Tropical Sin: Bandicoot Cove, Book 3

by Lexxie Couper

“I want to make love to you, Mack.” His breath was ragged, his eyes ablaze. “Right now.” He slipped one hand under the hemline of her shirt, his fingers brushing her bare flesh beneath.

  She sucked in a swift gasp, the contact somehow more electric, more arousing than any she’d ever had before.

  Of course it is, McKenzie. This isn’t just anyone. This is Aidan. The guy’s had your heart in his pocket since you were kids. Even if you didn’t know it.

  She whimpered, bringing her hand to his as she arched her back. She wanted him to touch her breasts. Not just touch them, but cup them, squeeze them. She wanted to feel the callused strength of his hands mold her soft flesh, hands skilled in extinguishing heat now on the verge of setting her on fire. She wanted to feel him possess her.

  “Then what the hell are you waiting any longer for?” she asked, directing his hand up to her breast. Over it.

  “Oh God, McKenzie.” He moaned, his body stiffening as his fingers found her pleasure-swollen flesh.

  He dragged his thumb over her rock-hard nipple, teasing it through the thin lace of her bra. It puckered harder to his touch, as if it too said, “Yes, why have you taken so long to do this?”

  Her breaths grew shallow, more rapid with every stroke of his thumb pad. But it wasn’t enough. It was torture.

  “Please…”

  Like he always knew when she wanted popcorn at the movies, like he always knew when she needed chocolate, like he always always knew when she needed to hear his voice and called her from the fire station, now it seemed he knew exactly what she wanted him to do to her.

  God, it was wonderful. More than wonderful. It was amazing. Sublime. It was…

  Right. So goddamn right.

  His erection pressing to the sodden junction of her thighs, Aidan hooked the edge of her bra with his fingers, and with one swift move of his arm, pulled the lace from her breast and raised her shirt up her torso.

  He looked at what he’d revealed for a short—and at the same time, agonizingly long—second before his gaze found her face. “Are you sure?” he whispered, the words almost strangled.

  Was she? This wasn’t just a quick fuck. Not even a one-night stand—well, a one-morning stand. There was no coming back from this. Sex with Aidan. Everything changed after that. Whether it was good or horrendously bad, it changed everything.

  Horrendously bad? Are you serious? You’ve never felt so freaking aroused, so consumed with…with…hell, so consumed with real pleasure and all he’s done is kiss you.

  Was she sure?

  She nodded, swallowing at the thick anticipation rising in her throat. “I’ve never been surer.”

  The muscles in his body tensed, his nostrils flared again, and then he lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth.

  Exquisite pleasure shot through her, and she cried out, her pussy not just throbbing but contracting with such eager want she thrust her hips harder to his body. She’d had her breasts sucked before, but what Aidan was doing…

  His tongue rolled over her nipple, short stabbing strokes followed by shorter, sharper sucks that sent shards of squirming pressure straight through her. She moaned, fisting her hands in his hair and shoving her sex closer to his cock. “Oh, Aidan…” She closed her eyes, close to sensory overload. “That feels…”

  “I’m in hell here, Mack,” he growled, his lips and breath hot on her breast. “I want to make this last forever—for as long as I’ve wanted to do it—but I’m so close to coming…”

  The torment she heard in his voice, the raw truth, flayed McKenzie’s tenuous control. God, why had she never known he felt this way? Why hadn’t she realized she felt the same? Her pussy squeezed a cock that wasn’t there. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, the pain etching his face, the desire, making her sex flood.

  She’d always been one for foreplay. Long sessions of foreplay followed by longer sessions of fucking, but Aidan—as always—seemed to know exactly what she needed. She needed him inside her. Now.

  “Sixteen years of foreplay and I didn’t even know it,” she murmured.

  Aidan’s jaw bunched, his cock nudging her sex with a jerking spasm. “I fucking did.”

  She laughed, a shallow burst of awestruck breath, and he seized on the moment to rise up between her legs, grab the waistline of her shorts and yank them off her body, taking her sodden undies with them.

