Read Online Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore by Kaitlin Maitland - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kaitlin Maitland
Tags: Contemporary Menage
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Suri’s erotic dance. She dipped forward at the waist, her long hair sweeping the floor before she flexed up on her toes, bending backward in a graceful arc. Her hands rotated in fluid circles, accentuating each movement of her hips and belly until his cock was throbbing in time.
“Last night was about more than alcohol and depression, wasn’t it?”
Somehow, Jericho wasn’t surprised to hear Dante’s low voice right behind him. It seemed only right that the two of them should witness Suri’s beautiful dance together.
Dante touched his arm, a supplicating gesture that was as unusual as it was telling. “Are you still angry with me?”
Jericho tensed. Was he angry with Dante? He had been when he had felt as though he’d been manipulated into a sexual encounter with a woman who wasn’t sober enough to know what she was doing. Suri herself had laid that to rest, though Dante could most definitely be accused of manipulation. But that was Dante in a nutshell. Manipulation was in his DNA, though it had never affected Jericho as directly as it had last night. He thought of his confusing feelings about experimenting with another man. Was he even ready to think about that yet?
“Something happened last night that we can never undo.” Dante stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Jericho.
The note of uncertainty in Dante’s tone tugged at Jericho’s tightly leashed emotions. “I’m not angry.”
He didn’t get a chance to expand or demand an explanation, because at that moment, Congressman Flaherty’s eyes focused on Suri’s sinuous dance, and the power-tripping politician decided that she was the only thing capable of scratching his itch.
The man plowed over his mistress, pushing her flat to the floor as he tripped to his feet. Flaherty’s smoking jacket gaped open, and Jericho saw enough of the man’s cock to prove that generic male genitalia held no fascination for him.
Flaherty stood as if starstruck. Still locked in her own world, Suri hadn’t yet noticed her rapt and unwanted audience. He was moving in, a step at a time, his gaze raking her body from breasts to crotch.
Jericho clenched his fists tight to keep from leaping in. At this point, the congressman hadn’t broken any club rules. Beside him, Dante was in the same wait-and-see mode. But this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill employee protection detail. This was different. This was the definition of why becoming attached to coworkers was a bad idea.
Jericho knew the precise moment Suri realized she was being stalked. All movement stopped, and she turned away from the fountain, putting her back against the wall.
“Don’t stop.” Flaherty made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Keep dancing, honey. In fact, do it again and take your top off.”
It was obvious the money held a powerful draw for her. Her expression was perfectly smooth, a mix of enticing and demure. But Jericho could sense the distaste she hid beneath her calm facade.
Dante shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance was as rigid as Jericho had ever seen it. Dante was a man who prided himself on his cool head and unflappable poise. At the moment, he looked ready to jump an influential client and throw him out of the club. That alone told Jericho that the earth had moved for all three of them, whether they were willing to admit it or not.
Suri began moving, her dance a shade more inhibited. Tension strung Jericho’s muscles taut. She pivoted to give Flaherty a view of her back. Reaching up, she unfastened her top.
When she turned again, her pert breasts hung free. Flaherty lifted his hands, obviously itching to cop a feel. Jericho ached to whisk her away somewhere private, to cup the fullness of each breast in his palms and thumb her nipples into hard points before taking them in his mouth. Her body was meant to bridge the gap between him and Dante. The sensation of being together had the potential to eclipse any lingering doubts.
Dante jerked, covering the
“Last night was about more than alcohol and depression, wasn’t it?”
Somehow, Jericho wasn’t surprised to hear Dante’s low voice right behind him. It seemed only right that the two of them should witness Suri’s beautiful dance together.
Dante touched his arm, a supplicating gesture that was as unusual as it was telling. “Are you still angry with me?”
Jericho tensed. Was he angry with Dante? He had been when he had felt as though he’d been manipulated into a sexual encounter with a woman who wasn’t sober enough to know what she was doing. Suri herself had laid that to rest, though Dante could most definitely be accused of manipulation. But that was Dante in a nutshell. Manipulation was in his DNA, though it had never affected Jericho as directly as it had last night. He thought of his confusing feelings about experimenting with another man. Was he even ready to think about that yet?
“Something happened last night that we can never undo.” Dante stepped out of the shadows to stand beside Jericho.
The note of uncertainty in Dante’s tone tugged at Jericho’s tightly leashed emotions. “I’m not angry.”
He didn’t get a chance to expand or demand an explanation, because at that moment, Congressman Flaherty’s eyes focused on Suri’s sinuous dance, and the power-tripping politician decided that she was the only thing capable of scratching his itch.
The man plowed over his mistress, pushing her flat to the floor as he tripped to his feet. Flaherty’s smoking jacket gaped open, and Jericho saw enough of the man’s cock to prove that generic male genitalia held no fascination for him.
Flaherty stood as if starstruck. Still locked in her own world, Suri hadn’t yet noticed her rapt and unwanted audience. He was moving in, a step at a time, his gaze raking her body from breasts to crotch.
Jericho clenched his fists tight to keep from leaping in. At this point, the congressman hadn’t broken any club rules. Beside him, Dante was in the same wait-and-see mode. But this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill employee protection detail. This was different. This was the definition of why becoming attached to coworkers was a bad idea.
Jericho knew the precise moment Suri realized she was being stalked. All movement stopped, and she turned away from the fountain, putting her back against the wall.
“Don’t stop.” Flaherty made a shooing gesture with his hands. “Keep dancing, honey. In fact, do it again and take your top off.”
It was obvious the money held a powerful draw for her. Her expression was perfectly smooth, a mix of enticing and demure. But Jericho could sense the distaste she hid beneath her calm facade.
Dante shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance was as rigid as Jericho had ever seen it. Dante was a man who prided himself on his cool head and unflappable poise. At the moment, he looked ready to jump an influential client and throw him out of the club. That alone told Jericho that the earth had moved for all three of them, whether they were willing to admit it or not.
Suri began moving, her dance a shade more inhibited. Tension strung Jericho’s muscles taut. She pivoted to give Flaherty a view of her back. Reaching up, she unfastened her top.
When she turned again, her pert breasts hung free. Flaherty lifted his hands, obviously itching to cop a feel. Jericho ached to whisk her away somewhere private, to cup the fullness of each breast in his palms and thumb her nipples into hard points before taking them in his mouth. Her body was meant to bridge the gap between him and Dante. The sensation of being together had the potential to eclipse any lingering doubts.
Dante jerked, covering the
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