Kieran growled as he leaned forward to swallow her cries with a ravaging kiss. Nolan didn’t want to miss out on the action. He nudged his face next to theirs and transformed the mating into a three-way kiss, a well-practiced move between him and Kieran and their myriad of former female lovers. But it became something different with her, something more.
As she came down from her orgasm, her pussy continuing to spasm around Nolan’s and Kieran’s fingers, Nolan slowed his thrusting to a light grinding. He didn’t want to remove his hands, didn’t want the moment to end. She pulled back from their kiss, and she was transformed. It was as if they had never met her before. Her slumped, relaxed pose, leaning back against the cabinets, hair mussed and mouth red and swollen from their kisses and licks, made her look like a drunken, sex-crazed debauched female. Words he would never have used to describe her before this moment. He loved it. He especially loved the little smile she was sporting and how she continued to wear it as she leaned forward to kiss him and Kieran individually.
“Thank you for that,” she said, pulling back. “Can I have my leg back?” she asked Kieran with a wink. Another wink. Who was this wild woman?
“I don’t think I want to give it back,” Kieran whispered, sounding a bit shell-shocked. “What happens when I give it back?”
“Do either of you have to go to work tomorrow morning?”
“No, I can work from home,” Nolan murmured, staring down at the juncture of her legs, wanting to taste the wetness trickling onto the counter.
“I do work from home,” Kieran answered, his voice hoarse.
“Well then, I am going to turn off the coffee, since clearly that isn’t happening, and we can go upstairs and talk or sleep or whatever.” Her hazy glee was momentarily replaced by a stern look as she pointed at them. “No sex tonight.”
“Sure.”
“Okay.”
She nodded at their answers and continued, “But I’m not a cruel woman, and I would never leave two men who pleasured me so completely hanging. So again, can I have my leg back?”
She wanted to do something about their blue balls? “Give her back her leg, Kieran.”
He did. Promptly. They helped her down from the counter and followed her every move as she did exactly what she said she would. She first poured out the water from the kettle, then turned the coffeepot off, stating that what had brewed would be fine to drink in the morning. Nolan didn’t care about coffee. He just wanted to see what she meant by not wanting to leave them hanging.
“Kieran, grab the cheese plate; we’ll probably need a little something to nibble on upstairs.” Her hands went to her back and the very distinct sound of a zipper lowering echoed throughout the kitchen. “Nolan, since Kieran has his hands full, it is up to you to get him naked, along with yourself.” She turned to leave, heading toward the entryway where a staircase was located. “You both better be naked by the time you get to my bedroom.”
“Get me naked,” Kieran groaned as they watched her walk away. Her unzipped dress slid toward the ground with each sway of her hips. Then she stepped out of it deftly, not even pausing to pick it up. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and they’d ripped that black lace off earlier. She was completely naked.
“Coming?” she called over her shoulder. They could hear as her feet reached the stairs, ascending at a steady pace.
“I hope soon,” Nolan mumbled, taking care of his clothes first before helping Kieran out. Nolan moved to run after her, but Kieran stopped him with a firm hand on his cock. The man stroked him, just the way he loved, circling the tip with each upward stroke. Kieran’s lips found his, a voracious kiss to match their climbing need.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
With that reaffirmation, they followed her, climbing the stairs two steps at a time. When they reached her room, they found she was already on her bed, sitting cross-legged at the edge, hands splayed to either side of her hips.
“Put the tray down and come here. I want to see how beautiful you both are.” They moved closer, preening for her, enjoying the female attention. Her hands reached out and grabbed their cocks, stroking them in time.
“Fuck, Lore,” Kieran moaned.
“Tell me what you both like.”
“Exactly that. Keeping doing— Fuck!” Her lips engulfed Nolan’s cock, taking him to the base—her mouth was so hot and wet—and back to the tip, before letting him go with a pop. She turned her head to Kieran’s cock, giving him equal treatment.
“I want to do this to both of you at once, but I think I’ll need more practice. For now”—her heavy-lidded bedroom eyes gleamed up at Nolan—“Nolan, suck Kieran’s cock while I suck yours.”
