“Crap,” I said.
“It’s okay. Better in the long run to know early, right? I ended up buying a loft not too far from here.”
“So now you’ve got the bachelor pad?” Dean asked.
“I do. And it works. I prefer the single life.”
“You always have. Regular ladies’ man, this one.”
“You’re one to talk,” Ansel quipped.
Dean shot Ansel a look, and I wondered when they’d done their thing all the times they had. Was it recently? Long before? How much had they done it?
And would we?
I shifted on my stool, enjoying the shared history, the appeal of these two vastly different men—one a goddamn lady killer, the other one who not only rocked my world every time we came together but who had my heart. My imagination worked overtime trying to picture how this had played out behind closed doors in the past, and as Dean looked my way in question, I’d nearly reached my answer.
Especially when Ansel peered at me again. He raked a conspicuous gaze down my side before taking the subtlest bite of his bottom lip once he reached my shoes.
Yeah... I was most certainly into this.
Ansel said, “Hope it’s okay to say, but you’ve got some killer legs there, Maya. You work out?”
I flushed, but I could take a compliment. I said, “I run.”
“Distance? Sprints?”
“A mix. I ran track in high school and college. It carried over.”
“Damn. Never liked that kind of torture,” he said.
We shifted to sport talk, including his fondness for windsurfing, something I’d never tried but saw all over the bay. Dean joined in, but he also watched the interaction for long stretches in silence, taking tiny sips of his drink or tapping a finger on the table. I’d started to feel the most gradual of buzzes, and for some reason, him watching us banter had started riling me up more. If this was going to go down, he wanted to control it—so his scrutiny during Ansel’s and my conversation was doing a number on my anticipation.
After I finished the last sip of my wine, I lowered the glass to the table. “I think I’d like one more drink.”
“Sure,” Dean said.
“Me too. Why don’t I get it?” Ansel said. “I need to hit the head anyway. What are we drinking?” He pointed at each of our glasses.
“Scotch and soda.”
“Syrah. Thank you.”
“No problem. Be right back. You two don’t have too much fun without me.” Ansel winked and jaunted off. I turned my head for a second to watch him go.
Dean’s hand slid immediately over mine, his fingers hot on my skin, snapping me back to him. He was silent while he looked me over for what felt like forever. Then he said, “I think I know my answer.”
I bit my lip. My dress left far too much skin exposed for me to be this overheated, and while Dean turned my hand over in his, arousal coiled in my belly. “Is that okay with you?”
His head lifted, fell. He picked up his drink and swallowed down the last sip, narrowing his eyes at me before setting the glass down. “I want you to live your fantasies.”
I thought I saw a flicker of something behind his eyes that I didn’t recognize as he worked his jaw. “You’re sure?”
Dean leaned closer, reaching up for my mouth. He trailed his thumb over my bottom lip. “Just remember you’re mine.”
I smiled. I boosted myself up on my bar stool, resting on my forearms to kiss him. Dean closed his eyes when I did, and I nibbled his lip before I pulled away. “Always.”
I pecked him again, then took my seat. In the distance, Ansel emerged from wherever he’d found the restroom. He weaved around the tables with a body so firm and strong, the softest smile on his face as he mulled over whatever ran through his head.
“Good,” Dean said, and the race of my heart almost deafened me.
Assuming Ansel was in, we were going to do this.
For real.
Chapter Fifteen
“One Syrah, one Scotch and soda. Cheers.” Ansel held up his glass and I lifted my own, every inch of me electrified by the decision to move forward with this. The only catch was Ansel, but as he raked another gaze over me and clinked his glass against mine, I had a feeling he’d be on board. “Cheers to the sexiest woman in the bar. And the lucky man dating her.”
“Cheers,” Dean said, his face unreadable. I tried to contain the quaver of my voice when I thanked Ansel.
“No problem. Good?” he asked.
“Yes. Yours?”
“Pretty hard to mess up a gin and tonic.”
“Thanks,” Dean said.
“All good.”
