I frowned. “Why are you over there?”
Ansel’s kisses kept coming over my cheeks and lips, his fingers working deep. I struggled to concentrate on the view of Dean, who swiped at his forehead while Ansel’s rapid thrusts bid me to stroke him faster. My eyes started to gloss over, but I tried to focus on Dean.
He said, “What do you want to do with another man, Maya?”
My heart thumped.
This wasn’t how we’d talked about it. Dean not a part of it?
Was this how they’d played it in the past? One watching?
But... Dean watching?
“C’mere,” Ansel said. He wrapped an arm around me, yanking me close, his lips pressing beneath my ear as he muttered my name. He felt incredible, his fingers thrusting hard in me, his body strong and his shaft full against my palm.
But shouldn’t Dean be here?
Dean’s jaw worked in that tense way, and I wished I could understand the shadow of those slate-gray eyes. He pointed at Ansel. “Well?” he asked. “What do you want?”
Ansel’s mouth on my neck carried me away with him sucking at my skin, his fingers slipping up, up, encouraging the hand I’d stalled on his cock. “Don’t stop,” he said. He flexed himself in my hand, and I moaned, because fuck, he was sexy. And if it was okay with Dean...
Ansel’s mouth swallowed mine again, his free hand clawing around my ass cheek, bringing me tighter to him. He was hot, crazy hot, his shaft beyond thick in my grasp and his torso tempting my fingertips back to stroke every ridge. Dean knew I wanted to taste him. With his eyes on me, watching this, watching us, he racked up the intensity that made thinking an insurmountable feat.
“Go ahead, minx. Do what you really want with him.”
The words shot a bolt of lightning up my spine. I drew back from Ansel and caught the look on Dean’s face. He wasn’t smiling, but he’d cupped his hand around his crotch, his body somewhat tense even reclined as he was in the chair. Ansel didn’t seem to notice. He glided his fingers over my ass and between my cheeks, taking a graze of my hole that forced my eyes shut with a gasp from deep within.
“Put your mouth on me,” he said. His voice was breathy, deep. I wanted to. Dean knew it, too. Maybe if I started, he’d return. Hell, yes.
That riled me up, as did Ansel’s slap of my ass.
I dove for him, then, kissing his neck, trailing my lips down his chest and licking my way to his cock. I stuck out my ass for Dean, wanting to give him a show that would draw him back over. Ansel clutched my breasts as I crouched down, and then he threaded his fingers in my hair to guide my face between his hips where he wanted me.
He didn’t need to. I knew what I desired, my lips spreading, my tongue stretching out to meet the head of his dick. I closed my mouth around him with a heavy moan.
“Oh, yes,” Ansel growled. I propped my elbow on the bed to cup his balls in one hand and slid my lips down his length. “Your mouth...”
This scene, his excitement...all of it soaked my folds. I needed Dean’s fingers to touch me, his cock to fill me up, so I put even more into my show, sucking hard on Ansel and letting him deep in my throat. He bucked his hips, and the weight of Dean’s stare coaxed me on. I circled my other hand around Ansel’s shaft to squeeze his girth while I tasted him as deep as I could.
“Fuck, fuck!” He was loud, his stomach flexing when I sucked every inch of him down. I clenched my thighs together at his hearty gulps of air and the small thrusts he took along my tongue. I wished Dean was right behind me, fingering me like we’d talked about, filling me. I slid up and down Ansel’s cock, devouring him, massaging his balls, moaning and cinching my lips tight. I loved this act and I wanted to please Dean. Ansel kept releasing raggedy grunts that charged me up before Dean’s loud voice rumbled into my ears.
“Do you want to fuck him?”
I whimpered and angled my head, Ansel’s cock slipping from between my lips.
“Oh, shit,” he gasped.
Dean’s face looked stern. Tense, like he was playing that role again—except his eyebrow was high, his head tilted in question. “Do you want to?”
I kept moving my hand on Ansel, a pang of arousal making me wetter, more eager. Do I want to fuck Ansel? I needed to be fucked. I’d thought it would be by Dean, but when he looked to Ansel, his mouth was taut.
