Triple Threat

by Regina Kyle

“And because I’m a fair-minded kind of guy,” he continued, his lips moving closer to hers, “my body’s yours for the taking, too. Nibble and lick wherever you like. As much as you like.”

  She sagged against him, every nerve ending screaming to be touched next.

  “You okay?”

  Voiceless, she could only nod.

  “Good.” His lips edged closer. “Because I’m going to explode if I have to wait one more minute to do this.”

  The hand on her cheek slid to cradle the back of her neck, holding her captive as his lips met hers in a kiss that stole her breath. His tongue darted out to stroke hers and she moaned into his mouth, relishing the taste and feel of him. Pulling away slightly, he gently sucked first her upper lip, then her lower one, giving each a little nip before releasing it. Then it was her turn to nibble at his mouth, her tongue skating across his lips until they were both flushed and panting.

  “Time for bed,” he said with a growl, backing her into the mattress.

  She fell with a squeal onto the soft duvet, loving the way it enveloped her. He stretched out beside her, their bodies touching from hip to toe, his head propped up by one hand. The other lingered over the waistband of her jeans.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  His words, hoarse and quietly demanding, had her insides doing somersaults and her brain working overtime. What did she want? She’d never really thought about that before. Her admittedly limited sexual experience had been mostly about the guy getting off, not her own pleasure. It had certainly been that way with Clark. And the only orgasms she’d had in recent memory were self-induced.

  “Talk to me, Holly.” The hand over her waistband traveled across her body, gently kneading her hip. “I want to make you feel good.”

  “I...I do feel good,” she gasped.

  “Then I want to make you feel even better.” He wedged one leg in between hers and she couldn’t help but clamp her own legs around him.

  Sighing, she rubbed against his tight, muscular thigh. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

  “It’s possible.” He freed the top two buttons of her blouse and pulled it off her shoulders. Her bra straps followed, pinning her upper arms to her body. “Let me show you.” With one finger he ran a languorous trail from her chin down her neck to the valley between her breasts.

  “I believe you,” she whimpered, arching into him. “You’re very convincing.”

  “I try.” He chuckled, pulling down one bra cup to expose her nipple. “Points for effort.” He shifted on the bed and bent to trace the curve of her breast with his tongue, making her swear it was lava, the way his touch burned her skin.

  The other side of her bra got the same treatment, allowing his mouth to roam from one breast to the other. He took his sweet time teasing her, kissing and licking in circles but ignoring her aching nipples. When he lifted his head and gave her a wicked grin, she knew his omission was not accident.

  “Please, Nick.”

  “Please what?” He nuzzled her chest, his tongue stealing out to lick the inside of each breast. “You can tell me. Don’t be afraid.”

  Strangely, she wasn’t. She trusted Nick to take care of her, felt safe with him even as he drove her wild with desire. She wanted to answer him, to let him know what she wanted. Besides, her stiff, swollen nipples couldn’t take much more delicious torment. “Touch me,” she begged. “Please.”

  “I am touching you.” He brushed his fingertips over her stomach and up her rib cage, stopping just under the swell of her breasts where her shirt and bra were gathered. The bastard.

  “Here,” she choked out, cupping one breast and pinching the hard tip between her thumb and forefinger. “I need you to touch me here.”

  “Mmm.” He placed a hand over hers and squeezed, bringing the throbbing peak near his mouth. His hot breath blew across it when he spoke. “So pretty. Plump and pink.”

  “Nick...”

  “And sensitive.” Another gust of warm air wafted across her nipple and she practically came right there.

  “I can’t take much more,” she cried out, biting her lip.

  “Would you like my hands on you?” With one finger he grazed the edge of her tightly puckered areola, then withdrew. “Teasing those perfect buds until you fall apart in my arms? Or maybe...”

  “Yes,” she gasped when—finally—he followed his breath with his mouth, closing his lips around the rigid tip and sucking greedily. His hand moved to her other breast, finding and flicking the rosy crest with his thumb.

