Wanted

by Palmer, Dee

  When I land back on this planet from the most unbelievable high, my body starts to tremble. I’ve never…I mean, that…that intensity has never happened before and I’m a little stunned. Tug pulls me into his embrace, and Pink and Toxic crowd me with their warmth and…I don’t know what…I know it’s not love—I’m not that ridiculous—but they make me feel safe, cherished and really, really liked.

  Tug eases me back and starts to crawl down my body, kissing along my tummy, multiple hands squeezing and stroking my skin. They seem to always be touching me.

  “My turn, darling.” His lips brush the landing strip of hair above my clit, and he grins. “I like this little piece of hair here. It’s cute. You might even get to keep it.” His finger strokes the line of hair and he wiggles his brow playfully, but before I can ask what he means, all breath leaves my lungs as his tongue dives deep inside me. His large hands cup around my bottom pulling me to his urgent, demanding mouth. My shoulders are lifted and Toxic slides behind me so he can wrap his strong arms around my waist, my back to his chest. Pink is now laying tender kisses along my side as I start to quiver and moan, feeling the build-up like a massive explosion waiting to annihilate me with one more skillful touch from one or all of these sexy as sin men. My men.

  I barely regain consciousness from my second high when Tug positions himself to tease another climax from my sated and completely exhausted body. I’m confident it was as magnificent as the previous two; it’s an assumption though, because I don’t remember it. And I don’t remember falling asleep, either.

  My eyes spring open to a dark and unfamiliar room, a mass of limbs crisscrossing my body, and I get a flash high-definition recall of my challenging evening. I suck my bottom lip, which still feels puffy from all the kissing. My foof must have the worst case of trout-pout, given the amount of kissing, sucking, and unbelievably amazing, but unreciprocated attention, it received. I get a flash of guilt and berate myself. I’m not sure if there’s a list of wifely duties in that binder of theirs, but slipping into a coma during oral sex probably isn’t one of them.

  I’M WIDE AWAKE. I CLOSE my eyes and try to force myself back to sleep, but it’s useless. I’m not used to all the bodies, the total darkness, or ignoring my rumbling stomach. I can’t get out of the bed without crawling over someone, and I don’t want to add a broken night’s sleep to my list of failings. I slink under the covers and slide all the way off the bed and quietly onto the floor. I fumble around in the darkness for any items of clothing and find one t-shirt; it’s better than nothing. Slipping it over my head I squint around the room, cloaked in utter darkness, searching for that telltale thin strip of light indicating the door and my escape. It’s faint, but I crawl in the direction of the glow and silently creep out of the room.

  The stairs creak a bit as I land on them, and I hover at the first audible groan, my breath tight in my chest, my head tilting upward, toward the bedrooms. Waiting a few moments to hear any signs of movement and satisfied I haven’t disturbed anyone’s sleep but my own, I carry on and finally release my held breath when I reach the kitchen. I figure this is far enough away from the bedrooms, and I can try and find something to eat without waking the household. I open the massive, silver refrigerator door, squinting at the bright light from within. Well, I suppose at least it’s full, but maybe, not a great day to be a chicken, I snicker to myself. Every shelf has some form of chicken: sliced, whole birds, drumsticks, and packs of uncooked breasts at the bottom. Spoilt with the lack of choice, I pull out one of the cooked drumsticks and step back from the door.

  Letting the door swing shut under its own weight, I turn and drop the food and open my mouth to scream blue fucking murder. A hand presses hard against my mouth, and I’m stepped flush and firm against the now-closed refrigerator door. The tall, strong frame towers above me, and my hand is trapped between us, so I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. My wide eyes relax with recognition, though Charge just scared the shit out of me.

  “If I take my hand away, are you going to scream?” He dips his head so his eyes meet mine. His face is searching, but I relax against his firm hold and nod.

  “Why the hell did you do that?” I snap in a hushed whisper.

  “Do what?” His voice is deep and loud enough that his whisper is simply mocking my attempt at stealth.