I reassessed the situation in the silence that followed. Ansel and Dean eyed one another, sipping their drinks before Ansel looked at me. Dean watched this but he didn’t speak. My nerves were getting the better of me, and I didn’t know how we moved this forward. What I did know was that the air felt weighted, a thick fog surrounding the three of us while we flicked our gazes at each other to the commotion of glasses clanking, plates hitting tabletops and people laughing around us. The noise sounded miles away instead of as close as it was, and a few sips further into my wine, I knew that I wanted both of them, craved the prospect of them smothering me in their touch and of Dean leading the way all the way through.
I straightened, sipping faster than I should. Both of them noticed. Dean’s eyebrows lifted high, but it was Ansel who pitched toward me, the scent of his cologne dancing into my head before he spoke.
“So, I’m going to come right out with it. Are we going to do this?”
I choked on air. When I looked to Dean, he did nothing more than watch me. Waiting for me to speak. Between them, the pressure of their stares shot my temperature to an extreme.
“What do you want, Maya?” Dean asked.
Direct. Honest. Open.
I took Dean’s hand, my body shaking, but I gave Ansel my coyest smile. “Let’s go.”
Ansel bobbed his head.
Dean mumbled, “I need to settle our bill.”
“Oh, I already did.” A look of surprise crossed Dean’s face, and Ansel splayed a hand. “It was the least I could do.” He winked at me and stood, speeding my pulse with how fast things had leaped into gear. Dean rose from his stool to lift my coat and help me into it, though we were only going one quick elevator ride to our room.
Dean looped an arm around me. “Maya and I have a room downstairs.”
“Convenient.”
I was holding my breath. Dean’s hand stayed hot against my waist, and when Ansel took his place on my other side, we walked down the carpeted runway in silence. Did it look as obvious to the other diners what we were about to do as it felt to me? The thought propelled me forward despite the tingles running along my arms, making my head spin in our wait for the elevator. The doors parted, Ansel stepped in and Dean dug his fingers into my side as we followed him into the small car.
Dean pressed the sixth floor button. Before the doors closed, right in front of Ansel, he hauled me up against him, plundering my mouth with a fervent, heavy kiss. He was claiming me, his hands dragging over my back and ass, riling me up in this show. Already, I was wet, my stomach tangling up when the doors opened at our floor. Dean released me. The storm of his irises sent my heart clattering through my chest, but so did the firm grip he took of one hand—a second before Ansel caught the other one and enveloped it in the thick, meaty grip of his own.
Fuck.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as we walked down the hall, my thoughts getting the better of me. Dean swiped the key and we stepped inside, and he slipped off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the armchair by the door. He took advantage of Ansel doing the same, hooking his hand around my hip and tugging me into his chest. I moaned at the pre
ss of him against me, his fingers sliding up my neck and under my hair, his lips urging mine apart. In the corner of my eye, I saw Ansel watching. Dean’s tongue danced slow circles with mine, and I closed my eyes, the scent of him embracing me while Ansel came close.
Dean broke away, his stare boring into me. “What do you want first? Do you want to kiss him?”
Dean twirled me toward Ansel, the wobble in my knees forcing me back against his chest. My cheeks flushed as my body shook. Dean stripped off my coat, one side pulled back at a time, like he was revealing me in offering. Beneath Ansel’s white button-down I made out a muscular, broad chest and the faintest hint of the tattoo that ran down his right arm. His eyes lit up when Dean brushed my hair in front of my shoulder to kiss my neck.
“Do you?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Ansel didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him, not out of Dean’s arms but well into his. He was bold, as was the clutch of his hands up my sides with Dean standing at my back.
“You’re beautiful,” Ansel said. I closed my eyes when he tilted toward me, canting my lips to his. His mouth pressed to mine, softer than Dean’s, gentler, none of the stubble lining Dean’s face that I loved so much brushing against my cheeks. I parted my lips and let Ansel’s tongue inside. He twirled it in sweeps that devoured and sucked me closer in wild, wet laps. Dean kissed the swoop of my neck between bites of my skin, and I moaned against Ansel’s mouth. Through the whir of my mind, I felt Dean’s fingers opening up the zipper at the side of my dress, then hooking under the straps to slip it off. The fabric caught against Ansel before falling into a heap on the floor.
