by Watts, Mia
Bruce trailed kisses along her neck and shoulder. Willow closed her eyes to the sensations she couldn’t seem to keep up with. The men demanded her pleasure with deceptively small touches bringing her closer and closer toward that brink of insanity she craved.
Bruce’s fingers danced over her anus, tickling it. Awareness hit her all at once. Both men were going in. God help her. How were they going to fit?
“Shh, honey,” Kane murmured, smoothing a hand down her stomach. “Relax.”
She hadn’t realized she’d tensed, but between Bruce fumbling for a condom, and the cool gel, she knew Bruce was close to entering.
“Slow down, Bruce,” Kane admonished.
“You humans never get to the point,” he complained.
Kane shook his head, his face hidden from her. Kane’s forelocks swept her belly as he descended between her legs.
“I mean it, Bruce. This is about Willow. I’d better not get a face full of cock.”
Bruce harrumphed. Willow fought back a stress-relieving giggle. The intensity of the past few moments broken, she relaxed again. Unfortunately that brought her attention straight back to—”Oh, God!”
Kane chuckled. “I told you no talking.”
His tongue took another pass along her wet cunt, and every nerve ending in her body drew tight. Bruce’s fingers clamped on her nipples in small pinching grips each time Kane’s mouth explored her pussy. Bruce’s lips closed on the soft spot between her shoulder and her neck. Heat streaked through her from one end of her body to the other, never fully settling before being redirected by yet another touch, another kiss, another flicker of sensation.
Her mind reeled. Like an agitated butterfly that couldn’t rest, her mind flitted from one man to the other. Kane focused his attention on her straining clit, taking it between his lips and sucking hard. Bruce responded by twisting her nipples in perfect unison with Kane’s dedicated pursuit.
Kane pulled off her clit. “Come for us, Willow,” he commanded darkly.
Bruce moved one hand lower. His teasing fingertips explored her anus, pushed through and scissored out again. Kane likewise slipped one thick finger into her pussy. He tugged down, stretching her, and the moment his teeth grazed her clit, Willow screamed, arching above Bruce’s body. Kane grabbed her hips, holding her firmly in place while he sucked her into a trembling mass of after-orgasm shudders.
Willow’s brain was still firing the orgasmic static when Bruce’s sleek cock, pushed into her ass. She inhaled sharply. She opened her eyes, took one look at the feral expression on Kane’s face, and shivered. He was next, she realized.
“Looks like you win, Ms. Harper. You’re getting exactly what you wanted.” With that, Kane shoved swiftly in.
Willow whimpered. Both men held steady while she squirmed to adjust. Kane reached between their bodies, to stroke her pussy lips. He found her recently fulfilled nub, and swirled a fingertip on it.
Lightning bolts sparked throughout her. She needed this like she needed air to breathe.
“Please,” she begged.
Kane leaned down. “Please, what?” he prompted.
He tapped her clit, and Willow strained, flexing her hips to him.
“Please make me come,” she said, fighting her pride. She hated that he’d made her ask.
Kane’s lips brushed her ear. “How bad do you want it, Ms. Harper?”
Willow, her mind corrected. She wanted him to call her Willow. She’d asked once already, and he’d done it, more out of teasing her than anything else, she realized. Calling her Ms felt forbidden and hot.
And yet—what they were doing was far too intimate for the formality. She needed them. Needed Kane and Bruce to take her body and soul into the pounding of flesh. She wanted the twisted orgy of pain and pleasure wrapping around her, through her, that the promise of two cocks filling her gave.
“I want it bad,” she admitted. It was an understatement; her skin crawled for it. Her muscles bunched. Her bundled nerves fired small electrical currents of need like a druggie needing a fix.
Kane pulled out. Willow bit down on her lip to keep from humiliating herself with the pathetic whimper threatening to escape.
