He rolled both of her nipples between his fingers. Jericho’s mouth closed on both Dante’s fingers and her tightly puckered nipple. Dante’s hips jerked reflexively, and precum spurted from his cock. The sensation of her rounded ass cheeks against his groin was intoxicating.
It wasn’t enough to have her half-naked between them. Dante wanted more. He stepped around Suri and moved behind Jericho. His friend was utterly immersed in Suri’s lush body, his face buried in her breasts, and her hands moving restlessly through his hair.
Dante reached around Jericho and grabbed the sides of his dress shirt near his sternum. Yanking hard, Dante was satisfied to hear the buttons snap free. The shirt hung open, and Jericho looked up in surprise.
Suri took full advantage by sliding her hands over Jericho’s olive-toned skin. “My God, you’re beautiful.”
Not one to waste an opportunity, Dante went lower and unfastened Jericho’s pants before his friend realized what was happening.
Jericho stiffened. “Dante, wait.”
“No.” Dante slid pants and boxer briefs over Jericho’s narrow hips until they hung off his firm ass. Jericho’s erection sprang free to bounce against his belly. Dante gripped the shaft in one hand and reached in to cup Jericho’s balls with the other.
Any protest in Jericho’s body died when Suri squatted down in front of him. “So fucking beautiful.”
Unprepared for her enthusiastic response, Dante nearly came in his pants when she took Jericho’s cock into her mouth. She sucked the plum-shaped head, her lips brushing Dante’s fingers as he pumped Jericho’s shaft.
Jericho was rigid in the circle of Dante’s arms. His hands found Dante’s forearms, not to pull away but to hold on.
Dante leaned around his friend’s body to see Suri suck Jericho’s cock. “Watch her. She loves it.” Dante gave his friend’s testicles a gentle tug. “She wants this. She wants you, me—both of us. Let go and give her what she wants.” He pressed a kiss to Jericho’s bare shoulder where his shirt had fallen away.
On her knees, Suri was staring up at them while she laved her tongue in rapid circles around the sensitive flange of Jericho’s cock. She nipped at the head, smiling before swallowing it whole, her lips teasing Dante’s fingers where they gripped the shaft.
There was a quickly spreading wet spot on the front of Dante’s slacks. His cock was throbbing behind his zipper. He wanted desperately to strip off his clothes and beg Suri to take him in her mouth next. It would have to wait. He needed to make certain Jericho didn’t have second thoughts.
“I bet her pussy is wet,” he told Jericho. “Let’s put her on the bed and find out.”
His friend didn’t waver for more than a few seconds. He dragged Suri to her feet. Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her the short distance to the bed in the center of the room.
Dante tugged his shirt loose and pulled it over his head. He tossed it aside. Unfastening his pants, he hopped a little to pull them off. Going commando had its advantages, especially when he wanted nothing more than to get Jericho’s clothes off so they could focus on the blonde princess now lying in the middle of the bed.
If Dante had thought he would have to convince Jericho to continue, he was wrong. His friend was already getting rid of his loose clothes. When the two of them were naked, Suri held up one finger, shaking it from side to side.
“Hang on. I want to get a good look at both of you without all that clothing in the way.” She lounged back on her elbows and crossed her legs at the knee.
True to his stoic nature, Jericho stood still and silent, but Dante wasn’t wired that way. He held out his arms, tossing his head back to fling his shoulder-length dark hair out of his eyes. Making a full turn, he enjoyed the way her gaze drank him in.
“Show-off,” Jericho grumbled.
Suri’s burst of laughter was as musical as it was sexy. “You know, he sort of is. Maybe we should punish him by making him wait.” She held a hand out to Jericho. “Kiss me.”
She didn’t have to ask him twice. Jericho climbed onto the bed and covered her slender frame before taking her mouth in a deep kiss. The hungry noises they made were as much of a turn-on as the sight of them together.
Dante flopped down beside them. “It’s not punishment when I get to watch.”
