by Eden Summers
She’d already held her arousal at a low simmer while sitting beside him. Her new position stoked the flames to painful heights. Her clit tingled, a slight, almost controlled sensation that quickly turned into a painful throb. She breathed him in, closed her eyes to the possibilities to come, and rubbed her hand along the hard trail of muscles along his stomach.
She still didn’t have any panties on. Once Logan had climbed from his truck, she’d shoved her G-string into her handbag and yanked her shoes back on as he’d opened her door. There was nothing stopping her arousal from coating her thighs, nothing to stop her heat from seeping through her skirt.
Cole glanced to his left, ensnaring her with his narrowed vision and the deep convulse of his throat. He took in her new position, the way she rested comfortably in Logan’s lap, the possessive arm wrapped around her waist. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t change his expression. He held her gaze, the potency in his eyes gripping her longer than necessary before he focused back on the television.
He lifted the beer bottle to his mouth, and she unconsciously licked her lips at the sight. Everything surrounding her was Ryan. The men, the polite indifference, the caressing arm around her waist. He was in every touch, every scent, every vision, and god help her, it made her arousal intensify.
She clenched her legs together, needing to ease the ache. She couldn’t hear the movie, couldn’t concentrate. Logan murmured something in her ear, and no matter how delicious his tone, she couldn’t hear a word. She was lost to fantasy, to imagination and delusions.
“Hey.” Logan’s voice growled into her ear, demanding her attention.
“Hmm?” She craned her neck to face him, their lips so close, their breath mingling.
“You got a thing for Cole?” It was barely a whisper. A faint question murmured under the sound of the film.
“Why?” She grinned. “You jealous?”
“Sweetheart, pussy’s a dime a dozen for me. It comes with the job. But giving you what you want and seeing a smile on your beautiful face is what I promised all those months ago. I asked you to come back if you needed someone to show you how gorgeous you are. And if that guy is Cole, I’m fine with that. Just say the word.”
“You sound exactly like the men I work with.” She leaned into him, brushing her lips over his. “The pussy part, I mean. They’re far less chivalrous, though.”
He kissed her back, the sweet, softness of his bad-boy lips enticing more heat to rush to her sex. “So you want Cole?”
His expression was devoid of emotion. The only thing that spoke to her in the silence between them was the hunger in his eyes. He may be willing to step away, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He wasn’t blowing her off.
“No.” She nipped his lower lip. “I want you.”
He raised a brow. “Or maybe you want us both.”
Her mouth quirked, too easily persuaded by debauchery. She couldn’t lie and say the thought never crossed her mind. The possibility had been staring her in the face the moment she crossed the threshold. Question was—did she want it?
“I’m not sure,” she murmured. It was the truth. She couldn’t decide, and it had nothing to do with sexual reluctance and everything to do with too many reminders of a man she was trying to forget.
“Think about it some more.” His words were clear, yet the possession in his expression said he’d try to sway her in whatever direction he pleased. “Watch the movie. Relax. This is all about you.”
All about her. Had she ever been in a position like this before? One where she actually played the lead role instead of hanging in the wings, calling directions to people who didn’t listen.
She bit her lower lip, staring him down, trying to decipher the devious plan she knew he was pulling together. “Relax?” She turned back to the television, nestling into his chest. “Not likely.”
She focused on the screen, trying hard to ignore Cole’s stare in her periphery. Her body was alive with sensation. Every part of her ached for touch. This scenario wasn’t a first for her. Men had shared her body before. But she couldn’t recall any of them caring for her opinion like Logan cared for hers.
He wasn’t in a rush. There was no frenzy to get his rocks off. No concern that he might not get them off at all. He let the path lay itself, and it was daunting as hell.
“Relaxed yet?” He placed his hand on her hip, sending a jolt of electricity along her pelvis, to her sex.
“Getting there,” she lied.
There was no relaxation to be had. Not even a glimpse. Cole kept flicking his gaze to her, no words, no expression, just flammable heat behind his eyes. The way he appraised her, like a toy he wished he owned, made her crave more. More of his need. More of his stare.