He pushed in, and she saw him nod over her shoulder. Fully lodged, Bruce then slipped out and in. They took turns like that, rubbing the fine wall separating them, turning it into a different kind of kindling which burned blissfully. Never having been with two men before, she didn’t know what to expect.
She held on, fisting her hands in Bruce’s hair, curling her toes into the bed sheets, as the men took her. She was trapped between two walls of moving muscle. Hot breath fanned her neck and cheek from both directions. Willow’s lips parted on a cry that never manifested, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
Lost. She was lost. Floating. Feeling. Burning. Hands touched her everywhere. Cock, lips, the sweet slap of Kane’s balls, and the flex of hips over and under, lost. Lost. The word pounded into her with the same rhythm the men took.
Oh, God, she really was lost.
Orgasm blindsided her, sending her screaming into the abyss. She was only vaguely aware that Bruce shuddered beneath her. Kane pushed hard into her several more times, extending the waves of pleasure that hit her into an endless tide. He grunted, arched, fucked her again. His head fell forward and he pressed his lips to hers. She answered numbly.
Willow half gasped, half sobbed. She closed her eyes. She’d been right. She should have realized this was a mistake the minute Kane stripped and walked toward her. The minute she realized that he’d take hold and never let go, even if he physically walked away from her. Her cool facade slipped. It didn’t feel good being right this time. It felt like shit. Kane had broken through the barrier. He was as dangerous as he’d seemed.
“Dangerous,” she whispered as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Chapter Seven
Kane felt shattered. How could one woman break him? He looked down at the two sleeping people in bed with him. But it wasn’t just the woman, it was Bruce too. Kane would need to address that, he decided, but not now. Not when the reality of his world tilted the way it had tonight.
He’d wanted Willow. The chemistry between them was hot, automatic, and irresistible. He didn’t know how to explain the attraction to Bruce. He had been unprepared for that. So far, Kane had dealt with it by avoidance. Or by breaking the man down into tolerable pieces. Kane could admit, for example, that Bruce had hypnotic eyes, that he naturally seemed to intuit what Kane needed, by sinking into the background, or that he had a great body. As long as Kane kept the observations physical, he could handle sharing Willow. He could even enjoy sharing her.
With Willow, it was a no-brainer. Kane liked her, a lot. Too much. The only way he’d been able to keep a semblance of distance was by calling her Ms. Harper. The one time he’d used her name, he’d known he couldn’t continue and keep his reserve intact.
Kane climbed out of bed, leaving them asleep. He tracked down his clothes then eased from the room. He dressed in the living room and locked the front door behind him. Once he stood on the front porch, he took a deep breath. Several actually.
Kane hung his head. He’d fucked up. Big. “Never get involved with a mark.”
Cardinal rule one. Willow wasn’t exactly his mark, but she was the center cog for a very important investigation. Fucking her might as well be fucking the mark.
But that was just the problem he was choosing to focus on, because the real problem was too big. A woman like Willow, her need, her generosity with herself, her spirit, and a weekend of listening to how her mind worked, conspired against him to create one very alluring, green-eyed package.
He’d been wrong to think that claiming her body would take the shine off her. Now he only wanted more of her. And damn if he didn’t want to have Bruce there again, too. His heart raced with the admission he didn’t want to look at too closely, if Bruce touched him—even his shoulders—Kane didn’t think he’d brush him off next time.
Kane got into the van and drove off. He needed distance. For now, he’d keep his direct contact with Willow and Bruce to a minimum. He’d just have to call Sage to make sure he got his information.
Kane pulled up in front of his apartment building and dragged himself inside. If the warrants for bugs had been granted, he’d have had Willow plant a few while on property. But it hadn’t, and any information he obtained that way wouldn’t have been valid when it came time to sew up the case.
Avoidance. It was childish, but their encounter reduced him to the simplest means of escape necessary. At least until he could figure out what to do next.
