by Carr, Mari
Miguel reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cuffs, twirling them playfully on one finger.
Layla tossed her purse on the coffee table and took off her jacket. “You’re not wasting any time,” she teased, pointing to the handcuffs.
Finn had spent the better part of two hours thinking about this moment, this fantasy, and he had some definite ideas about how he wanted it to play out. He adopted a stern expression and crossed his arms.
Layla gave him a curious look. She didn’t realize the game had begun.
Finn walked over and took the cuffs from Miguel, then he grasped Layla’s upper arm and led her out of the living room. She grinned, quickly following, expecting him to move them all to the bedroom. He tightened his grip on her arm to stop her from going all the way down the hall to Miguel’s room.
He shook his head, then jerked it toward the kitchen. “In here, Ms. Moretti. Officer Garcia and I are going to do our interrogation in this room.”
Layla giggled, but Finn was careful to school his expressions, to give the appearance of a serious cop. It wasn’t that hard to do. After all, he’d been raised by a cop, and he’d been on the receiving end of some pretty intense questioning whenever he’d done something bad in high school. Dad was a master interrogator.
Miguel followed them, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching as Finn set the stage for this fantasy.
Finn pulled a chair into the middle of the room and Layla started to sit down. He stopped her. “No. Take off your clothes.”
Layla glanced around, suddenly looking slightly nervous. Miguel’s apartment was on the fourth floor, and while the blinds on the window were open, there was no building across the street. No way anyone could look in and see her.
“I suggest you cooperate, Ms. Moretti. It’ll go easier for you if you do.” Finn stepped behind Layla, who hadn’t started to take off her clothes. He threw a covert wink at Miguel, who was definitely giving off some intimidating cop vibes. The corners of Miguel’s mouth twitched, but he was careful not to let Layla see.
“We’re waiting, Ms. Moretti,” Finn prodded.
Layla glanced over her shoulder at him, and he recognized the twinkle in her eye. She was ready to play. She slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head. She tossed it at him and Finn quickly caught it. Her bra followed, but she tossed that sexy scrap of lace at Miguel.
Her shoes and jeans went next, and finally her panties.
“How’s that for cooperation?” she said, her voice breathless and sexy as fuck.
Finn’s cock thickened at the sight of her beautiful naked body. He’d spent way too much time playing out this fantasy today. He needed to get control of himself or this would be over before it started.
He placed a strong hand on her shoulder and pressed her down into the chair. Then he reached for her wrists, drawing them behind her back. He slapped the cuffs on. With her hands bound behind her, her breasts were pushed out, and he was helpless to resist copping a feel, pun intended. He cupped one of her tits and squeezed it, loving the way her eyes drifted closed, the soft exhalation of pleasure.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he demanded roughly.
Her eyes flew open, but there was no fear there. In fact, the saucy little minx actually winked at him, grinning mischievously.
Finn sighed heavily, shaking his head as he glanced over his shoulder at Miguel. “Ms. Moretti doesn’t appear to understand the seriousness of this situation.”
Miguel pushed away from the door and crossed the room to her. “Then I guess it’s up to us to show her.”
Miguel bent and pressed Layla’s knees apart. “Wrap your ankles around the legs of the chair.”
She did as he asked, but Miguel still wasn’t satisfied. He gripped her ass and tugged her forward on the seat.
“Stay there,” Miguel said. “Don’t move.” Miguel rose and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. It was a power move, another way to make Layla feel captured, trapped. Miguel gave Finn a look that said, “your turn.”
Finn knelt in front of her, his gaze drifting to her pussy. “You’ve been a very bad girl,” he said, adopting a deep voice.
Layla shook her head. “It wasn’t me,” she said, getting into the spirit of the role play. “I was set up. You’ve got the wrong person.”
“No. I don’t think we do. We have ways to make you confess.” Finn reached out and drew his finger along her slit, teasing her clit for just a second or two.
Layla’s hips lifted toward his touch.
