Sticks and Stones

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The edges of Paul’s vision began to blur, but he didn’t care. He felt warm behind his eyes, and his arms dangled loosely over the side of the chair. Lilah had put on one of her jazz records at some point, and the music flowed over him and through him. He didn’t know just how many drinks he had had. He remembered Martin pouring two. And he remembered Lilah pouring one. But there was no way he had stopped at three. Especially since the image of Jack faded more and more with each drop of alcohol.

“I should go home.” Paul sighed. “It’s late.”

Lilah’s long legs came into view. She always wore her skirts just a little too short, like she wanted every man in the room to check out her smooth thighs and the strong curve of her calves. “So soon?”

“I’ve been here for hours. Haven’t I?”

“Yes,” Martin answered. “But that’s why you should stay. Schary would kill me if I let anything happen to his biggest star.”

Paul smiled. He liked the sound of that. Schary’s biggest star. MGM’s biggest star. f**k Jack Wells. And f**k Betty Thayer, too. They couldn’t take that fact away. “I don’t want Schary to kill you. I’ll stay tonight.”

Lilah’s warm weight settled across his lap, her arms looped loosely around his neck. The scent of Shalimar filled his nose, and he turned his head away from it to sip instead at the last of his whiskey.

“You worry too much.” Scarlet-tipped nails tickled across his nape. “And you worry about the wrong things.”

From his seat on the couch opposite, Martin said, “You’re not helping, Lilah.”

“What?” The heavy weight of her hair brushed against his cheek as she swiveled to meet her husband’s amused gaze. “All I’m saying is Paul is better off focusing on number one. He’s wasting too much energy thinking about everyone else.”

Paul pushed Lilah’s skirt higher up her thigh, letting his fingers linger on her bare skin. That was more for Martin’s benefit than his own. Marty liked the way his wife looked when another man touched her.

“What are you saying? Forget about Jack and Betty, and focus on what I need to get done?”

“Exactly.” Her warm breath fanned over his ear, followed by the faint trace of her tongue. “The only person you can truly count on to get what you want is you.” Behind her, Martin cleared his throat. “And maybe Marty.”

What Paul wanted was to send Jack to the streets where he belonged. Jesson wasn’t going to help him. Schary wouldn’t help him. Marty couldn’t help him. He gathered the material of her skirt in his fingers, exposing more of her ass, and tilted his head. From that angle, he could see Martin watching the two of them, his whiskey forgotten. Lilah nipped at his earlobe, then soothed the soft bite with her tongue.

“I think you have an excellent point, Lilah. I love the way your mind works.”

Martin’s eyes had steadily darkened, the longer Lilah perched on Paul’s lap. When Paul slipped his hand between her thighs, Marty shifted in his seat, exposing the thickening line of his erection. His nostrils flared, and for a moment, his gaze locked with Paul’s.

“Well, I love her dearly, but my wife is selfish.” Whenever circumstances progressed to this point, Martin always resorted to referring to Lilah in proprietary terms. Paul knew from experience it added to his arousal. “Take what she says with a grain of salt.”

“It’s called self-centered, not selfish.” She cupped the back of Paul’s head to keep him still, the tips of her fingernails digging into the flesh. “And I see no reason why he shouldn’t take care of himself first.”

Paul cupped her ass with his free hand, grinding his thickening c**k against her damp panties. He suspected the thought of her husband watching her respond to another man got her juices flowing. Paul didn’t care. Especially since he was more focused on her husband anyway.

“Besides, Marty, you should want me to be self-centered. I’ll spend a lot less time bitching to you about Jack.”

“I haven’t secured a position on the production team yet.”

“Ha,” Lilah said. She turned her mouth down his neck, biting increasingly harder at his tight skin. “He says that like it would stop you from storming into his office anyway. Or over here.”

He traced the line of Lilah’s underwear before dipping his fingers under the material. Her ass was firm and soft, and he couldn’t stop himself from kneading her flesh. Martin shifted on the couch, moving to lean against the arm and stretching his legs over the cushions. He toyed with his zipper, drawing Paul’s attention squarely to the bulge in his pants.

“You’ll secure a position,” Paul said confidently. “Jesson is an i***t, but he isn’t a complete fool. He knows that you’re the only one who can really handle me on set. And if he drags his heels, I’ll just become more difficult until he doesn’t have a choice.”

“And you question Jack’s past behavior on his films?” The slight tease in Martin’s voice softened the gibe, not that Paul cared about much more than the fact that watching Lilah attack him was getting Martin harder and harder. “Lilah…” Now his voice had gone husky, further evidence of what the scene was doing to him. “I think Paul would prefer you on your knees.”