Logan’s palm grazed a trail along her clothes, from her hip to her thigh, slowly descending. She watched the progression, her focus riveted on his fingers as they reached the hem of her skirt. Her lungs solidified, the ache in her chest growing when his fingertips brushed her skin.
She held her breath, the pleasure killing her while she waited for the unknown. He knew he was tormenting her. He had to. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken him so long to retrace his exploration, his touch sliding back up her thigh, but this time underneath her skirt.
Holy hell. Each inch lifted her hem higher, revealing more skin that Cole eagerly devoured with his gaze. The exposure filled her with apprehension and excitement. Lust and concern. Her pussy was soaked, her juices coating her inner thighs as Logan’s touch approached the slickness.
The lights were dim, the bursts of illumination from the television ramping her heartbeat. She wasn’t sure what Cole could see. Wasn’t sure she was entirely on display until his nostrils flared, and he repositioned himself in the recliner, one shoulder now leaning into the backrest as he decided her show was better than what was on screen.
“Logan.” She said the name to herself. A silent admonition. The man at her back, the one with his delicious hand reaching her intimate flesh, was not Ryan. Nor was the man before her, the one with similar hair and a remarkably comparable beard.
The man of her dreams was not here. No matter how many times she closed her eyes and watched him staring back at her. No matter how much she wanted it. Or how bad she craved it.
“Logan.” This time it was a plea. She was overheating, every inch of her body alight as he skimmed a trail up the inside of her leg, slowly, with painstaking lethargy.
“Relaxed yet?”
She smiled back at the man she cherished. The man who wasn’t here. “No.”
His thumb was so close… Almost… Almost. The brush against her clit made her jolt. The flick of his fingertip across the jewelry a wanted distraction.
“I’ve often wondered if you kept this in.” His thumb brushed over his handiwork, again and again. “I wasn’t sure if the piercing would end up being a drunken mistake you tried to hide.”
She whimpered. This was the first time anyone but herself had paid that tiny sliver of jewelry any attention. And if it continued to feel as heavenly as it currently was, she’d vow never to take it out.
“You pierced her clit?” Cole’s voice was low.
“I did.” Logan hitched her skirt higher, pulling it to her hips.
There was no hiding from their appraisal. She could feel both their gazes on her intimate flesh, on the trimmed patch of curls at her mons.
“Nice.” Cole raised the beer to his lips, the casual movement in contrast to his tight expression.
“Do you mind if he takes a closer look?” Logan asked, his fingers still on her clit, his lips now on her neck. “To check out my handiwork, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” she whispered, not sure if she was answering his question or applying sarcasm to his statement. She was lost—to his touch, his softly spoken words, the arousal flooding her system.
“You should’ve seen her.” Logan spoke louder, over the television. “She sat in my chair, fucking me with her gaze, then had the balls to ask what sort
of piercing she should get.”
Cole gave a low chuckle, the sound having an equally favorable effect on his features. “I’m not surprised what you suggested.”
Logan’s chest vibrated with silent laughter. “No. No surprise at all.” His fingers lowered, taunting her entrance, sliding with ease through her arousal to tempt her with penetration while his thumb pleasured her clit. “I would’ve killed to fuck her back then.”
He nipped at her neck, once, twice, then breached her entrance with his digits, sinking in hard and fast. “And I’d kill to fuck her now.”
Oh, god. The room dimmed, the edges of her vision darkening, narrowing her sight. She jerked in his lap, against the length of his erection and did it again as his thumb rubbed harder against her piercing.
“What are you waiting for?” It wasn’t a taunt. Nope. It was a genuine question. She had no concept of why he held back. Why he wasn’t doing what instinct demanded he do. “Please.”
“Mmm.” He growled into her neck, adding a third finger to the onslaught inside her. Adding more pressure to his thumb. “Soon.”
