The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(74)

This flipped Trey like a giant switch.

He moaned, every muscle in his body jerking as he spewed semen over them.

Playing voyeur must have wound him up. The fountain sprayed pretty high and went on longer than usual.

Rebecca let go before Zane did. He couldn’t seem to stop stroking Trey’s penis.

“God,” Trey panted. He put his hand over Zane’s. Zane did stop then and looked into his eyes.

“Thank you,” Trey said so seriously Zane probably should have laughed. He wished he could laugh, but he felt serious too.

“Fair’s fair,” he said, wondering if fairness truly had dictated that hand job.

Before the moment could get more awkward, Rebecca lifted off him and called dibs on the shower.

~

Rebecca didn’t know which man’s bathrobe she’d borrowed on her exit from the sybaritic bathroom, only that it smelled heavenly. Unable to resist, she inhaled through the fluffy lapel as she padded back to the bedroom.

The bed, which was empty, looked like a hurricane had hit it. In spite of being excellently pleasured twice recently, her flesh tightened at the sight.

“Over here,” Zane called from the sitting area behind the arch. “We rustled up a snack.”

Rebecca’s stomach growled. She’d only tasted the food in the Lounge tonight. Turning, she saw the men sprawled in armchairs in their underwear. Their snack was spread across the round table between them. She spotted sliced smoked salmon, a big tin of caviar, and two bottles of Louis Roederer Cristal chilling in silver ice buckets. Both men were toasting bread on long forks over a small gas fire.

The fireplace turned the scene into a wet dream, its flames flickering cozily over the muscled limbs of the two big men. The air conditioning justified the warmth—sort of.

“It’s August!” her sensible side felt obliged to say as she walked over.

Trey flashed teeth in a grin. “We have to toast the bread. Caviar doesn’t taste as good on plain.”

Delicately, so as not to break the eggs, he spooned a portion onto a finished slice. He passed it to her hand like the rare treat it was.

“This is Ossetra,” she said, staring at the glossy gold rounds in awe.

“Petrossian Special Reserve,” Trey informed her.

Rebecca gulped. Comparable in quality to Beluga, this stuff ran upwards of a thousand dollars for a five-ounce tin. Chef though she was, it was so expensive she’d only tasted it once before.

Laughing, Zane pressed a cool flute of Cristal into her other hand. “Come on. Who better to appreciate this luxury than someone with your palate?”

“I need to sit down for this,” she said.

Zane helped her into the third armchair.

“Eat,” Trey coaxed, taking a bite himself.

Rebecca bit down on the loaded toast. Amazing flavors exploded in her mouth. The large-scale caviar was the perfect texture: firm, smooth, the taste a layering of butter and nuts and sea.

“Mm,” she hummed, closing her eyes to absorb it. She felt as if she’d been transported to Mother Russia, to some wintry gray seashore. When she lifted her eyelids, Zane and Trey were fighting laughs.

“You look like that when you come,” Zane explained.

“And you definitely need more,” Trey said, before she could blaze up in a blush.

They ate the decadent feast together—laughing, licking fingers, and enjoying. The salmon was nearly as good as the caviar, the chilled champagne the perfect accompaniment. The food was gone by the time Trey popped the second bottle.

“You do that as neatly as my head chef,” she praised.

“Practice.” He poured for the others and settled back in his chair. “Somewhat to my surprise, Zane is a champagne hound.”

Zane grinned unabashedly, likely a little buzzed. “I’m about more than beer and burgers.” He stretched his bare legs until his feet bumped hers. “You’re wearing my robe.”

This appeared to please him.

“It smelled good,” she said.

“It smells like bad boy,” Trey clarified and laughed.

“Is that an inside joke?”

“We’re testing a new men’s fragrance,” Zane said. “Called ‘Bad Boy,’ of course. We’ve both been wearing it. We’re hoping to launch it next Christmas.”

“It’s nice on both of you,” she observed.

Smiling, Trey slouched deeper in his chair, arms flung out in relaxation, feet nudging hers like Zane’s were. He seemed not only amused but happy, drunk perhaps but not impaired.

This is what he wants, she realized. Trey had no hesitation where he loved. His heart’s desire was to draw both of them close to him. Zane’s body still held a hint of tension, not much but it was there. Like her, he didn’t let down his guard easily. Also like her, he found a lot to admire in Trey.