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The little dog ran straight through my legs, then circled back the other side. It was white and brown and looked like a baby beagle. Only it wasn’t a beagle, it was a dachshund.
“I didn’t know they even came in this color!” I cried.
“It’s a double-dapple piebald,” said Preston. “The color’s caused by a recessive gene.”
Adrian looked strangely at him, so he shrugged.
“That’s what the shelter told me, anyway. So I looked it up.”
I was down near the floor now, where the dog was busy sniffing and licking my face. Preston took our coats. He hung them next to one of Jax’s many EMT jackets.
“Awww… what’s your name, boy?” I asked the dog, while scratching its long, sleek sides. It immediately rolled over to give me access to its belly.
“His name is Guido.”
Two little ears perked up instantly, at the sound of the dog’s owner calling its name. Guido still didn’t move though. He remained contentedly on his back while I ran my nails down both sides of his ribs.
“Guido…” I repeated, thinking aloud. My eyes shot up to meet Preston’s. “As in Guido van Rossum?”
Preston’s grin told me he was suitably impressed. “Holy shit, yes!”
“Who’s Guido van Rossum?” asked Adrian.
“The Dutch programmer who created the Python programming language,” I said nonchalantly. I kept scratching away, while shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”
“What is?”
“This is the first time I met a wiener dog that wasn’t named Nathan, or Frank.”
“Or Sabrett,” Adrian added with a smile.
Preston laughed along with us as he made his way to the kitchen. “Nah. Low-hanging fruit.”
I heard the clink of glasses as he rummaged around in the kitchen. The three of us had been drinking wine all night. We’d already spent hours laughing and talking and picking on platters of tapas at a local Spanish restaurant. But right now I was ready for something else.
“Wait, when did you get a dog?” I asked, suddenly realizing Guido hadn’t been here the last few times I’d been around.
“I’ve had him for years,” Preston replied. “I uh… well, I sort of share custody.”
“With an ex-girlfriend?” I mused.
He shrugged and smiled. “Guilty as charged.”
Guido got bored once I stopped petting him, and went back to his comfy-looking dog bed at the opposite end of the room. Still, I couldn’t help but chuckle out loud. Partly from the wine, but also because I found it interesting that all three men in my life were sharing custody of someone or some thing. Silently I wondered if that’s what made them so okay with sharing. They were used to it.
Right now I was in the company of two out of three of those men, and only because Jax was working another marathon shift. When I called hoping one or more of them would take me out tonight, he’d let out a long, shocking string of scathing curse words. I promised him a raincheck, and to even cook him dinner. He promised me it would be a short dinner, and that he’d be eating dessert first.
He also left no doubt that I would be the dessert.
The whole conversation made me wet, but not nearly as wet as I’d been tonight at the restaurant. After waiting at the bar so we could get a booth near the back, the guys took turns flirting with me, feeding me, and then ultimately kissing me… right in full view of anyone who might be watching.
It started off subtle at first. Adrian would guide my mouth to his with a gentle hand, letting the kiss linger as our tongues explored for as long as they dared. A minute later I was kissing Preston, enjoying the two different hands roaming up and down my thighs beneath the table.
This went on for a while, happening intermittently and without prompting. I was left breathless as they passed my lips back and forth, kissing me like they owned me, none of us in any hurry to finish eating, drinking, or playing. Eventually though, the sense of urgency grew. With each passing hour I could feel the electricity between the three of us rising, until I was so slick I was literally sitting in a puddle of my own wetness.
As the waiter brought the check I had my hands safely under the table, working two very hard and uncoiling cocks beneath my eager palms. I squeezed them both through the fabric of their slacks, letting their owners know in no uncertain terms that the three of us really needed to get home soon.
And now here we were, one very brisk ten-minute walk later. The cold wind had invigorated me even further, charging me up for the welcome warmth of Preston’s apartment, and the heat that would inevitably follow. We’d chosen Preston’s place mainly because Adrian was completely out of wine. But also, I suspected, because he planned on doing something in Jax’s bed.