Soon wasn’t soon enough. She needed him. She wanted to be chest to chest, rocking her pelvis for friction against his cock, not his fingers. “You’re cruel.” Devious. Agonizing. Thrilling.
“Or maybe it’s retaliation.” He sank his teeth into her shoulder, biting through the material of her blouse. “For teasing me in my own god-damn truck.”
Christ. That felt like a lifetime ago. She could barely remember what she’d done through the fog in her mind. His fingers felt too good inside her. The slight gyration of her hips was the only function she could process.
“Is this payback for me, too?” Cole stood, accelerating her heart for a brief second before he leaned his ass against the armrest. The crotch of his pants was stretched, the bulge beneath the zipper making her mouth dry. “Am I getting punished for something, or do I get to join in?”
Leah opened her mouth to speak, but Logan cut her off. “You might need to prove yourself. This pretty little thing needs to be convinced you’re worthwhile.”
Cole chuckled, showing off his playboy smile. “Is that right?”
He stared her down, his intent on her eyes even though she could feel his interest all the way to her pussy.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t know you.”
“You barely know me,” Logan whispered into her ear.
Touché.
Cole shrugged. “You don’t know me, sweetheart, and you don’t want to. But if pleasure is what you’re looking for, no two guys work better together than Logan and I.”
No two guys work better together. Holy shit! She wanted that tattooed on her thigh. Her chest. All the way up the inside of her arm so she never forgot how fucking deliriously sexy it sounded.
“All true.” Logan increased the tempo of his fingers, sliding them in and out of her faster, harder, distracting her from a decision that had already been made as soon as she walked through the door.
She cleared her throat again, not sure if her voice would carry, and jerked her head toward the kitchen. “In my bag, there’s a box of condoms.”
Cole ran his tongue against his lower lip and pushed from the recliner. “I’m all over it.”
“Are you sure you’re good with this?” Logan’s free hand ran under her blouse, his palm moving to cup her breast. “Don’t ever think you can’t tell us to stop.”
She was sure there were numerous synonyms to halt their progression, and not a single one entered her mind. There was no stopping. No going back. Her brain was foolishly numb, and she loved every minute of it.
Cole strode back into her vision, a strip of condoms in his hand, his wild eyes taking her in. “I think I’ll start down here.” He threw the foil packets on the couch beside her and dropped to his knees.
She sucked in a breath as he parted her legs, shoving himself between them. Logan’s fingers retreated, being replaced seconds later by the harsh graze of Cole’s beard between her thighs. She could only watch, a mere voyeur in this hedonistic fantasy, as he approached her pussy. The erotic sight stripping her of speech.
“Grab his hair,” Logan whispered in her ear. “He likes his women rough.”
A whimper escaped her throat at the thought of Cole consumed in harsh, carnal sex. His shoulder-length hair sweat slicked, his body on display. Another whimper followed when his tongue stroked her entrance. She was consumed with sensation, alive with anticipation.
“Do it,” Logan growled against her neck, the vibration ricocheting through her veins.
She closed her eyes and gripped the tangled strands of Cole’s hair. She held him to her sex, rocking into him, delighting in the delicate stroke of his tongue that built into aggressive swipes.
“Oh, damn,” she cried, deliberately saving the fucks, shits and holy hells for later, when she knew the bliss would be much more powerful than it already was. She gyrated against Logan’s cock and gripped his shoulder for stability with her free hand.
“Make her come, Cole.” Logan jostled behind her, removing his shirt, unbuckling his belt, all the while kissing and biting her neck.
Cole lapped at her. She wasn’t sure of his strategy, couldn’t contemplate if he was an alphabet kind of guy or a freestyler, but whatever he was doing down there—the stroking, the sucking, the lapping—it was brilliant. Her pussy convulsed, trying to latch onto his strokes. Her clit was a boiling pot of sensation, tingling like it was on fire.
She was close. If she opened her eyes, if she glimpsed the man nestled between her thighs, she would go over the edge. Not just in a slow progression, but in a fracturing tumble. And she wasn’t ready yet. The numbing bliss was addictive. She didn’t want to lose it.
