by Liz Meldon
Teeth gritted, he slipped his fingers back inside, working her into such a frenzy that he and Cole had a tough time holding her up.
“Fuck it,” he hissed, retracting his fingers and shaking his head at Cole. “I can’t do it.”
“Condom’s in my pocket,” the man told him with a smirk. “I knew you’d break first.”
Skye gave a hapless moan, the sound muffled by Cole’s hand over her mouth. It quickly moved to take her knee as Finn reached around into the man’s pocket, accidentally nudging another not entirely unexpected rock-hard shaft. The muscles in Cole’s cheek twitched, and Finn pulled away quickly as soon as he found the two condoms, tossing one on the table and ripping the other open with his teeth.
“You guys,” Skye whined, helpless in Cole’s arms, her swollen, positively dripping sex left on display between them. “What are you doing?”
“Change of plans,” Finn told her as he undid his pants. He let them drop to his ankles, briefs too, and quickly rolled the condom on. Normally they went without; despite the fact that Skye was regularly fucking two men, they were a monogamous little trio. Condoms weren’t necessary—unless it was unlikely they would find a shower in the aftermath of what was to come. This was supposed to be a cheeky, fun sort of punishment, but Skye wouldn’t be happy if she had to leave the party because they’d soiled her dress.
From the look on her face, however, that was probably the last thing on her mind. She bit her lip, eyebrows knitted as she grabbed Finn’s jacket and dragged him back to her. Cole, however, stopped Finn from plunging in and taking her like he wanted with nothing more than a warning look.
“Not until you ask nicely, sweetheart,” he rasped in Skye’s ear. Finn’s jaw clenched, one hand in a fist as the other massaged her clit again. Cole always enjoyed Skye begging, but not everyone had that kind of fucking patience.
“Please,” she choked, her hips chasing Finn’s hand when he eased off on the pressure—then pulled away entirely, using her juices to stroke his cock while he waited.
“Please what?” Cole murmured, a familiar back-and-forth between them. Finn still hadn’t tired of it, despite the urgency pounding through his veins. He loved to watch Cole work, each and every time.
“Can one of you just please fuck me already,” she snapped. Finn chuckled; that wasn’t usually a part of their script.
“Always happy to oblige—”
“Perhaps if you asked nicer,” Cole warned, but Finn was already committed. He shot the man a frustrated look, one that suggested he was going to explode if he wasn’t buried in Skye sometime in the next fifteen seconds. Grasping her thigh with one hand, he used the other to steer his cock into her enticing opening.
Heat enveloped him, pleasure trickling through his system and the urge to spasm out of control ever the more difficult to fight. The sounds of Skye mewling, whimpering, and moaning certainly didn’t help, and he took a few moments to regain his composure when his hips knocked against hers. Every fiber of his being screamed go, go, go, but he waited, savoring the clench of her tight heat around him, the way her breath came in uneven whispers, and the look of sheer pleasure etched across every detail of her exquisite face.
“This isn’t part of the punishment. You’ll get what’s coming to you…some other time,” he told her with some difficulty, rocking his hips so that he caught her clit too—she must be bursting to climax. Skye nodded frantically, murmuring something incoherent before Cole captured her mouth in another searing kiss. He watched them for a moment, enjoying the show, then decided he’d been civil enough.
No more waiting.
Smoothing his hands around her thighs, he used them for anchorage as he started rocking against her. Finn took her slowly at first, getting them all adjusted to the position, ensuring Cole could handle both of their weight. When neither protested, Finn thrust harder, withdrawing farther before slamming back into her, searching out his pleasure and hers in equal measure. Skye tore her mouth from Cole’s with a cry, clutching at Finn’s jacket as he started to lose a bit of that carefully maintained control—until it was finally gone for good. Pounding into her, he did his best to catch her clit whenever he could, but it was steadily becoming difficult to see straight, let alone think straight.