  “Sneak up on me and slap your hand over my mouth like some mugger.” I swallow the lump in my throat, because although his hand has moved from my mouth, it’s now resting curled around my neck, his thumb stroking my collarbone.

  “First, I don’t sneak. I made plenty of noise, but you were too busy foraging to notice.” His mouth twitches with amusement. “Second, I didn’t slap. I placed my hand to stop you from screaming and waking the others, and third, you honestly think I would let a mugger anywhere near you?” He tilts his head slightly, and his piercing stare meets mine. His crystal blue eyes look almost black, like inky pools, and they bore right through me, rendering me a little lost for words.

  “I…I…” My tummy tightens with the sincerity of his words, and the way he holds my gaze does crazy stupid things to my insides. I snap myself from his trance. ”Sorry I was foraging because I’m hungry and—”

  “This is your home, Finn.” His tone is sharp, and I tense because, if anything, he sounds angry about the fact. He exhales slowly and the air from his lungs washes over my lips, and I can almost feel the burn of whiskey from the rich aroma in his warm breath—intoxicating. “You can eat the whole damn contents of the freezer, if that’s what you want, if it makes you happy.”

  “It’s full of chicken. I think you’re safe from me eating it all.” I wrinkle my nose.

  “You don’t like chicken?” His brows shoot up like I have offended his great ancestors.

  “No one likes that much chicken. Well, except maybe Colonel Sanders,” I reply with a straight face and a tight lip.

  “You’re funny.” He frowns when he says this, but his face softens with a wide smile, and then he lets out a deep laugh. It’s a nice sound and his fleeting expression of carefree pleasure suits him. He should laugh more often.

  He still hasn’t stepped back, and when the laughter dies, there’s just us…looking at each other. I swallow the recurring dryness in my throat and ask the question I didn’t really get the answer to earlier.

  “Why didn’t you want to come to bed with the others?” I tip my chin when he doesn’t answer and keep my eyes fixed on his. He takes his time but gives me an answer, of sorts.

  “You’ve read my page.”

  “Which doesn’t really say much.”

  “It says enough.”

  “Okay. So, sex your way and your name is Charge. Are we talking full-on Dominant with whips and chains and shit?” His lips quirk and his left brow arches high at my question.

  “You’ll find out, little one. You’ll find out soon enough.” He leans down and traces his nose on the skin of my neck, and I tilt to give him better access. I have a full-body shiver from the slightest contact. He groans his approval but pulls back, and I sag at the sudden loss of heat, though it feels like so much more.

  “But not with the others?” I push for clarification.

  “I don’t share.” He states flatly, and I scoff.

  “Isn’t that an oxymoron given our little setup?”

  “Not at all.” His reply is deadpan and completely serious. “On my days, you will be mine and mine alone.”

  “Why?” We’ve talked and messaged each other for weeks, but this is completely new information and sounds like a restriction fraught with complications.

  “I want to know I’m the one inciting the reactions I desire from you, and just me. That can’t happen in a group situation. Call it a control thing.” His tone borders on stern.

  “Hmm, okay. What about on the other days? Does that mean you won’t touch me on those days?” I’m surprised that I don’t like that idea at all.

  “Do you want me to touch you on those days?” His han
d slips from my neck, and his index finger now traces the loose scoop neck of the oversized tank top, from my shoulder to the swell of my breast. My nipples are hard, angry peaks demanding attention, and his light touch is like a raw charge touching my sensitive skin.

  “Yes, I would like that.” I draw in a steadying breath as I can feel my knees weaken. I’m glad the fridge has my back, or I would be on the floor.

  “Then I will.” His teeth pull his bottom lip right in, and he lets it out tortuously slow. I’m so wet right now, I squeeze my legs together to find some kind of relief.

  “And the others won’t mind?” With enormous effort, I drag my mind back to his question. “I mean, surely they could have the same ‘no touching’ rule.”

  “They could, but they don’t. It’s all in the binder, Finn.” He flashes me a knowing smile, and I puff out a breath of frustration.

