Desk Job (London Menage Book 2) Read online

  “I’m glad you think so.” He smiled. “And that you’re here, prettying the place up.”

  I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed. Damn I was tired.

  “Shall we head into the bedroom?” Andre asked, smoothing my hair. “Or do you want to watch TV, Stella?”

  “TV? No.”

  “Or maybe get some food, drink?” Tristan asked.

  “No. Bed is good.”

  Andre pressed a kiss to my temple. “Then let’s allow Tristan to lead the way.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tristan’s bedroom was of course white. Though this room had a thick pile carpet that, for my sore feet, was like walking on air.

  Andre headed into an ensuite and I paused for a moment to watch Tristan strip down to his boxers. Damn the man was an Adonis. His body was toned in all the right places, his skin shone with health and the hint of a tan, and the way he moved, with strength and confidence, it was enough to let him right into my heart.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping up to me.

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure?”

  I pressed my lips together. Did this gorgeous man really want me?

  “Tell me, what is it?” He frowned.

  “It’s just…” I couldn’t say it. I wouldn’t say it. That annoying voice had blasted back into my head telling me I wasn’t good enough. That there was no way one man would ever find me sexy and appealing let alone two.

  “Baby?” He cupped my cheeks, his eyes narrowed. “You’re scaring me.”

  I pulled in a deep breath and willed my confidence to fight back.

  He pressed a kiss over my lips. It was so soft and gentle it made tears spring into my eyes.

  “Hey, hey…” he said, seeing the moisture there. “You have to talk to me.”

  He was right. I did have to talk to him, and Andre too. They needed to know what I’d gone through in my teens. It was only fair and the only way they’d understand me when I wound myself up like a spring that was ready to let loose with hating myself and my body.

  Andre stepped out of the ensuite, minus his shirt and trousers. His gaze fell on me and he stopped, his shoulders tensing. “What’s going on?”

  “I need to talk to you both,” I said.

  They shared a look.

  “But … in bed. I’m tired.”

  Tristan nodded and reached for the zipper on my dress. He tugged it down, and the material slackened around my torso. When it was sufficiently loose, it fell to my feet.

  I stepped out of it, and Andre scooped it up. He then pulled back the duvet, and indicated for me to climb in.

  Still wearing my underwear, I was happy to slide between the soft sheets and stretch out my spine. “Can you turn the light off?” I asked.

  “Sure.” Tristan flicked a switch, and the room fell into near darkness—the glow of the hall light trickled in.

  “So what has turned you from a happy, sexy woman having fun to someone with a tear in her eye?” Tristan asked, lying down next to me and taking my hand.

  Andre settled on the opposite side, his long limbs pressing against me.

  Their warmth and solidity was comforting. Their scent and the sound of their breaths and the concern in their voices made me brave.

  I can do this.

  “I have … issues sometimes.”

  “What sort of issues?” Andre asked, then pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

  “With myself.” God, could I do this? Sian was the only other person in London I’d ever spoken to about my past.

  “Go on,” Tristan said, squeezing my fingers gently.

  “Well, you may have noticed I’m not stick thin.”

  “And we wouldn’t want you to be. You’re perfect just the way you are.” Tristan sounded surprised that it would be any other way.

  “Thank you for saying that. The thing is, though, I was stick thin once, more than stick actually, skeletal thin.” I paused and let that bit of information sink in. “When I was a teenager.”

  “Were you ill?” Tristan asked.

  “Yes, but maybe not in the way you’re thinking. I had anorexia, I guess I still do but it’s under control, mostly.”

  “I’m sorry, that must have been tough,” Tristan said.

  “It was.”

  Andre kissed my shoulder again. I could feel the tension in his body and wished I hadn’t put it there. He was worried.

  “I’ll confess I don’t know much about any of that kind of thing,” Tristan said.

  “Me neither. I’m sorry.” Andre rested his hand on my waist.