Dean was following the script I’d given him on our getaway, and my pussy clenched.
Ansel looked down at the black lace I stood in. “Goddamn, girl.”
I’d hardly breathed before he kissed me again. But Dean swept awareness though me, skimming his fingertips over the back of my bra. Once he started to unhook it, Ansel pulled me up against him, his heavy breath falling over my face and his body strong against mine. His cock was rock hard on my belly, and his full mouth stayed in a smile when Dean eased my bra off between us, exposing my taut, aching nipples to him.
“Do you want him to touch you?”
Jesus, Dean’s guidance turned me on. He pressed his chest against my shoulders, digging his fingers into my hipbones, knowing exactly how to drive me mad and make me moan. The reality of what was happening set in, a prickle of anticipation that swept through my blood and challenged my ability to focus on anything but pleasure.
These two? Fuck, yes.
Dean’s prodding fingers encouraged. I bobbed my head.
Ansel dove into motion, his hands on my breasts. He cupped them and stroked his thumbs over my nipples while I inhaled. Chaos stormed my head, and Dean tongued my neck and shoulders, then nibbled my earlobe. I lifted my fingers to Ansel’s buttons, fumbling with them until I could spread apart the sides of his shirt. I tilted back to find a thin layer of blond hair over his chest before I roamed my fingertips over the spread of his muscles and down the line of a stomach so chiseled with strength I uttered a quiet sigh. His body was cut and sculpted with hours of work in a way I’d always appreciated, but I lost sight of it when Dean took a hard bite of my neck.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
I spun to him, woozy, every limb tingling. I heard Ansel stripping behind us while Dean drove his tongue into my mouth. He pinched my nipples and dragged his hands over my sides, his kisses deep, needy. So good. I felt the throb of his shaft through his slacks, then his fingers tugging one side of my thong, then the other, creeping it down, down, down...
Ansel’s hands clapped onto my ass, grasping my flesh before he nudged his cock against the crevice of my ass. My eyelids flew open at his aggressive maneuver and the hearty rub of his dick on my skin.
My chest was going to explode, I was sure of it, pressed between them as I was.
Everything moved fast. Dean unfastened my shoes and shot back up, his fingers in my hair and Ansel gripping the sides of my thighs. Dean pulled back, grabbing my chin, thumbing my bottom lip, with his eyes dark and intense on me. He slid his other hand up between my legs to stroke the slickness of my cunt, and I gasped when he sank his fingers inside.
“Look at you...so wet. You’re dripping.”
Ansel’s cock lurched against me, and he teased a hand under the curve of my ass. “She’s luscious,” he said. Behind me, he was a force, his hands exploring my backside, my thighs, waiting for his turn.
Dean backed away and undid the buttons of his shirt, throwing it to the floor before shucking off his pants. “Do you want his mouth on you, Maya?”
“Fuck. I want my mouth on her.” Ansel leaned close to my ear. “If you want, of course.”
Time stood still, both of them waiting for me. Dean ran his palm over his cock, which was already so full, and Ansel rolled his hips up for me to feel him, too. The fact that neither of them seemed to be shy in front of each other turned up the heat and, past between them or not, I couldn’t get beyond this moment.
I moaned, “Yes.”
We were moving, Dean curving an arm around my waist to steer us back to the bed. I whimpered as he sat on the edge and caught one of my nipples in his mouth, biting it to bring a cry from me. Ansel groaned, and as Dean scooted back, he curled his finger to indicate I should crawl after him.
Ansel’s hands molded over my ass while I dove for Dean. I was overwhelmed with the attention already, by the steel curve of Dean’s shaft grazing his belly and calling to me. I wanted to wrap my lips around him, but he latched on to my chin and lifted up my head.
“Didn’t you want to suck Ansel tonight?”
A shock of chills spread through me. Dean took a bite of my lower lip, then Ansel grabbed on to my hips, stroking my flesh at the slow confirmation I gave Dean. His fingers crept higher up, more aggressive, nearly reaching my wetness.
Dean said, “Then do it.”
