by Cari Quinn
Neither responded. Why would they, when they had their mouths stuffed with each other?
Enough was e-fucking-nough. If Sawyer came in Layla’s throat, he’d make a mess all over his thighs. And he wouldn’t allow that to happen. When he came, it would be either at Layla’s hands or in his own alone in the shower. Not because he couldn’t constrain his impulses.
“Layla.” His sharp command caused her hazy eyes to open. She drew back from Sawyer’s cock, her shiny mouth sliding down each inch of flesh like she owned it. “On your knees. I want to see him fuck you from behind.”
“You know, you could try asking her. Just for the hell of it.” Sawyer jerked up, his jaw tight with irritation. “I didn’t realize we’d signed on for an episode of Pervy Doc’s Playhouse.”
The man had balls, a part of his anatomy Aidan had spent entirely too much time admiring. “Look at her face,” he said in lieu of the retort he’d wanted to lob back. “Do you think she minds the idea of your cock in her pussy?”
“What do you want, Layla?” Sawyer asked, the question barely a rumble.
“Say what you want,” Aidan demanded as she examined the bedspread. “Flat out.”
“I want him in me.” She lifted her head and licked her lips, her tongue a pink lure Aidan knew Sawyer could never resist.
He was right.
Sawyer climbed up her body and kissed her with none of the sweetness he used whenever Aidan stepped over an imaginary line. This was all mad need, the sort that drove people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. The kind people searched for until looking hurt more than not having it.
Sawyer spun her around and gripped her ass in his big hands, his fingers squeezing in a way that had to hurt. She only moaned for more. He slid on a condom before shooting a death glare at Aidan. With a jerk of his hips, he buried himself in her cunt.
“Happy now?” He pulled out and rammed home. His drum-tight stomach undulated with each stroke. “Like that?”
Aidan didn’t know who he was asking, but Layla decided it was her. She cried out her pleasure, shoving back against him with enough force that Sawyer groaned and seized a fistful of her hair. He slid in and out with a restrained wildness that made Layla reach up to pluck her nipples, which had darkened to ruby red and stood out in hard nubs.
“I love it.” Her words were throaty gasps, and Sawyer grunted his agreement. “Especially when you hit…right there.”
Aidan expected Sawyer to lose it right then, the reaction of his jutting hips was so extreme. Muscles stood in sharp distinction on his shoulders, and sweat sheened them both. Aidan could smell their arousal, as hot and bittersweet as the painful pleasure etched on Sawyer’s contorted features.
“Here?” He was relentless in his pursuit of her pussy, slamming into her again and again until she half sprawled in front of him and only his strong hands held her body upright. “How about here?”
“God.”
He dragged her up and clamped an arm around her midsection, the position plumping her breasts. She turned to look over her shoulder and parted her lips, somehow highlighting that moment when Sawyer stared down into her eyes before latching his mouth on to hers. That instant of connection probably shouldn’t have been sexy, considering she was Aidan’s woman, but it was.
Layla grasped Sawyer’s ass and tugged him into her body, making each thrust a joint effort. Perspiration pearled on the slope of her belly, winding a meandering path down to the red curls that acted as window dressing for the thick erection that powered in and out. Her body made wet, sluicing sounds as she took him in, and Aidan could tell from Sawyer’s groans that he’d reached the limits of his endurance.
Almost as soon as he had the thought, Sawyer pressed the flat of his hand on the small of her back and drove her down to the mattress. “Coming, baby. Can’t. Jesus. You’re fisting me.”
Aidan squeezed his own cock and hissed out a breath. His moment would come soon, when the hot water trailed over his face like a balm, and the shower’s powerful stream hid his roar of completion.
Alone in the dark, he wouldn’t have to deny anything.
She moaned and grabbed handfuls of the comforter as Sawyer shouted out his release. He retreated and sank in again and again, spurring her on until she shook through her own climax. She didn’t make a peep, but Aidan knew all the signs. The flushed skin, the way her eyes went wide before she squeezed them tight. Her left foot that always spasmed during her orgasms.