  “I’m going to fuck you with my tongue later,” he rasped, tossing her clothing aside, his voice not altogether steady. “I promise, but right now…”

  He tore open his fly, his cock springing free of its imprisonment immediately. McKenzie’s breath left her in a whimpering moan. God, he was huge.

  Precome glistened on the tip of his shaft, a perfect bead of pleasure. Her mouth filled with moisture at the thought of licking it off with her tongue.

  Later. Later. But now…now…

  “Condom?” The single word passed Aidan’s lips in a low question, his breath ragged, his oh-so-very-impressive stomach muscles hitching.

  McKenzie laughed. “I’ve known you for sixteen years, Rogers.” She raised herself off the bed, just enough to trace her fingertip up the length of his cock, its satiny heat making her pussy contract. “I trust you more than I trust any other living soul. I know you will always protect me and you know I would never do anything to hurt you, but if you think there’s a reason to use a condom, then use one.”

  His nostrils flared again and McKenzie could see his throat work up and down as he swallowed.

  “Babies?”

  His question was barely more than choked moan. She knew exactly how he felt—she was burning up herself.

  “Pill.”

  Green fire danced in his eyes and he lowered himself toward her, his hands planting on either side of her ribcage, his lips brushing hers. “So is this where I should say coming, ready or not?”

  She grinned, her heart warm. Aidan—the man she’d never seen before, the man turning her on so much she could barely think, was still her Aidan. The bloke that made her laugh. “Oh, I’m more than ready.”

  Aidan stared into her face. “So am I.”

  And in one single, fluid move, he buried himself to the balls inside her.

  “Oh God, yes!” she cried out, arching herself into the searing thrust. He was inside her. Completely and totally. Filling her like no one before, and for a surreal moment all she could think about was how bloody perfectly they fit together and how bloody stupid she’d been not to see that before now.

  And then he slammed into her again, again and again, his face buried into the side of her neck, his hands balling the silk duvet beneath her, and rational thought deserted her.

  There was nothing tender or gentle or even romantic about the way he took her. It was raw and desperate. His breath left him in strangled moans, in shaking hisses through clenched teeth. His penetrations grew faster, harder, and McKenzie rode each one, a frantic need for a connection so long denied, so long ignored, consuming her. There was a power in his thrust, an urgent force she’d never experienced before. It was amazing. It altered everything, as she knew it would, but on such a monumental scale, her mind was lost to it, overwhelmed by it.

  “Yes.” She bucked into his strokes, pulled him into each one, driving his thick length deeper, deeper into her center. “Oh God, God, yes, yes.”

  Her climax claimed her, her orgasm an exquisite eruption. She drove her nails into Aidan’s back, her voice hoarse, just as his savage rhythm broke and he came in thick wads of liquid release she felt fill her very soul.

  Aidan Rogers. Her best friend.

  His strokes grew wilder, erratic, and then, with one last driving thrust, he let out a moan, the sound vibrating through him, turning into a long groan as he slumped on top of her.

  They both lay like that, McKenzie’s mind reeling, her body still thrumming from the pleasure he’d wrought upon her. God, there was no turning back now, was there? No matter what Aidan said next, he’d just given her the most mind-blowin
g orgasm of her life.

  “Jesus, Mack,” he finally whispered, his face still pressed to her neck, his lips brushing her flesh, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Her heart stilled, her blood roaring in her ears. She lay motionless, unsure she’d just heard him correctly. Sorry?

  He’s realized he’s made a mistake. After all these years of wanting you, now he’s realized he was wrong. Just when you’ve finally realized just how right for you he is.

  Her stomach lurched, and she ground her teeth. Tears stung at the back of her eyes, hot and burning.

  Oh, McKenzie, what do you do now?

  “I’m sorry,” Aidan said again, his voice muffled. “I wanted to last longer. I wanted—” he shook his head against her neck, “—to give you so much more.”

  A short, sharp laugh burst from her, relief not just sweeping through her but turning her chilled blood hot. She wriggled beneath him, shifting him enough so she could cup his jaw in her hands. With a no-nonsense push, she raised his head, giving him a hard stare. “Don’t you bloody dare apologize.”

  He gave her a wry smile. “That wasn’t exactly how I planned this to go.”

