The Flame by Christopher Rice Read Free Book Online

surface.
    Waiting, Andrew thinks. Whoever, whatever, he is, he’s waiting for my permission.
    “Yes,” Andrew whispers.
    Instantly, the golden ghost touches one finger to the water. Andrew watches in astonishment as two glittering snakes of light travel under the surface of the pool.
    The nearer they come, the more his cock hardens. Then suddenly he feels himself lifted as if a whale is passing directly under him. Pleasure courses through his body from head to toe. The smells of Cassidy and Shane fill his nostrils; they bathe the back of his throat.
    Andrew realizes the sparkling gold tide hasn’t moved around him and that can only mean one thing.
    No, not possible, he thinks. I’d be in pain, terrible pain. At least, at first. Cassidy’s never even put a finger down there. And it was so fast, and there was no resistance. But the shimmering gold waves are gone now, and there’s nothing outside of him that could be sending these waves of radiant pleasure through his limbs. It feels like he’s being massaged by several sets of hands. Two sets of hands. But the pressure inside of him is something else altogether; it moves to a different, more powerful rhythm. It was outside of him before, but now it’s inside. His balls have drawn up so tightly he knows exactly what’s coming next, but he can’t believe it. Only one person’s ever been able to do this to him with the touch of her hand. Well, two people, if you count him . But never, not once, has he ever been able to do what’s about to happen without touching—
    His seed jets from him. He’s so dumbfounded he looks down into the water, tries to watch it happen with his own two eyes. But it’s too dark and the orgasm is so powerful it knocks his knees out from under him. When he throws his head back, his scalp touches the water’s surface. Will the pleasure literally drown him if he doesn’t get control? He flails madly to right himself. But even as he tries to stand firm in waist-deep water, he bellows.
    And then, when his breath returns, he gasps the word that was on his lips that night at The Roquelaure House, that word he didn’t have the courage to voice then as he watched his wife and her best friend kiss passionately for the first time, a word that filled him with excitement and arousal and satisfaction as he beheld the oneness, the beauty of Cassidy and Shane together at last.
    “Mine,” Andrew whispers.
     

6
    SHANE
    “Are you out of your goddamn mind, Shane Cortland?”
    “Easy!” Shane hisses.
    “Easy, nothing .”
    Samantha Scott glances around the restaurant to see if her outburst attracted attention from any of the other diners. It did, but she doesn’t seem to care. Before Shane can catch his breath, she’s back to glaring at him as if he just informed her, a few bites too late, that her shrimp remoulade has magic mushrooms in it.
    The wall behind her is covered in antebellum portrait paintings, Civil War muskets, and a succession of gilt-frame mirrors reflecting the crowded dining room. It’s certainly an ironic image; the sight of his black transgender friend, decked out in a banded plunge-V Donna Karan dress the color of Merlot, sitting before a collage of artifacts from the slave days. On any other night, Shane would get a kick out of it. But right now, he’s so surprised by Samantha’s anger he can barely look her in the eye.
    Perry’s occupies both floors of an old French Quarter carriage house and its expansive courtyard. The most popular tables are outside next to the fountain. But they’re sitting inside because he wanted to talk over things with Samantha in peace. He didn’t expect the place to be quite so packed. It’s a weeknight, after all. He also didn’t expect Samantha to pitch an epic fit when he told her about a wayward moment of sexual fluidity with Cassidy and Andrew.
    His veal cutlets swim in some of the finest beurre blanc he’s ever tasted. But the slow burn of Samantha’s anger incinerates his appetite.