He blew out a breath as the melee of the real world clattered in his ears. It always did. It was there. Waiting to consume him. Except within these walls, he was safe. They kept him safe.
“I know, Dev, I know. But…” Sawyer sighed. “If you’re sure?”
“Deadly,” he retorted decisively.
Sawyer scrubbed a hand through his sweaty hair. “I can’t believe you’ve done it. Jesus, Dev, I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Devon shot him a smile. “Thanks, bro.”
Silence fell as he returned his attention to the rose he was creating for Sascha, then, Sawyer asked, “Dev?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you remember when we first met?”
Devon huffed. “How could I forget? You didn’t like me. Called me an uptight prick.”
“You were,” Sawyer replied, but he was grinning.
“What about it?”
Though Sawyer would deny his own genius, would compare himself to Devon, he could more than hold his own.
The weekend they’d met had been a gathering where universities had pitched their math programs to a bunch of budding mathematicians who had made enough strides in their own right to garner attention.
Sawyer had won several prizes in America, Devon had already created an algorithm that had been used at CERN… universities had wanted them in their department.
Sawyer had been the archetypal belligerent teenager. Dressed in scruffy jeans and a sweater that had holes in it because, you know, fashion—Devon rolled his eyes at the memory—and bright white high tops, he’d looked his age and he’d also looked ill at ease. A kid from the wrong side of the Glaswegian tracks, he’d been among some of the greatest, and snootiest, mathematicians around.
Devon, on the other hand, had been disinterested by the universities courting him for the most part. Wearing dress pants and a shirt with shoes so shiny he could have used the leather as a writing surface for chalk, he’d been Sawyer’s direct opposite. Apathetic, vaguely curious as to what was happening, and only attending because his father had demanded he go. He’d listened without listening—a talent he’d picked up when his dad was berating him over not being able to run more than two miles.
Devon had known which department he was going to. Which university. The one that would challenge him the most; Oxford. Where Dr. Anderson, one of the world’s most highly respected mathematicians, held tenure.
He and Sawyer had been shoved together by way of chance, and had gotten into a discussion over the Riemann hypothesis. That discussion had developed into a pen pal friendship, with them eagerly sending several letters a week as they worked together long distance.
Good times, Devon thought with a smile. The start of a friendship that was without end.
“What about the weekend we met?” Devon asked absentmindedly, his mind on the memory as well as the paper rose he was crafting, and the next challenge on his list: the Navier Stokes Problem.
He did like these Millennium Problems. They were his version of a to-do list.
“That was the best weekend of my life.”
Devon blinked, then scowled. “What about that weekend we went to Amsterdam?”
Sawyer scoffed. “That was a great weekend for all the wrong reasons, dick.” He grunted as he got to his feet, then stacked his hands on his hips. “I’m trying to be nice.”
“Why?” Devon asked, scowling at his friend. “Stop it. It’s weird.”
A blank look settled on Sawyer’s face, then he rolled his eyes. “Why do I bother?” he asked.
“Bother doing what?”
“Never mind.” His hands fell to his sides, the file in his left. “Amsterdam was good, wasn’t it?”
Devon grinned. “Do you remember when Sean ducked into that coffee shop that sold pot to escape the transvestite hooker who thought Sean was flirting with him?”
“That has to be one of the most politically incorrect things I’ve heard today,” Sawyer retorted, but his grin was just as wide.
“Best pot I’ve ever had,” Devon continued, tone reminiscent. “Sean said he was due to go to Amsterdam for a seminar. If I’d known, I’d have planned to go.”
Sawyer’s brows rose. “You’d have left London?”
Devon grimaced. “I’m not glued here, you know.”
“You have been before.” He shrugged. “I guess things change.”
“Sascha’s being here has changed me,” Devon admitted. “I feel…” Hell, what did he feel? At peace?
For the first time in his thirty-eight years, was it insane to admit that’s how he felt? Like she turned off the noise? For the first time, enabling him to hear far beyond the chaos circling him? What was it about her that even did that?
