The Face of Scandal

by Helena Maeve

  “Yeah,” Hazel agreed, swaying slightly in his grasp.

  “Thought you said they were new?”

  Floating on the dizzying warmth of his kiss, Hazel had a hard time giving a damn. “Fuck the stockings.”

  Ward chuckled. “You sound drunk.”

  She felt drunk, but before she could say as much, Dylan had pulled away and the unintelligible hum of the restaurant filtered back into her ears. It was a rude awakening. Hazel swirled the water in her glass as she tried to claw her way back from feeling cheated.

  “Guess that settles that, then,” Dylan surmised. “One of us got Hazel on her knees…and it wasn’t you, old friend.”

  The gauntlet landed with a figurative thump in the center of the table. Ward bared teeth in a broad, wolfish grin. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

  As soon as the waitress returned to ask if they needed anything more, Ward requested the check.

  Hazel sucked her cheeks in to fight off a smile.

  The night was young and her boys were just getting started.

  Chapter Fifteen

  For such a perfectly balanced vehicle, the Tesla manufacturers really needed to fix the vibrations that traveled up the chassis and into the backseat. They had to be coming from the engine. The only other alternative was that Hazel couldn’t sit still, squirming restlessly as Dylan conjured breathtakingly pornographic images behind her eyes.

  He kept his voice down to a whisper, but apparently that wasn’t low enough to stop Ward from overhearing.

  “Hazel?” he interrupted as they idled at a stoplight.

  “Y—yeah?”

  They locked eyes in the rearview mirror. “Since he refuses to stop talking, maybe you could find him something better to do with his mouth.”

  The suggestion lit a fire in Hazel’s already simmering core. “You have a thing for screwing in cars, huh?” she quipped. It wasn’t an objection. She twisted on the leather backseat and pressed Dylan against the door.

  “Not exactly what I had in mind,” Ward observed.

  “Tough.”

  “Yes, it is,” Dylan retorted, grinning when she rolled her eyes at the lame pun.

  Hazel squeezed her hand around him in retribution, crowding him between the door and the backseat as she sought his mouth with hers. Dylan and Ward weren’t the only ones who craved contact. It was an ego trip to feel Dylan’s hips jerk against her palm, cock already at half-mast when she undid his zipper and tugged him free.

  “Oh, fuck.” Dylan fumbled for purchase on the seat in front, but overshot the mark and seized hold of Ward’s shoulder instead of the upholstery.

  The car accelerated, engine roaring.

  “He likes that,” Hazel gasped, not entirely sure which of them she was addressing. It didn’t matter. Blood battered her eardrums as she slid her fist down Dylan’s length in a slow, confident stroke. He stiffened beautifully, pre-cum already beading at the tip by the time Hazel ducked to lick the flushed head.

  The taste of him exploded on her tongue, colored slightly by the chili and the peaches they’d enjoyed.

  Dylan cursed, a guttural sound snarling in his throat, “That’s it… Christ. Think you can get us home in one piece, old man?”

  “You worry about yourself, Romeo,” Ward shot back. Then, a beat later, “Thought I told you to shut him up, Hazel.”

  Trying to, Hazel made to retort when a better idea sprouted. Sliding back in spite of Dylan’s frustrated protests, she hooked both thumbs in the elastic band of her underwear and hastily tugged them down her legs. The stockings only reached to mid-thigh, so they were no impediment.

  “Open up.”

  Dylan didn’t let bewilderment hold him back from obedience. He didn’t even bite her fingers as she thrust the balled up panties into his mouth.

  “Goddamn,” Ward slurred, watching the show in his mirrors.

  The Tesla veered around a corner with a screech of tires, propelling Hazel into Dylan’s arms. He caught her easily, hands warm on her upper arms. There was nothing stopping him from reaching up and removing the makeshift silk gag. He had every reason to want to do it—he was her Dominant and this was anything but domineering of him—but Hazel couldn’t help notice that his cock was hard against her stomach, pre-cum slick on her little black dress.

  Ward wasn’t the only one who got off on this.