Sawyer’s arms encircled her, and he whispered lover’s words. Loving words. “I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.” He continued those slow, soothing thrusts to bring her down and simultaneously drive her back up. “Let it all go.”
Finally she sighed and relaxed into his embrace, her body limp and slick and used.
Aidan fisted his traitorous dick. It was in the moments after, when they held each other, that he felt like a voyeur. Not during the sex. Then he could convince himself it was all for his entertainment. But when he saw the unguarded emotion on their faces, even briefly, he had to fight to stay rooted in place.
He adored Layla. She’d given him so much. But God, when confronted with their raw, honest passion for each other, he couldn’t help wishing he’d experienced the same even once. Unbridled fucking followed by unvarnished truth. No lies. No holding back.
Sawyer pressed a kiss to her shoulder blade and dropped back against the headboard. Without his supporting hands, Layla slumped facedown on the bed.
Blissful silence, except for their ragged breaths. Aidan’s the loudest of all.
Eventually, she shoved back her messy hair and looked at her new lover over her shoulder, not even sparing a glance for Aidan. Or the cock he held in a stranglehold as he dragged his urges back in line.
“Aw, playtime’s over already?” she asked, her tone indicating she was in full-on suggestive-pout mode.
Aidan’s gut twisted. Had she had a glass of wine, or was that afterglow? Perhaps it was Sawyer that made her sound so happy and free.
“Jesus. Did I call you insatiable before? So right.”
“You haven’t even seen the best of me yet.”
Sawyer flung his arms over his head in mock exhaustion. “No wonder you need two men.”
Now she glanced at Aidan, some of the glow dimming from her cheeks. “Want to join us?” she asked softly, as if she’d forgotten he was still in the room.
He almost wished she had. “No, go ahead.”
“But he’s done for the time being.” She got up on all fours and tossed her hair like the saucy minx she was. “And I’m not.”
“Done, huh?” Sawyer linked his fingers around her wrist and tumbled her onto his chest. He gripped his renewed erection in his other hand. From the looks of things, he’d never fully softened the last time. “Look done to you?”
She let out an elated laugh. When she got going, she lost her inhibitions so fast it was as if they’d never existed. “Oh hey. I guess not.”
“You gonna climb on?”
Sawyer’s low question led to a rough kiss that seemed endless from where Aidan was sitting. They were making those soft sucking noises again, this time while they feasted on each other’s mouths, and again the auditory banquet roused Aidan to a painful state. He could come just like this. Just watching and listening and imagining he wasn’t on the sidelines. That he actually dared take a part in this production without worrying he’d do something unseemly.
Anything but that.
Sawyer fisted her hair, dragging her away so he could latch first on to her neck, then her breasts. He nuzzled between them, nipped at their raspberry tips. Caressed them while she stroked his growing hard-on.
“Where do you want my cock?”
“Everywhere.” She kissed the head, then transferred her kiss to Sawyer’s well-used mouth.
His hands wandered down the supple curve of her back. Lower. He cupped her cheeks and spread them, correctly reading her whimper as an invitation to continue. “Even here?”
“Everywhere,” she breathed.
He wet his finger in her pussy, then slowly pumped it in and out of her ass. She rocked back and forth, and his digit slipped inside to the knuckle. “I want it,” he grated. “I want all of you.”
Aidan’s cock jerked. He’d heard those words before, from a man who’d been all too eager to drop to his knees and blow him in an empty examining room. He’d been almost there, on the verge of blasting the other man’s throat—his friend’s throat—when reality had slammed down on the back of his neck with the finality of a sickle.
He was in love. He was engaged. He was straight.
Layla straddled Sawyer, sheathing him with a condom he handed her from the stash on the nightstand. And then she was on him, bouncing up and down in a slow, seamless rhythm.
They’d gone quiet, as if someone had muted the volume. Only ragged breaths punctuated the silence, and Aidan knew some of those were his. Brutally, he worked his dick, certain he wouldn’t interrupt their moment. He didn’t exist for them. Definitely not when Sawyer shifted her beneath him and yanked her legs high in the air, binding her ankles with his discarded T-shirt.