She was just a woman. Sure, she was beautiful. And she made love like a porn star—concussion be damned. But…Why her? Why was she so special?
He wanted to ask Sawyer that, discuss the topic, but he knew enough to realize Sawyer would get angry if he talked that way. They were all so scared of saying something to hurt Sascha. Of irritating or angering her.
It surprised him he was the only one who saw that. They didn’t exactly tiptoe around her. The men were incapable of that.
Andrei alone, with his wicked sarcasm, could barely keep a civil tongue in his head for more than eight hours straight. Never mind for days or weeks at a time!
Still, there was little use in always being so careful around Sascha. Life, as it had shown them, had a habit of disturbing matters. Of upending them and spreading shit around.
It was then he realized he would ask her. Not only ask her why she was special enough to make the noise in his head disappear, but also, why she was going to stay with them even though she was rich enough to live alone and do whatever she wanted.
If she was mad at him, she’d forgive him. He recognized that, and knew that they had to stop pussyfooting around her.
Sawyer stared at him, and Devon sensed he’d been quiet a long time when he met his friend’s gaze. “What?” he asked, uncertain what they’d been talking about.
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Never mind.” He slapped the file of papers against his leg. “You still sure about this?”
Devon snorted. “When have I ever been uncertain about math?”
Sawyer shrugged. “This is a doozy, Devon. You know that, right? It changes things.”
“No. It doesn’t,” he said calmly, refusing to accept Sawyer’s words. “It changes nothing.”
“The patents on this alone are going to be staggering,” Sawyer immediately argued. “We’re talking about changing the face of encryption as we know it.”
Devon eyed him after he scored the paper lightly with a paper knife he kept sharpened for occasions such as these. “Since when do I care about things like that?”
Sawyer sighed. “Dammit, Dev. Don’t be obtuse.”
“I’m not being obtuse. I just don’t care.”
“We’re going to need to set up another corporation, dammit.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Anyway, you have to care. This matters.”
“Not to me.” Devon’s voice turned steely.
“What’s going on?” Sascha appeared in the doorway with a mug in her hand.
“Nothing,” was Devon’s immediate retort, as he shot a quelling glance at his friend. “Why have you changed into a skirt?”
She frowned. “I spilled cake batter onto my trousers earlier. I didn’t realize you were back, Sawyer. I’d have brought you tea, too.”
Sawyer immediately wrinkled his nose. “The chamomile’s for Dev.”
Her lips curved in a smile. “I don’t know. I think as a sign of solidarity we ought to reduce our caffeine intake.”
“I’d like to see you pry coffee out of Andrei’s cold dead hands,” Devon pointed out. “Because that’s the only way you’ll get him to stop.”
She pouted. “I’m sure if I asked kindly.”
“Does being kind make a difference?” Devon asked, genuinely curious.
“It
tends to, sweetheart. Yes.”
Sawyer snorted. “Kindness and Dev don’t go together.”
“That’s nonsense,” came her immediate defense, and Devon had to hide a smile. As unpredictable as Sascha was, in her defense of him, she was resolute. She moved from the doorway to the desk where he was working on her paper rose and placed the mug with the piss-yellow brew next to him. As she pressed a kiss to his temple, she murmured, “Just ignore him. You’re very kind. In fact, you’re kinder than anyone I know because you don’t know you’re being kind. It’s just instinctive.”
Sawyer hooted. “Well, there you have it, Dev. You’re the next Mother Teresa.”
Sascha glared at him, but Devon ignored their verbal tussle to peer down into the cup. “Do I have to drink this?” he asked, sighing as the floral scent filled the air around him.
“Yes. It helps you sleep,” was Sawyer’s immediate retort as he perched his ass on the edge of his desk on the other side of the room to Devon’s.
“The only thing that helps me sleep is Sascha,” Devon pointed out. “You don’t make me eat her.”
