BlowingitOff

by Lexxie Couper

  Concentrated pleasure speared through her. Sinking into the junction of her thighs. “Oh…”

  Whatever else she was going to say—yes, yes, please—was lost to her as Will pressed a hand to the side of her face, turned her head to his and took her mouth in a greedy kiss.

  His tongue delved past her lips, its action echoed by his fingers dipping beneath her now open fly—God, when did that happen?—to delve between her pussy’s folds.

  Damon’s hands worked their way to her arse, cupping and squeezing each cheek through her jeans for a punishing moment before snaring the back of her raised leg and yanking it higher. Her sex spread wider and Will’s fingers plunged deeper, wriggling inside her with a mastery that made her whimper into his mouth.

  “Tell me how wet she is, Will.”

  Phoebe’s heart thumped faster at Damon’s groaned order. And faster still when Will broke their kiss and raised his face to his friends.

  “Wet and tight and hot, Stretch. So wet a man would drown in her pleasure.”

  “I want to be that man.” Damon’s lips roamed her throat. “I want to sink to my knees and bury my face in her cunt and let her cream flow down my throat.”

  “Do it.” The command left Phoebe on a ragged breath. She arched her body, driving her pussy harder against Will’s wriggling fingers, toward Damon’s insistent erection. “Do it now. I can’t wait.”

  Damon’s low chuckle vibrated against the side of her neck. “Perhaps we should close the door first?”

  The question made Phoebe start and, for the first time since Damon’s lips crushed hers, she remembered where they were—standing in the open doorway of her converted garage for anyone who walked past to see.

  And in a village the size of Morpeth, “anyone” could quite literally walk past at any second. Walk past and see her leg wrapped around one man’s hips with another man’s hand buried between her thighs. Walk past and see her lips wet from their kisses. Walk past and hear her moans of desperate need.

  “Perhaps,” Will answered, his fingers slipping from her sodden slit just enough to stroke the swollen nub of her clit before plunging back inside her. “Unless Pheebs wants to leave it open?”

  An exquisite thrill shot through Phoebe at the very notion. Her sex pulsed, her nipples pinching tight.

  “Jesus, Stretch,” Will groaned, “the way her cunt just squeezed my fingers, I think she does.”

  “N-no…” She shook her head, her lips parting. She did. A part of her did. So much. A wanton part of her wanted just that. The idea of being caught as Damon and William pleasured her was so freaking arousing she felt giddy and weak from it. But this was Morpeth, population eight hundred and ninety-one. Her home and place of employment. When Damon and Will went back to Newcastle—as they would—she would still be here.

  When they go back? But you don’t want them to go back.

  The thought squirmed in her chest, cold and unsettling.

  “No,” she said again, more firm this time. “Not in the doorway.” She pushed at Damon’s chest, really pushed at it, detangling herself from their arms. Will’s fingers slipped from her pussy, dragging over her clit as she pulled away from them. The contact sent a shudder through her and she bit back a cry—of dismay and pleasure.

  “Listen,” she began, taking a step backward from the door, away from them both. “There’s something we need to get clear.”

  Damon threw Will a quick look, both men standing motionless in the gaping entry. “What’s that, Masters?”

  She swallowed at the tone of his voice. She’d heard it before. If a tiger about to go for the kill could form human speech, that’s what Damon would sound like. Menacing arrogance and confident determination.

  Phoebe licked her lips, staring first at him and then Will. Goddamn it, why did they have to look at her with such smoldering intensity? Why did they have to be so bloody gorgeous? So freaking…sexy?

  Will cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms, the fingers oh so recently deep within her pussy glistening with her juices. “Pheebs?”

  She straightened her shoulders. Licked her lips again. “Just sex. Just once. And after that, you’re both out of my life. Understood?”

  Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Those your conditions, are they?”

  She nodded. “I’ve only just healed my heart from…from before. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to fuck you both again. And I don’t lie, so that’s my offer. Just sex. Just once. And then I never want to see either of you again.”

  Liar.

  She tilted her chin, ignoring the wholly disturbing word.

  Damon crossed his arms. “What if we tell you we don’t agree?”

  “Then you have to leave now. Give your report to Captain Kilgour on your way out of town.”

