Forbidden Heat

She could hardly wait to arrive at Trey’s.

Nine

Danielle pulled into Trey’s driveway, beside the torch red Mustang. Jake’s car. He was already here. The two of them were waiting for her.

She grabbed her bag from the backseat and raced for the door, then rang the doorbell. She waited impatiently for the door to open, wanting to throw herself into Trey’s arms—or Jake’s—as soon as the door opened.

She heard the click of the lock, and then the heavy oak door opened. Trey stood in front of her looking incredibly sexy wearing . . . well, very little. He wore a white shirt collar with a small bow tie, and shirt cuffs . . . but no shirt. Just a broad expanse of well-toned muscular chest and bulging arms. Slim-fitting black pants covered his lower body. Clearly, he was dressed to be her manservant . . . and she licked her lips as thoughts of exactly how she might make use of his services swirled through her mind.

“Mistress Rayne. Welcome.” Trey bowed, then stepped back to allow her to come inside.

Jake stepped into the room, wearing the same outfit, carrying a tall stemmed glass of white wine. He handed it to her while Trey took her bag down the hall, probably to the bedroom.

/> “Would you like to come into the kitchen while we prepare the meal?” Jake asked.

“Certainly,” she responded, falling into the role.

Jake led her through the kitchen door into Trey’s wonderfully large, bright kitchen with its light-stained wooden cabinets, white tiled countertops, and white appliances. Such a difference from Jake’s kitchen with its elegant dark-stained cherry cabinets, black marble countertops, and stainless-steel appliances.

A platter sat on the counter with large pink shrimp and bright yellow lemon wedges on crushed ice, a bowl of red sauce in the center. Beside that stood a gray marble tray with a variety of cheeses and fancy crackers and another platter with fresh-cut vegetables and dip.

“Would you like to sit at the table or the counter?” Trey asked.

Like in Jake’s kitchen, Trey had a sitting area at the counter with tall stools, but that’s where the similarity ended. Jake’s house was all streamlined elegance whereas Trey’s house had a homier, more casual feel. Trey’s living room had cozy cloth couches and carpet whereas Jake’s had tailored leather and dark oak hardwood.

She glanced toward the round table in the breakfast nook surrounded by windows and facing the large backyard, kept private by a tall hedge surrounding the property.

“I think I’ll stay by the counter. Close to the food.”

Jake pulled out one of the high stools under the counter bar and she sat down. He turned and stepped toward the white oven. She watched his lovely tight butt as he leaned over to check whatever was cooking inside the oven. She sipped her wine, enjoying the delicate, slightly fruity flavor. Trey returned and smiled her way.

“Is there anything I can get you, mistress?”

Mistress. Mmm. That had a delightful ring to it. In fact, it sent thrills through her as she imagined both men following some very interesting commands.

She wanted to order him to kiss her, then strip off her clothes, or his . . . or maybe Jake’s . . . but she didn’t want to speed things along too much. Especially since they’d gone to a lot of trouble to prepare a lovely meal.

“I’d like a shrimp.”

The platter was right in front of her, but she smiled at him rather than reaching for one.

“Of course, mistress.” Trey lifted one of the lemon wedges lying on the ice and squeezed it onto a plump shrimp, which he then dipped in the red sauce. He brought the juicy morsel to her lips.

She opened and he slipped the end of the shrimp into her mouth. She bit off a piece, and lemon juice dribbled down her chin as she chewed. Trey stroked his finger along her chin, gathering the juice on his fingertip, then held it to her lips. She opened her mouth, then lapped at his finger. She grasped his hand and drew his finger deeper into her mouth, sucking lightly . . . then released him.

“Would mistress like some celery?” he asked, his chocolate brown eyes simmering.

She nodded, and opened her mouth. He fed her a small green stick with dip. A few moments later, Jake joined them, and the two of them alternated feeding her. Soon she found herself filling up on veggies and shrimp, while starving for the taste of male flesh.

A timer went off and Trey opened the oven and brought out a big flat pan. A wonderful aroma filled the room as he transferred the contents onto a platter and set it on the countertop. It had an attractive display of items, such as glazed chicken chunks on skewers, bacon-wrapped scallops, and little triangles of stuffed phyllo pastry. From the delicious aroma, with a hint of cinnamon, she suspected the latter were filled with spiced beef.

“They smell wonderful,” she said.

Jake picked up one of the scallops and fed it to her.

“Mmm.” She picked up a pastry and held it toward him. “Time for you to try.”

He took a bite, careful not to burn himself on the contents, chewed, then licked his lips. She watched his tongue outline his mouth, longing to do the same with her own tongue. He leaned forward and nibbled the rest of the pastry from her fingers, then nipped her fingertips. She felt her finger pulled into his mouth, and he sucked lightly. The feel of his warm mouth surrounding her sent heat thrumming through her body.