“Would you fuck her?” he asked.
Ansel groaned. “In a heartbeat.” Their exchange forced me back on my heels, my heart thundering, my fingers still gripping Ansel’s length. He met my eyes now. “If you want it, of course.”
“Do you, Maya?”
Was this another challenge? An intoxicating, oh-so-tempting test? It wasn’t how we’d discussed this fantasy, but as Ansel continued kneading my breasts, thrusting his cock against my hand to whip heat through my chest and set the room on spin, my body told me the answer.
The hair on my arms stood up. My nipples felt raw, achy, and my clit couldn’t possibly be more swollen or my cunt more desperate for touch. Dean always wanted to know what I liked, what I craved.
I said, “Yes.”
He gave the smallest lift of his head before Ansel scampered out of my hand and off the bed, drawing my gaze away.
“Condom,” he murmured. He found his discarded pants on the floor, and after he dug for his wallet and the black wrapper tucked into one of the flaps, he rushed back to swiftly loop his arms under mine. His enthusiasm turned me on. I met his lips in a hard kiss before he threw me onto my back, taking my breath away with his strength alone. He stole it further when he made me cry out with the shove of three fingers straight into my cunt. “Can’t wait.”
Ansel collapsed over me, his chest hard, his mouth like fire on my neck and his thick fingers inciting a moan from somewhere deep. With tingles consuming my chest, I focused on him, stroking his cock with one hand and curling the other around his back to urge him forward. Ansel tore open the condom and sheathed himself, and my pulse whizzed in my ears, a loud vibration when Ansel guided his cockhead against my slit. He stroked along my wetness until he slipped inside, his girth not the only thing that rocked me, but the pressure of Dean’s eyes on me.
“Oh, God, yes!” I cried.
Ansel drove in to the hilt. I hooked my arms around his back, loving the rigidity of his muscles, the full lips he drew over my neck and onto mine. To have this approved, encouraged by Dean, overseen by him? The thrill started a tremor deep within me. When Ansel thrust again, he breathed into my mouth with huge, wet kisses, then plowed into me much harder than I’d expected. His solid body clapped on mine with every thrust, magnifying the whir of my blood and the trample of my heart. I shifted my fingers down between us to stroke my clit as Ansel propped himself up on his palms on either side of my head, grunting with every buck I made to meet him.
“Yes,” I urged.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” The drive of his hips jerked me up, his force intense, my fingers driving up my excitement. I choked for breath at the flicker of memory of how I used to love getting fucked like this in every random fling I once had—rough and recklessly, used by a body far stronger than mine. When Ansel withdrew and barked, “Turn over,” I did, breathless. I glanced at Dean, registering the tense edge of his jaw. Did he like this view? Did it turn him on?
“Will you come join us?” The words felt like gravel in my throat, my body winded before Ansel abruptly hooked his forearm under my waist to lift me onto my knees. The move tore my gaze away, but Dean hadn’t left the chair with Ansel’s plunge right back inside, yanking me onto him by my hips. He turned me into a rag doll while his body slammed into mine, and I cried out, overwhelmed. I dipped my torso down to the bed in some halfhearted attempt to use the push of my chest for momentum, because Ansel was working me, fully fucking me. The shock of it made me close my eyes.
“Yes, yes...” I rubbed my cl
it, pleasure building, swarming. Ansel groaned. Once he hunched over me to add his fingers to mine, I barely managed to hold myself up with his ferocious beats forward. The wave came closer, sweeping through my skin in the most delicious promise, and when Dean’s voice poured into my ears again, it was the most overwhelming move of all.
“You’re going to come, aren’t you, Maya?”
Him knowing this seared a bolt of ecstasy through me. “Fuck. Fuck yes!”
Ansel drove deep, like he was some sort of freight train while we rubbed my clit together and my walls started to convulse. I bit the skin of my upper arm, thrusting back on him with my wild cries, the orgasm tearing me apart.
