Dangerous Boys and Their Toy

by Shayla Black

  fuck?

  Suddenly, Brenna gasped. “Oh my…wow.”

  “Are you watching me touch Thorn?” Cam asked, stroking back up Thorn’s dick.

  The sensations were heaping one on the other, overwhelming, earth moving. If he couldn’t get a grip, he was going to lose it.

  “Yes,” Brenna answered breathlessly.

  “Like it?” Cam challenged.

  “Yes.”

  Brenna’s whisper slid across Thorn’s skin. This was pleasing her. Arousing her. Thank the gods. If it had repulsed her, Thorn wasn’t sure he really could find the will to tell Cam to stop. The detective held him in the palm of his hand—literally.

  Thorn had had hand jobs by the hundreds. Usually, getting him to come like this was a long, slow—and frankly boring—process. But he’d never had one so unexpected, never had one from a man. He wasn’t sure what the difference was, maybe a more thorough knowledge of male anatomy and a firmer grip, but less than a half-dozen strokes into this and Thorn was so on the verge of losing it.

  “Want to undo him together?” Cam asked.

  “Can we?” Brenna breathed.

  With his free hand, Cam petted Brenna’s hair, caressed her shoulder, cupped her breast. “I have no doubt, sweet girl. On your knees. You suck, I’ll stroke.”

  Thorn looked down to see Brenna lowering herself to the carpet and wearing a huge smile.

  Why the hell were they trying to unwind him like this, when they had all the control and he had none? What did they want to prove? Crap, he should stop them, should tell them to fuck off.

  Instead, Brenna’s mouth closed over the tip of his erection and lowered down to Cam’s fingers, which still gripped his base tightly. Together, they worked their way back up his shaft.

  Oh fucking hell.

  That quick, his heart began to pump in his chest, roar in his ears. Their hands elsewhere on him—a brush of Cameron’s fingers across his nipples, or Brenna’s grip on his ass—was pounding his self-control. The sensations were like a fiery free fall, a jump from ten thousand feet. He plummeted into desire, falling, falling…

  As one, Cam and Brenna worked back down his dick, until he felt the head bump the back of her throat and Cam’s thumb and finger ring the base in a grip that nearly had him whimpering.

  Damn, if they kept this up, he was going to blow everything, all down her sweet little throat. And while he loved a good blowjob—and this would rank as one of the best ever—he wanted to fuck her more. While Cam fucked her too. Where he could exert some control over the situation and make someone else come with him.

  “Stop,” he croaked.

  In response, Brenna eased back and swirled her tongue over the head of his cock. Cam’s hand followed, that lethal thumb slicking over the sensitive flesh left wet by her mouth.

  “No,” Cam whispered.

  Fucking bastard! Pressure gripped his balls, soaked in acid pleasure. Damn! Falling into orgasm all by himself while they held all the control scared the shit out of him. Thorn gritted his teeth, trying to stave off the need to come. He might make it another minute or two if he focused on things like the formaldehyde smell of the morgue or the torture of geometry proofs.

  “I don’t want this,” he growled.

  Brenna took him deep in her mouth again, her tongue all around him as Cam kept a tight grip on his cock.

  Every muscle in his body tensed. This couldn’t happen, not him coming alone under their hands while they watched. It was too…intimate. Brenna was down on her knees, and he couldn’t reach her pussy in order to make her come. But Cam… He was the instigator of this shit anyway. Saint Cam should suffer as well.

  Pushing aside the voice in his head telling him the idea was insane, Thorn grabbed the waistband of Cam’s jeans, tore open the buttons, yanked down the zipper, pushed down his underwear and grabbed the guy’s cock.

  Familiar, yes—the hardness, the silken skin, the heat—but different. Cam was longer, and Thorn’s stroke felt like it went on forever before he reached the head of the detective’s cock. Yet Cam’s was less thick. In some ways, this dick was easier to stroke than his own. Cataloguing the differences was certainly distracting, and as Thorn massaged the head of Cam’s erection with a hard press of thumb, the detective groaned long and loud.

  His own need eased off now that his attention was wrapped up not in his own ramp up to orgasm, but Cam’s. It helped that Cam was too sidetracked to keep stroking his dick. Now if he could convince Brenna to ease off with her sweet mouth. But she just dragged up and down his length like a wet fist sucking the self-control out of him.

  Suddenly Cam’s hand joined the action again as if he refocused. Thorn doubled his effort, establishing a lightning-fire stroke up and down the detective’s cock. But Cam stayed in control.

  And the feel of Cam’s hard flesh in his hand only aroused Thorn more.

  Brenna and Cam worked together again in perfect synch to cover every inch of his erection. She fondled his balls, and the feel of her fingers in uncharted territory set him tipping toward the edge of pleasure.