  McKenzie chuckled. The gravity of their situation beat at her but she didn’t let it take her. Not when she felt this totally, utterly awesome. “Well, considering I pictured you naked and in bed with Nick Blackthorne less than thirty minutes ago, I think the afternoon’s gone pretty well, don’t—”

  A knock on the suite’s door stopped her. She and Aidan looked at each other, a small grin playing with the corners of Aidan’s mouth. “That’ll be Mason.”

  “Oh, let me open the door.” McKenzie scrambled away from him, almost falling off the bed as she did so. She was happy, so damn happy she wanted to shout it to the world, no matter how clichéd the notion. “I wanna see his face when he sees what we’ve been up to.”

  “Mack!” Aidan burst out, throwing a pillow at her as she all but sprinted for the door.

  She dodged it, throwing him a wide smile over her shoulder as she messed her hair up more and smoothed out her rumpled T-shirt until the hem fell just below her backside. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob and gave Aidan one last look over her shoulder. “Wanna bet he threatens to tell Mum?”

  Before Aidan could answer, she flung open the door.

  And found Nick Blackthorne leaning against the doorframe, his pitch-black sunglasses perched atop his ink-black hair, his piercing grey eyes fixed completely on her.

  “Hello, McKenzie Wood from Goss Weekly. Any chance I can join in?”

  Chapter Four

  Aidan didn’t just scramble from the bed; he leapt from it. He stared hard at the rock star leaning in the threshold, his heart thumping fast. “What the fuck are—?” he began, a second before Nick’s gaze slid to him and he realized he was standing in the middle of a hotel room with his tackle—still semi-hard and probably glistening with McKenzie’s juices—on show.

  Jaw clamping shut, glare locked on Nick’s smiling face, he shoved his dick back into his cargos and yanked up his fly. What the hell was Nick Blackthorne doing here? And what the hell did he mean “join in”?

  “Nick?” McKenzie’s startled voice shattered the suffocating silence, and from the corner of Aidan’s eye he saw her step back from the open door, her eyebrows dipping in a stunned frown. “I…we…you…”

  She stammered over the personal pronouns, each one passing her lips in a short, breathless hiccup, her normal poise nowhere to be seen.

  The rock star raised his eyebrows, a grin Aidan would have sworn was cheeky playing with his lips, if not for the hesitation in his eyes. And the uncertainty.

  Nick himself, it seemed, didn’t really know why he was here. Or what was going to happen next.

  “How can we help you, Nick?” Aidan held the man’s stare, a heavy beat thumping in his temple, his throat. If what the singer was going to suggest was what Aidan suspected…

  An unbidden image flickered through his head, McKenzie, naked, pressed between them both, her head thrown back as both Nick’s mouth and his own explored the perfection of her throat, her breasts.

  His pulse quickened and his balls—so recently depleted—grew hard. Jesus Christ, what was he thinking?

  “I came to ask…” Nick paused, rubbing at his mouth with a hand before raking it through his hair; hair, Aidan couldn’t help but notice, much more messy than it had been at the bar. “I wanted…” He let out a harsh breath, shaking his head and stepping backward. “Fuck,” he muttered, turning his face away, “where’s the cool fucking rock star when I need him?”

  Aidan’s pulse beat faster. He narrowed his eyes, knowing he should do something, say something. But what? What exactly did he want to say?

  Before he could work that out, however, Nick swung his stare back to them both, looking first at McKenzie and then Aidan, a calm resolution falling over his face. A face hundreds of thousands of women—and likely a few men—fantasized about over and over again. A face, when combined with a voice unlike any the world had heard, that elevated Nick Blackthorne beyond fantasies.

  “I want to have a threesome,” he said, that ambiguous accent almost all Australian now. “So fucking much I’m aching all over.”

  McKenzie’s mouth fell open, but not before Aidan was at her side, his stare locked on Nick. “I think—” he started, but Nick cut him off, his gaze holding Aidan’s with just as much force.