“Yes, ma’am.” They adjusted their positions. Nolan moved to sit on the bed and Lore moved to the floor, sitting between his spread thighs. He leaned forward and sucked in his man’s cock. It was long and perfect, exactly what he craved in a dick. Nolan loved it when Kieran grabbed his head and began to fuck him, but when he spoke, Nolan’s lust was amplified ten times.
“Take his cock in your mouth, Lore. I want to watch you suck my man. Make him yours with that sexy mouth.”
“Ah, fuck,” Nolan cried, feeling her hot mouth take him in once more. “Not gonna last. Your mouth is so sweet.” She swirled her tongue around the base and cupped his heavy sac. He could feel his orgasm building in the depths of his gut, his balls pulling in tight, warning him. He sucked Kieran with a matching fervor. The closer he was to coming, the harder he sucked. Kieran was equally affected, fucking Nolan’s mouth without surcease.
“Yes, baby,” Kier cried. “Shit, I love to fuck your mouth. Fuck, I wish you could see what I’m seeing. Watching you suck me while she tastes you. It’s perfect. Suck him harder, Lore. He likes it rough.”
With a last guttural moan, Nolan came in her mouth, the orgasm so powerful she couldn’t catch all the cum inside; some dripped down her chin. Kieran followed him a second later, the load as large as his own. What made it impossibly sexier and convinced him he could have gone another round was Lore climbing up his body to help clean his chin up, help catch all of Kier’s seed. Nolan returned the favor, leaning in to lick up what had dripped down her face of his own load. Kieran joined them, kneeling on the bed and washing them both.
With a happy sigh, they all relaxed on the bed and curled in around one another, the cheese plate long forgotten.
Chapter Nine
The coffeehouse was quiet, something Lore appreciated. The scent of her hot apple cider wafted from the giant, bowl-shaped mug, soothing her frayed nerves. The stacks of papers she’d found hidden in her mom’s closet that afternoon, the cause of her agitated state, lay piled neatly on the coffee table. She took another careful sip of the hot beverage, eyeing the papers as though they were enemy combatants about to attack. She’d been avoiding this for far too long, just as she’d avoided cleaning out her parents’ house. Really, anything to do with her folks, she avoided at all times and as frequently as possible.
It was almost comical, her maniacal dodging of the subject, especially when the majority of her childhood had been spent in ignorant bliss of her circumstances. At least until she hit puberty and her mother went crazy. That was a fun time. But before the fighting and the FBI, her father and mother had truly loved one another, and their love expanded when they brought her into their precious circle. At least that’s what Lore had always thought.
As a child Lore had felt blessed to have either of their attention focused on her. Her father, with his mischievous and playful spirit, took her on adventures during their outings. One of his favorite activities was taking her to see double features at the old movie theater downtown. They would sneak in the back entrance and swipe some unsuspecting person’s popcorn when their back was turned. She’d thought it all a fun game at the time; little did she know it spoke of greater issues to come concerning her father.
In her fondest memories, Lore’s mother was soft and nurturing, content to remain at
home and wait for her husband. She greeted him with a kiss and a three-course meal every evening without fail. David was the sun and Darlene the earth, her every move centered on the man she married. The very nature of her obsessive love for her husband was almost scary, stalker-like in its intensity. Looking back, Lore wondered if her father understood that about her, if he was such an egomaniac he could only love or marry a woman who focused completely on him. Lore was the only exception to his narcissism. When they were together, Lore became the sun, and it was glorious.
Now she faced what was left of her father. A stack of papers, mostly legal, birth certificate, death certificate, and social security card. She came to a red envelope, full to bursting. Pulling out the documents, she nearly growled in disgust. She sorted the papers, her chest constricting with the effort to not huff or scream. Copies of fake IDs and other legal information he’d no doubt forged for himself. Among other criminal pursuits, her father had apparently been a master forger. Who would have guessed he was a man of so many talents? “No one” was the answer, because nobody had truly known him. Lore only learned what his real name was on the eve of his death. The guilt from all he’d done must have accumulated over the years and finally begun to weigh on him. He’d asked his lawyer to deliver a message to his estranged daughter the week before his death, saying he wanted her to know him and part of that was to know his given name. The stranger she hardly knew, the man with many names, had died alone in prison.