  Cam’s grip tightened, his thumb rubbing a sensitive spot just south of the head. Thorn’s blood pounded and his body flashed with heat. Brenna’s teeth scraped the head. He closed his eyes, fought to hang on…one breath, another, but they just kept coming at him with strokes designed to destroy resistance and sanity.

  Brenna moaned around his cock, and Cam cradled his balls in his palm, press-rubbing one finger on a very sensitive spot just beyond.

  “Nice try,” Cam whispered in his ear.

  When had the bastard gotten that close?

  “But distracting me won’t work. I won’t come before you do. Or even with you. I want to feel you come while we touch you.”

  Brenna’s mouth slid down his cock again, her fingernails digging half-moons into his thighs. The stick of pain, along with the erotic confusion, pushed him to heights he’d never been.

  But he refused to go before he understood what was going on, damn it.

  “Why?” His voice cracked with restraint.

  “You need us. If you’re not ready to admit that out loud, I want to see your body admit it for you.”

  The thought that he might need anyone made him sick. When you needed people, they shit on you, took advantage of you, used you.

  “No,” he ground out long and low and loud.

  Brenna eased off his cock and bit the inside of his thigh. “Cam’s right. You say I’m more than a lay. Prove it. Give yourself over to me and Cam.”

  Hell, this was some sort of power play. Some emotional bullshit. With Cam, when wasn’t it? And they were asking for his surrender, his soul. Giving in scared the shit out of him.

  Yet…he pictured himself at their mercy, not just being stroked by them, but Brenna’s lips lovingly brushing his, Cam’s hands reverently gliding over his body, and him just standing here and taking it.

  He shouldn’t like it, couldn’t need it—but the vision slammed him and ripped the control from him. Blood raced to his dick, and his heart chugged. Every breath he took, he smelled a mixture of Brenna’s floral sweetness and that mysterious something that made Cam unique.

  Though he’d squeezed his eyes closed, Thorn could feel the detective exhale, the guy’s breathing every bit as harsh as his own. The end was here, fighting it was getting so damn hard. If he couldn’t find a way to get his shit together, he was going to come for them, show his vulnerability. Fucking hell.

  Thorn scrubbed a hand across his face, and smelled Brenna’s juice on his fingers. He loved her pussy, and that just aroused him more. Explosion was seconds away now, right on top of him.

  “You want to come?” Cam taunted as he palmed his cock with another mind-bending stroke. “You going to give in to us?”

  “Fuck.” He gritted this teeth. “You.”

  Cam laughed. “Maybe someday. Right now, I want you to come right in my hand, right in Brenna’s mouth. Give us everything so we can feel it.”

 
; No matter how much he wanted to repeat his last response, Thorn really couldn’t find his voice. Or anything resembling a coherent sentence. He certainly couldn’t find any resistance.

  The sensual torture was so powerful, it was like being run over by a train. Thorn’s chest rose and fell like a bellows. Pleasure broiled his balls. His spine felt like it was quickly melting, and blood ran through his veins as if it was charged with a thousand volts.

  But he gritted his teeth and held on. He couldn’t afford to be so vulnerable, to show this much of himself. Yes, it was more than sex, but that didn’t mean it had to be a soul-baring free-for-all.

  Suddenly, Cam’s chest brushed his. Thorn latched onto his biceps for support, and could feel it bulging and flexing as Cam worked his cock. Thorn tried to keep a constant effort on Cam’s dick, but need shut down his coordination, and he ended up gripping the erection as if it was a lifeline.

  Brenna gave another strong suck, lavishing attention on the head of Thorn’s cock. His toes curled as he pictured her on her knees, mouth stretched wide to take him.

  Then Cam put the nail in his coffin.

  The detective leaned in until Thorn felt the man’s breath on his neck. He shuddered as a hot chill raced through him, but Cam proved he wasn’t done when he nipped at his lobe and whispered, “Come for us.”

  Brenna licked the side of his shaft, then promised, “We’ll catch you.”

  Thorn couldn’t hold back, no matter how much his brain screamed. No matter how dangerous succumbing might be. He wanted to believe in her. In them. Cam wasn’t the kind to play head games for the hell of it or blow sunshine up anyone’s ass. Brenna had been hurt herself by a dismissive parent. Neither would be intentionally cruel. And unless he didn’t want to be alone for the rest of his life, he was going to have to trust someone sometime—even if it scared the shit out of him.

  Brenna sucked him deep, and Cam gripped his shoulders and forced him to meet his stare. Dark, sexual, unbreakable. A silent promise. He would be there.

  Breath rushed in and out of his body, and his skin was on fire. Blood raced like molten lava. The pleasure grew beyond acute. Unbelievable. Bigger not only than anything he’d ever experienced, but bigger than anything he’d ever imagined. Brenna was unhinging his soul. Cam was sucking it in through that compelling stare.

  And Thorn chose to let it go.

  He gave over the control he’d been clinging to, like a toddler with a favorite blanket. Security was for sissies…and men who’d fucked hundreds of times and never truly been intimate with anyone.

