by KJ Reed
Mary Ellen laughed and tugged on the man’s upper arm, urging him to take one of their empty chairs. When they were all seated, Mary Ellen said, “We didn’t get your name. And we can’t keep calling you White Knight.”
“Call me Goodwin. Not that I mind the nickname. But it could get old,” he said with a smile. “You ladies need another round? Or am I breaking in on some girl time?”
“Nope, not breaking in at all. I know I’d like another round. How about you, Mackenzie?” Mary Ellen raised a brow and Ariel knew it was not-so-subtle code for “Is this one worth keeping?”
She took a quick peek at Goodwin out the corner of her eye. Handsome, probably in his late twenties, though he had a sort of boyish quality that could make him appear twenty-one for years to come. And he seemed to have serious eyes for Mary Ellen. He wasn’t exactly Ariel’s type, someone she’d pursue, preferring taller men with lighter hair. But he was good-looking, nice and had come to their rescue in a time of need.
All in all, excellent qualities for a night of scratching an itch.
She nodded to Mary Ellen. “Yeah, I could use another beer.”
Goodwin caught the eye of a server, pointed to Mary Ellen’s beer then held up three fingers. The server nodded in understanding, leaving to fill their order.
“Where were you ten minutes ago?” Ariel mumbled, then shook her head when the other two turned to stare at her curiously. “Nothing. So you said something about the Corps?”
Goodwin grinned easily. He had a good mouth for smiling. Even when he wasn’t smiling, the corners of his lips turned up slightly, like one was hovering, just waiting for an excuse to come out. “Ten years now, and going strong.”
“Must be rough, especially now. We keep hearing how everyone deploys too much, too often,” Mary Ellen said, taking a large swig of the new beer the server had slipped in front of her. “I can’t imagine.”
“It can be rough.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But let’s not go there. No need to depress two beautiful ladies gracing me with their presence.” He chuckled, then said, “I was about to ask if you guys came here often, but I realized that was a cliché, even though I really was curious.”
“We like it,” Ariel said. “Nine times out of ten it’s a great place to relax. Are you here visiting friends? There aren’t any Marine bases in the area that I know of.”
“Just visiting. I’ve never been to Philly myself. I walked here from the hotel for an after-flight beer.”
“Only in town for a bit then?” Mary Ellen asked, shooting Ariel a glance.
“Yup. ‘Bout a week or so, I guess. We’re on post-deployment leave so we’re limited in our time here.”
“Well, in that case, maybe you’d want someone to show you a decent first night. A native of the area.” Mary Ellen gave him a look even an idiot could figure out. And from the smile creeping onto his face, he was no idiot.
“Now that’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time,” Goodwin agreed, setting down his empty bottle and making some hand signal that had the server cashing them out in no time. Though Mary Ellen grabbed for the bill, Goodwin snatched it away and paid the tab, including tip.
Ariel realized it was the now-or-never moment. She could pretend to not be listening, let Mary Ellen keep Goodwin for herself and stay on call if she needed help. Then her phone beeped in her bag and she reached for it on instinct.
Chairs scraping back on the concrete floor made her look up, hand hovering over the bag’s clasp. Goodwin’s lips were curved in an easy, unassuming smile, but Mary Ellen’s look was more direct. It clearly said, What the hell are you doing? Let’s go!
She gave the cell one more longing thought then mentally slapped herself. She was standing right next to a flesh-and-blood man and she almost passed that up for a night of texting? She was going crazy.
Ariel stood, deliberately not opening her bag, but tucking it under her arm instead. “So, Goodwin, would two natives be better than one?”
That easy, noncommittal smile spread into a welcoming grin. “Two is always better than one.” Then he held out an arm for each of them and led them out of the bar and into the cooler night air.
Chapter Three
A loud knock on the door woke Trav up from his dreamless sleep. In forced habit, he woke with a start, jerking out of bed and onto his feet before he could blink twice. The ability to wake up in an instant wasn’t just a skill in combat, sometimes it was a lifesaver. He grabbed the cell off the nightstand and glanced at the screen on autopilot.