Sascha chuckled. “I wouldn’t be averse to that cure. And no, I’m not into cannibalism, Dev,” she continued without hesitation, apparently anticipating his next wide-eyed question. “I meant, you can go down on me any day of the week.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You mean that?”
“Uh, yeah,” she told him with a chuckle. “What kind of fool would I be if I said no to that?”
“How about now?”
“Now?”
Sawyer rubbed his hands together. “I knew the afternoon was missing something.”
“Group sex was on the agenda?” she demanded, her brows lifting but not in anger, just amused curiosity.
“Nope, but it always can be,” Devon retorted, his hand coming up to palm her ass.
She jumped at his touch, apparently not expecting it. Her hand came up to cup his shoulder.
“What are you doing?”
He grinned at her. “What do you think?”
Before she knew what he was about, he pulled his hand back and slapped her butt. She jolted, jumping upright, then pressed her hand to her behind to cup it.
“Not you as well. Why do you want to keep spanking my poor butt? What did it ever do to you?” she demanded, but a teasing grin curved her lips.
“It torments me,” he told her. “Wiggles from side to side, urging me to do naughty, naughty things to it.”
Her brow arched. “How naughty?”
He grinned. “Very naughty.”
“You had to start this when I was sweaty and needed a shower, Dev,” Sawyer grumbled.
Sascha shot him a look. “I don’t mind. You smell sexy when you’re sweaty.”
Sawyer pulled a face. “You say that now.”
“True. Just don’t shove it in my face, and I’m good. Plus, you don’t want your cock anywhere near Devon’s if memory serves.”
A twinkle sparkled in Devon’s eye. “Technically, it was my balls.”
“I don’t want your meat and veggies anywhere near me,” Sawyer argued, “But spit roasting our beauty, I’m never not game for that.”
Sascha sputtered, and an interesting flush rose on her chest. She swallowed. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Haven’t watched much porn, have you, love?” Sawyer retorted, mock-sweet.
She glowered at him, folded her arms across her chest. “I’ve watched enough.”
“Apparently not. But we’ll fill in the gaps in your education,” Devon told her, his tone pious.
“I’m so grateful for your expert tutelage,” she retorted, then squealed when, in a quick move, he pulled his chair back, grabbed her by the waist and tumbled her over his lap.
Her hair fell down in a great auburn cascade, covering his legs and veiling her face. Before she could do little more than shriek, he spanked her behind again, then curved his hand over her ass.
His fingers arched downward between the fabric covering her butt from him, but her pussy was throbbing under his palm as he dug the digits against her heat.
“Devon!” she shrieked. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He shot Sawyer a look, then had to chuckle when he saw his best friend was already bare ass naked.
“Someone’s ready to rock,” he teased. He’d seen Sawyer naked often enough to not be uncomfortable, but Sawyer was a prude in many ways.
“Stop eyeing up my dick.”
His grumble had Sascha ceasing to wriggle on his lap. Instead, she jerked upright, her head turning sharply to the side so she could look over at Sawyer.
Hair spilled over her face and caught in her lashes as she blinked. Devon reached forward and tugged her hair into a loose grip. She gulped at the sight of Sawyer who was now stroking his shaft.
Licking her lips, she whispered, “I thought you were teasing.”
Devon pulled her hair back gently, arching her throat in a way that did delicious things to the curve of her spine and her ass.
“When have you known us to tease you when it comes to sex?”
She swallowed. “All the time.”
“Do you want this, Sascha, love?” Sawyer asked, his cock in his fist, his hand swift as his hardness swelled in his grasp.
She swallowed. “I want you inside me,” she answered, and Sawyer nodded his understanding as well as his agreement.
Devon grabbed the hem of her skirt and jerked it up and over her hips. It was a tight fit, and he heard the pull of some stitches as he acted roughly, lifting the taut fabric over the swells of her body.
When her ass was on show, he groaned. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve been walking around with no panties on?”
She snickered, her head sinking low now—the strain of her earlier position too much on her neck.