  The pleasure was like a towering wave, coming at him, enormous, scary, threatening to drown him. Then it broke over him, and he shouted, electricity charging every cell, every nerve. The sensations drowned him as hot seed erupted from his dick. Brenna’s tongue was there to take everything he gave her, and Cam never looked away, the grip on his shoulders always stable, always there.

  Ecstasy plowed him flat as the orgasm went on and on. Time, place—gone. Only him and Brenna and Cam in a locked circle of release and support.

  Then his legs began to give out. Muscles felt weak and spent, unable to even support him, and he lunged for the bed. He didn’t quite make it to the soft mattress, but Cam was there to catch him and help him the extra way. Brenna was right behind, soothing him the second his body hit the sheets.

  She caressed his cheeks, peering into his eyes as she half lay over his body. Concern and something more was in her hazel eyes. Thorn didn’t have a name for that something—he’d never seen it. But he imagined that’s what love looked like.

  “You did it.” She bit her lip, her pretty eyes misting with tears. “You let yourself go for us.”

  Cam climbed on the bed, lying over the other half of his body. And he wasn’t weirded out. It was…comforting, the other warm, solid body. When the other man wrapped a hand around his shoulder and worked his hand up to his neck, Thorn shuddered and shut his eyes. It was so fucking intimate. He was being both invaded and eased at once, and it was too much.

  “You did good,” Cam murmured.

  There was happiness in his voice. And pride. That got to Thorn. When the hell had anyone been proud of him? Anyone at all?

  Tears hit the back of his eyes like a thousand electric-charged needles. The second he felt the waterworks coming, he bucked and tried to sit up, tried to escape. Together, they held him down.

  “Don’t go,” Brenna whispered, brushing soft kisses over his mouth.

  “We’re here for you.” Cam squeezed his shoulder. “Always will be.”

  And he lost it.

  A hot well of tears sprang up, flowed over. His body was a flood of agony, release, need, fear, love. So fucking confusing and painful as sobs racked him. And they grew worse when Brenna and Cam wouldn’t let him cover his face or roll over to hide his face in the sheets. They just watched and petted him like a wounded animal.

  Their kindness and caring was everything he remembered wishing for when he’d been a boy wondering who his mother was and why she’d abandoned him to a father dealing drugs five feet from his bedroom in a rundown trailer. Everything he’d prayed for when money was low and drugs had grown scarce and his father had elected to take his frustration out on his younger son because the older was too big to beat. Thorn remembered eating flour and stealing canned food from the local minimart just to take the edge off the hunger gnawing his preadolescent belly.

  When the tears subsided, his eyes stung, his nose ran. Logic told him he should be incredibly embarrassed. How fucking unmanly, to cry after an orgasm. Instead, he didn’t think he’d ever felt more released. Unburdened.

  Clean and ready to make a new start.

  Chapter Ten

  “Tell me about it,” Brenna asked, wiping away his tears with gentle fingers as noonday sunlight poured through the bedroom windows. “Please.”

  Thorn sucked in a deep breath and glanced at Cam. The same request lurked there.

  “You two are like a heavyweight champ with a mean one-two punch. It was just…really intense.” He sniffled and hoped it looked manly somehow. “I’ve never been that blown away.”

  “We wanted to do that for you.” She kissed him again. “We wanted you to just be with us.”

  “But the real you,” Cam added. “Not who you are with every other woman you take to bed. We want to make sure you understand this isn’t just a fifteen-minute fuck.”

  Oh, he got the message. “Mission accomplished—and with all the subtlety of a steamroller.”

  Brenna and Cam shared a quick glance and a smile, then beamed it at him, and he felt like a part of the inner circle. Yeah, they’d taken from him, but they’d also given back a gentle understanding he’d never had in his life. They surrounded him with it, and if he believed in such New Age crap, he’d say he felt like he was glowing with it.

  He swallowed. “I was just…not sure about letting go. It hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past.”

  “What sort of past?” Cam demanded.

  “Oh, the usual. Shitty childhood that warped me. No mom. Dad was a drug addict and dealer, blah, blah, blah. I don’t want to make excuses. It’s just always been easier and safer not to give a shit about anything or anyone.”

  “You never get hurt that way,” Brenna murmured.

  Exactly. Thorn didn’t say it. Why state the obvious? Because one look at Cam’s face told him the detective understood.

  “You know we’re not accepting that.”

  “No shit.” But now what? “But I should beat the hell out of you for making me look like a pussy.”

  “We weren’t trying to make you look like a pussy,” Cam placated. “Just human. Just you.”

  And that was the only thing keeping him from getting really pissed. They hadn’t meant to tear him down and kick him. They meant to strip his defenses and get to know the real him.

  Would they like him if they really knew him?

  Thorn took a swipe at his heavy, itchy eyes. “Here I am. In