Ansel was as forceful as Dean, flipping me over and onto my back. I gasped and shimmied up a few inches to lay against Dean’s stomach, his cock pressing into my back while he fondled my breasts before gathering both my wrists in his grip and holding them tight to his chest. I’d pulled up my knees, my legs folded close, but once I stared into Dean’s face for direction, it was Ansel who spoke.
“Let’s see you.” Dean’s nostrils flared slightly when Ansel slipped his palms between my knees, but he held onto me as Ansel opened up my thighs and dipped down toward my sex. My legs quaked when Dean dug his fingers into my wrists, his jaw pressed against the top of my head right as Ansel’s mouth covered my clit.
“Fuck,” I cried. I closed my eyes, Dean’s grasp tight and Ansel’s rough palms coasting along my thighs while he lapped me up. He glided a finger inside my hole, and I arched back against Dean, fueled not by Ansel’s touch alone but Dean’s firm attempt to hold me in place. This is insane. I was soaring, panting as Ansel kept licking me, adding another finger to the thrusts he made in me. Dean slid his fingers from my breast up to my mouth, pushing two of them between my lips until I started to suck, and Ansel grunted against me to shove a third finger hard inside. I bit down on Dean’s fingers—long, beautiful ones that felt vastly different from the rough, thicker ones Ansel thrust in and out. He sucked my clit like he’d kissed me, wide-mouthed, eager, moaning. Dean whispered against my temple.
“Do you like this? Being dirty like this, letting him swallow you up?”
I lifted my head in answer, an impossible feat with the way he’d pinned me close, his fingers deep in my mouth. Yes, I did, Dean’s thickness digging into my shoulder blade, riling me up for him, for everything. For anything.
Ansel pressed the heel of his other hand on my pubic bone. I gasped. The pressure of his thrusts, the swishes of his tongue, the feel of Dean behind
me shot me into overdrive; the wave of bliss struck so hard I clamped my legs around Ansel’s face.
“Fuck, yes!”
Ansel rode my climax with a groan, and with his fingers lodged inside, he flicked his tongue over my clit. I kept crying out, but I heard Dean’s voice swimming ’round my head. “I don’t think you’ve ever come that fast, Maya.”
My breaths came like broken gusts from my throat, because the two of them together had turned me into a conduit of blazing lust. When I opened my eyes to the weight of Dean’s gaze, I could hardly make it out, my vision blurry, my body startled with how fast my orgasm had come over me.
Dean’s head ticked back and forth, his words deep, slow. “Do you want to show him how much you appreciated that?”
I jerked my head to catch Ansel standing tall, like some sort of Adonis with a smile on his face. His cock was all girth, dark and smooth, with not a trace of hair from a clean shave. I huffed out my exhalation and Ansel said, “Please do.”
I grinned. He was just pushy enough, cocky like I used to crave, and goddamn, it turned me on. And with this fantasy permitted by Dean, this chemistry whirling around us, I righted myself on the bed, high on lust, on this scene.
Ansel wove his fingers in my hair. I crawled up on my knees, smashing my body against his and revved even more with Dean’s eyes on me, because this was what I’d told him I wanted, and it playing out had my pulse crashing like a tsunami in my ears. Ansel’s dick throbbed between us, his eyes steady while I caressed his obliques, then around to the slopes and dips of his back. Dean reached for me, his fingers trailing up my calves as I leaned into Ansel to bring our mouths together in a messy, hungry kiss. When I snuck my hand between us and curved it around Ansel’s thick shaft, he groaned.
“Oh, yes...like that.”
I started stroking him with a firm touch, squeezing a little harder at the tip. His kisses swallowed me up until he broke away to look at Dean.
“No wonder you adore her,” he said.
Dean’s touch lightened. I ached to hear his thoughts, wondered how he felt. I was used to him commanding, talking me through, but with Ansel, he was quieter. Ansel distracted me from my thoughts with the crush of his mouth, and when he sank his fingers into my sex, I moaned on his lips before the mattress shifted beneath me. It shattered the hazy spell I’d fallen into, and I turned my head as Dean sat in the armchair near the bed.
The Discipline Page 20