  “It’s okay. Why would you? And clearly I’m doing okay. I’m hardly a bag of skin and bones anymore. I’m a healthy weight.” Neither man spoke so I went on. “But what you do need to know is that sometimes I have self-doubt, a lack of confidence.”

  “Don’t we all?” Tristan asked gently.

  “Yes, everyone does, mine just … well, according to my therapist, way back when, gets out of control. It’s rare that it happens now, maybe only once or twice a year I get into a spiral of insecurity. I wonder if I’m good enough.”

  “Good enough for…?” Andre asked.

  “It can be anything. It’s just a mean little voice in my head saying I’m not good enough for my job, my friends, my family … but if I were thinner I would be.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Andre said. “You’re more than good enough for all of those things, better than good, and how could being thin change any of that?”

  “I know, it’s illogical.” I shifted to face Andre. “And crazy and stupid and it gets on my nerves. But I can handle it. It doesn’t own me the way it used to.”

  “So what can we do to help?” Tristan asked, his breath warm on my neck.

  “Just knowing about it and understanding is enough.”

  “In The Bracelet Lounge, when I arrived and sat down…” Tristan paused. “Was that some of it?”

  “Yes.” I was ashamed to admit it, but he needed to know. “That woman at the bar. She’d already been eyeing up Andre.”

  Andre laughed. “No she hadn’t.”

  “You just didn’t notice.” I pressed my hand on his chest. “And then she was all over Tristan as soon as he arrived.”

  “Hardly all over me. She asked if I wanted a drink and then gave me a card.”

  “In my opinion, that’s all over you.” I hesitated. “Had she not looked like a model, a super-thin model at that, perhaps it wouldn’t have set an alarm off inside of me. But she did and it did. It made my focus go a bit fuzzy, my brain as if it were full of static. I just needed you to…” My voice shook a little, I couldn’t go on

  “What? Fuck. Tell us.” Tristan moved closer.

  I could say it. I had to. “I just needed you to do what you did. Reassure me. Rip up that card with her number on it. That’s all I needed you to do.”

  “Phew. I’m glad I did it right.”

  “You did. You both did. I was fine. It was a lovely evening.” I trailed off. What else could I say? I’d laid out my soul, my paranoia, a past that made me ashamed even though I knew it shouldn’t.

  “I’m glad you’ve told us,” Andre said. “If we’re going to be together this is the kind of thing we can face together.” He ran his hand up my body to my face and cupped my cheek. “You’re not alone in this.”

  “And you won’t be, for as long as you want us around,” Tristan murmured against my ear.

  “It’s all happened so quickly,” I said. “Between us, but it feels so right and you both…”

  “What? We both what?” Tristan asked.

  “You both make me feel wanted and desired. The way I’ve always wanted to be.”

  “That’s because we do want and desire you,” Andre said. He kissed me, long and slow, his tongue tangling with mine.

  Tristan nuzzled my neck and rubbed the small of my back which still ached. How he knew that, I had no idea.

  Soon I began to fall into a heavy relaxed state.


  Andre stopped kissing me and rested his head down on the pillow next to mine. I could just make out his face in the dim light. He was looking at me.

  I shut my eyes. The soft bed embraced me. The body heat surrounding me was like a cocoon keeping me safe and warm. Sleep beckoned and I found myself drifting, my thoughts disjointed and mellow.

  “She’s asleep,” Andre whispered.

  Part of me wanted to protest that I wasn’t. That I was still awake and up for some hot loving. But another part of me was too far gone and this part won out.

  “She needs to rest,” Tristan replied. “It’s been an intense day, for all of us.”

  “Yes.” Andre kissed the tip of my nose. “I just hope she wakes before I have to leave in the morning.”

  Disorientation fuddled my brain when I opened my eyes. I didn’t recognize the white curtains or the sleek white units lining the wall. Then comprehension tumbled through my memory and I snuggled closer to the warm, big body behind me.