Jericho rolled, pulling her over on her side and allowing Dante to slide in behind her. Dante shimmied her panties over her round cheeks and down her legs before tossing them on the floor. Getting closer, he sighed with satisfaction. Her skin was silk against his. His cock nestled between her ass cheeks, her warmth making him burn with anticipation.
Dante kissed her shoulder, working his way up beneath her hair to her neck. She shivered at the contact. Sliding one hand down the curve of her spine, he pushed between her legs until he could touch her damp slit.
“You’re wet enough to take both of us at once, princess.” He slid two fingers through the cream coating her pussy, brushing her clit. “Are you ready for some attention?”
She gave a soft cry when he began to work the sensitive hood of her clit with his fingertip. Her legs clamped down on his hand.
Dante needed better access. “Roll onto your back, Jericho.”
Jericho complied, taking Suri with him until she was splayed on his chest. Dante now had a full view of her pink pussy glistening with juices. Tracing the contours with his fingers, he watched her opening flex with a desire to be penetrated. Still enjoying Jericho’s kisses, she gasped in surprise when Dante lowered his head and licked her from clit to anus.
Sweet with a hint of salt. Dante wanted more. He flicked the tip of his tongue through her folds. She squirmed on Jericho’s chest, his friend wrapping his arms around her body to hold her still while Dante nibbled her clit. Pushing his tongue into her opening, he was rewarded with a sudden jolt as she climaxed.
Suri cried out and dug her nails into Jericho’s shoulders as the tremors shook her body. With his cock pinned beneath her, Jericho looked as though he were in pain. Knowing he was violating all of Jericho’s comfort zones, Dante gently freed his friend’s cock and took it in his mouth.
Jericho’s muscles went rigid beneath Suri’s body. Dante gently explored the hole at the tip and the long vein that traversed the underside. Jericho’s skin was satin soft over his rock-hard erection. He tasted spicy and all male.
“Dante, what are you doing?” Suri shook off the aftermath of her orgasm and scrambled off Jericho’s chest. “Oh God, you’re sucking his cock.”
The naked arousal in her voice seemed to soothe Jericho’s uncertainty. He grabbed Suri and pulled her back over his body until she was straddling his face. Her expression told Dante his friend had his mouth on her pussy. But her eyes were on Dante sucking Jericho’s cock.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped.
Dante wondered if she meant him or Jericho. It didn’t matter. He gave her a smile before swallowing Jericho’s cock to the back of his throat. His friend was thick, almost more than Dante could handle. Making a long retreat along the shaft, he came up for air to find Suri’s lips waiting for him.
Their mouths met with the head of Jericho’s cock between them. He felt her tongue circling Jericho’s taut crest before meshing with his. The sensation was hot beyond endurance. His own cock wept its jealousy on the duvet beneath him, and he wondered how much longer he could hold out.
Suri drew back, crying out as Jericho’s mouth on her pussy brought her to orgasm a second time. Dante rose and plucked her off Jericho’s chest before setting her back down on her knees.
“Suck him, princess. I’m going to fuck your pussy.”
Jericho reared back, propping his body on his elbows so he could watch her devour his cock. Dante groped over the edge of the mattress to a compartment near the bedpost. He wanted to shout when he found a condom. His hands shook as he unrolled it over his cock.
Positioning himself carefully behind her, he tilted her body at the perfect angle and began sliding inside her cunt. Dante looke
d over her shoulder, his gaze meeting Jericho’s as he pushed the final inch of his cock into Suri’s tight tunnel. She was wet and hot, her muscles fluid around him.
He began to thrust, backing out and pushing in with a steady rhythm. Jericho moaned. The sound of Suri’s mouth on his shaft matched the tempo of Dante’s cock in her pussy. The three of them moved as one—their cocks, her mouth, their combined desire coming unraveled as they all moved toward release.
Dante grabbed her hips, grinding against her as he felt his balls tighten. He counted his breaths, steadying his pace but not pushing himself back from the ledge. He needed to come, wanted it with every fiber of his being.