A fire engulfed him, the flames lapping up his body, his skin ablaze and his thoughts scattered. Faster than he would have liked, Finn succumbed to the pleasure gods, dragging himself to the brink but refusing to tumble over, losing himself in her—in her cries, in the feel of her tightening around him. He gave in to the scandal of the moment, of fucking the woman he loved in a conference room while just down the hall nearly a hundred people sipped champagne and guffawed in each other’s faces. They hadn’t done this somewhere so public before.
It was rather thrilling.
Skye came with a breathless sob, throwing her head back, face screwed with pleasure, as she dragged Finn up against her—and Cole, by extension. He slowed his pace, grinding against her to prolong the bittersweet torture of it all, nearly coming undone himself as her sex tightened around him.
He seized his opportunity to finally come undone himself when she started to settle, her body trembling and her mouth ripe for the taking. Finn hastily adjusted his hold on her and lifted her out of Cole’s arms, crossed the room in a few quick, awkward strides, pants still around his ankles, and pressed her up against the tinted window. With Skye’s arms wrapped around him, their mouths met in a storm of lips and teeth and tongue, her fire not even the slightest bit dampened by her recent orgasm. Finn grinned against her mouth, pounding into her until pleasure exploded through his body, his whole field of vision going white, then stark black, as he buried his face against her neck, riding out the ecstasy. He groaned her name, relishing the way her fingers twined in his hair. She tugged hard in response and pressed her heels into his lower back, forcing him deeper into her as he fought to control his spasming body.
“Here,” Cole called through the haze, and Finn looked over his shoulder to find the man had cleared a space at the table, chairs pushed aside and trousers unbuckled. “Bring her here.”
While he wasn’t even sure his legs could support any sort of walking at the moment, Finn obliged, carrying Skye back across the room and depositing her on the edge of the table. When he pulled away, Skye’s flushed face greeted him, her smile enough to get him going again.
However, it wasn’t his turn anymore.
Smirking, he stepped aside, watching as Cole marched up and rolled her with practiced ease onto her stomach, bending her over the table. The heels helped keep her balanced, oddly enough, and Finn’s eyes caught the way her hands tightened to fists as Cole flipped her dress up onto her back—then thrust into her in one swift motion, filling her completely. She cried out, those fists spread wide and flat on the cool wood as Cole gripped her hips.
Finn settled into a nearby chair, his dark eyes ablaze once more, and tugged off then tied up the condom before buckling his pants with slightly shaky hands. With the best view in the whole hotel, he sat back and watched as Cole had his way with their love, skin slapping against skin as he fucked her hard and fast over the table’s edge. It appeared Skye tried to contain herself—at first. Lips pressed together, she watched him over her shoulder, whimpering delicately, until Cole’s hand slipped southward, no doubt to play with her clit, and then she was gone.
She flailed out, the flood of heat across her skin palpable even to Finn as another climax struck. Cole barely managed to clap a hand over her mouth, muffling her ragged cries, his pace unrelenting—until he too finally stilled, thrusting hard up against her, one hand gripping her hip so tight Finn wondered if there’d be bruises tomorrow. Cole choked something incoherent, the sound followed by a few more pumps, until finally he sagged over her, panting.
The three caught their breaths in an easy, comfortable silence, the muted lighting of the room appropriate for the aftermath of it all. When Cole gently eased out of Skye, Finn was by her side to help her up, fixing
her dress for her as she trembled—and wore the dreamiest smile he’d ever seen.
“If that’s what you guys consider a punishment,” she said, smoothing a hand over her mussed hair, “then I think I need to start misbehaving more often.”
“The punishment’s still to come, sweetheart,” Cole remarked before stealing a chaste kiss, then peppering several more along her cheek as she giggled. He pulled back with a grin. “Don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.” Skye’s hand gripped Finn’s, and he planted a kiss of his own on her neck.
All the while knowing that his face mirrored Cole’s lovestruck expression exactly as they studied their girl, their perfect, cheeky, stubborn girl.
Who still needed to be punished for earlier.
He smirked at the thought, cock stirring once more, and his mind raced to figure out precisely what sort of pleasurable torture she deserved—as soon as they got home later tonight.
Who was this sex-crazed woman staring back at her in the mirror?