  Before the car could slide into another vicious turn, Hazel bowed her head and went to work. She couldn’t breathe if she took Dylan too deep, the bumps in the road nudging him into the back of her throat too brutally for her gag reflex to cooperate. She couldn’t hold him between her lips too long with Ward driving like a maniac. But what pleasure she did manage to offer Dylan, it seemed to do the trick. His teasing might’ve stopped, but his moans only grew louder with the gag in his mouth.

  He had Hazel by the hair, hips rising to meet the infinitesimal slide of her lips down his length, when Ward abruptly cut the engine.

  “Make yourselves presentable,” he gritted out.

  Hazel pulled off with a pop, her throat raw with hard use. “What?”

  It was Dylan who answered, casually spitting out her panties and tucking himself back into his clothes. “We’re home.”

  On legs that barely recalled their purpose, Hazel stumbled out of the car and into four-seven-one Aulden Way. She didn’t have the brain power left to wonder why home elicited such a surge of warmth in her cunt. It probably had something to do with all those fancy toys in Dylan’s playroom—not that it looked like they were going to make it that far.

  Ward shoved her against the metal door, kissing her with such fervor that Hazel briefly forgot to breathe. Her pulse throbbed in her ears as he pulled back.

  “You want to come, don’t you, Dylan?” He directed the question at her, but didn’t seem interested in what Hazel had to say.

  “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

  Over Ward’s shoulder, Hazel saw Dylan heave for breath. She could empathize. The long drive home, the longer climb up the stairs—Ward’s deft fingers under her dress, zeroing in on the wet, warm parts of her. No, wait. That’s just me. Without her panties in the way, Ward had an easy task of filling her with two fingers. She gripped down against the intrusion, but it was too swift for her moan to translate into a plea.

  “Please,” Dylan said, voice rough with need.

  Since when do you beg? She was left wondering, brain short-circuiting as Ward slid slick fingers out of her and into his mouth.

  “Oh, God.” Hazel squeezed her eyes shut, but it was already too late. The sight of Ward savoring her taste had already etched itself onto her retinas.

  Ward smirked. “She’s all yours.”

  Before Hazel could catch her breath, Dylan was already taking his place. He grabbed her by the elbows and roughly spun her around. The days of triple-checking if she was sure were long gone. Now he trusted her to speak up, safewords a dusty ‘Break in Case of Emergency’ box Hazel barely considered smashing as her skirt was hiked up around her waist and Dylan hauled her into his lap.

  She moaned with the sudden burst of contact. Dylan had been hard on the drive over, but his willingness to let her set the pace had evaporated with the rumbling of the engine. His belt buckle hung cool and metallic against her naked hip. She registered the prrk of the zipper being pulled down and braced herself.

  “Stop.”

  Ward’s voice was a clear, dictatorial foghorn cleaving through Hazel’s need. She sobbed as Dylan went still against her back, his cock throbbing between the cleft of her ass cheeks.

  He was in no better shape than she felt, a fact revealed by the tightness in his voice when he gasped out, “What—”

  “First take your clothes off,” Ward said.

  A couple of seconds elapsed before the request sunk in. To Hazel, they seemed an eternity.

  Then Dylan leaned in, his lips blistering against her ear. “Don’t move.”

  Hazel locked her muscles, quaking all the worse for it. Arousal gushed down he
r inner thighs as she recognized the sound of Dylan shedding his clothes. Her breaths quickened in anticipation. She wanted to turn, to see every inch of his body exposed, but the urge to obey was stronger.

  “Better,” Ward said, suddenly close. “But not quite there.”

  Dylan huffed out a breath—it might have been a laugh, Hazel was past the point of telling—quickly sanded down to a muffled sigh.

  “You want to fuck her?” Whatever response Dylan gave, it wasn’t loud enough for Hazel to hear. Ward chuckled. “Then go ahead. But you don’t get to come until she does.”

  That’s not going to be a problem.

  Hazel braced both hands against the door and still she nearly slammed her forehead into the steel as Dylan clutched her hips and worked himself inside her in a slow, heart-achingly rough thrust. She had to curl her toes into the oak boards to keep from losing her balance as he pulled out with the same single-minded purpose.

