There was something she needed to say. Something she needed to tell them both. Wasn’t there?
Damon didn’t budge, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue swiping at her lips, her teeth. Taking possession of her tongue with hungry demand. He pressed his body closer to hers, the rigid length of his erection trapped in his jeans impossible to miss against her belly. As was Will’s equally commanding arousal grinding against the cheeks of her butt.
“Jesus, I’ve never forgotten how good this feels,” Will murmured in her ear, his lips like hot velvet on her flesh. “How good you feel, Pheebs.”
Her head swam. The pulsing in her pussy grew faster, a constricting throb that stole her breath. She moaned into Damon’s kiss again, snaking her arms up around his neck. The move lifted her breasts to his chest, her nipples scraping at its hard plane, and shards of intoxicating pleasure shot through her. She’d never forgotten how good this felt either. Both men pleasuring her—kissing her, holding her, treating her like she was their sole reason for existing as they brought her to climax after climax after climax…
“Remember how good this felt?” Will whispered, his palms smoothing up her rib cage, between her and Damon’s torsos to capture her breasts. His fingers splayed over them, framing her nipples through the material of her shirt in a teasing caress.
She did. She’d relived it over and over again, every time she lay on her bed. Every time she withdrew her vibrator from its case, she fed her tormented arousal with the memory of Will and Damon making love to her.
God help her, she’d never forget.
Will pinched her nipples between his fingers, squeezing her breasts with gentle force, his mouth traveling over the column of her neck as Damon continued to kiss her senseless. A two-fold attack she was defenseless against.
She whimpered, wriggling her arse harder against Will’s denim-trapped cock as she wrapped one leg around Damon’s thigh.
“Fuck me, Masters,” Damon groaned against her mouth, his hands burying in her hair. “I want to be inside you. We both want to be inside you.”
I want you both inside me too. Now.
The words never left her lips. How could they, when Damon was kissing her again with such savage need?
Will massaged her breasts, his cock—so long and hard despite the constriction of his jeans—stroking the crevice of her backside. He caught her earlobe with his teeth, giving the plump little pad of flesh a nip. “Did I ever tell you how fucking hot I get watching Damon fuck your mouth with his tongue?”
His question sent a shudder of tension through Phoebe. She moaned, clinging to Damon as Will dragged one hand down her belly to the waistline of her jeans. His fingers played with the button there, and she couldn’t stop her jolting buck when he popped it undone.
Her convulsive move tore Damon’s lips from hers and she sucked in a breath, and another as his mouth moved to her throat, sucking with painful force just below her jawline.
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 slid 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.
The Screwdriver - Dirty Martini 2 Page 11