  A low chuckle rumbled in Damon’s chest. “No.”

  Phoebe sucked in a swift breath. “No?”

  “I think,” Will said, his stare holding her still, “what Stretch is trying to say, is the negotiations can take place after.”

  “After what?”

  For an answer, Will reached behind him and slide the door closed, the solid thud of metal coming to rest against metal like a clap of thunder.

  Phoebe’s heart decided it was time to do some slamming again. Straight against her breastbone.

  Chapter Four

  Will watched Phoebe’s eyes dilate. Jesus, he’d missed her. Not just on a sexual level—although he’d be spinning bullshit if he said “sexual level” wasn’t the primary motivator for his current behavior—but on every level. So much that no matter how desperate he was to take their seduction slow, he couldn’t. He wanted her back in their lives more than he wanted to draw breath and, like Damon, he wasn’t going to wait.

  So much for not scaring her off.

  “I…we…” She gazed at them, lips parted, breasts heaving. His mouth filled with saliva and his cock, engorged with blood and lust, jerked in his jeans.

  “Just sex,” she insisted again.

  He heard Damon chuckle. “Take off your clothes, Masters.”

  Will’s breath caught in his throat.

  He should be using this time to tell Phoebe what they’d discovered in her studio—the accelerant, the residue of a melted candle beside the ash of an incinerated pile of papers, all minute indicators of arson—instead of lusting after her with primitive ferocity. That’s what he’d determined to do. But when he’d seen her talking to the guy with the thinning hair, a deep, far more primordial response kicked in—territorial jealousy. Phoebe was his woman. His and Damon’s, and he’d be damned if he was going to let someone else try to stake a claim.

  Jesus, William. When did you become such a caveman?

  Didn’t matter. Damon was right. Phoebe was meant to be with them. Fuck what society thought. He was arse-over-tit in love with her, Damon was arse-over-tit in love with her, and that’s all the fuck that mattered.

  He stared at her, the subtle musk of her juices on his fingers permeating every breath he took, making his cock tight and his pulse pound. Was she going to do what Damon told her to do? Or were they going to have to strip her themselves?

  His balls throbbed, swollen with heavy anticipation. They’d stripped her more than once that weekend, the weekend everything changed. Had chased her down in Damon’s house, thrown her on the floor and stripped her. Christ, he’d almost come doing so, and thinking about it now pushed him closer to that edge again.

  Damon took a step toward her. “Take. Your. Clothes. Off.”

  Phoebe looked at them both. And then, with a tilt of her chin, she pulled that T-shirt she loved so much up over her head, revealing smooth, creamy skin, a skimpy black lace bra and breasts so sublimely perfect, Will couldn’t stop a groan tearing from his chest.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Just sex,” she stated. But her voice cracked this time. Very slowly she reached behind her back to unhook her bra, letting the material slide soundlessly down her arms, revealing her breasts to their hungry g
azes.

  Damon moved before he did. His best mate closed the distance between him and Phoebe with three strides, his hands tangling in the wild mane of her hair as his mouth crushed hers. Will stood motionless, watching. His dick fought for freedom, its turgid length aching in his jeans. “Damn, the sight of Damon kissing you drives me wild, Pheebs.”

  He shifted on his feet, ignoring the urge to adjust his cock. If he touched himself now he would be about five tugs away from coming. And he didn’t want to come by his own hand. He’d done enough of that since Phoebe had moved to Morpeth.

  He wanted Phoebe to make him come. Whether with her mouth, her hand or her sweet, tight cunt, he didn’t care. Didn’t give a rat’s arse. Just as long as it was Phoebe.

  Only Phoebe. From now until forever.

  With a growl, he crossed to them, stepping behind her to press his body to hers. She moaned into Damon’s kiss, smoothing her hand up behind Will’s neck to fist her fingers in his hair. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent—jasmine soap and cherry blossom shampoo. His mouth watered. He knew the trim nest of curls between her thighs would smell the same—along with the delicate musk of her pleasure.

  He couldn’t wait to breathe her in.

