered us to the back of the club then spoke to a member of the staff.

  Soon we were seated in a private, sectioned off area that was less frenetic and the tables were waited on. Andre ordered a bottle of water and a bottle of white wine.

  “This is cool,” I said, smoothing out the skirt section of my new dress and looking at the dance floor.

  It was alive with bodies writhing and jigging to a fast beat tune. I tapped my feet, the urge to dance like an itch that needed scratching.

  “Your bags should be okay here,” Andre said. “There’s security around.” He gestured to a burly guy standing with his back to the wall and scanning the happy and tipsy customers.

  “Okay.” I nodded.

  “Do you want to dance?”

  “Yes!”

  He laughed. “Come on then.”

  I headed to the dance floor, Andre right behind me, his hands on my waist.

  As soon as I stepped from the carpeted area to the wooden surface, the music got me. It was like an injection of rhythm into my veins. I rolled my hips, tipped my head back, and picked up the pace of the song.

  Andre laughed and pulled me close, matching the tempo I’d set. He ran his hands down my back, then up again.

  Our bodies were aligned, moving together. He made me feel so sexy, so desired. The touch of him against me, his heat, his strength, his smile. He was an easy man to fall in love with.

  Have I ever been so happy?

  “You’re a good mover,” he said.

  “Not so bad yourself.” I kissed him.

  When I pulled back, I noticed a woman to my right watching us.

  She had long red hair and wore a short black dress that showed off her stick thin figure—the type of figure I’d craved in my late teens. She caught me looking but didn’t shift her gaze from us.

  Was she eyeing up Andre? Did she wonder how a curvy girl had gotten such a handsome man?

  No, don’t think like that.

  I pushed the thought from my head and allowed Andre to spin me around. I couldn’t allow those negative beliefs to creep into my life again. Why wouldn’t Andre want to be with me? My curves were natural and a part of who I was. Besides, Andre seemed to like them just fine. So did Tristan for that matter.

  I carried on dancing, enjoying Andre’s attention and seeing him having fun. I pushed thoughts of the woman aside despite the fact she was still right near us, and dancing as though she was performing a striptease.

  “Phew, I’m getting hot,” I said when the fourth track we’d danced to came to an end.

  “Me too. Let’s grab a drink.” He kissed my cheek and threaded his fingers with mine.

  I sensed the woman watching us as we left the dance floor, but by the time we’d sat down and poured water, I’d forgotten about her.

  “I hope Tristan is here soon,” I said, reaching my compact from my handbag.

  Andre checked his watch. “He will be.”

  I powdered my nose to take away the shine, then reapplied my red lipstick. I noticed Andre watching me closely. “What?” I asked with a smile.

  “I love that you’re so girly,” he said. “So utterly feminine and beautiful.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” I slipped the powder and lipstick back into my bag. His words had been the top up of confidence I’d needed. “I’ve always been like this. I used to pinch my mum’s makeup when I was a little girl, refused to wear trousers, much to her annoyance, and as soon as I was able to wear heels all day every day, I did.”

  He pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and smiled.

  “Oh, look.” I nodded over his shoulder. “Is that Tristan?”

  He turned.

  Tristan was pushing through the crowd toward the bar. He was so damn handsome with his jet-black hair and brooding good looks. People looked at him, men and women, for a second longer than they would the average person.

  A small bubble of pleasure grew inside me. He was mine, so he said, to touch and kiss and fuck.

  I raised my arm, about to wave, but stopped myself. I rested my hand back on the table.

  “Looks like he’s getting a drink from the bar,” Andre said.

  I didn’t answer. My attention was no longer on Tristan but the woman at his side. It was the same supermodel-thin female who’d been giving me looks on the dance floor.

  She’d sidled close to Tristan, the length of her body apparently touching his as they squeezed in at the bar. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and licked her lips before saying something right by his ear.

  Tristan looked mildly surprised but smiled and nodded.

  What the hell has she said to him?

  Jealousy coiled around my guts like a python squeezing the life from my insides. I hated the bitter taste that suddenly laced my mouth, and the way my heart rate had picked up so much it made my temples thud.

  “I’ll text him to come up here,” Andre said, pulling out his phone and apparently not aware of the woman who was all but draping herself over my man.

  I didn’t answer. Instead I watched as she rested her hand on his arm, her red nails bright against his black sleeve, and said something else into his ear.

  His attention was on her even though he held money out to the barman. I had no idea what he said to her in reply but he added a smile onto it.

  Skinny cow. What the hell did she think she was doing? He was mine. I could stake that claim, heck he’d fucked me earlier. I’d sucked his cock, and he’d come all over my tits for crying out loud.

