EntangledTrio, page 9
“Oh, that’s still in the cards. After I make myself more comfortable.” Off came his unknotted bow tie, gold cuff links and shirt studs, followed by his crisp white tuxedo shirt, revealing a powerful, well-muscled upper body dusted with springy black hair. David looked on in rapt silence, his libido cranked so far into overdrive he could barely form a coherent thought, much less say anything. But when Aleks dropped his pants, David’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Between his legs hung the thickest, meatiest cock David had ever seen outside of a porno movie—and it was pointed right at him.
His panic must have been pretty apparent, because Aleks and Colette both started to laugh. “Don’t worry,” Colette reassured him. “Once it’s inside you, you’ll love it.”
Aleks skewered her with a pointed look. “I’m not going to fuck you, David. Not tonight anyway. But you are going to make me come. You and Colette have already had your turn after all.” He climbed up on the bed and knelt by David’s head, rubbing the plump tip of his cock over his lips. The musky, spicy odor of male perspiration and pure sex rolled off him in a heady wave. “Open up. I want to see how it looks spearing that gorgeous mouth of yours.”
He didn’t need to ask twice. Wrapping his fingers around Aleks’ shaft, David sucked on the head, which was all he could comfortably take. Luckily, Aleks didn’t try to force it, just gave a few shallow thrusts and pulled out, then slapped his cock across David’s cheeks and chin, anointing his face with sticky, fragrant streaks of pre-come. David had never seen that outside of a porno flick either, but damn if it didn’t feel every bit as hot as it looked on video.
He reached for his own cock, but Colette had already grabbed hold and started stroking him. In all the times they’d fucked, she’d never done this for him. Her amazingly strong grip barely had time to register before he let loose with a groan and spurted all over her fingers.
A few precious seconds to catch his breath, and then he turned his attention back to Aleks. David swallowed down the tip of him again, sucking hard while Aleks jerked himself off into his mouth, filling it at last with salty cream.
They crumpled to the mattress, a sweaty, sated tangle of arms and legs. It took a little while before the world stopped spinning and David came to the slow realization he was lying between them, spooned up against Aleks with Colette curled in front of him. They had their arms wrapped around him, their lips pressed to his skin.
It was…comforting. Warm. Intimate. What he imagined being cherished felt like. He didn’t actually know. He’d never felt this way before.
Still, it was probably best to err on the side of caution. No one had said anything about staying the night. But when he started to get up, Aleks’ hand closed firmly over his arm. “Be still. You’re not going anywhere.”
“I should get back to my hotel.”
Colette lifted her head. “Absolutely not.”
“But don’t you two want to stretch out and be comfortable?”
“We’re perfectly comfortable. Aren’t we, Aleks?”
“Of course we are, my angel.”
“See?” She smiled. “You’re staying, and that’s the end of it.”
“But—”
Aleks heaved a mock sigh and reached over to stroke Colette’s cheek. “Give up the fight, David. When my angel wants something, I’ve learned it’s best not to deny her.”
Then David recalled how the evening had begun, and decided it was indeed a sound policy.
* * * * *
David awoke by himself the next morning, with the comforter pulled up over him and the rumpled sheets beside him still warm. Stretching slowly, he cataloged each lingering achy twinge in his muscles with a smile and a chuckle. His body wasn’t going to let him forget last night for a good long time.
Rolling carefully to his feet, he padded into the bathroom to relieve himself and jump in the shower. The hot spray hit his skin like another open-handed slap, then slowly worked its way into him, loosening his sore muscles and helping him relax. Afterward, he dried himself with a decadently soft white cotton towel and went back into the bedroom, where he found his clothes folded neatly on a chair. He wondered which of his lovers had done the folding while he slipped them back on. Then, stomach grumbling, he followed the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee into the dining room.
Colette sat at the table wrapped in a pretty blue silk robe, hair pulled back in a twist, sipping from a delicate porcelain cup while she flipped through the newspaper. Her face lit up like Christmas morning when she saw him. “Glad to see you’re finally up.”