Lore counted twenty-four aliases. Twenty-four. Twenty-four other lives he’d led while lying to his wife and daughter. Feeling like there was a spotlight on her, even though nobody in the café was paying her any attention, she began to angrily stack and stuff the papers back into the red envelope. She couldn’t think about it all now. It was too much to process. Her emotional barriers were already paper-thin after the night she’d spent with Kieran and Nolan.
A warm feeling of comfort cut through the anxiety caused by her father’s old documents.
The men had been glorious after they’d chased her down, like something out of drama. Even better, that morning they’d been perfect gentlemen, giving her space yet not abandoning her completely and pretending the evening hadn’t happened. Kieran had awoken first, and by the time she’d returned to the world of the living from the sex-induced coma, she’d risen to the scent of coffee, scrambled eggs, and cinnamon oatmeal, her favorite breakfast foods. Not even the awkward discussion of how they had previously failed to discuss birth control and the condition of their health before engaging in sexual activity could dim the warm and contented feeling of spending the morning with them. As Lore had recently had a checkup, she knew she was healthy and she believed the men when they said the same. Hilariously, she made them sweat a bit before admitting she’s had her tubes tied when she was twenty-five, the thought of children so anathema to her she’d done everything she could to prevent it.
After the discussion, the trio spent the morning together reading the paper and just enjoying one another’s company. No pressure for any further development in their sexual relationship. When it came time for them to leave, each man had kissed her, sweet and full of that new and delicate care one took with a lover after first spending the night. They left with a promise to call, which they’d already fulfilled, and a plan to meet the following evening for dinner at their place. She couldn’t wait.
It wasn’t just the prospect of this new and weird thing they were doing; it was the blissful, simple relief she felt when spending time with them. Even when she barely knew Nolan, during the proceedings of the lawsuit, her subconscious had recognized something within him that clicked into place alongside her. They fit, and the addition of Kieran—her lighthearted yoga champion—rounded the pieces out into a whole, albeit an oddity, but an oddity that made sense.
Unfortunately the fresh novelty of their relationship wasn’t enough to convince her of longevity. It wasn’t the unusual threesome facet that gave her pause. Even if the night had been spent with only one man, Lore couldn’t have given every part of herself so soon. She treated this threesome experience like any other twosome relationship. In essence it was the same as dating one person…but not. Lore shook her head and kneaded her temples, confused by the intense and uncontrollable emotions she had for the men. She didn’t like feeling this out of control, but a large part of her psyche was egging her on, whispering that the confusion and uncertainty were worth it.
What it all amounted to was that she felt too emotionally strung out to decide what the hell to do with all the fake IDs she’d found hidden in her mother’s things. Why were they hidden in her closet anyway? A horrible image formed unbidden in her mind: her mom taking the IDs out at night, staring at them sadly, like they were the only tangible part of her husband she could claim. The part made of lies. The thought nauseated Lore.
Lore packed up the documents and promised herself she’d figure it all out later. In reality, she knew turning the documents in to the police was the only course of action to take. How they hadn’t found any of the IDs seventeen years ago was a mystery yet not surprising. The police and FBI agents who’d handled her father’s case were incompetent assholes.
She finished her apple cider, the tangy aftertaste pleasant on the back of her tongue, and headed out into the warm spring air. She’d just placed the papers in her trunk when a hand tapped her shoulder.
“Hello, Ms. Beyer.” She turned around to see Rocky the Locksmith, or Rocko as he preferred, grinning at her and dressed in well-fitted jeans and a simple gray T-shirt. He was a good-looking man, as she had thought when they first met, his wavy red hair giving him a surfer-dude feel. But there was intelligence behind that open grin; no idiot would possess the depth of knowledge he’d provided on safes and their various quirks.