  “Gah! Okay! I’ll read the damn binder, but I still want my dates.” I place my hands on my hips with my demand. The tank dips perilously low, and I snatch the neckline back up, gripping the material close to my chest. He takes my fist and unclenches it, making the shirt swing low and loose. My pert nipples are like beacons to his hungry eyes.

  “Oh I know you’ll read the binder.” His thumb traces the outline around one nipple, and my breath all but freezes in my throat on a sharp inhale. A deep rumble vibrates low from his chest. He continues to talk as if we both aren’t off the charts horny and unaffected by what he’s doing. Okay I can play this game. “And we are all looking forward to the dates. They’re an excellent idea.”

  “Well, at least I have done something right.” I shrug and let out a little laugh to try and ease the rocketing sexual tension.

  “What do you think you have done wrong?”

  “Oh…I…We didn’t…Um, you know, we didn’t actually…” Why can’t I say the word? For fuck’s sake, I just had a gangbang with three unbelievably hot guys, and I can’t say the word fuck in front of the other hot guy. Get a fucking grip, Finn. “Earlier, I mean, we didn’t fuck. I fell asleep after I came. In fairness, I came a lot, but I didn’t , you know, return the favor.” My cheeks feel like they are on fire, but I did it.

  “You have trouble saying the word fuck?” His tone drops about two octaves with that last word, and I stifle a whimper.

  “Not in the past. Seems to be another new experience for me,” I joke.

  “Nothing wrong with new experiences. Besides, I doubt they would’ve gone to fourth base without a date.” His tone is teasing. “And I happen to know you did nothing wrong whatsoever.” He says as matter-of-factly.

  “Do you guys have a weird telepathy thing going on, or—oh, God, please don’t say you have cameras.” I slap my hand over my mouth in horror.

  “Calm down. No cameras. We’re close, which you’ll see soon enough, but no telepathy. Pink came down for a drink and to get you some water.”

  “And he told you?” My hands are still supporting my jaw from hitting the floor with mortification.

  “No, he didn’t have to.” His statement is expressed with an incredulous tone, like I don’t really get how close these guys are. I don’t, but it’s very early days and as Hope always tells me, “Every day’s a school day.”

  “Oh.” I don’t bother to question that connection, not tonight, not right now. I’m just a little confused with how he makes me feel and a lot tired.

  “Would you like me to fix you something to eat?” He switches the subject and finally steps further away, out of my very personal space.

  “Actually, I’m not so hungry anymore. I’ll just sit down here for a while.” I point over to the low sofas. Even though it’s pitch black inside, the crescent moon is bright enough to cast a little light, sufficient to keep the nyctophobia at bay.

  “Aren’t you tired?”

  “I am. I just”—I run my hand through my hair, I can feel the exhaustion in the follicles—“I’m shattered, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. I spent ten years sleeping with the same man. I think it’s going to take a little time to get used to the multiple bodies.” I sniff out a soft laugh. “And I’m still not great in an empty bed either. I used to sneak in with Hope when she didn’t have company.” I smile softly.

  “Would you like me to sleep with you?” I turn to face him and see that there’s nothing salacious in his eyes; if anything, he looks a little concerned.

  “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I tease.

  “When I share a bed, I don’t tend to use it for sleep, Finn,” he retorts with a low rumble.

  “Oh.” I swallow the lump but hold his gaze, which heats my skin and melts my core with every passing second. His dark eyes hold me spellbound, the magnetic draw like a physical tie pulling me closer, and I’m powerless to stop it, even if I wanted to. This is my choice, and I don’t want to stop whatever it is. He blinks and breaks the connection.

  “But for you I will make an exception, if it’ll make you happy.” A wide warm smile splits his handsome face, and I stumble over and ignore any internal reservations and agree.

  “It would, thank you.” My tummy does this little flip that makes me light-headed when he flashes a heart-stopping, supernova-bright smile.

  “The pleasure is all mine.” He grabs my hand and strides off, making me physically stumble just to keep up.