* * * *
Avoidance didn’t look like it was going to be possible. Kane scowled at the brown haired, dark eyed obstacle in his office two days later. He dropped the stack of files he’d been holding, letting them thump to his desktop.
“What?” Kane asked.
“Is this about me?” Bruce asked. “Are you weirded out because I was there?”
It was interesting that neither one of them had to guess at the subject of conversation. It had been two days, but clearly three way fucking had been on both their minds.
“Nope,” Kane answered dryly.
“She likes you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I like you,” Bruce added cautiously, seeming to watch Kane for a reaction.
“Great. I’m likable. Just what I wanted for Christmas.” Kane pretended to sort through the dropped files then stopped. What was he hiding from? He fucking never hid—except when he was avoiding. But that was different, he argued with himself.
“You send all your orders through Sage or Dill, now. If you’re so okay with everything, why aren’t you communicating directly with Willow?” Bruce put his hands on his hips.
Kane could see this conversation wasn’t going to end easily. He circled his desk and reached behind Bruce, closing the door.
“My personal life isn’t one I share with my coworkers,” Kane told him tightly.
“Yeah,” Bruce rolled his eyes. “Another hang up of your kind.”
“That right there,” Kane said, pointing at Bruce, “needs an explanation. You’ve said something like that every time I’m around.”
If Bruce was as whacked out as his statements seemed to make him, then distancing from him and Willow would be a lot easier. Kane would just chalk it up to insanity, and better off without them.
“I know. It’s part of the reason I’m here talking to you.”
Kane started to walk back toward his desk. Bruce grabbed his forearm stopping him. Kane instinctively looked toward the closed door. No one could see them, he knew it. Still didn’t keep him from checking.
“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who hides behind fear,” Bruce noted.
He wasn’t. This also wasn’t a typical conversation and there was security in using his desk as a barrier. But Bruce was right. Kane didn’t hide and he wasn’t going to hide now. He turned to fully face Bruce.
“Start talking,” Kane said.
“There isn’t a lot that gets under Willow’s skin. I don’t, but I plan it that way. I’m not the kind of guy who sticks around and she knows it. You are. You’re the kind of man who looks at women in terms of right now, or forever. I don’t see right now on your face when you touch her.”
Kane pressed his lips together. Bruce’s assessment was too accurate for comfort.
When Kane didn’t respond, Bruce continued. “She looks at you the same way.”
“That doesn’t make you jealous?” Kane asked.
“It doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t settle down with me if I wanted her to.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t like my kind very much.”
Kane lifted his brows waiting for an explanation.
“I’m a faery.”
Kane shrugged. “So you like dudes. Big deal. Doesn’t seem to slow you down when it comes to making love with Willow.”
“No, Kane. I’m actually a faery.” Bruce dragged his shirt over his head and turned around.
So Bruce was insane. Kane felt oddly disappointed that he’d have to permanently break off any relationship with him, and with Willow for associating with him. How sane could a woman be who readily played along with Bruce’s delusions?
As he watched, the dip beneath Bruce’s shoulder blades glowed then stretched toward his spine. Kane stared, trying to make sense of it. The glow expanded, widened, unfurled into gossamer blue wings, more delicate than a dragonfly’s, but with the same double wing construction.
“What the fuck?” Kane backed up, hitting his desk. He gripped it as though it would hold him upright.
“Wings. See?” Bruce said casually. “I’m a faery.”
“She knows?”
“Of course she knows. Willow is part faery.”
Kane tried to form a question but failed miserably. Thoughts about Willow, her siblings, faery existence in general, incredulity, tumbled together in a cognitive hurricane that left little ability for speech.
“Her mother is full faery,” Bruce answered seeming to know the question he wanted answered most.
“Sage?”
Bruce turned around. He kept his shirt off, but the wings behind him vanished like smoke in the wind.
“Half faery, just like all the other Harper kids.”
Kane tried to pull himself together. Depending on the mantle of an agent usually got him through and he prayed it would this time too. He stopped leaning on the desk and stood up.