No new messages. Again.
So Ariel was busy. All right, no biggie. He could do this on his own. Granted his sister was four years younger than he was, but he could think like a twenty-four-year-old. Couldn’t be too hard.
But why wasn’t Ariel responding?
More pounding on the door reminded him of why he woke up, then Pete’s voice called, “Seriously, you want to get out here.”
Knowing Pete, that could mean anything from wanting to show off the girl he picked up in a bar—under the pretext of introducing an old friend, of course—to needing to borrow twenty bucks to pay for a pizza. There was no point in ignoring the summons, since he knew his friend would just continue knocking until he answered.
But when he pulled open the door, it wasn’t a pizza delivery guy. Pete stood in the hallway between their rooms, a pretty redhead attached to his side. She barely reached Pete’s shoulder, even wearing heels. Travis propped a shoulder against the door frame, vaguely amused and definitely curious. Had Pete found a woman all right with sharing for the night? The idea sent a vague stirring of interest through his cock. “Good evening, Goodwin.”
“Donovan, this is Ellen. We met at the bar down the street. The Home Run. Ellen, meet my buddy here, Donovan.”
“The Home Stretch,” she corrected, then held out a hand to Travis. “Nice to meet you.” For a teeny thing, her grip was firm and her voice was solid. No breathy wisp of a voice, no sissy limp-fish handshake. He knew right away she was no barfly or some weird groupie with a military fetish. Shocking, really, how many of those were out there.
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, then crossed his arms over his chest. There was never any good way to ask the all-important question of “Do you mind being with two guys at once?” without feeling like an idiot, so he simply waited for Pete to bring it up. When in doubt, let someone else do the dirty work. If not, he could handle another night with his hand and some delusional fantasy about a woman named Ariel who might or might not exist.
Before Pete or his newest conquest could say a word, Pete’s door opened behind them. He glanced up and froze, unable to do anything but stare.
A leggy brunette stood in the half-open doorway wearing a button-down men’s shirt and nothing else. In her bare feet she was almost as tall as Pete. Her chestnut hair hung in loose waves past her shoulders, the ends curling where her breasts rounded out the front of the shirt. He wanted to reach out and flick a finger down the row, popping one after another through the hole until the shirt hung open, framing her body.
Where his body had tingled with the possibility of interest before, it was on high alert now. Blood rushed, making a beeline south of his belt buckle, and his tongue felt too thick to speak around.
“Hey,” she said, looking first at the two in the hall. “I thought you guys were right behind me. Did I get ditched?” Her voice was sweet and soft, like she was trying not to interrupt or draw too much attention to herself.
Like that was even possible.
Trav opened his mouth to say hello, ask for her name, see if she was busy the rest of the week. Nothing came out but some squeaking noise from the back of his throat. But it was enough for the brunette to glance his way. Her sleepy-looking eyes widened slightly and she stepped partially back into the shadow of the room, shielding her body from his view but keeping her face visible.
Pete gave him a strange look, then flashed her a smile. “I know I said I could handle both of you ladies, but I thought
I’d see if you wouldn’t mind a buddy hopping in. My best friend here, Donovan. Who is usually more articulate than this,” he added, throwing another What the hell is wrong with you look his way. “But if you want to keep the party to three, I won’t complain.”
“I don’t mind,” Ellen chimed in almost immediately, her left hand sliding down Pete’s abs before hooking a thumb in the waistband of his jeans. Apparently she didn’t much mind because she already picked out her focus for the night.
Trav looked once more at the brunette, willing her with his mind to forgive him his thick-headed beginning. “I won’t intrude without invitation, so no worries.” There, that sounded somewhat intelligent and non-threatening.
A second went by, then two, and Travis started understanding what people meant when they said time could stop. Then she moved, just an inch, and her torso came back into the hallway light. “All right with me.”
Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. He patted his pocket to make sure he had his wallet with his room key and cell phone, then shut the door behind him and followed Pete and the redhead into his friend’s room.
Another man. A much taller, sexy, quiet man. A twist in the plans, for sure.
Not that she and Mary Ellen had never been with two guys. Plenty of times they’d met best friends, or roommates, who didn’t mind heading back to one’s house for the evening. Sometimes they kept to their own separate bedrooms, and at times they congregated into one. It didn’t matter, as long as the sex was good and the men respected their boundaries.
But for some reason, the man that followed Mary Ellen and Goodwin—Donovan, they’d said his name was—made her nervous. Not in the Weren’t you on America’s Most Wanted? sort of way. But the tingling sensation that crawled up her spine was there, and it meant something. Though their White Knight was nice, attractive…he didn’t make her breath catch like Donovan did. The first hint of anticipation had her blood moving.
“Ah, I love a good king-sized bed,” Goodwin said, then fell on top of a laughing Mary Ellen.
“I didn’t get your name.” His voice was right behind her and she suddenly felt self-conscious about the joke of slipping into one of Goodwin’s shirts while he and Mary Ellen had made out in the elevator. She pulled on the hem, barely covering her butt, and turned.
In the darkness, with only the desk lamp for light, his features seemed more harsh, more masculine than before. A deep thrum vibrated low in her belly and she felt the tell-tale slickness at the tops of her thighs. Whatever the nerves were from, her body seemed to recognize a good time when it saw one coming.
He arched one eyebrow, and belatedly she remembered he’d asked her name. “A—” she started to say, then cut off. Shit. Thank God she never had to be an international spy. The United States would have been blown up with nukes by now. “A name isn’t always necessary, is it?” she asked, playing off the slip.
One hand came up to play with the edge of her borrowed shirt, the backs of his fingers brushing her collarbone. “I usually like to know the name of who I’m crawling into bed with.” He shot an amused glance toward the bed. “Two out of three isn’t bad, but I’d like to know yours.”
“Mackenzie,” she blurted. Wow, smooth.
“Mackenzie,” he repeated, drawing the word out. He gave her a quick once-over, dragging his eyes over her entire body. But he didn’t make a move.
She glanced at the other half of the room’s occupants. Ellen was naked from the waist up, while their White Knight feasted on her breasts. Ariel felt her own breasts swell in anticipation and she wondered if Donovan was stalling or if he wasn’t as into the idea of sex with an audience—albeit a distracted one—as she was. “If you don’t want to—”
One finger over her lips silenced her. “I want to,” he said, his voice dropping low, as if not wanting to broadcast the conversation to Goodwin and Mary Ellen. “I just wanted to make sure you did.”
She nodded once, then touched the tip of her tongue to the rough pad of his finger. When his eyes narrowed, she opened her lips and grazed her teeth down to the knuckle, then sucked once before releasing him.
He stared at her a moment, his silence punctuated by Mary Ellen’s moaning and the rustle of sheets and clothing. Then he took the one step that separated them, cupped his hands around her face and kissed her.
It wasn’t overpowering. But it was overwhelming. He licked the seam of her lips and stole in with his tongue. Coffee. He tasted like coffee and…peanut butter. She would have smiled if her mouth hadn’t been busy. She wrapped her hands around his waist, pushed the material of his polo shirt up until she made contact with warm skin. He hissed in a breath.
“Sorry,” she said, jerking her hands away, though she wasn’t sure what she did wrong.
He pulled back and smiled. “Cold hands,” he explained, then picked one up and placed a kiss in the palm, blowing hot air over her skin before letting it drop.
Oh, she wanted to sigh like a teenager after her first kiss. But she wasn’t stupid enough to romanticize a one-nighter.