  It was the oddest rhythm—long, dragging strokes and far too little contact between them—and it shouldn’t have done a thing for Hazel. She didn’t know why it worked, only that when Dylan released her hips to grab her hair instead, she nearly climaxed from the sharp tug alone.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. Dylan had learned her limits and knew not to handle her with kid gloves. But Dylan wasn’t alone. Caught between his deliciously uneven pace and the sturdy wall, Hazel might have been able to hold her orgasm at bay. She couldn’t do that when Ward claimed her mouth in a brutal kiss, reaching into the modest cleavage of her dress and squeezing her breast hard enough to bruise.

  Hazel ignited like a stick of Acme dynamite, her sobbing gasps pitching with an upward squeak. She clenched around Dylan and tore her lips away from Ward’s as climax burned through the last of her self-control. Her knees buckled, but there was nowhere for her to fall.

  “I’ve got you,” Ward murmured in her ear. “You’re in good hands, sweetheart.”

  Punch-drunk and shaking with every consecutive drag of Dylan’s cock against her sensitive walls, Hazel believed him wholeheartedly.

  “You liked that, huh? We’re almost done. Dylan’s turn now, then you can—”

  Whatever else he’d meant to say was cut off abruptly as Dylan yanked him back by the hair. The echo of his sharp cry jolted Hazel from the familiar, comforting glow of post-coital bliss. She winced when Dylan pulled out of her, her legs nearly giving way.

  “Dylan, what the hell…” Leaning against the door, she caught a glimpse of him prying her panties from his mouth—Ward’s doing, she grasped between one heartbeat and the next. Ward, who had stumbled into the side table where they usually stowed keys and cell phones, and more recently handbags. Ward, whose eyes were wide, astonishment warring with fear in his gaze.

  One of Hazel’s knockoff Chanels tumbled to the floor as Ward caught the edge of the table and started to right himself. He didn’t make it any further than the attempt. Dylan was on him in a heartbeat, naked and sheened with perspiration, mercilessly shoving Ward into the wall.

  Their bodies clashed together, a contentious union opposing Dylan’s naked flesh to Ward’s—still, impossibly—pristine suit under what little moonlight traversed the many-paned windows. They wrestled for dominance like animals in the wild. Ward grabbed Dylan’s shoulders only to tear his hands away as though burned when he touched bare skin.

  Dylan had no such qualms. He grabbed Ward by the shirtfront, the lapels, pinning his hips against the wall and grinding into him with his bare, flushed cock. His ass clenched as he rutted against Ward’s lap, a moan shuddering out of him. And all the while, they were kissing—or at least Dylan was kissing Ward, whose efforts to break free seemed to be draining away fast.

  Even with her mind addled by orgasm, Hazel had little trouble deciphering the hunted, panicked look on Ward’s features. Their eyes met entirely by chance.

  Just give in. I know you’ve wanted this for a long time. Don’t fight it.

  It happened gradually, first the white-knuckled grip on Dylan’s shoulders, then the tension in his limbs, but eventually Ward stopped resisting. He fixed Dylan with a pair of deep blue eyes as they broke the kiss. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Ruining you, I—”

  Dylan cupped his neck so harshly that Ward’s head struck the bare brick wall behind him. “I’m only going to say this once. You never did a thing to me that I didn’t want. Understand?”

  Hazel had never seen Ward more vulnerable—or more aroused—than he did in that moment, nodding shakily. Afraid to upset the precarious equilibrium he seemed to have arrived at, she nevertheless stepped out of her dress and padded in silk stockings to their side. “Room for one more?”

  With a hand in her hair, Dylan guided her to Ward’s kiss-swollen mouth. He tasted of Dylan and her, of Dylan’s pre-cum on her tongue.

  It was a start.

  Hazel pulled back on wobbly knees. “Bed?”

  She didn’t wait for Ward and Dylan to disentangle themselves. Now that it no longer seemed as if Ward was about to have a coronary, she didn’t feel the need to keep an eye on them. She pushed comforter and blanket off the bed, shedding her bra with a careless hand mere seconds before Ward crawled into her arms.

  They had no need for words. His lips were warm on her skin, trailing lower and lower as Dylan slid into place behind him. Hazel curled a hand around Ward’s nape and clasped Dylan’s with the other. For a moment, they were suspended like that, holding each other as much as building to the next plateau. Then Dylan released her hand.

