Ask DNA Page 11

  When he turned it on, she let out a long, loud moan as her body gave up and gave in and gave it to them, the orgasm robbing her of all strength and will.

  She looked up into Kirby’s blue gaze and his smile nearly made her slip up.

  She nearly said it.

  The words.

  But she’d be lying if she denied it. She loved him and Davis both.

  Now that Davis had made her come, he wouldn’t stop making her come until she finally had to say yellow to get them to stop making her come.

  He immediately withdrew both the vibrator from her pussy and his fingers from her ass, leaving her empty and panting and thoroughly wrung out. He had a damp washcloth ready and cleaned her up before grabbing the towel and leaving the room as Kirby stretched out next to her.

  She looked at him. “Where’d he go?”

  “He’ll be right back. Davis being Davis.”

  Sure enough, he quickly returned, and he’d apparently washed his hands. This time, they let her pick how they’d fuck her. She chose Davis to fuck her doggy style while she straddled Kirby, who rubbed his condom-clad cock along her clit while Davis fucked her, making her come one more time.

  As soon as Davis had come and pulled out, Kirby immediately took his place in her pussy, pounding his cock into her and finally coming, pulling out all too soon for her liking.

  She’d be glad when the tests were done.

  Collapsing on top of Kirby, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his fingers lightly tracing up and down her spine.

  Davis touched his forehead against the back of her head. “I’m going to go to bed.”

  She turned to get a kiss from him. “Can I come cuddle with you for a few minutes?”

  He paused, then nodded. “Okay.”

  When he left, she looked down at Kirby, who grinned. “Take the chance,” he said. “Come back when you’re done.” He sat up. “I need to clean up anyway.”

  She used Kirby’s bathroom and then followed Davis into his room. She’d seen the inside of his room but hadn’t been in his bed yet.

  Davis emerged from the bathroom and turned off the bathroom light. There was enough light from the hall filtering in from the living room for her to see by. He climbed into bed and scooted toward the center, making room for her.

  She climbed in next to him, almost afraid to move too much. “Is this okay?”

  He felt for and found her hand, lacing fingers with her and drawing it up to his chest where he held it. “Yes.”

  “Do you mind if we talk for a minute?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “The stuff you said at the club while you guys were talking to me. I really liked that.”

  He gently squeezed her hand. “I’m glad.”

  “Did you mean it?”

  “Yes.”

  She wasn’t sure how to proceed without sounding needy. “Do you mind if I call you Sir, too?”

  “I don’t mind. I’ll find you a leather collar and cuffs for us to play with you in.”

  “You…you will?”

  “Unless you don’t want any?”

  “I-I do! Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome.” She thought maybe he was starting to doze off when he spoke again. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For not freaking out when I was stupid and how I revealed our history to you. I didn’t know he hadn’t told you or I never would have said it.”

  “But it was good that way. Look what happened.”

  “I would have hated myself if it scared you off, though.”

  “Takes more than that to scare me off. I’ve had a bad track record, if you forgot.”

  “I have an eidetic memory.”

  In the dark she couldn’t tell if he was joking or being serious, so she just let it go.

  There didn’t seem much else to say, but she didn’t want to simply leave without saying something. “I can’t wait until you guys get your test results. I mean, I can, but—”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing if you can deep-throat my cock,” he softly said.

  Her heart pounded. He was such a man of contradictions. From his tone, he could have just as easily said, “I want to paint the ceiling blue.”

  In the dark, it was easier, to be honest. “I’m looking forward to that, too, Sir. I’m looking forward to the two of you using me.”

  He shifted onto his side, facing her, still holding her hand. With the other, he stroked her face before leaning in to kiss her, long and sweetly. “Maybe you’ll be spending a lot of weekends here dressed in nothing but cuffs and a collar.”

  Just like that, she could picture it, too.

  “I would like that, Sir,” she whispered.

  He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go on back to Kirby now. You sound tired.”

  “Thank you for tonight, Sir. I enjoyed it.”

  “So did I, sweetheart.”

  She climbed out of bed and headed for the door, pausing. “Door open or closed, Sir?”

  “Closed, please. But feel free to leave Kirby’s open if he wants that.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Okay, that was starting to come all too easily to her.

  She softly closed the door behind her and returned to Kirby, who tucked her against his side.

  “How’s our boy?”

  She let out a soft laugh and told him about what Davis had been saying while she was on the bench, and their conversation just then.

  “Cuffs and collar, huh? I like that idea a lot.”

  “Me, too, Sir.”

  He kissed her. He’d left his TV on, so she could see his face.

  As he stared into her eyes, he nuzzled her nose. “Will it freak you out if I tell you I love you?”

  Her heart had just started settling into a normal speed. At that, it took off racing again. “Not if I can tell you I love you, too.”

  He smiled. “I know this won’t be easy. But either it’ll work out, or it won’t, and I don’t want to be afraid to tell you that.”

  “Will he be okay with that?”

