This is an excerpt from the upcoming Fireworks.
Las Vegas was August hot, but neither of them cared. The forty-eight hours had been an unexpected gift, and they’d had no plans other than getting away and getting laid. They’d booked two rooms, knowing they’d spend the days together and the evenings in their respective beds with some willing and generous woman. And there were women everywhere.
Single women. Women in pairs. Women in large packs. And they were all looking back at Dale and Morgan who were looking at them. Las Vegas—neither of them had been to the city before—was like a giant smorgasbord of possible sexual encounters.
But Morgan and Dale were enjoying each other’s company, the company of the brother neither of them had, the company of the one person in the world who understood and never questioned, because each of them always knew what the other was thinking.
So they enjoyed the pool, then the poolside bar, then the long, hot showers, and the light meal they’d grabbed on their walkabout of the rest of the hotel. They talked about everything and nothing and watched the women walk by, contemplating the possibilities—not of getting laid; that seemed to be a given—but of who might be the one.
Neither of them could have expected what actually happened.
They’d eventually headed for the quiet bar in the lobby of the hotel, far away from the glitz and noise of the casino. The plan was to finish their catching up, then split up, meeting for breakfast the next morning. Late the next morning if all went well.
But their plans—and their lives—changed when Sue had sauntered into the bar, did a quick scan of the room, walked right over to them, and sat down at their table.
She lifted a finger, mouthed, “I’ll have what they’re having,” at the bartender, and smiled at the two of them.
“I’m Sue. I’ve got a one-night break between meetings and…” She paused to take a sip of the drink the server placed in front of her. “Hmm, Macallan. Love it.”
When Morgan and Dale had spoken of that moment later, Dale had echoed his astonishment. And the immediate and intense excitement.
“I have this fantasy,” she continued after a few more sips of her scotch. “And I’m hoping you’re the boys to fulfill it.”
Dale, always the talker, replied. “We’ll do our best.”
Morgan nodded, because that’s all he could get his head to do. He wasn’t even sure he could speak. Because the image he had in his head was blowing his mind. He wondered, just for a moment, whether he’d always thought about having sex with Dale in the bed with him.
It was about Dale, he thought, but it wasn’t only about Dale. It was somehow all wound up with Dale and a woman, Morgan touching Dale, Dale touching Morgan, but also, and equally as important, touching the woman. As if her anticipation, her excitement, her orgasms would add to his, would make their experience even more.
Morgan was pretty sure he would never have set out to find that experience; it was a fantasy, a fantasy he kept carefully hidden. But here she was, offering him what he’d wanted forever.
At least that’s what he hoped she wanted. And he was going to do everything in his power to ensure that his fantasy, as well as hers, came true.
“Sue,” he said. “I’m Morgan, and this is Dale. I’ve got a fantasy as well, and I’m thinking, okay, I’m hoping, that your fantasy and mine are the same.” He didn’t dare look at Dale, didn’t want to see—or imagine—any hint of discomfort in his eyes.
He should have known better. Dale was up, in every possible way, for anything. And everything.
“And Morgan’s fantasy—whatever it is—is okay by me.” Dale gestured at the bartender and ordered another round. “But let’s get it out on the table so we’re all on the same page, okay?”
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