“What does that mean?”
“Not sure what you’re asking there. Are you asking if there are differences?”
“Sure,” Kane agreed. “Let’s go with that.”
“Some. As far as I know, they don’t have wings. That’s their mortal half. They each have a particular gift that the faery realm gave them when they were born. Although, to ask them, they think of it as a curse.” Bruce chuckled. “It kind of is, actually. But also a blessing.”
Kane’s brow furrowed. “What kind of gift?”
“They can each do something mortals can’t. Sage reads minds. Dill freezes time. Flora transports from place to place. Fauna disappears. Willow transmogrifies. Specifically, she turns into wooden things.”
Kane struggled to absorb what he was being told. Wooden things? “Like an apple blossom tree, or a coat rack, or a,” he closed his eyes and opened them again, “toilet paper dispenser.”
“Exactly.”
“That’s why she hates dogs.”
“Yeah,” Bruce agreed. “They get confused and start marking her as their territory.”
“And it’s why she always smells like hardwood.”
Bruce grinned. “You noticed that?”
“What about you? How are you different?”
“I’m not limited. Like all true faeries, we can manipulate things based on the energy found in nature. We need it, actually. I have wings. I also stabilize Willow. That’s another quirk of the gift. The Harpers can’t control their talent. It just happens.”
“That would complicate a lot,” Kane deadpanned.
Bruce gave a murmur of agreement.
“So making love to Willow means you always have to be there,” Kane concluded.
“It’s not a death sentence, Agent Wilcox.”
Kane lifted his eyes, meeting Bruce’s intense gaze. “I’m not a guy who goes for other guys.”
“I’m not another guy. I’m a faery. We’ve had a whole discussion about it.”
“But you’re male.”
Bruce walked to him. “I’m male,” he agreed. “Faeries don’t give a shit what sex someone is. If it feels good, we do it. No judgments. We’re also built for beauty, and if we really want someone, they don’t resist. It’s probably Willow’s influence that I haven’t tried to coerce you. I seem to have this soft spot for her. In this case it means, I want you to want me because of who I am, not because
I can get you to want me supernaturally.”
“Thank you,” Kane answered, his gaze holding Bruce’s.
“I do want you, though.”
“I know. I heard you over the wire.”
“You aren’t freaking out,” Bruce noted.
“I’m flattered and really not too sure what I think about it.”
“That’s fair.”
“Will you let me show you something?” Bruce asked. “There are other things about being a faery that are different.”
Kane grudgingly nodded.
Bruce closed the space between them. Kane stiffened but tried to keep his ground despite the man-size faery invading his space. Tentatively, Bruce lifted his chin. Kane saw the kiss coming and fought with himself to let Bruce do it. It went against how he thought of himself, but Kane was curious what kissing a man would feel like. So he tamped down the urge to walk away.
Bruce’s smooth, unmarked beauty did set him apart from other men. His distinct, delicate yet pronounced bone structure should have looked feminine, yet it didn’t. His lips were full and perfectly shaped, the seam coming together in a cupid’s bow curve. This close, his black eyes still didn’t differentiate between pupil and iris. They were simply solid black, deep, mysterious and sensual.
Their lips touched. There was no overt pressure from Bruce, as though he recognized Kane’s need to analyze everything that was happening right now. Their lips touched a second time. Kane felt slightly proud of himself for holding still. He was charmed when Bruce’s cheeks flushed, and his eyelids dropped to half mast.
Kissing Bruce felt softer than he’d imagined. Not that he’d imagined it, because what straight guy would, he mentally scoffed. But okay, he’d imagined it and kissing Bruce far surpassed that. It was like kissing a woman, but different.
Bruce flicked his tongue out. It startled Kane to realize his lips were already parted, and the feather light tickle of tongue touched his. Curiosity overwhelmed him as a hint of honey drew him to taste Bruce in return.