He stole a glance at his bare wrist. His watch must still be in the bedroom. “What time is it, anyway?”
“Almost ten. I thought it best to let you sleep. You truly gave it your all last night. On and offstage.”
He laughed nervously, though it struck him as rather ridiculous. After everything he’d done with this woman, there was no point being embarrassed anymore. “Where’s Aleks?” he asked, reaching for the coffee pot.
“Oh, he had another Orchestre de Paris rehearsal. But he should be home in time for dinner.” She handed him a basket containing some delicious-smelling baked goods. “Have some brioche. Simone bakes it fresh every morning. Or if you’d prefer something more substantial, she can whip you up an omelet.”
“This’ll be fine, thanks.” More than fine, actually. The flaky pastry melted on his tongue like butter, light yet decadently rich. “God, I’m glad I don’t eat here every day. I’d gain twenty pounds in a month!”
Colette laughed. “Oh I’m sure you’d find some way to work it off.” She handed him a section of the paper, the page folded back to a review of last night’s performance. “The critics have spoken. They’re calling it the sexiest Carmen since Emma Calvé.”
“Wasn’t that back in the 1920s? I think standards may have changed a bit since then.”
“What’s a review without a little hyperbole? But they also have some very nice things to say about you, and the orchestra’s playing. Aleks will be pleased.”
He skimmed it quickly, stumbling over half the words. Hopefully his French would improve a bit before it was time for him to leave. “Good to know someone appreciates all our hard work. Although it usually isn’t the critics.”
“Popov called earlier. He said people are lined up out the door at the box office, buying up tickets for the rest of the run. That’s the kind of appreciation I prefer.”
“Me too.” They clinked their cups and drank. A short silence fell over the room. David sat back in his chair, idly drumming his fingertips on the table. “Mind if I ask a personal question?”
She gave him an oh please eye roll. “At this point I’d say you’ve more than earned the privilege. Go ahead.”
“Well… What’s the attraction between you and Aleks? Aside from you both being musicians, you just seem so different. Temperament-wise, I mean. And he’s older than you, right?”
“By eight years. And I do think that’s part of it. I didn’t have a father growing up, so I went a bit wild during my teenage years. My poor mother didn’t know what to do with me. I’m so grateful I discovered music. The discipline of studying helped ground me. And then when I met Aleks, it just felt like fate. He’s given me the strong hand I’ve always craved.”
David’s sore ass throbbed in silent reply. “Now I know where you learned how to spank people. Does he do it to you too?”
“Oh frequently. I adore it. In fact, I feel naked if I’m not wearing a few of Aleks’ marks.” She sighed and took another sip of her coffee. “But I didn’t mean to suggest that I see him solely as a father figure. I had a father, although I don’t really remember him. My parents divorced when I was five, right before my mother and I moved to Canada.” She shrugged. “Even after I returned to Paris, I didn’t bother seeking him out. He had no interest in being part of my life. He didn’t try to contact me once in all the years I was away.”
“Consider yourself lucky. Mine’s a hopeless drunk. I hate going home for holiday visits anymore. This year he got royally sloshed on Christmas Day and picked a fight with me in front of the entire family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, everybody. So I left.”
“Oh, David. You were by yourself on Christmas?”
“It wasn’t that bad. I went to the movies, then out for a nice, quiet Chinese dinner. Better than being trapped in that house with a father I can’t stand. Which is too bad, because the rest of my family’s pretty nice.”
“Aleks and I have made our own little family, just the two of us. My mother died while I was still at the conservatoire, and all Aleks’ relatives are in St. Petersburg. He hasn’t seen them in years.”
“That must be rough.”
“It is what it is. Sometimes we have to take our families where we find them.” She smiled and reached for his hand. “If you’d like to check out of your hotel and stay here with us, you’re more than welcome. I’ve already discussed it with Aleks, and he’s in complete agreement.”