She pouted as she pulled away, but obeyed Martin’s directive without fail. Paul sipped at his drink while she slid off his lap, and spread his legs to give her room to kneel.

Lilah watched him from beneath her lashes as she worked his belt free. As soon as she unzipped his pants, her attention shifted, her eyes locked on his erection. When she stopped watching him, Paul was free to look back to Martin. He had his c**k in one hand, and his shirt pulled up, exposing his flat stomach, and the trail of hair that led from his chest to the dark hair at the base of his c**k. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and Paul couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Probably the red shape of Lilah’s mouth as she touched her lips to the tip of Paul’s c**k.

“I don’t doubt I’ll be able to find a place on the team,” Martin said, as if he hadn’t just ordered his wife to suck Paul off. He pulled at his length in long, slow motions, dragging his palm over the tip before descending all the way to the base again. “But I just don’t want you to lose sight of the big picture here, Paul.”

Lilah dragged her tongue over Paul’s crown, gathering the salty pre-come with long, slow licks. His groin tightened, but he resisted the urge to thrust his c**k deep into her mouth. Paul liked it when Lilah took her time. The longer she took, the longer Paul could focus on Martin’s length. He still remembered how angry he had been when Martin first started dating Lilah. If he had only known Lilah would change things for the better, he would have welcomed her into their lives with open arms.

“What’s the big picture?”

Martin’s free hand disappeared into his open pants. The rustle of the material over his knuckles meant he was kneading his balls, a realization that made Paul grip his tumbler even tighter.

“You have all the power here, regardless of what Jesson or Schary might do. You’re a known quantity for the studio. You’ve earned them more money than they can spend in this lifetime, and your career has shown no signs of slowing, even when you made that dreadful war flick two years ago. Lilah, stop playing and suck him.”

Lilah obediently opened her mouth and drew Paul’s head past her lips. She sank lower and lower, slowly swallowing more of his length, until she finally reached the base. Paul moaned at the soft, wet heat enveloping him. It made his head spin and his ears ring. Lilah was very good at what she did. She didn’t even mind if Paul sat back and let her do all the work. In fact, Paul thought she might prefer it that way. Martin wasn’t unaffected by the sight—his hand began to move faster.

“Jack, on the other hand, is probably just a fluke,” Paul said. “A flash in the pan.”

“Jack isn’t a sure thing,” Martin softly corrected. “My point is, it doesn’t matter. When this movie is done, you will still be Schary’s shining star, audiences will still demand your movies, and you will look even better to the press and the brass for putting up with any antics Jack might make during filming. You can’t lose, Paul.”

Paul nodded. Martin was right. Paul did have a secure place in the studio. So he couldn’t control who he worked with. He knew that when he signed his first contract with MGM, years and years earlier. But he could still make it to the other side of the shoot smelling like roses. While Jack had nothing to fall back on. In fact…

Lilah’s teeth caught on the ridge of his c**k, distracting him from thoughts of Jack. He jerked, pushing his c**k deeper into Lilah’s mouth. Martin jerked, too. Like he could feel Lilah’s teeth on his own flesh. Paul’s mouth watered. He had to swallow, but his throat was tight. Almost as tight as Lilah’s felt.

“Does she feel good?” Martin’s voice was almost a whisper. Any pretense at their conversation was now gone. Now it was need, pure and simple. “You’re both flushed.”

Paul sighed. “She feels amazing.” This part was for Martin. “I’ve never felt anybody like her, Marty. I want to f**k her throat.”

“You heard the man.” Martin brought his hand up to his mouth and licked the palm, using it to help slick his strokes when he returned to jacking off. “Swallow him down.”

Lilah smoothed her slim hands over Paul’s thighs, but the touch was too light to be anything close to what he needed. He wanted something stronger, something harder, something he’d feel hours from now. He settled for focusing on the sounds Martin couldn’t contain anymore, the soft grunts when the heel of his hand pushed into his balls, the tiny exhalations that matched Lilah’s quickening breaths. When Lilah slid down Paul’s shaft this time, she didn’t hesitate when the tip nudged the back of her throat. It slid all the way in with a careful flex of her muscles, squeezing around his length in heady invitation.

Paul cupped the back of her head, his fingers sinking in her perfectly styled, dark hair. He held her lightly, though he itched to tighten his grip and force her down until she moaned with protest. She didn’t resist the pressure on the back of her skull, responding instantly to the weight of his hand. He gradually guided her into a faster rhythm, watching as Martin’s motions mirrored his wife’s. He never went faster or slower than Lilah’s mouth. His c**k glistened in the overhead light, his fingers smearing pre-come and sweat with each stroke.