  “We’ll see. Just…like I warned you. Go easy with him. Let him set the speed. He’ll surprise you. As he figures things out, he’ll catch up. You and I can meander all over the place and multi-task and stuff. He’s not like that. He thinks more in a straight line and has to transition between things. And what he’s working on in his mind might be well behind where you are. Be patient with him.”

  * * * *

  Kirby had given up trying not to get his hopes up. He knew he was in love with her, and he desperately wanted this to work.

  Hopefully, Davis would be on board with this.

  “Kim said at dinner tonight that Davis watches me all the time.”

  “He does. I saw him doing it, too. He’s studying you, I think. Maybe studying his emotions about you. I don’t know. But it’s good.”

  She settled in to go to sleep, and even after she relaxed in his arms and her breathing slowed and deepened, he lay there and tried not to think things he shouldn’t.

  Like he’d love to see her with not just cuffs and a collar, but a wedding ring on her hand.

  For the first time in his life, he was actually letting himself engage in fantasies about that.

  Because for the first time in his life, he’d found a woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  Chapter Twelve

  Melanie needed Sunday and Monday night alone to let the good aches and pains ease up and to recover from the weekend.

  Best weekend of her life, but she wasn’t used to being ridden like a rental pony.

  Not that she was complaining, but no wonder Kim was in great shape. Keeping two guys happy—and having two guys keeping her happy—helped burn some calories.

  Tuesday evening, Melanie wasn’t sure what to expect. Over the past two days, in text and on the phone, Kirby had drilled the basics into her brain, the things to steer clear of.

  The things n
ot to be upset over if they happened—or didn’t happen.

  The good signs.

  The warning cues.

  Hopefully, they’d have a calm, pleasant evening.

  Kirby assured her if that was the outcome, she should count it as a win worthy of Olympic gold-medal status considering that she hadn’t known Davis for very long.

  And she’d offered to pick Davis up, meaning they’d make their reservation.

  When she pulled into the men’s driveway, Davis’ car sat parked there, but Kirby’s wasn’t.

  Again, she’d expected this. Kirby had told her it’d be better if he wasn’t home when she picked up Davis, because it might somehow derail the evening if Davis shiny-squirreled and headed off on a tangent.

  But Davis pleasantly surprised her. She’d no sooner pulled in next to Davis’ car than the front door opened and he emerged.

  Once he was in the car with her and had greeted her with a hesitant and slightly awkward kiss on the cheek, she got them headed toward the restaurant.

  “Thank you for driving tonight,” Davis said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I know Kirby coached you.”

  “You…do?”

  “He told me.” Davis stared out the windshield, not at her. “It’s all right. I appreciate the thoughtful gesture.”

  “Thoughtful?” She wondered if this was some of the mild and unintentional sarcasm Kirby had warned her about.

  “That you cared enough and took the time to do it. And that Kirby took the time to coach you. It means you care. A lot of people don’t bother to get to know me because it’s a lot of work for them to understand me.”

  “Oh.” She had to quickly reorient her emotions. That wasn’t exactly where she’d expected him to go.

  Then again, Kirby had warned her about that, too.

  “You’re welcome,” she finally remembered to add. “I do care about you. A lot.” Forewarned, she didn’t make the statement, even though she knew that boat had already sailed in terms of what she felt for both men.

  She glanced his way. He was nodding, but didn’t say anything.

  Fighting the urge to fill the silence, she let the radio play. They were almost to the restaurant when Davis spoke again.

  “I care a lot about you, too.”

  She’d call that a win. “You don’t mind that I’m involved with both of you?”

  She’d already pulled into the parking lot before he answered. The way his brow furrowed had her worried. “I hadn’t honestly considered something like this before. Well, since college. To be brutally honest, I never imagined myself in this kind of a situation.”

  There was a parking spot available in the shade, so she took it. “How do you mean?” She wasn’t even sure she wanted to hear this.

  He still stared out the windshield, even though she sat right there and he was staring at the side of a Dumpster in the parking lot next door.

  “I know my brother gets irritated at me, and I understand why. But I’m not a robot. I have urges and feelings and emotions, even if I can’t always easily express them the way other people can. I learned early on that most women don’t have the patience to try to have more than a superficial, short-term relationship with me. I don’t resent them for it, either.”

  Now he looked at her, and his gaze, while starting around her chin, slowly rose until she was looking straight into his brown eyes. “Thank you for taking the time to get to know me and seeing me as more than some stereotype or an annoyance. The closer I am to someone, the easier it is for me to express myself to them.”

  She laid her hand on the seat, next to his thigh. “I don’t see you as a stereotype or an annoyance. I like that you’re honest, and I’m actually relieved that there are firm ground rules you won’t change on a whim. No mind games. No…bullshit. It means a lot to me.”

  His fingers edged toward her hand and he lightly stroked the top of it. “‘Whimsical’ doesn’t describe me. Neither does romantic, if you were wondering.” His fingers stilled, but now his whole hand lay on top of hers. “I’ve never trusted someone before. I mean, besides Kirby and my parents. I trust you.”