She laughed and wiggled, only stopping when he tugged on her makeshift binding and pulled her ass straight up off the bed. Then he plunged deep before immediately pulling out and sinking in once more, so far his ass cheeks contracted. “I love your pussy. Fucking. Love. It.”
Her moan ripped across Aidan’s already screaming nerve endings. “Fuck me. Harder.”
The moist drag of flesh on flesh sounded decadent and lewd, and Aidan’s hips lifted as if he was the one who commanded her pussy. That soft, soaked cunt belonged to him. Right now, he wanted it. Snug and safe in her clutching heat, he could let go.
Or he could let go between the tight, perfect cheeks of Sawyer’s ass…
Aidan startled out of his reverie and stared down in disgust at the veins standing out on his shaft. Precum smeared his palm. Goddammit.
Sawyer rammed into her over and over. He bent her so far back that her knees probably hit the headboard. Drove into her so hard that her cries became one endless chant. “More.” Always more.
Aidan leaned forward and tugged on his cock, determined to finish before they turned their attention to him. It wouldn’t take long. His dick lurched into his fist, seeking refuge. He ached for a tight, hot place to erupt. His clenched fingers were a paltry substitute.
Loudly, Layla reached her peak. Aidan’s hips rose, and he fought to contain his release, but it trickled down his wrist, pumping out in a thick stream while he squeezed himself to the point of agony.
And still the pair on the bed fucked, shaking the frame, squeaking the springs. Finally Sawyer stilled and released a strangled groan. The sound of the beast inside taking over.
Only difference was, Sawyer didn’t have to fight his needs. He didn’t have to hold back. Didn’t have any reason to think what he craved most would ruin him.
Aidan stood, his sticky hand yet more evidence of his life unraveling around him. Every step, every move, brought him closer to the inevitable.
The day the life he’d built, one half-truth at a time, slipped away.
Chapter Seven
On Tuesday, Sawyer appeared in her office doorway at two o’clock on the dot.
Oh God. He’d showed. Layla’s throat closed up as if he’d locked his fist around it. “Hey,” she said, her cheeks going hot.
Sawyer didn’t move from the doorway. “Hey.”
Even after Sunday night, she didn’t know where they stood. They’d had sex once more after Aidan went to shower, but it hadn’t been the same. Somehow Aidan’s absence in the room felt like a slap.
Had he not found them as arousing the second time? Or had he been angry for her wanting more? Whatever the reason, he hadn’t returned until Sawyer was shrugging into his clothes. Sawyer, for his part, had become just as spookily silent as he’d been Friday night. He’d left, and Aidan had gone back to pretending they were the kinky version of the Cleavers, minus the kids.
It was all beyond confusing.
She shoved to her feet and offered Sawyer her warmest smile. “You’re on time today.”
“That I am.” He ambled inside and shut the door. He wore black jeans that hugged his lean hips, and a white T-shirt. The shirt was even worse than the jeans. It clung in all the right places. Strained along his broad shoulders, rippled over the dips and indents of his six-pack abs. He might’ve actually had a seven- or eight-pack, because she was pretty sure she’d never seen a man that ripped up close and personal before. “You can sit. No need for another handshake.”
“No, we’ve shaken enough, I think.” Though she wanted to slap her forehead, she managed to retain her smile as she dropped into her chair. “I’m happy you showed.”
Not really. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see you for another year or so. Maybe by then I will have forgotten how you make me laugh as easily as you turn me on.
Or maybe not.
“I met with Con this morning, actually. We discussed a few things, namely my reluctance to sign until I know a bit more about your clients and your procedures here. He asked me to come back for some test shots with a friend of his this afternoon, so I figured I’d stop in here and cancel our meeting in person.”
The pang of disappointment was swift, as was the sense of resignation. Her find or not, she’d created this scenario. He was doing the smart, sensible thing by working with Con. The thing she’d suggested as the best option for all of them.
“Con’s a great agent. Obviously, since you’re doing test shots with someone already.”
“It’s for some billboard. His friend’s studio has a leak in the roof, so he’s coming here. It worked out perfectly with what I wanted.”