  He lingered there, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy again and again before pulling back, denying her release. She moaned and clutched at his head, threading her fingers through his thick, dark hair in a desperate attempt to pump up the action. Her hips rocked against him as she tried to take herself over the edge he seemed so determined to keep out of reach.

  Just when she thought she was as frustrated as she could get, he abandoned her breasts, kissing and caressing his way down her body to the waistband of her jeans. With one hand, he deftly released the snap and lowered the zipper inch by inch, his fingers barely skimming the pale blue silk of panties that matched her bra. She closed her eyes as he slipped one finger under the elastic to find her warm, wet crease.

  “Holly.”

  His eyes were heavy-lidded and so dark they looked almost black.

  “I want you to watch me. And I want to see those pretty green eyes when you come for me for the first time.”

  The first time? She licked her lips, her lust-addled brain struggling to process the images his words had planted there. Nick making her come with his fingers. Then his tongue. Then...

  “Ah!” Holly inhaled sharply as he slid a finger inside her, stroking her deeply and making the fire that had been building in her belly rage out of control. Her sex pulsed against him and she arched up off the bed, needing to press even closer to the man who had pushed past her fears and awakened her slumbering sex drive.

  “So wet,” he murmured, adding a finger and thrusting deeper into her. “For me.”

  Too soon, he removed his fingers, but she forgave him when he replaced them with his mouth, blowing soft and warm on the silk of her panties. His hands went to her hips, lifting them up and slowly pulling her jeans and underwear down her legs to her ankles. She helped him by kicking off her ballet flats so he could remove them completely, leaving her prone, half-naked and vulnerable before him.

  And just like that, her insecurities reared up. Nick had been great so far, a thoughtful and generous lover. But Clark had been great, too, at first. A lump formed in the pit of her stomach. Although she and Nick had known each other for years, she didn’t really know him at all.

  She grabbed one of the pillows and held it in front of her, shielding herself from those sinful chocolate eyes that were raking her up and down, making her flesh tingle from head to toe. “Nick, I...”

  “What’s wrong, babe?” In an instant, his eyes changed from wicked to worried, making her heart twist. She almost chucked the pillow on the floor and threw herself at him. Almost. But her old fears stood in her way like an impenetrable wall.

  “I just...I can’t—”

  “It’s okay,” he cut in softly, sitting up beside her and giving her a little much-appreciated breathing room. “I’ll stop if you want me to. I won’t pretend I’m not disappointed, but I’ll stop. Just give me the word.”

  She’d give him the word, all right. Goodbye. Adios. Sayonara. That was what her head was telling her to say. But apparently her wayward heart had gained control of her mouth, because when she opened it the word that came out was “Snicklefritz.”

  “Snicklefritz?” he repeated, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.

  “My therapist suggested I pick a safe word,” she explained. “It’s from a book I read as a kid.”

  If he wondered why she needed a therapist—or a safe word—he didn’t let on. Instead, he merely nodded and said, “Snicklefritz it is, then.”

 
“So, if I say it, we’ll stop?” she asked, a seed of trust beginning to sprout deep inside her.

  “I swear.” He held up three fingers as if taking the Boy Scout oath.

  With those two little words, her anxiety evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. “I seriously doubt you were ever a Boy Scout,” she said, relaxing her death grip on the pillow and allowing herself to smile.

  “No, I wasn’t,” he admitted, deadly serious now, his eyes intent and his mouth firm. “But I am a man of honor. And as much as I want to take you every which way imaginable, I promise to stop the minute you say so.”

  A man of honor. Ultimately, that was what separated Nick from Clark. There wasn’t an honorable bone in Clark’s miserable body. But somehow she knew Nick would keep his word.

  Slowly, she released the pillow and let it fall to the side, baring herself once again for his appraisal. “Thank you,” she whispered, the heat within her reigniting as his eyes swept over her. How could this man affect her so swiftly and so strongly? She felt like a kind of human sports car capable of going from zero to ready-and-willing in no time flat.