“Yes!” I wailed. Ansel picked up his pace.
“Oh, she’s...yes!” He grunted and lifted himself up, grabbing my hips, shoving so roughly I thought I’d scream. I clenched my teeth as he pummeled me, but I was too dizzy to care, the pound of his hips echoing on my ass. And right when I needed to lurch away, the force too great, too deep, Ansel jerked inside with a loud groan. “Fuck, yes!”
“Oh my God.” I dropped my other hand to the mattress, trying to balance myself. Both of us were covered in sweat, and I trembled with Ansel nestled deep. If I moved, I feared I’d fall over. I stayed there for a long while, limp from the fucking and the vibe from Dean watching over us. When I finally peeled open my eyes to look at him, his lips were pinched tight, his face...shadowed.
My stomach dropped.
Was he pissed?
Ansel pulled out, and I shuddered at the sudden emptiness.
“Goddamn. Okay, that was hot as fuck,” he said. He gave my ass a smack and hovered on the end of the bed, trying to catch his breath. I sat up. The heavy look on Dean’s face startled me while the roar of my pulse grew louder than when Ansel had fucked me a minute before. “Be right back.”
He left for the bathroom before Dean came straight to the bed. He pushed me onto my back, kissing me with an aching force. My body raw, my nerves prickling, I moved where he wanted me. My heart thundered at the glaze of his eyes and the tension in his face when he wet his fingers and sank them into my cunt.
“Fuck...” I gasped. My worked tissues protested, Dean filling me up.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” There was an edge to his voice as he clawed my side and pushed my legs wide apart, then thrust harder in me. It was too much. Sore, aching, I scooted away toward the pillows. I heard the door open behind me, but Dean slid the pads of his other fingers over my clit to rub me, making me wince and clamp my thighs around his arm.
“Stop, please! I need a break.”
Ansel snickered as he came to the bed. If I’d thought Dean’s face had been tense before, now the slate-gray of his irises churned. I squirmed from his prying fingers.
“I’m sorry—I need a minute!” I squealed.
Dean withdrew his fingers, discouraged and silent as I shuffled off the bed and scurried out of the room. My legs were weak, my pussy raw. But Jesus, that was incredible.
I closed the door after I saw them look at one another, and when I lowered the seat Ansel had left up and sat down on the toilet, I couldn’t quite make out what they said beyond the low hum of their voices. Then a chuckle.
I inhaled to steady my breath. After a couple of seconds, I ignored the awareness of them talking and relaxed to do what I’d come there to handle. I wanted more, more of Ansel, but much more of Dean. The two of them together, fucking me, touching me. I still didn’t get why Dean had sat back, but maybe that had been the warm-up.
I heard their voices lift before I turned on the faucet—mumbles from two alpha males. Good God. I checked my face in the mirror. My cheeks were red, my lips pink and swollen, my head covered in hair that no longer fell in line. My body hadn’t stopped vibrating from what had happened, and I splashed some water on my face. The sex had been hot, for sure. Ansel was like a flash back in time, a trip down memory lane of what I thought I’d always been after: rough, wild sex that made me feel like I was getting turned loose. Really, what I’d craved all along was the magic I now had with Dean, with this exploration we loved to share alongside his natural dominance that seeped its way into whatever we did. It was like I blossomed every time he told me what he wanted and how he wanted me, and I was compelled to do whatever he asked.
Do you want to fuck him?
Except...he’d been somewhat passive with Ansel. That wasn’t like him, but maybe that was how it’d worked with them in their past trysts. Maybe they took turns?
I fanned my face.
“You coming back in here, Maya? You sweet, hot woman?” That was Ansel’s voice, lighter than Dean’s, more chipper. He was out for a damn good time.
I grinned. “One sec!”
“Dude, settle down.”
Was that Ansel?
Their voices came through the door, louder now. Rougher. I shut off the tap and reached for the towel.
“Are you for real?”
“Don’t be a dick, man.”
There was a rumble of laughter when I hung up the towel—sarcastic laughter. Then, “Fuck you.”