  Slipping his fingers around her waist, he released the zipper of her fly and, with a gentle tug, lowered her jeans over her hips. Revealing the firm curves of her arse to the room. He kneeled and stroked his tongue up the bare right cheek her skimpy black g-string left exposed, the salty sweetness of her flesh making his head spin.

  Her cheek muscles coiled, a soft whimper telling him she liked his tongue’s attention.

  He licked the other cheek, sliding one hand between her legs to cup her groin, stroking her clit through the lace of her knickers.

  “Oh Will…”

  Phoebe’s groan curled the corners of his mouth. He hooked his finger under the thin strip of lace in the crevice of her butt cheeks and pulled it aside, spreading her cheeks apart enough to stroke the tip of his tongue over her puckered hole.

  “Fuck, yes.”

  She didn’t just groan this time. She cried out, bucking her hips backward.

  “Fuck a duck, Tiny,” Damon ground out, and Will’s balls rose at the sound of the raw lust in his friend’s voice. “Way to get to the point.”

  Will chuckled. He knew Damon was on the edge.

  “I thought you wanted to drown in my juices?”

  At Phoebe’s husky question, Damon laughed. “Do you see me wearing any floaties?”

  Phoebe laughed, a breathy gasp that turned to a moan when Will rolled his tongue over her anus again.

  “Get rid of your jeans, hon,” Damon instructed, and Will pulled away from her backside to let her do just that, still rubbing her clit through her g-string. It was so hard and swollen beneath his finger. Damon would be sucking on it soon, would be drawing it past his lips and nipping it with his teeth.

  The thought made Will’s cock jerk, an agonizing spasm of hungry need he couldn’t deny for much longer.

  But first, he wanted to bring Phoebe to climax. As, he suspected, did Damon.

  Without a word to his friend, Will rose to his feet, dragging his mouth up the exquisite line of her spine as he did so. The shift in his position triggered Damon’s move. His partner dropped slowly to his knees before Phoebe.

  “You have no fucking idea how starved for you I’ve been, Masters,” Damon murmured, a heartbeat before parting her folds with his fingers and plunging his tongue into her pussy.

  Phoebe hissed, pushing her shoulders back into Will’s chest. He wrapped one arm around her waist, supporting her even as he spread her labia wide, granting Damon’s tongue greater access to her clit.

  “Oh, oh, y-yes.” She bucked, driving her hips forward, clinging to both Will and Damon with fierce strength. She threw back her head, mouth open, eyes closed.

  Will gazed down at her face, loving the sheer rapture etching her beauty. Her breath left her in shallow gasps, sometimes words—yes, yes, that’s it, that’s it—sometimes nonsensical sounds that spoke just as eloquently of her pleasure.

  The scent of sex filled his breath. His cock pushed harder at the inside of his jeans. His blood roared in his ears. Six months ago he’d lived this very fantasy. This time, he was going to make sure it stayed their reality.

  Phoebe bucked again, a wild convulsion that almost knocked him off his feet. He braced his legs, capturing her left breast as he did so with a cupping hand.

  “That…oh Will, yes…squeeze…”

  Her hitching request made his blood race. He massaged her breast, its full, heavy weight spilling over his hand, her pebbled nipple stabbing at his palm. “I’m going to suck this soon, Pheebs,” he promised against her ear, squeezing her breast harder to ensure she knew exactly what he was going to suck. “I’m going to suck on your nipples until you come.”

  She whimpered, writhing in his arms. Between her legs, Damon moaned, either from Will’s words or Phoebe’s taste or both.

  “Oh God…” she panted. “Please…please…”

  “Fuck, she’s growing wetter, Will,” Damon murmured. “Squeeze her tits again, I love the way she gushes when you do that.”

  A strangled cry tore from her at Damon’s command. Will massaged her breast again, with more force this time, his knuckles pinching her nipple as he did so.

  She bucked, another cry ripping from her. “Oh, oh…yes!”

  “Christ, your cunt is dripping, Masters.” Damon gazed up at her, his lips and chin glistening with her juices. The sight made Will’s balls throb. “I truly could drown in your cream.”

  “Does she taste good?” The question didn’t need asking. Will knew she did. But fuck if he didn’t want to hear his best friend say it aloud.