  I reached forward into an empty space. Andre had been there when I’d fallen asleep, now there was just a dent where his head had been on the pillow.

  “Morning, sexy,” Tristan murmured, his breath warming the back of my neck.

  “Where did Andre go?” I asked, turning to face Tristan.

  “He had to go. Business called.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “Breakfast meeting.”

  “Bugger. I forgot about that.” How could I have? I’d booked the table and organized for the client to have time with Andre. He was an important new customer but was heading to China the next day. It had been the only chance for Andre to wow him with what they could offer his company.

  “But what it does mean is I get you to myself,” Tristan said, scooping me close.

  “And I can tell you’re pleased about that,” I said, grinning as his erection pushed against me.

  “Mmm, you can, can you?” He unclipped my bra.

  My breasts felt heavy as he slid the straps down my arms and discarded it.

  “It’s fun when Andre’s here,” he said, pressing close so his chest was against mine. “But I can’t deny I was looking forward to having you to myself for the first time.”

  “And what did you have in mind, Mr. Wainwright?” I asked, wriggling my hips as he tugged at my knickers.

  “Something I think you’ll enjoy.”

  I kicked my underwear away. “I think you should show me instead of just talking about it.”

  “So do I.” He maneuvered himself over me, taking his weight on his elbows.

  I spread my legs, welcoming him closer and loving the feel of his strong body covering mine.

  “Never doubt how beautiful I find you,” he said.

  I reached up and cupped his face, stared into his dark eyes. God, he was beautiful too.

  “And how much I want you.” He shifted his hips and his cock head sat my entrance.

  “Show me,” I whispered.

  “Condom.”

  “No.” I frowned. “What I meant to say is, I’m on the pill.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, everything…”

  “It’s fine. All good.”

  “Okay.” His jaw tensed, he pushed forward.

  I willed myself to relax.

  “Fuck, this bit alone makes me want to come.” He let his mouth fall open.

  “Not yet.”

  “No, definitely not yet.” His eyes sparkled. “I want to feel you coming around my cock first.”

  I gasped as he took another inch, stretching me with his wide girth. “Tristan.”

  He eased in some more, a gentle ride to full depth.

  I released his face and reached downward, gripping his taut buttocks.

  “You feel amazing,” he murmured. “Fucking amazing.” He rocked forward, his body catching against my clit.

  I groaned and fluttered my eyes shut. What a start to the day.

  “Just feel,” he whispered as he pulled out and pushed back in. “Relax and feel how much I adore you, how hard you make me, so fucking hard.”

  “Yes…” Oh, and I could feel. He was getting it just right. The speed, the depth, the pressure. An orgasm was already rising. It was just a seed, the thought of one, but it was building into a promise.

  I allowed myself to get swept away on sensation and lose myself in everything that was Tristan and how he was making love to me. And that’s what it felt like, making love. Not fucking or having sex for the sake of it, but making love. Two souls connecting. He’d consumed my world, claimed every sense. He was so deep inside of me, buried in my core.

  His breathing rate sped up.

  My heart raced.

  The need to claim release was building. A dense climax stacked up in my pelvis and with his cock rubbing my G-spot, his body stimulated my clit to the extreme.

  “Oh fuck … don’t stop,” I said on a gasp.

  “I won’t.” His voice was strained. “No way, I won’t … ah yeah…”

  I opened my eyes and stared straight into his. “I’m coming…”

  “Me too … oh … fuck…” He gritted his teeth though his piercing concentration on my face didn’t waver.

  I allowed myself to tumble into orgasm. I clutched his ass cheeks as pleasure ripped through my body. I trembled and shook. My heart seemed to skip a beat and bliss shot to my fingers and toes and the top of my head. “Oh God, more…”

  He gave it, not changing the speed and depth he fucked me as he claimed his own orgasm. He came with a strangled cry, then caught my mouth in a hot, passionate kiss.

  I clung to him with all of my limbs. Pulled him deeper still. I was hot and tingling, my heart swollen with love for the amazing man in my arms and inside of me.