  I HAVE THE WORST CASE of blue balls. Man, I wished I’d at least jacked off before I climbed into her bed. I wasn’t thinking. I know why I wasn’t thinking. From the moment she appeared from behind that mountain of suitcases at the airport, I knew we’d struck gold—solid fucking gold. We’d been looking long enough, but there was something about her answer to our advertisement that struck a cord. She was funny, for sure, but honest, too, and I’m not being naive. We don’t do naive, given our collective backgrounds and training. We delve a little deeper than your average amateur stalker on social media. What we found was her truth. We spent the last three months, each of us peppering her with questions disguised as conversation, not trying to trip her up, just a full-scale reconnaissance in order to compile our own Finn binder. We never got to the binder stage with the others.

  If she makes that sexy sleepy sigh one more time, I might have to break my blindfold rule and just pin her down and slide myself into what, I can only imagine, feels like fucking heaven. My arm holds her close, her head tilts up and one ear is pressed to my chest, her lashes are so long they rest on her cheek, and her plump, pink lips part just enough to let her soft breath escape. Her platinum-blonde hair is a mass of tangles and curls and falls over her shoulders to fan out on the pillow behind her. She looks like a fucking angel. Isn’t that what Toxic said her name Seraphim meant? Angel or cherub or some shit like that? Well, that’s on fucking point.

  Ah, shit! She moves her leg so it’s resting over my thighs, curled around me, and if it moves just a fraction further north she’s going to feel exactly what has kept me awake all damn night.

  “I don’t miss you, but I miss this, so much.” She sighs out clear as day, but her eyes don’t open, and her breathing is unchanged.

  “Miss what, angel?” I know I shouldn’t have asked as soon as I let the question slip from my mouth. People can’t lie when they sleep talk, they can’t tell what’s real depending on the dream, but they don’t lie if you ask them a question. It can be a gross invasion of someone’s innermost thoughts, but… There’s no but. I know this, and I ask anyway.

  “Feeling wanted.” Her arm starts to loosen across my abdomen, but mine tightens around her back preventing her withdrawal. I know she’s talking about that shithead ex of hers, but the fact she feels wanted in my arms, makes my chest swell, and I want to hold the feeling for as long as I can. The tension in her body resists my embrace at first then softens. Her hand fans out and her palm lays flat and soothing on the skin of my forearm. Her head turns, and she kisses my T-shirt, and for the first time in forever, I wish I didn’t have to cover myself. But I’ll feel her lips on my skin soon enough—my way.


  Her body curls against mine as she stretches and grumbles against the pull of the dawn. The room has a soft glow of pink light filtering through the pale drapes, and just when I think I should perhaps kiss those lips and rouse her gently, her leg sweeps up my body, hitting my erection and causing us both to cry out—me in pain and her in shock. Although the look on her face screams of terror rather than surprise.

  I cup my cock as she scrambles to the other side of the bed, so far and so fast, she scoots right off the edge of it and lands with a thump then squeals from the hardwood floor. I stretch over to see her sprawled on her back, her tank top dropped low and exposing a sweet expanse of boob, and her pajama shorts so loose I can see right to her…shit. I’m staring at her pussy. Dammit, my balls couldn’t ache any more if they were in a vise, and my cock is in absolute agony. I force my eyes to meet hers and away from that too tempting sight, while trying to adjust the hard-on from hell into something more manageable. I pull the comforter into a pile and drape it across my crotch. Thankfully, she can’t see any of this from her position.

  “My eyes are right here!” She snaps her fingers and points to her beautiful, aquamarine blue eyes.

  “Oh, I know they are, angel.” My voice is a low rumble I can feel deep in my chest, rough and raw like my burgeoning desire for her. “And they are almost as mesmerizing as your—”

  “Finn! Are you okay?” Tug interrupts when he crashes through the door. His bedroom is next door, and he must have heard Finn fall. I take comfort that his response is quick, with Toxic close behind, and he’s right down the other end of the corridor, his bedroom near mine. “Oh, Charge, is Finn okay?”