  “Thank you for trusting me,” she quietly said.

  “I love you.”

  Melanie tried to process that and failed. Before she could ask exactly what he meant, he continued. “I don’t mean that metaphorically or sarcastically, either. I mean romantically. I’ve never felt this way before. I haven’t had serious relationships like Kirby has, but what I feel for you is far different from any person I’ve chosen to be with. I think, considering we haven’t known each other very long, it means something important. I hate it when you leave. I hate having to be away from you. I anticipate how long it is before I can see you again. Eagerly. When I got home from work last night I kept pacing the house and finally realized it was because you weren’t there.”

  This was something she’d honestly never anticipated hearing from him. Which she’d been okay with, knowing the issues he dealt with. “I love you, too, Davis.”

  “Are you saying that because you think I want to hear it, or because you feel it?”

  “Because I feel it. Kirby warned me not to say it before you did.”

  Davis’ gaze dropped again, focused on her nose or lips, she wasn’t sure. Then, he slowly started to nod. “That was wise.”

  “Can I ask why?” Yes, Kirby had offered his opinion but she wanted to hear it from Davis.

  He seemed to need to think about it. “Because women have said it to me when I didn’t feel like that and I ended things with them even if the rest of our relationship was enjoyable. I didn’t want them to…be hurt. I tend to know very quickly if a person is someone I won’t be able to open up to like that. Obviously, the answer in the past has been not. I don’t mind having a physical relationship with someone without loving them, and some women don’t mind that, either. But I won’t take advantage of someone.”

  And there was the crux of why she loved Davis.

  She said exactly that to him.

  More slow, thoughtful nodding. “Should we go inside?”

  If she didn’t know what she was dealing with before now, she might find it frustrating.

  But fully aware of Davis and his ways, she found this endearing and yet another reason to love him. “Yes. Let’s go inside.”

  * * * *

  Davis wasn’t oblivious to the fact that people who wanted to be close to him could find him frustrating.

  Melanie honestly wasn’t like any other woman he’d been involved with before. He was obviously physically attracted to her. Beyond that lay her uniqueness.

  She was patient with him, curious, genuinely interested in getting to know him better. She didn’t give lip-service to his idiosyncrasies.

  She didn’t appear to care what others thought about her or their relationship.

  No, she wasn’t an academic, but she was brilliant in her own ways. Her sense of humor, her wit, her common interests with them all drew him in. The tenacious way she’d worked her way into her position at her job.

  In some ways she reminded him of his mother, but not in creepy ways. She exhibited the same calm nature.

  She soothed him.

  Being with her quieted his brain and allowed his arrow-straight thinking and processing to pause and spread out, flow.

  Rest.

  Being with her rejuvenated him while most social interactions drained him.

  She was the first woman he’d ever been with who made him feel better upon her arrival, and worse when she left.

  And wasn’t that the definition of love?

  That she’d taken the time to talk with Kirby and learn about him touched him. He’d warned women he’d dated in the past about that, to talk to his brother before making their decision to pursue a relationship with him.

  None before her had truly taken that to heart. He was too much work, too high-maintenance in exchange for what they received in return.

  He understood that a
nd didn’t take it personally. He knew it was more about them and their expectations than him.

  There was nothing “wrong” with him. As with the neurotypical population, it was just a matter of eventually meeting a woman who would fit with him.

  Now, he had.

  That was exactly why he didn’t mind sharing Melanie with Kirby. Because Kirby could fill in the missing pieces. He wasn’t jealous of his brother, or Melanie’s relationship with him, because it made Davis happy to see her happy, and it made Davis happy to see Kirby happy.

  Wasn’t that the true definition of compersion that the polyamorous people talked about? What was wrong with that?

  So many interactions in his life drained him. Kirby didn’t drain him, but only because his brother knew him.

  His parents didn’t drain him even though there were still things they wanted from him that pushed the limits of his patience at times.

  Melanie didn’t drain him.

  She inspired him.

  Inside the restaurant, Melanie deferred to Davis about their table, even though they didn’t have much of a choice. He held her chair for her before sitting,

  “Is this all right?” she asked when the server had taken their drink orders and left them with menus.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean, the table. Everything.”

  He reached across the table and brushed his fingers across the top of her hand. “Everything is fine.”

  And for once, it absolutely was.

  * * * *

  Davis had surprised Mel once again by asking to drive over to Siesta Key and walk along the beach to watch the sunset after their very pleasant dinner together.

  Even more shocking, he’d asked to hold hands while they walked.

  They were past the “can I ask you a question” phase. Davis had outright told her during dinner that he welcomed her questions, and wouldn’t consider them rude.

  “Why does physical contact bother you sometimes?”

  “Tactile sensitivity. Part of it depends on who it is. I’ve learned to tolerate things like handshakes from coworkers or in social settings when necessary. I don’t enjoy it, but like many things it was a long process of desensitizing myself to it. Intimate contact like hugging or holding hands or more depends on the person and my relationship to them and whether my desire for the contact overrides the discomfort the contact might bring.”