Touched and amazed, all David could do for a long moment was stare at her. “You sure about this?”
“Of course we are. Aleks and I enjoyed our time with you last night. There’s no reason it has to end, especially since you’re here for three more weeks.”
An affair then, not just a one-night stand. David hadn’t expected anything like this, but now that the offer was on the table, he wasn’t about to turn it down. The frisson of fresh desire now snaking through his body told him how much he still wanted them, and they obviously still wanted him. It was nice to be wanted—wonderful, even.
“Okay,” he said finally, rising to give her a soft kiss on the lips. “I’ll head over and get my things.”
Chapter Seven
David was back within an hour and a half, a small valise and laptop bag in hand. Not a lot of luggage for a three-week stay in a foreign country, Colette mused, even as she smiled and pointed toward the bedroom.
“Go put your things in there. Simone will unpack your bags and put it all away.”
David’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Are you sure? I don’t mind doing it myself.”
“Nonsense. You’re a guest, and guests don’t do housework here.” With a nod, he went off to do as she’d told him. She poured them both more coffee once he’d returned, then remarked, “Our days are free, now that rehearsals are over. Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”
Now he blushed bright pink. “You mean, aside from the obvious?”
As touching—and arousing—as she found the suggestion, she knew she couldn’t allow herself to give in to it. Overindulgence led to satiety, which led to boredom, and she had no intention of letting that happen. David was like a fine wine, best to be sipped and savored, not drunk down in one long, greedy gulp.
“That’s sweet,” she murmured, reaching over to draw her fingertips across his stubbly cheek. “But we mustn’t tire ourselves out. I was thinking we should go out for a little while, take some fresh air.”
“Fine by me. I’m happy to do whatever you like. But you already knew that.” He grinned.
“There’s no reason we can’t do what you like as well. What about a museum, or a film, or…”
“Museums are good. I’ve never been to the D’Orsay or the Louvre.”
“Really? You’ve visited Paris before, haven’t you?”
“Only once, for a weekend. Not long enough to take in any of the sights.”
“Then we should remedy that immediately,” she replied, pushing back her chair.
“Okay. But I should probably shave and change into a clean shirt. Unless you want to be seen with a guy who looks like he’s been dragged through a knothole backward.”
God, his Americanisms were priceless. She burst out laughing. “By all means, go make yourself presentable.”
It was close to noon by the time they were out the door, the chill, humid January wind stinging their cheeks as they waited briefly on the curb for Henri to bring the car around. Piling gratefully into the backseat, Colette slipped her gloved hand through David’s arm and rested her head on his shoulder, drifting in heavy-lidded bliss until they reached the Musée d’Orsay on the city’s Left Bank.
Colette had been here countless times before. There was nothing she loved more than to stroll through the various galleries, stand in front of her favorite paintings and let herself be caught up in their magical individual universes of vivid hues and brilliant brushstrokes. But experiencing the place through David’s virgin eyes proved an even bigger delight. Like a child at Christmas, he wandered from room to room, painting to painting, gazing at everything as if it were a huge gift he couldn’t wait to unwrap.
“That was fucking amazing,” he said three hours later, when they’d finally stopped to rest at a tiny café down the street. “I mean, I’ve been to the British Museum and the Metropolitan in New York, but this was… Well, it was like watching a bygone era come to life right in front of me. Every painting was so alive and vibrant.”
“And some of the collection’s in San Francisco right now while the D’Orsay does renovations. We’ll have to come back in a few months so you can see the rest of it.”
He grinned. “I have no problem with that at all.”
They ordered coffee and sat chatting about art and music and anything else that caught their fancy. Then David leaned in, pointing at a tall, cadaverous-looking man in a trench coat, white gloves and beret walking by outside. “What do you think his story is? Bank robber, or a really depressed mime?”
Colette gave him a look. “Who says he’s either one? He could just as easily be the bank president.”