She trembled around him, heat searing his skin as she tumbled into orgasm with a cry. Below them, Jericho shouted something in Welsh and thrust upward into Suri’s mouth. Even as she swallowed Jericho’s seed, Dante convulsed. His cock pulsed, filling the condom with cum while he wished he could spend himself inside her warm body instead.
JERICHO WAS TOO satisfied to give in to his anger and uncertainty. Suri had collapsed onto his chest not long after her orgasm left her weak and trembling. Dante got up and disappeared into the bathroom, probably to dispose of the condom.
As the sweat dried on Jericho’s skin, he became aware of the cool temperature in the room. He groped around until he found the edge of the duvet. Grabbing a corner, he pulled it over their bodies.
His head was spinning. He’d had no idea what he’d been walking into when he went in search of Suri. Another dancer had asked him to find her. She’d said Suri was very upset. She hadn’t even been on the schedule for that night. How had she wound up in this suite with Dante of all people?
“I’m sorry.” Her breath whispered across his bare chest.
“For what?”
“For making you do something you didn’t really want to do.”
As if she could. As if he hadn’t dreamed of feeling her naked body beside his for the last eighteen months. “I never do anything I don’t want to do.”
Dante reappeared, sliding beneath the duvet until Jericho could feel his heat only inches away. The sensation left him torn. Part of him wanted to move away. A larger part wanted to snuggle closer. He shifted Suri’s body to the mattress between them instead. Her feminine curves somehow provided a comfortable barrier.
She rolled to her side, putting her back to Jericho and turning toward Dante. “When are you going to fire me?”
He reached out and cupped her face. “Never, princess.”
“Never?”
Jericho brushed his fingers down her spine. “He never would have.”
She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Well, this is awkward.”
You’re telling me.
Chapter Two
Suri should have been thrilled. So why did she have a twisted sense of dread in her gut? She’d spent half the night curled up between two sexy men after they’d given her the three best orgasms of her life. Granted, she’d taken the coward’s way out and sneaked out after they’d fallen asleep, but still.
What was I thinking?
Duh, she’d been thinking it’d been over a year since she’d gotten laid, and several years since she’d had a decent experience. Even when she’d been having regular sex, she hadn’t been with men like Dante or Jericho. In fact, she suspected nobody on the planet packed that kind of sensual punch. They were like sex candy, the kind she was hardwired to be addicted to. Just like she’d already become addicted to the orgasms they seemed so willing to give her.
“You had sex with two near strangers at work. You weren’t even supposed to be there.” She glared at her reflection in the mirror. “Oh, and if that wasn’t bad enough, one of them is your friggin’ boss!”
Tossing the brush aside, she made a disgusted noise and tried to draw on her eyeliner without making herself look like a clown. Putting on makeup when feeling just generally pissy did not give good results.
She carefully wiped away a smudge. The poor lighting in the dingy bathroom didn’t help much either. Normally, she’d head for the kitchen where the light was slightly better, but her sister, Kim, and her current asshole boyfriend were camped out on the couch. With only one bedroom in the apartment, Suri had a firm “no assholes in the bedroom” rule. So when Kim wanted to bring her losers home, she had to sleep on the couch. Suri made a mental note to buy a can of disinfectant to spray down the cushions.
The doorbell rang, more of a thunking noise than a chime, making Suri curse and give up on the makeup. At this rate, she’d never make her first class at the Boston School for the Arts. She’d been teaching there for nearly five years, and in that time, she could count her tardies on one hand.
Suri grabbed the door and wrenched it open. Two emaciated teenagers waited on the other side. They were dressed in scruffy jeans and holey T-shirts, with cast-off military jackets their only defense against Boston’s frigid fall air.
“What do you want?” She prayed to God she was wrong about their answer.
The boy on the right fidgeted from one foot to the other, his gaze darting into the apartment. “Is Frankie here?”
She hated being right. “Why?”
“He said we could find him here this morning,” the other kid piped up. “We gotta score. I can’t take another day.”
It felt as if her heart were locked in a vise. She wanted to help them, but you couldn’t help people who didn’t want it. Not like these anyway. “Go home and ask your parents to send you to rehab. Seriously.”