“Hi, Rocko,” she said politely, closing the trunk with a sharp bang when she caught sight of another man standing slightly behind the locksmith. He was older with graying hair at his temples, a somewhat cliché handlebar mustache, and a gaze that leveled itself on her too sharply for comfort. Lore kept herself wary and smiled shortly at the man before turning back to Rocko. “How are you?”
“Great, thanks. I saw you in the coffee shop, was gettin’ up the courage to ask if I could sit down with you.” The redhead winked at her brazenly and crossed his arms, forcing his biceps to tense. “Maybe ask if I could get you a drink?” Perhaps she would have considered the invitation before, but after spending an evening in the arms of Kieran and Nolan, no single man would ever live up to the raised bar of her fantasies, even a man with biceps such as Rocky the Locksmith’s.
“Oh, that’s sweet,” she deflected politely, watching as the older man came to stand next to Rocko. “But I’m seeing someone at the moment.” Two very sexy someones, in fact.
“Right, of course you are.” He cleared his throat and uncrossed his arms, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking embarrassed now by his obvious display. At least the guy had some sense of modesty. His fingers snapped loudly as his gaze flashed up to hers, his embarrassment vanishing faster than it was brought on. “But hey, listen, if you’re ever not seeing anyone, you have my number.” And there was that wink again.
“I do have your number,” she affirmed with a sardonic smile, not making any promises.
He grinned at her cheeky response and looked over at his silent companion, as though seeking affirmation the situation was as funny as he thought. His levity dropped, and he stood straight once he saw the man’s impatient glare. “Right.” He cleared his throat again. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Denny Bishop. Denny, this is Lore, that pretty lady I told you about the other day.”
Denny stretched his hand forward in greeting. She clasped it briefly, taking in the gentle way he handled her hand, treating her like a fragile doll. She may have been a slight woman, but she was by no means delicate. Lore hated when men assumed that about women. The fairer sex, the weaker sex. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Nice to me
et you, ma’am,” Denny said with a respectful nod of his head. “I think you just broke this kid’s heart by telling him you’re taken.”
“Denny,” Rocko groaned, playfully shoving the guy. “Don’t listen to the old man; he’s senile and his mind is going.” Denny snorted, shoving Rocko back. Lore relaxed at their banter, enjoying the camaraderie between them. Her edginess around the older man was probably a result of her earlier musings on her father. Talk about daddy issues. Lore winced at herself inwardly and promised to never admit that horrendous thought out loud.
“Hey,” Rocko started after the shoving match had ended. “Did you ever get that safe open?” He turned to Denny. “She found some old safe in her folks’ house, couldn’t get it open. Has no clue what’s in it.”
And just like that her tension was back. Wasn’t there some confidentiality thing that went with hiring a locksmith to inspect the mysterious safe in one’s house? Apparently discretion was a thing of the past. But honestly, should she have expected more from a man who went by Rocko?
“Yes,” she lied, frowning at Rocko. “Thanks again for your help.”
“Huh, a mysterious safe. Was there anything interesting in there?” Denny asked, stepping toward her as she opened the door to her car, indicating it was time to leave and for the conversation to end.
“Just some old stuff of my father’s. Nothing fun.” Which is what it would be to discover what she hoped wasn’t in the safe. Like a client list of all her dad’s business partners and how much they’d paid him for the arms he dealt them, an item many a government worker would kill to get their hands on and something a part of her would struggle with giving them. On the one hand, if she gave them this list, it could possibly result in the arrest of a myriad of bad men and the world would most likely be a better place. But a darker, more insidious side of herself, the part she attributed to her father, wanted to keep it from the government. Those men and women of the FBI had mentally destroyed her mother, leaving her a lifeless shell after all the questioning she’d undergone. They’d wrecked any type of normal adolescence Lore could have had, making her the spotlight of gossip during high school. She’d become the girl with camera crews following her around, and once the cameras had gone, she’d been the kid of that infamous man in prison. A pariah. She wasn’t naive enough to completely blame her troubled teen years on the FBI. She knew it was her father’s fault for choosing the path he had. But those FBI agents could have protected her and her mother from the rabid media, rather than throwing them into shark-infested waters with open wounds.
A New Resolution Page 11