“Ah, the billboard.” Her billboard. But of course it wasn’t. She’d just taken Leon’s call the other day, so she’d gotten the first line on the assignment. Leon was one of Con’s clients and therefore Con’s people got priority.
“Yeah, for the dating service, I guess?”
“I thought he wanted a range of ethnicities.” Layla shuffled papers on her desk. “Blond hair and blue eyes aren’t what I think of in that circumstance.”
“Apparently your find’s coming in too. Kiana? Pretty girl,” he said, slinging his arm over the back of his chair as if he hadn’t just driven a particularly pointy stake into her heart. One of many so far that day.
“Two for two,” she said cheerfully, wondering why Con had contacted Kiana in her stead. “Well, good luck with the test photos, though I’m sure you won’t need it. I hope if you decide to sign with the agency, it turns out to be a step forward for you.”
“We’ll see.” He leaned forward, expression earnest. “Layla, I—”
A knock sounded at the door, and Con popped his head in. “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt. Sawyer, Manda wanted to say hello, and I need to speak to Layla for a moment. Do you mind leaving us alone?”
I just bet Manda wants to say hello. But Layla’s false cheer never abated as she turned her smile on her boss.
“Sure thing.” Sawyer rose and scrubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans. He cast a quick glance at Layla, then returned his attention to Con. She didn’t miss how Sawyer’s jaw tightened protectively, just as she’d witnessed at her townhouse. Did he really want to shield her? “I’ll be right outside.”
Once Sawyer had gone, Con took the chair he’d just vacated. “He wanted to leave you alone in here with me about as much as he wants to lose his clothes in front of a camera.”
“It’s a Nebraska thing.” Yeah, that was a great save.
Con spread his hands over his toned stomach, his cocked eyebrow his only comment. Today he wore black pants and an unbuttoned black shirt over a gray thermal. His casual style of dress was the exact opposite of Drew’s typical GQ look, but he didn’t need fancy threads to exude authority.
As he was proving right now.
“Did you need something, Con?” she asked
, hoping she sounded inquisitive and not nervous.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. Like soliciting a potential model and fucking him brainless. Multiple times. With some enthusiastic 69-ing and DIY bondage thrown in for good measure.
Nope. No reason at all to be concerned.
“You’ve heard that Sawyer is now my client. Well, potential client. He opted to be part of the test shoot before signing with me. Or even considering signing. He wants to talk to more people, see how things are done here. He’s a cautious one.”
“Yes. I heard.” She folded her hands on top of her Day Planner. “Caution on both sides is always a plus. I think he’ll be great for you.”
“You know him well, then?”
Layla bristled at the edge in Con’s question. “No, of course not. We just met. He’s nobody to me. I just meant he has a lot of potential.”
“I think I know what you meant.”
“Oh, really? What’s that?”
Con crossed one leg over the other, his relaxed pose doing nothing to soften the hard lines of his handsome face. He was as attractive as any of their signees and could’ve modeled if he chose. He and Drew spent a healthy part of their days razzing each other about being pretty boys, though Con had a lot more material to work with when it came to Drew’s professional past. “Layla, I like you. You’ve shown yourself to be a real asset in the short amount of time you’ve been here, and I can see you going far with the agency. Should you decide to.”
Unease chilled the back of Layla’s neck. “Thanks, Con. You know how much I enjoy my job.”
“Just be careful you don’t enjoy it too much.” He exhaled. “Look, this is going to be awkward, and I’m sorry, but I need to ask. Are you sleeping with Sawyer?”
The indignation came first. Then the fear. “What? How can you even suggest that?”
Had Sawyer told him? Had he sold her out?
You don’t know him. Have no clue if he’s trustworthy. One weekend and a gut feeling are no reason to put everything that matters on the line.
“Sawyer’s a piss-poor liar. He came up with some cockamamie bullshit about you two being long-lost cousins from back home in Nebraska, and it being a conflict of interest to work together. The whole time he’s blushing and avoiding my gaze, and now you’re looking at me—or not looking at me—the same damn way.”