  “Suck her tits,” he ordered, voice nearly drowning out the click of the lube bottle.

  Ward’s exhale gusted onto Hazel’s cleavage, but he wasted no time complying. Their dynamic had shifted irrevocably. Ward seemed to welcome the shift, if the insistent press of his erection into the crease of Hazel’s hip was anything to go by.

  He swirled his tongue around the hardened peaks of her nipples, pulling out all the tricks Hazel enjoyed. The sole moment he faltered was when Dylan slid a finger inside him. Hazel might have missed it if Dylan didn’t feel compelled to keep up a running commentary.

  This time, no one thought to silence him.

  “You’re so tight for me. Bet no one’s had this since the last time we fucked…has it? You been saving yourself? I can feel it. That’s it, moan for me. Let me hear what a cock-hungry slut you are.”

  Hazel’s cheeks burned on Ward’s behalf, but he didn’t object to the harsh words. I thought I was the only one who liked that side of Dylan… Something akin to relief flooded her insides at the thought. “Is that true?” she asked, softer, unused to playing on this side of the divide. “You want Dylan’s cock more than you want my pussy?”

  Ward whimpered, shaking his head. For a man who never ran short on quips, it was at once overwhelming and vaguely cowing to think that they had reduced him to this shaking, breathless creature.

  “Lucky you,” Dylan said, picking up the thread of her taunts. “You can have both.” He leaned over Ward to suck a bite into his shoulder blade, the weight of him bearing Ward into Hazel’s arms. “I’m going to fuck you through him,” he told her, eyes blazing.

  “Fighting talk,” Hazel choked out. She could barely breathe and not just for the two men in her arms, weighing her down like concrete.

  Dylan smirked and edged back to align himself with Ward’s puckered hole.

  Between them, Ward suddenly went very still, gulping down breaths as if they might’ve been his last. A grimace twisted at his lips, the creases at the corners of his mouth deepening.

  Dylan hadn’t taken enough time. He wasn’t being as careful with Ward as he might have been with her. Yet in that moment, Hazel didn’t worry. She kissed Ward through his garbled, keening moans, and reached between their bodies to guide his cock into her. Neglect had softened his erection, but he thickened swiftly once he felt her heat.

  Then he was inside her, the head splitting her open as it’d done so many times, and the sen
se of new, of different, dimmed completely. Hazel wrapped her arms around Ward as Dylan pumped his hips with short, tentative thrusts and drove Ward farther into her cunt, surrounding him in slick warmth and breathtaking pressure.

  “Oh,” Ward gasped. “Oh, G—”

  He came without warning, a mere handful of thrusts into it. Hazel’s inner muscles clawed at him, independent of anything she might have wanted to do. Through the blur of sensation, torn between Ward’s hitching breaths in her ear and Dylan’s groans above them, she felt him spend inside her, his cock pulsing through the aftershocks. No condom, this time, no barrier between his body and hers.

  His moans faded to a hiss as Dylan rutted against him for a minute more, chasing his own release. The rough thrusts aborted on a harsh grunt, until finally he went still.

  Ward grunted as Dylan withdrew but he remained where he was, sprawled between Hazel’s thighs, unable to stir. He hid his face in her crook of her neck when Dylan petted his hair.

  “You gonna get her off?” Dylan wanted to know.

  Hazel shook her head, keenly aware of Ward’s cock slipping out as he softened. “I can wait.”

  “No, I can—”

  She silenced Ward with a scrape of nails up his spine. “Don’t you move,” she growled, borrowing Dylan’s earlier warning to her. It felt right to trade in words already spoken, particularly Dylan’s. They were nothing if not interlocked together in this strange, shaky arrangement.

  Maybe not so shaky.

  Hazel let her head fall back to the mattress and brushed her knuckles to Dylan’s thigh as he settled on his front beside them. The future had never been less certain, but Hazel decided she didn’t mind.

  Dylan caught her hand and laced their fingers together. His smile was only a little tremulous.

  * * * *

  “Morning,” Hazel greeted, on the cusp of a yawn. “Coffee?”

  Ward glanced at her, then away just as quickly. “I can make a fresh pot—”