  I realized I was holding my breath and let out a long exhale.

  “You okay?” Andre asked, glancing at me. A frown sliced across his forehead.

  “Fine.” I knotted my fingers together and looked back at Tristan.

  Tristan passed his attention over his phone then looked up at
us.

  Andre raised his hand.

  Tristan nodded and I lip read him say, “Excuse me.”

  The woman stepped back, her head tilted and a flirty smile on her face. She produced a card, what appeared to be a business card, and slotted it into the breast pocket on his black shirt.

  Of all the…

  I took a sip of drink. She was brazen.

  Within a few seconds, Tristan was by our table. He leaned over it and set a kiss on my lips. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hi.” I pressed my palm to his stubbled cheek.

  “You okay?” he asked as he pulled back and sat opposite us.

  “Who is that woman?” I asked.

  “What woman?” He frowned, the crease on his brow matching Andre’s.

  “The woman at the bar. The one with the sleek figure and red hair.”

  Tristan glanced over. “I don’t know. Never seen her before.”

  “But she was talking to you.”

  “Yeah.” He huffed. “Asked if I wanted to dance. Naturally I said no, there’s only one woman I want to dance with.” He reached out and took my hand, stroking his thumb over the back of my knuckles.

  “She gave you something.”

  “Yes.” His expression was one of confusion.

  “What’s up, Stella?” Andre asked, resting his palm on my thigh.

  “In your pocket.” I nodded at Tristan’s chest. I hated how I felt, how I sounded. I could hear the paranoia in my own voice, feel the self-doubt crawling over my skin. But I couldn’t help it.

  “She asked me to call her sometime.” Tristan pulled the card out and without looking at it tore it in two and then four. “Which won’t be happening.” He set the ripped card at the far end of the table.

  I swallowed and forced my attention from it.

  “Hey,” Andre said, squeezing my leg. “You don’t have to worry about us seeing anyone else. We’re with you, you’re with us, end of story.”

  “End of story.” Tristan drew my hand to his mouth and gently kissed the back of my fingers. “Neither of us want to be with anyone else, date anyone else or think of anyone else. I know this is fast but it’s wonderful and exciting and I for one don’t need anything or anyone else.” He pulled his eyebrows low. “You have to believe that.”

  I wanted to believe it. I really did. But could they really prefer me and my soft body and heavy breasts to a woman who could grace a catwalk and wear anything her heart desired?

  “Believe it.” Andre pressed a kiss to my cheek.

  The dark, tormenting voice in my head that loved to tell me I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t look right, faded into the background. I mentally told that voice to shut up and stay that way. “So.” I straightened. “Are we dancing or not?”

  “Hell yeah.” Tristan stood, he kept a hold of my hand.

  “I’ll join you in a minute,” Andre said, moving to allow me to get past him.

  “Okay, don’t be long,” I said, loving the way Tristan had wrapped his arm possessively about my waist the moment he could.

  He steered me onto the dance floor and into the jostling crowd. One of my favorite songs came on and I gave myself up to the music.

  “I love the dress,” Tristan said into my ear as he pulled me close.

  “Thank you.” I wriggled my hips a little more.

  “So fucking sexy,” he said huskily as his groin pressed against my ass.

  I smiled, that was the idea. To be as sexy as possible for my two hot men.

  He encased me in his arms, and we bopped to the beat, our bodies as one, him taking the lead. I put my head back and let the flashing lights fill my vision the way the tune was filling my ears.

  He nipped my ear. “I missed you today.”

  I smiled, lowered my head and looked straight ahead, at the DJ. Except standing between me and the DJ was the woman who had her sights set on Tristan.

  For a moment our gaze connected. I saw surprise and envy in her stare. She was dancing alone but seemed to still, her feet rooted to the floor, as she registered it was me with the handsome man who hadn’t succumbed to her charms at the bar.

  I mustered up my confidence and squeezed Tristan’s forearms where they were circled around my waist.

  “I can’t wait to get you home,” he murmured.

  I smiled wider. Oh yeah. This man was hot for me. Me with curves and being a size that was healthy and good for me. It had bagged me one of the most gorgeous men on the planet to fuck later.

  Amen for eating properly.

  “You having fun?” Andre appeared in front of me, snatching me from Tristan’s arms.

  “Absolutely.”

  Tristan laughed and kept one hand on the small of my back.

  We all danced, the men touching me, their bodies smoothing and sliding against mine. I twirled and shimmied in a provocative way, knowing that later they’d appreciate my moves when naked.