Sawyer groaned. “Holy crap.” Silence, a few grunts. “Dev? How wet is she?”
Devon slid his fingers down her core, shuddered at the juices that immediately drenched his hand. “She’s wetter than a fucking watermelon.”
Laughter erupted from Sascha. “But do I taste as good?”
Devon smacked his lips. “I bet you taste even better.” He raised his hand to his mouth and slurped up her juices.
The noises had her rearing up again, this time to look at him. Her eyes, so green and bright, were heavy lidded as she watched him taste her, and as he licked his fingers clean, her eyes focused on his, he spanked her ass once more.
She let out a hiss and closed her eyes, her body jerking in response to the touch.
“I’m not sure I appreciate this tendency you have of spanking me.”
“Don’t forget to tell us important things like your not wearing panties, and you won’t need to worry about it.”
Her bottom lip popped out at Sawyer’s gruff retort.
“Bring her round here,” Sawyer demanded, making Devon roll his eyes at the bossy dictate.
He wheeled the chair back, and used momentum to swing his way into the middle of the office.
Papers, as usual, covered every surface—the floor included—but he rolled over them regardless.
His was an organized kind of chaos. Until Sawyer came in and filed everything away, ruining his own filing process.
Now in the center of the room, with her butt on show and no longer partially hidden by the desk shielding her, Sascha wiggled on his lap.
“What are you guys going to do?” she asked, her voice breathy.
“What do you think, lass? Give you what you’ve been begging for o’course.”
She moaned. “I haven’t been begging for anything.”
Devon let his hand curl over her ass and slip between her legs. “This tells us differently.”
Sawyer approached her from the side and let his hands come and tangle with Devon’s. “Jesus,” he hissed. “I need in her, Dev.”
She squeaked. “No! I’m not wet enough. You’re too big.”
“Music for any man’s ear
s, lass,” Sawyer crooned. “But dinnae be worrying,” he continued, his brogue making a heady reappearance. “I’ll make it good for you.”
She reared up again to look back at him. Her eyes were on his cock, the thick shaft, the purple head—already sheathed in a condom he must have grabbed from his desk drawer. She licked her lips at the sight and whispered, “You won’t fit.”
“I fit before.”
“You’re too big,” she carried on, but the flush on her cheeks spoke of her arousal. Not her fear or discomfort.
Her words were arousing her.
Women, they could be so bizarre sometimes, Devon thought, rolling his eyes at her.
She got off on dirty talk, he’d realized a while back. But the more she was around them, the more powerful that dirty talk became for her.
Sawyer notched his cock against her pussy, sliding the tip through the copious folds. She let out a moan, dropped her head. Her hands shifted, one going to the floor for support, the other clinging to Devon’s calf. “You’re so big,” she moaned, a breath catching in her throat.
Sawyer slipped the tip into her cunt, and Devon watched the rictus of pleasure on his best friend’s face as Sascha’s slick heat surrounded his dick.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, his head flinging back a second, the sinews standing out thickly on his throat. “She feels like heaven, Dev.”
A high-pitched cry escaped her. “Oh God, Sawyer!” she mewled, wriggling her ass, rocking her hips, nearly bucking off Devon’s lap.
He grabbed her, held her in place as Sawyer slowly skewered her on his shaft. He was slow at first, because Sascha was right—they were all big men, and they could hurt her if they weren’t careful.
When he was all the way inside, the pair of them panted like they’d been in a race. Devon’s cock was drenched with pre-cum and the pressure of her on his lap wasn’t helping any.
He shot Sawyer a look, one he seemed to understand, and with brute force, he lifted Sascha off Devon’s lap and hauled her into the air.
The sudden movement had her shrieking as Sawyer’s cock not only filled her at a different angle, but also, the blood was undoubtedly rushing to her head, and she had to be feeling shaky from the sudden shift in position.
They were both panting when Sawyer planted his heels, and with more brute force, lifted her legs apart and high until she was impaled on his cock.
Loved by Them_A Reverse Harem Romance Page 10
