“Then you’ll just need to turn the table so you have room to kneel by the couch, both of you,” I declared. “Since the surface you’ll be retrieving the marshmallows from is me.”
Payne grinned while Wylde’s eyes widened a fraction, then need flickered in them, and I watched his expression shift and begin to morph into something soft and needy right before my eyes.
“What if it’s a tie?” Wylde asked as he pulled the cushions off the two matching chairs and placed them beside the couch, so they’d have something comfortable to kneel on.
“Then you both get to massage me,” I replied.
Payne slid to his knees with graceful, practiced ease, while Wylde used the arm of the couch to help him get into position.Seeing him struggle left me struggling to remember the last time he’d gotten on his knees for me. Not since before my bull riding wreck almost two years ago, when he’d knelt beside our third, the pair of them taking turns sucking me off while I’d praised them and stroked their hair, going out of my mind from the pleasure of having their mouths on me.
Wylde’s gaze never left my face, while my eyes wandered from him to Payne and back again. They were stunning that way. Silent, waiting for me to tell them to begin. I tucked a throw pillow beneath my head, wrapped my arms around it, and finished getting comfortable, and still they waited without moving a muscle, eyes trained on my face, awaiting my command.
“You can set up the game now,” I said. “Six marshmallows each.”
Wylde reached for the bag and carefully shook it over my back, counting them until he had twelve, while Payne picked up the straws and passed him one when he’d finished. The marshmallows were soft, and the ones that rolled down to the small of my back made me shiver, which caused a few others to roll and left me struggling not to chuckle and make a mess of the game before it could begin.
“Straws ready,” I said, keeping my voice low so talking wouldn’t jostle the marshmallows either.
They placed their straws to their lips and nodded.
“Begin.”
One by one I felt the marshmallows leave my body. Watched them turn their heads to drop the marshmallows on the plates, Payne’s second one hit the floor while Wylde managed to get his on the table, pick it back up with the straw, and put it on the plate before trying for the next one. A marshmallow flew off Wylde’s straw and bounced off my nose on its way to the spacebeyond the couch, while Payne giggled and dropped his in the process.
Next round, they were ditching the straws; fuck it, as long as Payne was okay with it, I wanted to feel their lips on my body while they picked up those marshmallows. In the end, Wylde won, five to four, his eyes eager and hopeful when he waited for me to give him permission to claim his prize. Had I neglected him in this capacity? Shit. I had. He’d arrived still healing, and he’d embraced all that the Ranch offered, joining me in the Dungeon and sharing subs with me. We’d played side by side, and never once had I thought that maybe he might have wanted me to play with just him.
And Wylde, being Wylde, had never asked me for anything. He’d just let me lead and played enthusiastically with that golden retriever energy of his.
Now I was beginning to wonder if I’d taken it and him for granted. Had he jumped at Derek’s request for us to host Payne and see to it that his needs were met and his fantasies played out the way he desired because Wylde’d hoped for a chance to share in a moment like this?
He was still waiting, silently watching, that hopeful expression beginning to shift into a guarded one that was not a good look on him.
“I’ll take that back rub now,” I told him, loving the way he scrambled to climb up on the couch to straddle my back.
“Wait,” Payne said, scrambling to his feet as well. “I have massage oil in my room.”
Watching him scamper off, I was glad he wasn’t wearing one of his tails, because it offered an unimpeded view of his ass as it swayed and bounced.
“He’s special,” Wylde murmured as I shifted my hips, glad for a wide couch that allowed me to center myself while he straddled me.
“So are you,” I replied. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been giving you what you needed.”
“All I ever needed was for things to get back to the way they used to be before I screwed everything up.”
“Wylde…”
Payne’s return ended a conversation we would be picking back up again, because he was still brooding about the way things had gone south with Cory. If he thought I blamed him or was holding a grudge, then my declaration that we were never going to talk about Cory again was getting tossed right out the window, because there was no way we could move forward with that still hanging over our heads.
And I desperately wanted to move forward with him and with Payne, if he’d be interested in a pair of slightly broken-down ex-bull riders, because I could already see that he was damned good for us. If we could be just as good for him, then we’d have a dynamic that could truly work, one that might even have that storybook ending everyone was always going on and on about when it came to Rawhide magic.
The one I’d thought we’d lost forever when Cory had torn our worlds apart.
Chapter Eight
Wylde
“God, that feels good,” Thor slurred.
He’d flipped from his belly to lying on his back, Payne straddling his waist, slowly massaging oil over his pecs, up to his shoulders and across, before making his way down Thor’s arms, while I rubbed his calves and worked my way up to his thighs. The longer I had my hands on him, the hazier everything grew. Even the will-I-or-won’t-I tug-of-war I’d been wrestling with ever since I’d snagged that Bull and Barrel Bash flyer occupied less and less of my mind.