  “I haven’t heard music, lyrics, for a long time. Too long to remember.” He let out a ragged sigh. “I haven’t felt alive for a long time either. I’ve been dead inside for so long I’d forgotten what it was like to feel anything. But the second I heard McKenzie laugh—” he closed his eyes for a moment, an expression of sheer rapture crossing his face, “—the second I saw her in your arms…”

  He opened his eyes and looked at Aidan, and that haunted, hesitant torment was back on his face. “I want to be a part of your intimacy.”

  Something heavy and hot surged through Aidan’s veins, though his body. “What you’re saying,” he said, keeping his voice calm, modulated, “is you want to make love to the one woman you know I’ve wanted forever?”

  McKenzie gasped. Nick’s nostrils flared. “Yes,” he nodded. “While you do as well.”

  “You want to…” McKenzie’s unfinished question, uttered on a shaking breath, should have torn Aidan’s stare from Nick’s. But it didn’t.

  “I want to lose myself in the magic of your desire for each other,” Nick continued, the words low and smooth, and yet at the same time rough and husky. “Just standing here now, looking at you both, looking at the room behind you…the rumpled sheets, the rumpled hair…the scent of your pleasure streaming into my body with each breath I take…” He closed his eyes again for a split second, shaking his head as if moved by something Aidan couldn’t experience.

  Or maybe already had?

  “Arousing,” Nick growled, and it was a growl. Guttural and barely controlled, it was the horniest sound Aidan had ever heard a man make. “So damn arousing.”

  He looked at them again. “I’m assailed by images of you both together. Ever since you left me at the bar, Aidan, ever since I knew you were coming back here to claim the woman of your dreams, I can’t stop seeing you together, moving together… Fuck me, I can’t stop wanting to be a part of that.”

  Aidan’s mouth went dry.

  “I don’t want to intrude on your intimacy.” Nick shook his head again, even as he moved his stare to McKenzie, his eyes beseeching. “I know you need time alone, but damn it, just for once, I want to be a part of something so very few people in the world ever get the chance to experience: true bliss.”

  He returned his stare to Aidan. “McKenzie is so fucking gorgeous.” The sides of his lips twitched a little in a small smile. “And God help me, the thought of you making love to her…”

  He left the rest of the sentence dangling between them, saying instead, “I hear music again. I feel it in my soul, but the song
isn’t finished.” He paused again, his Adam’s apple rolling up and down in his throat. “Just one day, that’s all I ask. Just one day, the rest of this day. Please.”

  Aidan stood motionless, the heat of McKenzie’s body seeping into his side, his stare locked on Nick Blackthorne’s haunted face. His ears rang with a low roar, his heart thumped a wild tattoo. He didn’t know what to say.

  But surely, that is answer enough? As is Mack’s silence?

  He pulled a swift breath. McKenzie hadn’t said a word either. Not one. Her uncharacteristic failure to respond to the rock star made his throat tight. And not just his throat. His balls grew hard, his cock twitching with interest. He turned to face her, the delicate scent of her release still lingering on the suite’s still air.

  Nick was correct. She was fucking gorgeous. He’d known that forever. Every night when he’d closed his eyes he’d seen her, imagined her moving over him, riding his shaft, her hair rumpled like it was now, gorgeous and sexy and his, all his. But now, right now, right at this very moment in time, it wasn’t just he and McKenzie he saw in his head.

  And by the shaky way she drew breath, by the way her eyes were dilated and the way her nipples were erect and hard beneath the thin cotton of her shirt, he suspected Nick was in her head as well.

  Which should have made him jealous as all hell, but instead made him so fucking aroused his cock was a rod of agonized steel.

  The world’s most lusted-after celebrity, the man described by Rolling Stone magazine as “sin and sex and soul”, was inspired by what he and McKenzie had. How could he not be turned on?

  Aidan gazed at her, unable to find the words to vocalize his thoughts.

  She studied him, her eyes wide, her lips parted, the tiny pulse at the base of her neck beating so quickly he could see it fluttering beneath her smooth skin.

  Did he ask her? Did he dare?

  He didn’t have to. A small smile began to pull at her lips, the kind he recognized so very well: the kind that said she was with him. No matter what, she was with him. He’d seen it so many times since he’d first met her that if he were an artist, he could draw it with his eyes closed. But he wasn’t an artist, he was a firefighter. And a man. The luckiest fucking man on the planet.