He placed a quick slap on her inner thigh. “Officer Garcia told you not to move.”
“God, Finn,” she breathed.
He slapped her other thigh. “That’s Officer Young to you,” he corrected. “Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, we’re going to need to search you.”
She smiled. “I’m naked. What could I possibly be hiding, Officer?”
Finn didn’t respond. Instead, he thrust two fingers inside her, eliciting a gasp from her pretty pink lips.
He crooked his fingers and found her G-spot. Layla’s hips lifted again. Finn feigned disappointment at her movement as he withdrew his fingers.
Layla narrowed her eyes. “No. Don’t stop.”
Miguel’s hands tightened on her shoulders as he bent lower, his lips right by her ear. “You don’t make the rules here, Ms. Moretti. We do.”
Fuck. Finn had intended to come in here and seduce the hell out of Layla, but he was the one being seduced by them. He was so fucking turned on, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to play this out until the end.
Miguel must have noticed his distress. “I think it’s time we teach Ms. Moretti how to control her mouth.”
Finn stood up and unbuttoned his jeans. “I think you’re right.” He pushed his pants and boxer briefs to his knees, then shifted closer to Layla.
She licked her lips and moved toward him as much as she could.
“Open your mouth, Ms. Moretti,” Miguel said, his face next to Layla’s. Both of them were close to Finn, to his cock.
He stepped between her outstretched legs and pressed the head of his dick into her mouth. Miguel didn’t move away. Instead, he placed a soft kiss on Layla’s cheek. “Run your tongue along the bottom of his cock.”
Layla did as Miguel instructed, and Finn saw stars.
“Suck him,” Miguel murmured in her ear. “Suck him hard. He’s a tough cop. He can take it.”
Layla was very good—too fucking good—at following instructions. Finn grabbed one handful of her hair, using that grip to push deeper into her mouth.
“Open your throat. Take him deeper. Swallow the head.”
“Fuck,” Finn muttered. “Miguel.” He hoped his friend would take the hint and back off on the directions a little. He needed him to understand how close he was to blowing.
Layla did exactly what Miguel told her to, his cock brushing the back of her throat, and he knew he was a goner. He started thrusting faster, deeper, Layla right there with him, her tongue and lips driving him insane.
Finn didn’t want to come. Not this soon. He started to pull out—but froze when Miguel reached out and gripped the base of his cock.
None of them moved as time literally stood still. Finn looked down at his best friend’s fist wrapped around his cock, the head of his dick in Layla’s mouth. His heart thudded so loudly, it deafened him.
The three of them simply remained there, locked together.
And then…something broke loose.
In all of them.
Finn thrust, pumping his dick in Miguel’s hand and Layla’s mouth. Layla sucked him harder as Miguel tightened his grip.
“Fuck!” Finn shouted, his balls constricting. There was no holding back, no stopping. He pulled Layla’s hair harder and she groaned, the sound reverberating against his flesh. He pulled out and exploded, coming with the force of a freight train, painting Layla’s breasts with his come.
Miguel let go, reaching behind Layla and unlocking the cuffs. The metal clanged against the kitchen floor as they fell. Miguel rubbed her shoulders, kissed the top of her head, whispered sweet words to her.
Finn watched Layla, unable to force himself to look at Miguel. He was struggling to find his footing. None of this fantasy had played out the way he’d intended. He wasn’t creative enough, inventive enough, to have ever imagined something that hot.
Finn pulled up his jeans but didn’t bother to zip them as he shifted toward the sink. His feet felt like they were made of wood, his body still trying to recover from the intensity of his climax.
He reached for a paper towel, wetting it, then returning to Layla to wipe his come off her breasts.
She smiled at him, the look, one of pure joy. “That was amazing,” she said softly. “I like role play…a lot.”
He nodded, even though her description was nowhere near enough to touch what had just happened.
Finn kissed her, and then he looked at Miguel. His best friend stared back at him, his shoulders stiff, his fists clenching and unclenching.
Miguel looked as if he was expecting Finn to throw a punch.
