Free Sing for Your Supper by Jaime Samms Page A

need—”
    “Sordid, isn’t it?” Matt asked, trying valiantly, but failing utterly, to keep the grin out of his voice.
    “We don’t need anything,” Jim corrected. He, too, took a couple of steps closer. “We do fine as things are.” His eyes flickered, and his fingers flexed lightly. He was attempting not to close up, not to snap his shell up tight.
    “But you get tired of random ass when you can get it,” I guessed. “And you just don’t quite care enough to do that for each other?” That was the part that confused me. If they loved each other, couldn’t they? Once in a while?
    “Jim does.” Matt delicately shrugged off Jim’s glare. “I—can’t.” The tight, pinched tone of his voice said there was a big ‘Something’ behind that one word. I didn’t press. I had a pretty good idea what the something might be and didn’t feel the need to know the details. His arms had wrapped around himself, and he moved a few paces closer to Jim, who enclosed him in a tight bear hug.
    “Sorry. Matt—”
    He shook his head. “Believe me, I tried. I wanted to.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jim, and still, even inside that close embrace, Jim’s warm, dark gaze holding him even closer, he shivered.
    I nodded. “Okay.”
    “Okay?” Matt’s eyes brightened again, and my insides did an odd flip at seeing the darkness pass.
    “I mean…we’ll see. Both of you…” I swallowed, trying to ignore the delighted shivers sliding over my skin. “I do need to ride horses for a living.”
    Jim let out a big, rolling laugh that slammed into me like a wall of endorphins, and I found myself grinning stupidly.
    You have so landed in the shit, my friend.
    For once, I had to agree with my inner voices. I was in deep, and whether I ever sat in a saddle again, I was certainly well on my way to putting Luke Driscoll and everything he had done behind me.

Chapter Eleven

    Much to my frustration, they let me sit through a new raft of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee with an aching hard-on. I could not focus on getting fork to mouth, and in the end, drank a bit of juice and managed half a piece of toast.
    My plight amused them to no end, then they heaped insult to the injury be insisting the dishes be washed up before anything else happened. I offered to wash, just wanting the job done.
    “Perhaps a naked maid,” Matt mused.
    “Fuck off and pick up a towel.”
    “I don’t have any intention of fucking anything but you, darlin’,” Matt assured me, ignoring my order and standing close enough behind me I could feel his cock flirting with my ass.
    I moaned, in spite of my resolve not to show the effect their cockiness was having on me.
    Matt chuckled, slid his hands up under my shirt and proceeded to play with my nipples, rubbing, pinching, and finally, twisting so that I jerked and gasped, and he whispered happy praise in my ear while he did it all. By the time he was done with me, the dishes were forgotten, though I still had my hands dangling in the soapy dishwater, and my sleeves had slipped down to wick moisture up to my elbows.
    “Well. That will never do, will it?” Matt asked, removing his hands from underneath so he could unbutton the shirt and slip it off my shoulders.
    I clamped my lips shut, determined not to make a sound, though I did remove my arms, one at a time, from the sodden sleeves. It brought my attention back to my task, though, and I went back to scrubbing plates.
    “Halfway there,” Jim rumbled from his seat at the table.
    “I’m working on it,” Matt assured him.
    “You both suck.”
    “Careful,” Matt warned, a tease in his voice, “or we just might start there.” He lifted a hand to touch my lips, and I couldn’t help it. I moaned, just a little, and let him slip a finger between my lips. He didn’t have to tell me suck.
    Comes second nature, now.
    Possibly it did, but his whispered pleasure, caressing my ear as he withdrew the finger to slip his hand into the back of my pants, sent