Skye raised her chin, studying the warm pink afterglow of excellent lovemafucking, and decided she didn’t care if she’d become a sex-crazed monster—she was happy. Happier than she’d ever been, and it all had to do with the two men waiting for her outside the ladies room.
Well, not entirely thanks to Cole and Finn, though they had played a huge part in it. Skye had never wanted to be one of those people who disappeared inside a relationship, disconnecting from friends, so obsessed with it that the rest of the world disappeared. Dating two men made it a little more difficult to juggle her social life and a demanding work schedule. Half the time she was exhausted, but Cole and Finn had their own ways of energizing her.
Like tonight. She smoothed her hands over her hair, readjusting the perky ponytail that Cole had held onto as he fucked her mercilessly over the table. All it took was a few seconds of reliving it and Skye’s face was as red as a cherry tomato. Grinning, she continued to fix her makeup, using the extra supplies she’d brought in her purse as best she could to mimic what the stylist had done earlier.
She had come prepared, of course. After her little stunts back at the house as everyone was getting ready, she knew her boys wouldn’t just leave it at that. Skye suspected she’d still be in for a bit of retaliation, and as she reapplied her lipstick, unable to stop smiling, she wondered if they had really believed her scandalized charade. From the way they’d handled her, fucked her, their whole plan falling to pieces, Skye suspected she’d been successful.
Tossing her lipstick, eyeliner, and cover-up back in her purse, she straightened and glanced at the door when someone walked in. The woman nodded at her, and Skye returned the greeting with the same dopey grin she’d been wearing since she floated into the hotel bathroom ten minutes earlier.
It was just so rare that she had the upper hand with the two men she loved. Finn excelled at surprises—in both the romance and sex departments. Skye tended to feel like she was playing catch-up most of the time with him. Cole, on the other hand, was such a masterful lover that she couldn’t help but follow his lead—loving every single delicious moment of it, whether she was tied spread-eagle to his bedposts or taken hard and fast over the kitchen counter while dinner cooked on the stove. For once, Skye wanted to call the shots.
And she had.
They just hadn’t realized it. Skye had orchestrated the whole thing from the moment they got home from work this afternoon, right up until now, with Finn and Cole standing outside the bathroom waiting for her, smugly pleased with how the night had unfolded. Neither of them could stand being teased. Finn did the teasing. Cole did the ordering around. And Skye knew how to play both of them like a fiddle if it meant everyone got exactly what they wanted.
She ran her hands down the front of her designer dress, which she had bought with her own money from last month’s paycheck. The fact that both of them were outside wearing suits and ties to match—well, it made her heart sing. If it was even possible, Skye somehow managed to fall more and more in love with them with each passing day—through good times and bad.
Tonight fell squarely in the former, far from the latter.
And it was hardly over yet.
Swallowing hard, Skye washed her hands out of habit, dried them with one of the rolled towels waiting in a basket on the counter, then grabbed her clutch and left at the sound of the other woman’s toilet flushing. Just as she suspected, she found Finn and Cole waiting for her outside the bathroom door. Both were still a little flushed, but looking just as smug as she’d predicted. They thought they’d won, but after two spectacular orgasms, who was the real winner here?
She took a moment to adjust both of their ties, glancing up cheekily as her fingers manipulated the expensive fabric. Then, because she was a glutton for both of them, Skye stole a lingering kiss from each. Fiery for Finn. Long and torturous for Cole. When she stepped away, both of their eyes blazed with renewed interest, and she sauntered down the hall with an extra sway to her hips—if only to remind them that Finn still had her torn panties in his pocket.
“Come on, you two,” she called, smirking over her shoulder, “or people are going to start to talk…”
23
And Baby Makes Four
“Mason, no,” Skye warned, tugging on the labradoodle’s leash slightly when he growled at the paparazzo snapping pictures from his not-so-secret hiding spot down the boardwalk. “He’s allowed to invade my privacy…when we’re in public.”
She said it all with a smile, then waved to the guy, pleased that she was wearing her favourite pair of teal leggings. The T-shirt—classic baby Oz—had seen better days, but the tank underneath was cute. Oh, and the bag full of dog poop swinging from her other hand— très chic. Just the kind of stuff those assholes loved to splash across their tabloids.
