Page 3 of The Handy Men
"You sure you're okay?” Jack's deep voice rumbled through her. Even though he was fully clothed, he was just as handsome as Dean. Jack had dirty-blond hair that he wore long, whereas Dean's dark hair was shorn close to his skull. She knew from watching them work shirtless that Jack had tattoos all over his fabulous chest, while Dean's tanned and toned body was unmarked.
"Yeah," Paige muttered, forcing herself to stop eye-fucking them. They were a good five years older than her, in better shape, oh and yeah, in a committed relationship—with each other. "I must have fallen asleep on my feet or something.” She gave a shaky laugh.
"You poor thing. You've been working yourself ragged." Jack stroked her hair, and it felt so damned good she almost burst into tears.
"Come on, let's get you back inside.” Dean slung an arm around her shoulders while Jack curved an arm around her waist.
The urge just to let them comfort her was too great to fight. She hoped they never realized how big of a crush she had on both of them.
2
Sure enough, Paige sank into a blissful sleep as soon as Jack and Dean started working later that morning. The monkeys and bad memories had fled as soon as they arrived, but she still felt like a wrung out dish cloth.
A bright sunbeam streaming in from the window rudely woke her a few hours later. With a groan, she looked at the clock on her nightstand. She had overslept and it was past lunch time. Stretching, she got up and took a shower. As the hot water pounded away the cobwebs, she took her time soaping up, sliding her hands all over her body until it was tingling. Maybe it was seeing Dean in those little shorts and nothing else, but she needed to blow off some steam. Arching into the shower spray, she set it to pulse hard bursts of water on her sensitive nipples.
Damn, she missed having her breasts played with. She could come just by that if the man knew when to be rough and when to be gentle. It had taken Fred years to get it right. Paige didn't want to think about him and pinched her nipple hard in punishment. Heat flooded into her, and she answered the need by dipping her fingers between her legs and strumming her throbbing clit.
Her mind wandered back to Dean, his tight body, and those V-shaped muscles on his sides that dipped into his pants. She wished she were an artist so she could ask him to pose nude for her. She could stare at his body for hours. When he worked outside, Paige would watch how his big hands moved. He was so sure of himself, so in control, so confident and sexy. He would spend time thinking about a project, and she loved watching his brow furrow in concentration as he analytically debated the pros and cons over using certain building materials. Dean would take his time during lovemaking. He would play the long game, going slow with caresses and deep, tongue kisses meant to tantalize and tease. She would run her fingers through his short brown hair.
She gave a little shudder of pleasure as she circled over her sensitive bud.
Then there was his husband, Jack. Jack was pure emotion to Dean's tight control. He was reckless and carefree, his grin infectious. He loved to try to shock her. When he stripped naked and jumped into the surf last summer, she had to pretend to be scandalized by all his tattoos, otherwise Dean would have caught her drooling. Jack's ass was incredible and he wore tight jeans to show it off—when he wasn't skinny dipping. His cock had been half hard—until the cold water hit him. But just the quick sight of that bobbing cock fueled her fantasies for months after.
A little moan escaped her lips as Paige pictured herself jumping into the water after him and into his arms. Jack would fuck like a man possessed, hard, fast, dragging you along for the wild ride.
Paige's orgasm shook through her and she leaned against the shower stall while the pleasure faded along with her fantasies. Sighing in slight frustration, she finished her shower and got dressed. Jack and Dean were never going to share their bodies with her, but it was fun to think about—if a little depressing. Promising herself some quality time later with Mr. Buzzy, her vibrator, Paige pushed away the aching need to be touched and concentrated on her things-to-do list.
At the top of it was making lasagna for Jack and Dean to take home for dinner, to thank them for being so sweet to her this morning. Being held, even if it had just been a friendly hug, had settled the jagged pieces inside her. It had been the most physical contact she'd had all year. Maybe she'd go get a massage. After all, human touch was important.
Very important.
While the lasagna was cooking, Paige made up a tray of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade then went to find the boys. In addition to their excellent carpentry and other skills, Jack was a plumber and Dean an electrician. She found them on the second floor. The first thing she heard when she crested the stairs was Dean cursing the central air unit. She couldn't blame him. It really should be completely overhauled and replaced, but summer was just a month away, and she didn't have the funds for it this year. Jack was finishing up the bathroom in room five and didn't look up when she poked her head in.
Leaving the tray and pitcher in the hallway on a side table, she went back to her own chores. The rest of the day passed by in a whirlwind of little things that had to get done, but it left her feeling like she didn't accomplish a damned thing. At least the lasagna came out perfect. She wrapped it up and went back up to the second floor to tell them to call it a day.
They weren’t there, but the five rooms on the floor looked perfect. Paige slumped in relief. That just left the third floor to finish in the next few weeks. They were right on schedule.
She went back downstairs with the tray of empty dishes, and put the lasagna into a portable cooler. It was a quick walk to the board walk. She might be able to catch them before they took the ferry to the mainland. It wasn’t like them not to say good-bye after they finished up for the day. Paige hoped they were all right.
Mrs. Mulberry was out strolling with her husband. They gave her a careful nod in greeting as they passed, which almost passed for warmth for New Englanders. Paige gave them a cheerful smile but wasn't gauche enough to engage in conversation. It was hard to get used to the norms of the island society, but aside from one visit from the town council when she wanted to have—gasp—pink shutters, Paige had fit in.
Walking along the beach path, she grinned at the pavilion where in the summer the tourists could shower and change. It was also a make-out spot at night. Paige had fond memories of letting her summer crush get to second base on the wooden bench in one of the changing rooms.
She heard a deep moan, like someone was in pain.
Paige rushed into the pavilion, thinking someone had been mugged or something. She passed by the showers and was about to call out when she recognized Dean's voice.
"Oh," he moaned, and the way her pussy clenched, it was clear he wasn't in any pain. "Just like that."
She placed the lasagna on one of the benches. Not daring to breathe, she peeked between the door and the frame of the changing area. Just to make sure he was all right, she told herself.
Dean's eyes were closed. His dark head was tilted. He leaned back against the far wall. Jack was on his knees in front of him giving his lover an enthusiastic blow job. Paige sagged, her mouth gaping wide. They were both naked. Jack's fine ass was on display, and it was all she could do not to walk in and beg to join them.
Okay, you had your look. They're fine. They're more than fine. Give them their privacy, she scolded herself. Paige might have been able to tear herself away, but then Dean moaned again.
"Oh fuck. Fuck me. Damn," Dean continued his litany, gripping the back of Jack's blond head.
Paige pictured his fingers in her hair, pulling her in so he could slip his cock down her throat. She swallowed in reaction.
