Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
I stand there, staring out at nothing, when I see Danny’s reflection standing up behind me in the windowpane. He puts both his hands on my shoulders and we just hold there for a moment, looking at each other as the Chunnel whizzes by.
Alec is still sitting on the chaise, leg draped over the side in his Alec-y way. I see him smile.
“What?” I ask, turning around. Danny turns with me. Alec’s smile widens.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. Then his eyes narrow and he gets a mischievous look. Like a handsome, South African devil.
“Dude, what?” Danny repeats my question.
Alec doesn’t say anything more and, instead, unbuttons his trousers, draws his zipper down, reaches into his underwear, and starts fisting his already swelling cock.
I don’t say anything. Neither does Danny. I just start laughing quietly to myself, let my head drop down to my chest, and then look to the side at Danny, whose breathing is kind of shallowing as he watches Alec.
I put my hand on his arm and he looks down at me. I smile. We turn to face each other. He takes my face in his hands, leans his head down and kisses me.
The train rocks and sways and we rock and sway with it but don’t let our mouths part. He bites at my bottom lip and I let out a mini-moan. Sliding his hands under my leather jacket and brushing past my breasts with his fingers, he pushes the jacket up and off my shoulders, forcing it to drop from my back and onto the ground.
Walking me in reverse until the insides of my knees buckle against the bed and I fall onto the mattress again, he strips off his own jacket as we move. Danny pulls away from me and I sit up on the bed, running my hands through his blond hair and looking into his eyes. He looks down and begins unlacing my boots, so I glance over at Alec—still thrown across the chaise, still touching himself—and wave him over.
“C’mere,” I say to him, but he doesn’t move. Just sits there, bathed in the opulence of the suite, rubbing himself up and down.
“Not yet,” he says. “Not yet. I just want to watch you for now.”
I start to ask him why, but before I can, Danny has my boots off and is stripping my jeans down my thighs.
Okay. If that’s what Alec wants, that’s what he wants. The guy’s been through a lot.
We all have.
So…
Might as well give him a show.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I want to be with them. So badly. More and more every moment, in fact.
Which is why I don’t join. There is something to be said for self-discipline. A quality I have mimicked well over the course of my life, but the honest practice of which I have been very poor at displaying indeed. This is my chance to become less mendacious with myself.
Also, to correct a wrong I have done. And until that wrong is righted, I’ll remain steadfast in my commitment to seeing it though.
But that doesn’t mean I’m a fokken monk.
So, as I watch Danny strip Christine free of her trousers, I begin disrobing myself. I let go of my cock just long enough to stand from the chaise, dispense with my overcoat, scarf, shirt, shoes, trousers and boxers, and face them. Naked. Exposed. Rock-hard prick extended toward them like a divining rod.
I feel a warmth wash over me. Particularly my back. It doesn’t feel like my blood pumping or as though I need to ask perhaps-Nigel to control the climate. It feels instead like a pulsing. A triangulated throbbing of sorts.
The tattoo. The visual marker of me, Christine, and Danny. It’s as though it has electricity pulsing through it. Like it has been dormant and is suddenly called to life once again, the persistent need of we three once more activated. And, in concert with its pulsating energy, I feel the throbbing of my shaft calling me to perform a duty upon myself, which I happily oblige, gripping once again the thick fullness between my legs.
Danny has Christine stripped bare as well and is removing his own shirt. She helps pull it free from him and peers around his waist to eye me once more.
“You’re sure you don’t want to come over here?” she asks, breathily.
“I’m exactly where I should be.” I smile and keep massaging myself slowly.
Danny looks over his shoulder at me, back at Christine, and takes his trousers down, kicking off his boots and loosing himself completely as well.
The three of us are now fully naked, Danny and Christine together and me a short distance apart, all of us swaying along with the rhythmic pitching of the train. Danny’s broad back is to me and the muscles in his thighs tighten as he crouches in front of Christine, who is splayed wide before him on the bed. I can see neither of their faces. Only the back of Danny’s head, his strong shoulders, his ass, and the soles of his feet as he goes to his knees.