  “That was incredible,” he said against my lips. “Can we spend all day doing this?”

  I giggled, a breathless, heady sound. “Suits me.”

  He smiled and kissed me again. It was a long, gentle kiss and by the time he broke away, his cock had softened inside of me.

  I let my legs flop to the side and ran my hands over his warm back. “I think I might take a bath.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, you should do that. I don’t think the bath has ever been used.”

  “What?”

  He chuckled. “I’m a shower type of guy, quicker.”

  “And you’re always in a rush.”

  “Got it in one. But not today.” He pulled out then stood from the bed. “I’ll go and run it for you. Make sure the damn thing works okay.”

  As he walked, naked, to the ensuite, I admired his ass. He had a few red marks on his buttocks, scratches, evidence of the pleasure he’d just given me. I liked those marks, they made me feel territorial, he was mine. Everyone else, hands off.

  Mine.

  So was Andre.

  Damn, my life had become a dreamboat erotic fantasy and long may it continue.

  The bath was heavenly and as I sat in water up to my neck, richly scented bubbles almost overflowing, I could hear Tristan banging about in the kitchen. He’d put the radio on and occasionally sang a line or two from a song he clearly liked.

  I wriggled my toes under the water and stared at the mosaic tiles around the bath. They were pearlescent and gray.

  “Hey, beautiful, how long are you going to be?” Tristan appeared at the door. “Not that there is any rush, I just don’t want you to have to wait for breakfast if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m not hungry yet.” I lifted a handful of bubbles, held them in front of my face and blew. “So why don’t you join me?”

  He paused for a moment. “I suppose we should christen the bath properly.”

  “Indeed.”

  He grinned then stepped out of his sweats. He wore no boxers so stepped straight in. “Bloody hell, it’s hot.”

  “It’s nice. Sit down.” I spread my legs so he could sit between them.

  I thought he’d face me but he didn’t, he sat with his back to me.

  Leaning forwar
d, I wrapped my arms around his waist, and pressed my breasts against his back.

  “Best bath I’ve ever had,” he said, spreading his fingers on my forearms.

  “Mmm…” I kissed him between his shoulder blades, then sat back and reached for a bottle of shampoo. “Dampen your hair.”

  He sloshed several handfuls of water over his hair. Some hit me on my cheeks and I giggled. “That’ll do.”

  I applied the golden-colored liquid to my hands, then set about lathering up his hair.

  He sighed and his shoulders relaxed from their usual tense position.

  “How is that?” I asked.

  “Wonderful.”

  I smiled and worked the shampoo more, giving his scalp a massage as I did so.

  He was quiet and still and I guessed he was enjoying it, so I didn’t rush. And I didn’t want to. His hair was thick and a little over long, it felt nice between my fingers.

  Eventually, I reached for an empty container, white, that sat by the bath edge for decoration. “Ready for a rinse?”

  “Mmm…”

  I filled it with water and gently washed away the shampoo, being careful it didn’t flood his face.

  Tristan sat there, unmoving, as I made sure every last sud was removed.

  “There. All done,” I said, placing the container back on the ledge.

  “Thank you.” His voice was soft and mellow.

  Once again I pressed myself close to him, kissed the wet hair at his nape.

  “You’re good for me,” he said. “I can’t remember when I last felt so relaxed.”

  “Relaxed is perfect for a Sunday.”

  “Tell me about it.” He sighed. “And Sunday is also perfect for a fry up.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He stood. The water poured from him and his wet skin shone. “I’ll go and make a start, shall I?”

  I watched as he wrapped a white towel around his waist. “Yes. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  He left the bathroom and I rested back. I had thought maybe things would get raunchy in the bath and end up with us toppling into bed again. I was glad it hadn’t though. Washing Tristan’s hair, seeing him relax was sensual and erotic in its own right.

  And relaxing more often was definitely something he needed to do. And I reckoned I was up for the job.