The guy lowered his camera a few seconds later, then waved back before checking the shots. Rolling her eyes, she gave one last tug at Mason’s leash, then continued on her pre-breakfast walk back to the villa. She’d only been living in Malibu for two months with Finn and Cole, but already it was painfully obvious that there were far more paparazzi on the prowl here than in Coral Bay. Two years into her polyamorous relationship and you’d think everyone would be bored of it already, but nope—her tight-knit trio always made at least four gossip rags whenever they were photographed together at events, and she caught someone snapping her picture at least once a day when she was out running errands.
While Skye could just ignore them, Mason wanted to chase each and every one of those invasive dicks down—every time. The dog liked just about everyone else. Cole was his absolute favourite, even if Skye was the one who took care of him the most, and he had a soft spot for kids. But lurking guys with enormous cameras? Nope. They might as well be squirrels.
Tossing the bag full of Mason’s morning BM in the beachside trash can, she tightened her hold on the leash and hurried him along. The dog forgot all about the photographer, as he always did, as soon as Skye started cooing at him, her ponytail bouncing about and her flip-flops a noisy clamor for the pre-seven-AM boardwalk crowd. She took the same route she always did, slowing when her mildly nauseated stomach began acting up again. It had started a few days ago and she’d thought she had food poisoning—only there was no vomiting. Finn had expressed some concern over the sushi they’d had for lunch earlier in the week, stating that he felt off too, but he had been fine a few hours later. Skye, meanwhile, had felt her stomach churning, on and off, for days on end.
Thankfully, a good dose of morning ocean air seemed to settle it somewhat. What she wouldn’t give to be back at the Coral Bay beach house, with her own private strip of sand and surf for Mason to run on. At least there, if this nausea finally did something, she could puke without worrying about it appearing in some trashy magazine tomorrow.
Still, it wasn’t like she could complain. When they’d had to relocate for Finn’s career for a change—commuting between his LA offices and Coral Bay had started to become a chore,
even if he wouldn’t admit it—Skye, Finn, and Cole had found a villa on a pristine bit of beachfront property in Malibu. Locals called it billionaire’s bay, as just about every other house had a director, CEO, or retired actor living inside. She had a sliver of beach all to herself, but it was open to the general public nowadays, and her neighbours always got snippy about Mason’s happy morning barks, so she took him for a walk down to the open beach area, usually fairly empty this time of day, where he could be as loud as he wanted.
Normally she stopped and got the coffee order on the way back, but as she paused in front of her usual coffee spot, a hand on her stomach, she realized she might not make it through the long work rush lines today. Swallowing hard, she headed for home instead, Mason bouncing along beside her—until the usual cactus garden four houses down from theirs caught his attention. Unfortunately, she didn’t feel like standing around today so he could leisurely sniff at it for the next twenty minutes before finally peeing on the corner. He whined when she tugged at the leash again, those enormous chocolate brown eyes guilting her into waiting a few minutes longer before she all but dragged him away.
She headed for the roadside entrance to the two-storey white and blue villa. Cole and Finn had fond memories of some Greece trip they’d taken years ago, and that had sold them. At the time, Skye didn’t care what they chose—so long as there were four bedrooms, one for each plus the extra for when they all slept together. Oh, and it needed a lot of window space for Oz and a plot of grass for Mason. Otherwise, she was a happy camper.
Before heading inside, she stopped to quickly wipe Mason’s sandy paws off. By then, she could already hear Oz meowing from the other side of the door at the far end of the covered car park.
“Okay, we’re coming,” she called back, rolling her eyes. Mason nosed at the base of the door enthusiastically as Skye put his beach towel, leash, and collar away in the storage unit, then barked when she appeared to be taking too long. Hands on her hips, she stared down at him, unimpressed, until the labradoodle finally sat politely and waited, tail going a mile a minute. Chastisement forgotten, Skye grinned down at him. “You want to see your kitten? Are you excited to see your little kitten?”
