Ruff Trouble

Chapter 3-2

The two men might as well have been statues. Chantelle rolled her eyes although no one watched, and, in the dim light, only Bobby could have seen. Sam lay on his back, arms braced against Bobby’s chest. Her man hovered on all fours over him, resting his weight with sufficient force against Sam’s hands so Sam must be aware of his strength. They stared at each other, one hunter, one prey, but neither appearing to know how to proceed. She was about to speak when Sam said, “H-How are we going to do this?”

“Well, I think you two need a little help, and as I’m the woman here I think we should start as we intend to go on.”

“Meaning?” Bobby’s lips barely moved. Chantelle struggled not to laugh at the apparent mastery and warning in his voice.

“Meaning I get my way.” She stalked toward the bed naked. Sam’s gaze flicked her way, although she must be a mere shape in the darkness to him.

“Have…” He had to clear his throat. “Haven’t you two had enough s*x tonight? I mean…”

“Yes, honey, what do you mean?”

“Well, when I left, you two…” He didn’t finish. Chantelle eased her way onto the bed.

“When you left, it cooled our ardour, since we wanted you to stay and play.”

He flushed. She smelled the rush of blood more than saw it, but it was there. She also heard the rumbling growl easing into Bobby’s throat. Placing a cool hand to his neck, she gave him a silent warning to take control and hold on. He shouldn’t take Sam yet. Things needed careful explaining before that occurred, and better to ensnare his heart first.

“If you don’t want me, Sam, say so.” Despite being positive Sam would be happy as a trio, she wanted to hear him confirm it. Nothing she or Bobby wished for meant true force even if they were willing to entice and persuade.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“What I’m saying is, if this works out, we’re not talking about one night.” She stroked his brow. He and Bobby hadn’t moved. With one hand touching Sam’s forehead and one on her man’s neck, she felt connected to both men,

“We’re…not?” Sam’s sounded more disbelieving than anything else; he didn’t accept rather than failed to understand.

“No. And we’re not teasing.” A flicker in his eyes told her she’d guessed right. “I’m saying if you only want Bobby, I’m fine with that but, Sam, honey, I’d love for us to be a true family.”

“F-Family?” He spoke as though he didn’t know the meaning of the word and his tone made her heart jolt. Sam’s words—silent confession almost—did strange things to Bobby’s smell. Bobby pressed to a greater extent against Sam’s hands as if he tried to break through some barrier. Sam’s arms shook with the strain, but held him off. “I’m supposed to believe you both want me?”

He didn’t trust them and she didn’t blame him, but Bobby experienced the pain of Sam’s doubt most of all; this time no way could she make him hold back his growl. To cover the sound, Chantelle bent and spoke into Sam’s ear. “What part of being in a Sam and Bobby sandwich sounds bad to you? Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“I’m not…” Sam’s eyes took on an introspective look if ever she saw one, but she also picked up Sam’s doubt in his smell. “Why would you?” he whispered so gently, she was unsure whether he asked them or himself.

This time she laid both her hands on him. Shooting Bobby a glance he would understand, she sent a silent apology his way. She’d noticed Sam’s desire, but his emotions had masked so many other things, including self-doubt. Sam didn’t see himself as desirable. Maybe his damaged leg was a part of his uncertainty, but it didn’t account for the level of dubiety in Sam’s expression, in the way his body and lips trembled. Neither of them had expected this.