  “No, sweetheart,” Nick countered, lowering himself over her and planting a soft kiss on her hip. “Thank you.”

  His hands moved to her inner thighs, gently pushing them apart. She knew what was coming next but still wasn’t prepared for the delicious sensation of his mouth closing around her, the stubble of his beard scraping over her damp curls. With each swipe of his tongue he brought her closer to fulfillment. When he focused his attention on her clitoris, sucking on the sensitive nub and drawing it between his teeth to tug lightly, she flew apart with a cry of pleasure that echoed throughout the bedroom, the word Snicklefritz nothing more than a distant memory.

  8

  NICK LOVED WOMEN. He loved their sweet smell, their smooth skin, their silky hair. He especially loved pleasing them, hearing their soft moans and watching them buck and writhe as they came in his arms.

  He’d had his share of women since he lost his virginity at sixteen to the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad under the bleachers in the gym. He liked sex, made no promises, and the women who were drawn to him had no problems with either fact. What they saw was what they got—a no-strings, footloose and fancy-free guy looking for a few laughs and a good time.

  So why wasn’t he laughing now?

  Maybe it was the way Holly looked when she climaxed, eyes closed, breasts heaving, skin flushed and slick with sweat. Trusting. Not on display. He’d felt an unfamiliar pang in his chest when she’d called his name as he took her over the edge, shuddering beneath him. It sounded different coming from her than any other woman. Better.

  Or maybe it was the way she was looking at him now. She’d opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbows, staring at him with a dazed expression as he lay sprawled between her legs, his head resting on one creamy thigh. Her tongue ran the length of her lips and she swallowed as if she hadn’t come in ages. Or ever.

  “That was... I mean... I’ve never... Aaah!” She slumped back down and buried her head in the comforter.

  He lifted his head, his chest swelling with pride. “You’ve never had an—”

  “I most certainly have!” she cut him off, red-faced. “Just not...like that.”

  A devious grin spread across his face as he began a leisurely ascent up her leg to her rib cage. “Like what?” he teased.

  “You—” She broke off, her breath hitching as he continued to travel upward, covering her body with his, her shirt and bra still bunched between them. He nuzzled his nose in the crook of her neck. She smelled like a woman should, not of some expensive perfume, but of soap and baby powder, clean and fresh. “You know what I mean. I’ve never had a man touch me...that way.”

  “Then you’ve been sleeping with the wrong men.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Not for the first time, Nick wondered what kind of a dickweed her ex was. He obviously hadn’t given a crap about satisfying his wife’s needs in the bedroom. Probably not anywhere else, either.

  His loss, Nick thought, rolling to his back and reaching for the hem of his T-shirt.

  But before he could lift it up and off, Holly surprised him by slipping out of her bra, pulling her blouse back up to her shoulders and climbing on top of him. He was tempted to ask why she didn’t remove the damn shirt, too, but then she straddled his hips, pressing against his erection and short-circuiting his brain. “If I recall correctly, you promised me I could explore.”

  “Explore away,” he croaked, lucky to manage even that with her sitting astride him.

  She pushed his shirt up over his stomach. He raised his head and shoulders, allowing her to tug it off. “Mmm. Yummy.”

  “I told you. I have food, baby. Ice cream.”

  “I like this better.” She bent to press a kiss to the patch of hair between his nipples. Her hands roamed from his pecs to his abs and back again, making his muscles flex and his cock twitch hard in his jeans.

  “Killing me...”

  “Oh, my God, I’m sorry.” She started to roll off him, but he caught her at the waist, stopping her.

  “With pleasure, babe.” He rocked against her so she could feel the hard length of his erection. “Killing me with pleasure.”

  “Oh.” Her hands slid back down his torso, finding and settling on his belt buckle.

  “Maybe I can die from it later.”

  “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.” She slid the buckle free and fingered the button on his jeans.