“Fuck you!”
A thump.
“What’s your goddamn problem? You called me. Who the fuck are you?”
I threw open the door. Ansel and Dean stood a few inches apart, their naked chests puffed and their arms out in antagonizing, angry stances. Ansel shoved Dean back a step, and Dean’s nostrils flared, his face crimson.
What the fuck?
“You can go now. Fucking go!”
“Happy to. You’re different, man. I don’t need your shit.” Ansel shook his head, backing away.
“Guys?” I tiptoed outside the door but stopped several feet from them. Both men looked at me, Ansel’s eyes wide with disgust and his face flushed. Dean’s face brimmed with anger in the creases around his eyes, but there was something else there.
Hurt? Was that hurt? An instant roil of my stomach threw me off. Had Ansel said something? Or...was something that happened not okay with Dean?
I tried to wrap my brain around the heaviness in his gaze and frowned. “Are you...?”
Ansel whirled around, grunting when he found his briefs and snatched them up. “This is bullshit.” Once he slid them in place, he grabbed his pants and shirt off the carpet. He hardly glanced my way while I stared at Dean, who wasn’t saying a goddamn thing. His dark hair was ruffled, his fists at his sides with that look emanating from his face to confuse the fuck out of me. “See you, Maya,” Ansel snapped.
Suit coat in hand and dressed with his shirt half unbuttoned, he didn’t stop for any sort of affection as he slinked by me, redolent with the scent of our sex and sweat. He merely looked me in the eyes and stormed out the door. It slammed hard behind him and I jumped.
“Dean? What in the hell is going on?”
He didn’t answer. He stood motionless, a shadow covering his face with the angle of the single lamp by the bed.
“Hey.” I crossed to him and lifted my palms to his chest, running them over the tightness there and in his shoulders. His distant gaze reached way beyond my head. “Hey, talk to me.” I circled his neck and slipped closer. When my bare stomach brushed against him, he focused in on me, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth so damn clenched. I swung my thumb back and forth on his clavicle. “What happened? Why did—”
Dean cut off my question with the swoop of his fingers under my chin to raise my mouth up to his. He kissed me hard, but it was different. Like a kiss of escape. I kissed him back, trying to make sense of this, but he pulled away and shook his head. “It’s complicated.” At my frown, he clasped my hand and turned me with him toward the bed.
“But—”
“Not now,” he said, harsher.
Had I fucked up or something? My shoulders tightened; my mouth went dry. Was I n
ot supposed to have fucked Ansel? I replayed Dean’s question. Do you want to fuck him? Was that a test I’d maybe failed?
That couldn’t be right.
Dean turned down the covers and gestured for me to climb in. I hesitated, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. He wasn’t talking. I crawled in, and he curled around me, his silence a deafening, anxiety producing symphony. He squeezed me tight under the blankets.
Really tight.
I wriggled to get some air. “It’s too hot.”
“Sorry.” He stroked his hand along my shoulder, but that was it.
Shit, had I read this all wrong?
Maybe I really shouldn’t have fucked Ansel?
“Dean?”
“Let’s go to sleep.”
Between the heat of his chest and the blankets, and the realization that what had happened with Ansel had zapped most of my energy, my body ached to sink into the mattress. But I didn’t like this. Not without knowing whatever the fuck had happened.
Dean cupped his hand in a firm hold around my shoulders. He paused only to reach out and shut off the light before he clutched me like a pillow he didn’t want to release.
“Good night,” he said.
Was it?
Chapter Sixteen
I thought I’d hardly dozed off before Dean’s palm spread over my stomach, his lips hot on the side of my neck. The thickness of his cock was insistent against my ass, as was his groan in my ear.
“Maya.”
I opened my eyes. Dim morning light poured through the gap in the dense hotel curtains, and electricity swarmed my belly.
Dean muttered, “I want you. Now.” His voice purred low, heavy. Needy. He slid his fingers straight between my legs to fondle my clit.
The Discipline Page 21