“How does his mouth feel, gorgeous?” Logan spoke against her jaw. “Do you want it harder? Faster?”
She shook her head, devoid of words. Cole was perfect. Too perfect. Every lap of her sex was divine. Every flick of her clit was pure pleasure.
She opened her eyes and focused on the man between her thighs. That was all it took. The mere familiarity of a hairstyle, and she was gone. Toppling. Her pussy spasmed, her hips bucked, her hand clutched his hair until she was sure she was pulling out strands in her tight grip.
Logan sucked on her neck, growled with her moans and held her steady until her body quit convulsing. Breath after breath panted from her lungs. She couldn’t suck in enough air to settle the excitement in her chest.
Cole sat back on his haunches, rubbing a slow, strong hand over his beard as he peered up at her. “I definitely like your handiwork down there, Loges.”
Leah chuckled, her cheeks slightly heating. “I didn’t mind yours either.”
Cole smirked and pushed to his feet. She waited to see what he’d do next—if he’d kiss her like she craved, or strip, baring the bulge tightening the crotch of his pants, but Logan took away her choice, growling, “My turn,” in her ear.
He gripped her hips, lifting her off his lap and encouraging her to turn, immediately hitting her with a green-eyed stare. There was so much she didn’t want to see in those irises. Too much she wanted to ignore and grasp in her hands at the same time.
“Can you hand me one of those?” He stared at her but addressed Cole with a jut of his chin toward the strip of condoms.
There was a crinkle of foil, then the tear of a perforated packet. She waited for the protection to be placed in his hand, then broke eye contact, trailing her gaze over the expanse of newly exposed skin she hadn’t seen before. He truly was remarkable. Unique. Both pecs were covered in complex designs, numerous images inked into his skin that seemed more like photos than drawings. There were shadowed birds, black, with outstretched wings. Words she couldn’t concentrate to read. A scull. Flowers. Everything and anything, with the entire masterpiece intricately bordered by some sort of tribal pattern that skirted the muscles across his chest.
The rest of his skin was clear, clean flesh, from the bottom of his pecs,
all the way along his six pack, to the trail of hair below his navel.
“You don’t have any body piercings.” The observation filled her with surprise as well as confusion. She would’ve placed money on him having more jewelry than the lone piece in his tongue.
“You sure about that?” His grin was cocky, his gaze devious as he bucked his hips, and lowered the waistband of his black pants below his ass.
He didn’t wear underwear. Not a stitch. Nothing inhibited her sight from the large expanse of cock between her thighs and the silver barbell that pierced the appendage from the top of his head to the bottom.
Holy heaven. She’d heard about dick piercings before but never found a man with big enough balls to get one.
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
“Me or you?” he asked with genuine concern.
“You.” Most definitely you. She was more than eager to feel it inside her. Could already sense the friction it would produce.
“Not anymore.” He sheathed himself, tugging the latex over the barbell to the base of his shaft. “I’ve had it for years.”
She settled over him, watching with intent as he grabbed his hard shaft and worked it from side to side, the dull jolt of his condom-covered jewelry connecting with her clit piercing. For a second, she wished there was nothing between them. No latex. No inhibitor. But that was stupidity rearing its lust-drunk head.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
She became lulled by his words. Entranced. Nothing else existed but his affection…and those eyes. The ones so achingly familiar she couldn’t help smiling.
He wove his arm around her neck and cradled the back of her head in his hand. “I bet you’re tight, and hot, and perfect.”
She wanted to announce his cock would be tight on anyone, but all that escaped her lips was a moan. Never had she been this hungry for affection. Not once had she wanted the numbing bliss of sex more than she did right now.
She sank down on him, the thick head of his cock stretching her pussy. Her eyes closed of their own volition, all her senses overwhelmed. His scent filled her nose, and she breathed deep, sucking him into her lungs as her pussy consumed his length.