“Nah. He looks like a bank robber to me.”
“And how would you know what a bank robber looks like?”
“I’m only guessing. He’s a French bank robber, after all. But who knows what he’s got hidden under that coat?”
And that started it. They spent the better part of the next hour making up fantastic stories about all the passersby. David had her giggling uncontrollably at his more risqué suggestions, whispered sweetly into her ear. He really was quite captivating. She turned her head to smile at him, only slightly startled when he leaned in and kissed her deeply. She gave a tiny sigh and relaxed into it, her hand sliding up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug.
And where did that annoying, chirpy little bird come from? Oh, not a bird after all, she realized, the last few moments of pure heaven suddenly dissipating as she fumbled in her bag for her phone—which stopped ringing the second she touched it, then slipped from her fingers and skittered under the table.
“I’ve got it,” David said. He went down on his knees to grab it, handing it to her with a smile. She’d expected him to get right back up, but he didn’t. Instead, he scooped up one of her boot-encased feet and cradled it in both hands, then planted a kiss right on top. An unmistakable gesture of submission—and in public yet!
A wave of heat swept through her, leaving her instantly dry-mouthed. It took several moments—and a very long sip of water—before she regained her composure, then signaled for David to sit back down.
“That was very touching, cheri,” she murmured finally. “But I wouldn’t have asked it of you. Not out where everyone can see, anyway.”
“I know. But I wanted to do it.” He reached for her hand and kissed it. “I wanted to show you how much I adore you. How badly I want to belong to you.”
“Do you, now?” Her phone buzzed, indicating a voice mail message. She hit the “play” button and listened to it. “It’s Aleks. He’s home, wondering where we are. We should get back.”
David nodded. Was she imagining it, or did his expression betray a tiny flicker of disappointment? Of course it was too bad their afternoon had to end, but there was still an entire evening ahead of them, and three more weeks of evenings besides. “I’ll go take care of the bill,” he said.
* * * * *
“Popov called this afternoon,” Aleks announced once the three of them sat down to dinner. “The remaining six performances of Carmen are sold out.”
“Oh fantastic!” Colette crowed, winking across the table at David, who countered with a half-incredulous grin. “Although it’s not as if I weren’t expecting it, considering who my colleagues are.”
“You’re too kind, my angel. And as usual, entirely correct.”
“Wow.” David set down his fork and reached for his wineglass. “Guess this means they’re not going to fire me, huh?”
“Why in the world would you think that?” Colette asked, exchanging a quick, concerned glance with Aleks. “You got a standing ovation on opening night, for God’s sake!”
“I know. But I just can’t help thinking sooner or later the opera world’s going to figure out I’m this hick kid from Wisconsin who’s pulled the wool over their eyes. Every performance I get this sick feeling in my stomach waiting for someone in the audience to stand up and denounce me as a fraud. It’s like that old dream about finding yourself in a public place stark naked. I know it’s stupid and it’ll never really happen, but I can’t stop dwelling on it.”
The genuine anxiety in his voice tugged at Colette’s heart. No wonder they were so drawn to each other. In terms of background and temperament, they were practically twins. “It’s called imposter syndrome,” she said softly. “And you’re not the only one in this room who suffers from it.”
“Indeed,” Aleks added.
David swallowed hard, gazing at each of them in turn. “But you’re both so accomplished and cosmopolitan—”
“And it’s all an act,” Aleks stated flatly. “I grew up in one of the poorest sections of St. Petersburg. My father ran a grocery that had nothing but sausage and stale bread to sell half the time. No one thought I would ever make anything of myself, including me. That was before I developed a passion for the piano around the time I turned twelve. Add in a fierce work ethic and a high motivation to get out of Russia, and you get what you see here.” He shrugged, smiling a little half-smile. “Still, every time I walk out to take a bow, I think, ‘Do you know who you’re cheering for? Misha the greengrocer’s boy! And if he could see you all now, he’d piss himself laughing!’”