  “Like honeyed heaven,” Damon answered, stroking his thumb over her parted folds.

  “Oh God,” Phoebe rasped, her nails digging into Will’s scalp. “I can’t…soon…please…”

  With a chuckle, Damon returned his mouth to her pussy, his cheek pressing against Will’s fingers as he suckled on her clit.

  “You like what he’s doing to you, don’t you, Pheebs,” Will whispered, touching the tip of his tongue to the shallow depths of her ear. “It feels so good, having him eat you out. Having his tongue fuck you.”

  She moaned, her eyes shut, her forehead creased in pleasured torment.

  “Imagine what it will be like when my tongue is fucking your arse at the same time,” he continued, kneading her breast. “Imagine how good it will feel when I’m fucking your arse with my tongue as Damon’s dick slides in and out of your cunt.”

  A keening cry sounded in her throat and she bit at her bottom lip, pushing her shoulders harder to his chest. Her skin was slick with a faint sheen of perspiration, making her shimmer in the room’s light.

  “Imagine what it will feel like when we’re both fucking you with our dicks.” He pinched her nipple and nipped her earlobe. “When we’re both pumping you full of our cocks. In and out of your tight, hot cunt and your tight, hot arse.”

  “Fuck, yes! Yes!” Phoebe’s hips bucked forward, her pussy smashing into Damon’s face, a shudder rocking through her with convulsive release. Will held her as her climax rendered her wild, his fingers wet with the cream Damon’s tongue and lips missed. His gut knotted, his balls ached. Jesus, did they ache.

  He tightened his arm around her, wanting to feel her body’s heat on his shaft even through the denim of his jeans. He couldn’t wait much longer. He couldn’t. But he would.

  For Phoebe’s pleasure—and Damon’s—he would.

  “Damn,” Phoebe breathed, shudders turning to trembles. “Oh damn, that was…” She licked her lips, the sight of her pink tongue making Will’s already aching balls hurt more. “That was a-amazing.”

  “Of course it was,” Damon said, rising slowly to his feet. He gave Will a crocked grin. “Your turn, Tiny.”

  Will tossed her over his shoulder before she could make a soun
d, the classic fireman’s hold executed with graceful perfection. The fading pulses of her orgasm reacted, her body instantly aware more was to come, and eager for it. Six months of nothing but her vibrator to get her off and with just his tongue, Damon had rendered her weak. And now Will was striding across the floor with her draped over his broad shoulder, heading for the wide bed positioned in the far back corner, no doubt about to commence doing to her everything he’d promised. And then some.

  God, did she even have the strength to survive it?

  Yes. Oh yes, she did. She’d been wanting it for too, too long.

  “Fair dinkum, your arse looks fucking awesome stuck up in the air like that, Masters.”

  Damon’s growled statement sent a flurry of butterflies through her belly. She could only image how she looked—flung over Will’s shoulder, naked save for her fuck-all g-string, her juices still dribbling from her sodden pussy, her hair tumbling over her face. She sucked in a hissing breath. God, she was on the verge of coming again already.

  “Care to lend a hand with this, Stretch?” Will asked, a second before he dropped her onto the hand-dyed silk duvet.

  “Gladly,” Damon answered, and pressed her flat onto her back with a gentle shove.

  “Suck her tits for me,” Will ordered, his voice hoarse.

  She stared at him, her heart thumping into her throat as she noticed his hands working on his belt buckle. Thank God, he’s getting un—

  Damon’s lips closed around her right nipple.

  Thick pleasure fogged her mind, preventing the thought from finishing, and she arched her spine, tangling her fingers in Damon’s hair as she pushed her breast to his mouth with desperate need.

  This was the way it had been before. Desperate want, desperate need. An extreme craving for everything they did to her. Until that weekend, she’d never fully understood or appreciated the rapturous sex scenes in the few erotic novels she’d read. Until that weekend, those scenes had all seemed a bit over-the-top, unrealistic.

  But then Will and Damon had made love to her at the same time and it had become clear. Desperately clear.

  “I’m going to fuck your sweet pussy with my mouth now, Pheebs,” Will told her from the end of the bed. “And when you’re about to come, I’m going to flip you onto your stomach and fuck your arse with it.”