  Again I’d caught the attention of the woman in black. She had a flush of red on her cheeks. I didn’t know if it was from dancing, the room was hot, or if she were angry that I had two seriously divine men with me. Both of whom only had eyes for me, their hands roamed my waist, shoulders and ass in a way that screamed intimacy.

  We were a threesome. It didn’t take a genius to work that out. And I was the star of the show.

  Andre pulled me close then passed me to Tristan, holding my arm high as he did so.

  I spun on my heels then laughed as Tristan bundled me against his chest and pressed a kiss over my mouth.

  Andre moved in behind me, with his erection slotting between my ass cheeks.

  Tristan’s cock settled at my abdomen.

  Sandwiched between them, I laughed again. I felt floaty and high. These men made me feel beautiful, desired and bursting with joy.

  I allowed the feeling to spread around my body as we carried on dancing. It was like a sparkling light seeping into every cell and igniting happiness. I gripped Tristan’s shoulder, reached behind me and held Andre’s hip.

  We danced through several more songs before I pleaded exhaustion. Andre held my hand as we headed back to our table.

  I flopped down, giggling. “That was energetic.”

  “Been a while since I danced,” Tristan said. “But it was just something I wanted to do with you tonight, Stella.”

  “And you have.” I took a big drink of water to sate my thirst, then as I set it down I yawned.

  “Are you getting tired?” Andre asked.

  “It’s been a long day. A nice day, but long.”

  Tristan glanced at his watch. “How about we head back to mine. It’s not far from here. We can walk.” He paused. “If you’re up to walking, Stella?”

  “Yes, I’m happy to walk. In fact, the fresh air will do me good. It’s hot in here.” As I’d spoken I’d realized it was too hot, stifling and I was ready to get out of The Bracelet Lounge. I was also ready to walk away from the bitter jealousy and gnawing self-doubt that had tried to consume me.

  It hadn’t though. I’d beaten it into submission. My learned mantras for controlling the loathing I used to have for my body had won the day, or should that be night.

  Andre stood and shrugged into his jacket.

  Tristan finished the last of his bottle of beer, then lifted up my bags. “These yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll carry them.”

  “Thanks.”

  I stuck close to Tristan as we weaved our way through the crowd. I didn’t see the woman with the red nails and lipstick again, and I was glad. That moment had passed. All I needed now was to be with my two men.

  Tristan did indeed live nearby. I was just starting to feel cold with only my cardigan for protection against the night air when he stopped at a swanky glass and steel entrance to an apartment block.

  He keyed in a code and the door opened.

  Inside was warm and smelled of vanilla, the lights were over-bright.

  “We’ll take the elevator.” Andre pressed the b
utton.

  “I don’t mind walking up the stairs,” I said.

  “You’d mind walking up these ones.” Andre smiled. “Tristan has the penthouse … naturally.”

  “Oh, nice.” I said, smiling his way.

  “I hope you like it.” He hesitated. “It’s a little stark. It could do with a woman’s touch.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely.” The lift arrived and I stepped in. I was intrigued to see the place Tristan called home.

  We rode upward in silence. I glanced at each of them, wondering what they were thinking about. Sex most likely.

  I drew in a deep breath. The foremost thought in my mind was getting my new shoes off. The balls of my feet were complaining despite the soft cushioned soles. My back ached too, from exhaustion.

  A plain white hallway containing a huge brass ornament of a Buda led to Tristan’s front door. He opened it and pressed his palm on the black polished wood so I could step in first.

  As soon as I did, I kicked off the shoes. “Sorry, but my feet are killing me.”

  Tristan smiled, then once Andre stepped in, he shut the door and attached the chain.

  That was it. We were in for the night. A flutter of excited butterflies swarmed in my belly.

  I set my purse to one side and relished the cool tiles on my hot feet.

  “This way.” Tristan directed me through large double doors that were made of the darkest wood and highly polished.

  I stepped into a huge living room. Stark was the right word. The walls were painted white. The tiled floor was also white, as was a huge shiny leather sofa. The only exception came from a framed picture above a marble fireplace that had an image of waves cresting and rolling onto a white sandy beach. The blue of the waves was the only splash of color in the room.

  “It is … white.” I nodded.

  “Very.” Andre agreed, slipping out of his jacket and laying it on the back of a white fabric chair that was set against a wall.

  “I guess I’m not very imaginative when it comes to interior design,” Tristan said, a flash of embarrassment going over his face.

  “Probably because you save up all your creativity for work,” I said, slipping my hands around his waist and speaking against his lips. “Which at the end of the day is worth more.”