Jesus. He really had fucked things up. His silence these past few months had been nothing short of cruelty. He’d hurt Miguel deeply.
Finn couldn’t do that anymore.
He reached out and gripped the back of Miguel’s neck. His friend stiffened, but Finn pressed on, dragging Miguel toward him.
And kissed him.
Chapter Twelve
It took Miguel a full thirty seconds to figure out that Finn was kissing him. Like really kissing him.
After too many months of avoidance, of wanting something he never thought he’d get, it was taking him a hell of a long time to wrap his head around this kiss.
When he figured it out, he gripped Finn’s hips, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Finn didn’t shy away. Instead, he opened his mouth, stroking Miguel’s lower lip with his tongue. His fingers dug into the back of Miguel’s neck, holding him almost possessively. Then they loosened, and Finn slowly stepped away.
Miguel studied his face, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Finn to change his mind.
It didn’t happen. Finn gave him a small smile. “Sorry for…”
“For?” Miguel prompted, praying Finn wasn’t about to apologize for kissing him.
“For the past few months.”
Miguel breathed a sigh of relief, an airy laugh.
“Well. I guess my work here is done.” Layla stood, and it became clear she intended to get dressed and leave.
Miguel and Finn moved at the same time, caging her between them.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Finn asked.
Layla tilted her head, adorably confused when she said, “Home?”
“The fact that you made that answer a question proves you know you’re not going anywhere except to my bed,” Miguel responded. Then he decided to change the pronoun. “Our bed.”
Layla shook her head slowly, ready to protest, but Miguel didn’t give her the chance. He kissed her—a hard, fast touch of his lips—before he cupped her face and held her gaze. “This isn’t over yet, Layla.”
She blinked a couple of times. “But—”
“But nothing. Miguel’s right. This isn’t over.” Finn grasped her hand, then pointed to the handcuffs on the floor. “You better bring those,” he said to Miguel. “Just in case our girl tries to escape.”
Miguel chuckled as he picked up the cuffs, following Finn and Layla to the bedroom, grateful they’d convinced her to stay.
Shit. He was going to have to figure out what the hell that meant eventually. But not tonight.
Tonight was too perfect, and he wasn’t going to ruin it by thinking.
He grinned at the absurdity of that rationalization.
Finn led Layla straight to the bed, pulling back the covers for her. She crawled into the middle of the mattress and Miguel soaked up the sight. She still looked slightly uncertain, and Miguel didn’t like it.
He pulled off his shirt and climbed onto the bed next to her. Time to distract her from thinking as well.
He cupped her cheek and kissed her, his tongue stroking her lips, her teeth. She tasted sweet, and he suspected she’d treated herself to one of the desserts she sold at the coffee shop.
The mattress dipped as Finn joined them on the bed. His friend had stripped off his clothes as he and Layla kissed.
Miguel stood as Finn took over the kisses, watching the two of them while he removed his jeans, but he didn’t return to the bed once he was naked, too spellbound by them.
He leaned against the post of the footboard, enjoying the show.
Finn was a surprise in the bedroom, confidant and commanding. Miguel hadn’t really expected that. In their everyday lives, Miguel was the stronger of the two, the one who tended to take control of what they did, where they went. Finn was the type to just go with the flow.
That didn’t translate to the bedroom. Not even a little.
Finn’s lips traveled along Layla’s neck, not stopping until he’d reached her breasts. He pinched one hard nipple as he sucked on the other. Layla’s back arched as he alternated between tiny bites of pain followed by soothing pleasure.
“Please,” Layla whispered. Miguel grinned at the desperation in her tone. Patience wasn’t her strong suit, as she tried to race through the foreplay.
Finn chuckled darkly. “You want our cocks inside you, Brown Eyes?” he murmured. Miguel liked Finn’s term of endearment for her. A lot.
She nodded. “So much.”
“Too soon,” Finn said.
Layla closed her eyes, the sound that slipped out pure whine. “I can’t wait. I don’t want to wait.”