The first kid now looked desperate. “C’mon, lady! We need to score some stuff. Where’s Frankie?”
“Frankie doesn’t live here.” That was true. “And if you don’t get the hell out of here, I’m going to call the cops.” Also true, even if she’d feel bad about doing it.
It didn’t take any more than that. They bounded back up the steps and hit the sidewalk running. Within seconds, she couldn’t see them anymore through the thick morning fog. Her ancient building was on a narrow side street, squatting between equally ancient neighboring structures. It had once been a single-family home, eventually chopped into six miniscule units. Jen and Kim occupied half of what had once been the basement.
“Frankie!” She was so done with her sister’s asshole of the month. The wannabe MMA fighter sprawled across the cushions, her petite sister lodged between his bulk and the back of the couch. Suri crossed the short distance from front door to living room and tried again. “Frankie!”
Taking off her shoe, she whapped him hard across the knees. He roared to life like a diesel engine. “What the fuck!”
“Yeah, that’s what I want to know! Are you trying to deal drugs out of my apartment?” She hopped a little to put her shoe back on.
What did her sister see in this guy? Suri had never understood Kim’s sad, sorry taste. Frankie was muscular but had a mean expression permanently pasted on his gorilla face and a personality to match. His beady eyes shifted around the room. “It’s Kim’s apartment too.”
“The hell it is! She doesn’t pay rent, and you’ve been sponging for like three weeks. I’ve had it with your worthless ass. The dealing puts it over the top. So get the fuck out, and don’t come back!” Suri had the presence of mind to note that she was totally taking out her love-life frustrations on her sister’s loser boyfriend. She just didn’t care.
“Kim.” He poked her sister with no result. “Kim!”
She could’ve told him her sister never opened her eyes until at least noon.
“Your bitch sister is throwing me out.”
Kim cracked one eyelid. “It’s her apartment. Better do what she says.”
Frankie whined and pouted like a three-year-old, stomping around to collect his shoes and the other random bits of clothing he’d left lying around. “This is bullshit.”
“Blah, blah, blah, now get out so I can go to work.” Suri pushed him out the door in front of her. Kim might not care right now, but this was worth at least an hour’s rant once her
sister was coherent. Maybe it was a good thing she had to put in a shift at Asylum after her teaching job.
Frankie was still standing on the curb digging in his pockets for bus fare when Suri climbed aboard, put her tokens in the slot, and found a seat. She didn’t care if the bastard got run over. It’d save the next victim from falling “in love” with him.
Ugh! Love. It’s nothing but hormones and idiocy made socially acceptable by humanity’s need for companionship.
South Boston spooled by outside the window. The last of the fall leaves were gone. Soon it would be Thanksgiving and then Christmas. There would be tons of bookings for the string trio, which meant great money.
Suri’s friend, Leslie Hampstead, had put Trio Dolce together four years ago. Two years past, Suri had replaced the original cellist, and she and Leslie had become the closest thing to real friends Suri had ever known.
The bus drove into a pothole the size of Fenway Park, and Suri nearly lost her seat on the bounce. Grabbing hold of the railing, she paused to be thankful she wasn’t lugging her cello along for the jolting ride. She’d kept the instrument at school since the first time Kim had gone behind her back and tried to pawn it in order to bail some idiot out of jail.
She shoved that memory right out of her head. This was not the time to curl into the fetal position and try to sort through her life issues. In fact, if she paused to contemplate her life, there was a distinct possibility she’d go stark raving mad.
A mental image of meeting Dante’s compelling, dark eyes while they both sucked Jericho’s thick cock danced through her mind. Desperate for distraction, she latched on to the thought. As nuts as it might seem, entangling herself in a threesome with her boss and his head of security was a distraction that might make the holidays just about bearable.
* * * *
Dante turned in the oversized bed, his arm striking empty space. Images from the night before lingered, making him ache in a way he’d never thought he would again. He blinked, opening his eyes to discover that he was alone. No Suri. No Jericho. He wasn’t surprised, but he wasn’t happy either.
Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore Page 2