  “Then I guess I’ll have to lie back and take it like a man.” He relaxed on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head, half anticipating and half dreading her sensual torture. It was his own damn fault, he knew. Hell, he’d practically given her a gold-engraved invitation with his whole equal-opportunity-seduction speech.

  He could have her underneath him in seconds, his pants undone and his dick inside her before she even realized what was happening. And the little minx was tempting him to do just that, using her fingers, teeth and tongue to ramp him up to twelfth gear.

  But then she lifted her head and her eyes met his, eagerness and indecision warring in their jade-green depths, and damned if he didn’t want the eagerness to win out. Suddenly there wasn’t a force on earth strong enough—not even his raging hard-on—to make him deprive her of the chance to give in to her desire and have her naughty way with him.

  Holly’s hands shook as she popped the button on his jeans and slowly—so damn slowly—pulled down the zipper. He sprang free, fully erect and completely bare. A drop of pre-come leaked from the slit. She dragged her eyes upward and raised an eyebrow at him. “Commando?”

  He shrugged. “Tomorrow’s laundry day.”

  “I didn’t know big movie stars did their own laundry,” she teased, brushing a finger over the head of his cock. It jerked in response and she drew back.

  “This one does,” he said, locking his fingers together in a superhuman effort to stop from grabbing her hand and putting it back where it sure as hell belonged. “If he wants clean clothes.”

  “Clothes are highly overrated. Clean or otherwise.” She rose up on her knees and hovered over him for a long moment, her hands at his waistband but her eyes fixed on his chest.

  He tried not to squirm like an overanxious schoolboy. “Like what you see?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She licked her lips.

  “Wanna see more?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She tightened her hold on his waistband and took a deep breath as if steadying herself before making her next move, whatever that might be. He silently prayed that it involved the removal of his pants.

  “Sometime today, maybe?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  With a sharp tug, she yanked on his jeans. Hallelujah! He lifted his hips, helping her pull them off. Every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation as he watched her, her eyes so wide and aroused he just about came without another touch.

  And then she reached
down, encircling him with her fingers, and he was lost. Totally and completely lost. Slowly at first, with light, tentative movements, she stroked him, making his already rock-hard dick swell impossibly larger. Head back, he closed his eyes, letting the sensation of her hand working up and down his shaft, her thumb sweeping across the tip, wash over him.

  “Is this... Am I...doing it right?”

  Her nervousness, the awkward shyness mixed with obvious longing, did him in. He loved not knowing at any given moment which one would win out. Although he knew for damned sure which one he was rooting for. “If you do it any more right, I’m going to blow before I ever get inside you.”

  With his words she grew bolder, more sure of herself. Her pace increased, and he couldn’t control the urge to thrust up into her fist. She closed her fingers more tightly around him and he moaned, knowing that he’d never forget this night, just as he’d never forgotten their kiss fifteen years ago.

  Her movements stopped suddenly and he was about to protest when he felt the fine, soft ends of her hair tickle his thigh. “Can I...?” she breathed. “I want to taste you.”

  He knew what was coming next would probably be his undoing, but before he could stop her, her tongue was sliding around his crown, down his shaft and onto his balls, and finally her mouth, hot and tight, sucked him from root to tip.

  He didn’t think it was possible for things to get any hotter, but then—sweet Jesus—she hummed around him, a soft, mewling sound that had him a nanosecond away from losing control. A sweet thought, but he needed to be moving within her when he came.

  “Baby, please...” He pulled from her mouth and she let go with a loud pop, the sound echoing in the stillness of the bedroom.

  “Nick?” She watched him, her eyes hazy and filled with confusion, as he moved her to one side, rolled off the bed and padded over to where she’d thrown his pants.

  He pulled a condom from the back pocket and flipped it onto the bed.

  “Always prepared. Are you sure you weren’t a Boy Scout?”

  “Hardly.”

  Her eyes softened and she reached out her hand. “Let me.”