“She’s spoiled,” Miguel said with a grin.
Finn glanced over at Miguel. He knew neither Finn nor Layla had forgotten he was there. In fact, he’d noticed the way Finn had angled them on the bed, giving Miguel a bird’s-eye view of the action.
“Think we should put her out of her misery?” Finn asked him.
Miguel shook his head. “I don’t think she’s suffered enough.”
Layla flashed a dirty look his direction, while Finn laughed.
“I agree.” Finn shifted lower on the bed, drawing Layla’s legs over his shoulders as he bent down and sucked her clit into his mouth.
“Fuck. Me,” Layla whispered, though Miguel couldn’t tell if it was a demand or a curse.
Finn pushed two fingers inside her pussy, stroking her half a dozen times, pushing her to the edge before withdrawing.
Layla pounded her fists on his shoulders. “Dammit, Finn!” Then her attention turned to Miguel, her sultry gaze traveling south, smiling when she saw his erection. Miguel ran his fists along the sensitive flesh, gathering pre-come with the tips of his fingers.
Finn finger-fucked her slowly, keeping her body on a steady hum, while ensuring she couldn’t fly over the peak.
Layla licked her lips. “Miguel. I want you inside me. Fucking me hard and fast.”
She thought he’d be easier to sway. She was wrong, but he let her believe she’d won when he climbed back onto the bed. He took one of her legs off Finn’s shoulders, opening her even wider. He pressed one finger inside her wet heat next to Finn’s, stretching her.
Then he pulled it out, moving his wet finger lower, circling her anus.
Her hips reared up even as she sought to move away.
Finn gripped her thigh, holding her in place for Miguel’s exploration.
“Mmmm,” he hummed, pressing until he was one-knuckle deep in her ass. He wiggled it, thrilled when she moaned—the sound sheer pleasure—then she pushed toward his finger, trying to take in more.
“Fuck,” Finn muttered. “You look so hot with Miguel’s finger in your ass, LJ. Do you like it?”
She nodded, the motions jerky, her face flushed a bright red, her breathing erratic. “I…need…”
“We know
what you need, Brown Eyes.” Finn’s fingers moved inside her, but it was still too slow. “And we’re going to give it to you. All of it. But we can’t do this in one night. We need more time.”
Miguel grinned. Finn had led her to this place intentionally, driving her completely out of her mind, distracting her by withholding her orgasm, and now he was going in for the kill.
Layla blinked, trying to focus, trying to regain her wits.
Miguel couldn’t let her do that. He pushed his finger deeper into her ass, not stopping until it was lodged to the hilt.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “Please!”
“Don’t you see, LJ,” Finn persisted. “There’s still so much we can teach you. Say you’ll give us more time.”
“How much?” she asked, the question ending with a squeak when Miguel curled his finger in her ass.
Finn looked at him, letting Miguel set the time frame.
It was on the tip of Miguel’s tongue to suggest a year or three, but he knew Layla would balk at that. Hell, she’d probably consider even a month too long.
“A week,” Miguel said. It wasn’t enough…but maybe at the end of it, they could convince her to give them another.
“A week,” Finn repeated. “We’ll squeeze every sexual adventure we can into seven days. We’re going to drive each other wild.”
Layla’s cheeks were pink, her chest rising and falling. “I don’t—”
Miguel pulled his finger out of her ass, then thrust in again, rapidly, rougher. At the same time, Finn curled his fingers in her pussy.
“Fuck,” she gasped. “You guys don’t play fair.”
“Never said we would,” Miguel responded, prompting Finn to laugh. He loved the sound.
“Fine. One week, but if you want me to leave—” Her words died again when Finn pulled his fingers out of her completely and Miguel followed suit.
“Hey,” she protested.
Finn lowered his head and licked her slit, one long, slow stroke. Miguel wondered what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that wickedly talented tongue. Though Finn had initiated the kiss in the kitchen earlier, Miguel still felt an invisible barrier between them in bed.