The muscles flexed in Martin’s stomach, tight and succulent. They had been friends for a long time, but Paul thought he looked better now than he had in their youth, his body harder, more defined. That was Lilah’s influence, he knew, and yet another thing to be grateful to her for. He didn’t get to see Martin like this nearly often enough, but considering he hadn’t gotten much at all before Lilah entered the scene, he would take what he could.

When Martin abruptly sat up, Paul lost his rhythm with Lilah. She protested when his fingers tangled in her hair, but he was too absorbed in the way Marty rose to his feet, his hand still tight around his shaft. Pre-come had gathered in the slit, and every step Marty took closer sharpened the desire to know what it tasted like.

Their eyes met. Without a word, Martin folded his hand over the one Paul had cupping Lilah’s head and helped him pull her up. Paul’s c**k fell with a soft slap against his stomach. All three of them groaned—Lilah in protest, Paul at his best friend’s proximity, Martin with the last, almost vicious, pull of his length. He angled the tip downward, and in the next moment, shot all over Paul’s prick.

Paul shuddered as the hot come rolled down his shaft and tangled in his hair. Lilah immediately leaned forward to catch it with her tongue, but Paul stopped her. He knew he was probably pulling her hair. He didn’t care. He just wanted to feel the warmth on his flesh and pretend for a moment—just a moment—that it would be Martin leaning forward to clean it up.

Martin did bend, but he caught Lilah’s mouth, distracting her with a hard kiss. Paul immediately closed his free hand around his shaft, stroking once to spread the come. He brought his palm up to his mouth, licking the fluid from his skin, almost moaning at the salty flavor. Almost moaning because this was as close as he would ever come to tasting Martin.

His taste buds still popped at the tang of Martin’s come when the other man broke away from the kiss and pushed Lilah back down. She devoured Paul’s c**k, all niceties stripped away, and together, Paul and Marty forced her head up and down his length. Her chin slammed into his balls, driving them against the zipper of his pants, but not even the slight sting was enough to hold back his impending orgasm. Moan after moan rippled through him. Lilah’s. Martin’s. His own.

Paul brought his hand back to his face, inhaling the faint scent of Martin’s skin. He closed his eyes, imagining Martin kneeling between his legs, imagining the firm pressure of Martin’s lips. The faster Lilah moved, the easier it was to pretend it was Martin. The other man’s fingers curled around Paul’s, and he looked up into Martin’s dark, blue eyes. They were still heavy-lidded with lust, but now there was something else there. A knowing light. Their gazes locked just as Lilah swallowed around his shaft. Paul caught his breath and a low wave of pleasure rolled through him. His c**k jerked, spilling come into Lilah’s eager throat. She slurped hungrily, swallowing every drop.

Every muscle went limp and heavy when he spent his release, and Paul sank back into the chair, dropping his head to the back. Martin smoothed his hand over Lilah’s hair, easing her away, and she tumbled into his arms, pushing him back to the carpet in her hunger.

“In just a moment, Lilah,” Marty said patiently. “Go wait for me in the bedroom.”

The look on her face was less than pleased at having been put off, but she went anyway, leaving them alone.

“You mind if I crash in your chair?” Paul asked. He didn’t want to crash in the chair, but he never felt comfortable inviting himself literally into their bed.

“Of course not. But you’re more than welcome to join us.” His mouth tipped. “You’re always welcome.”

“You’re too good to me,” Paul murmured, tucking himself back in his pants. “Lilah, too. What can I do for her to return the favor?”

“I’m sure she’ll think of something.” He mirrored Paul’s rise, his gaze steady. “Can we agree to leave talk about the movie out here for the night?”

Paul paused long enough to finish the whiskey in his glass, then set it back on the table. Even with the whiskey against his tongue, he could still taste Martin’s come. He always enjoyed going to bed with Lilah and Marty. Sometimes, he participated. Sometimes, he just watched. But he was surrounded by the spicy, masculine smell of cologne, and if he occasionally touched Martin’s hard body, nobody said a word about it. He supposed, in a way, he might be using his best friends, but he didn’t feel guilty. They had invited him to join them. They had made the first move. And he always let Lilah instigate the contact. Did she know why he played along?

Paul was pretty sure Martin knew.

“No problem. Your house, your rules.”

Martin clapped him on the back as he guided him toward the bedroom. “You have no idea how nice it is to be able to hear you say that in at least one place.”

Paul smiled. He needed this. He needed to blow off a little steam, have some fun, and indulge his needs. By the time he left Martin’s house, he’d have a better view of the world. Even if Jack Wells was still in it.