One large hand slid back to cup her neck, his fingers sliding through her hair at the base of her skull, and he kissed her again. She rubbed her palms briskly over the top of his shirt before slipping her hands under once more to stroke the taut skin and muscle of his abs.
He chuckled in her mouth. “Smartass,” he murmured and worked his lips down her throat. “Luckily I have a thing for smartass brunettes.”
He undid the buttons to the shirt she was wearing, taking his time. As he pulled the fabric aside, cool air rushed over her skin and her nipples tightened almost painfully in response. She shrugged her shoulders and let the shirt fall to the ground, then pressed her body to his.
His hands glided down her back, pressing her closer until she was molded to his front from breast to knee. Then he took her mouth again, slowly, as if they had nothing to do but kiss all night. She liked that. No sprint to the finish line, it was about the journey. A quickie was nice every once in a while, a good change of pace. But this, the exploration of bodies, this was what brought her out of her cave. To make that physical connection with someone, even for just one night.
She leaned back enough to lift his shirt over his head. A small sigh of appreciation escaped her lips and she wasn’t embarrassed about it. A body like this should be acknowledged, like a marble statue of a Greek god. Biceps that had stretched the sleeves of his polo looked bigger without their confines. His abs created a ladder effect down his torso, lightly dusted with a happy trail that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. She ran her fingers from shoulder to navel, letting her nails lightly scratch. He shivered a little and she smiled, then placed a kiss in the middle of his breastbone.
“Looks like there’s a free corner of the bed. Wanna take this over that way?” he asked, amusement in his voice. Clearly he wasn’t turned off by an audience. With how little concern he showed for their temporary roommates and their animalistic mating sounds, this probably wasn’t a first for him either.
“Sure thing.” She walked over to the bed and she could swear she felt the heat of him on her back, though he wasn’t touching. But before she turned around, he pushed her down on her stomach, covering her from behind. His mouth drew a line of kisses down her spine and she wiggled a little when he reached the indent above her bottom. “Tickles,” she muttered into the cover.
The only answer was the sound of Mary Ellen gasping for breath. Ariel knew that sound and it wasn’t faked. She turned her head so she could watch as Goodwin dragged Mary Ellen’s legs over the side of the bed and reached onto the night stand. A pile of condoms sat waiting, and Ariel wondered if they were his or if Mary Ellen had dug them out of her bag while Ariel wasn’t looking.
As her own bedmate slipped his hand between her thighs, reaching her slick center, Goodwin grabbed Mary Ellen’s legs, wrapped them tightly around his hips and eased his cock into her open pussy. His movements were slow, controlled. Mary Ellen moaned and grabbed his forearms.
&n
bsp; As Goodwin pushed deep inside her friend, Donovan slipped a finger in her own body. Her walls clenched, trying to hold on as he slipped out again. At the same time, his friend pulled back from Mary Ellen. As Goodwin slid home once more, his hips meeting with Mary Ellen’s, Donovan crept in with two fingers.
When Donovan retreated the same time as his friend, she realized it wasn’t a coincidence. She propped up on one elbow and twisted until she could see his face. The half-smile told her she was right. When she raised an eyebrow, he shrugged, entering her once more.
“What’s the point of having us in one room if you can’t take advantage of the show?” he asked, then his smile grew into a grin.
She chuckled and dropped down again, this time with her face in the cover. His free hand pulled her legs wider apart, and the next drive was harder, deeper than before. She heard Mary Ellen’s gasp and felt the bed rock in time with Goodwin’s thrusts. God, that was new. The rocking of the bed wasn’t from her and Donovan…and yet it was in time with her own pleasure.
He worked his fingers faster now, his breath coming in more shallow pants. His chest was warm over her back and his belt buckle was digging into her backside in a strangely erotic way, as if reminding her with every move of their bodies he was still covered while she was naked and at his sexual mercy.
Mary Ellen’s squeaking gasps for breath mingled with Goodwin’s grunts and she knew her friend was close. But when she thought Mary Ellen would beat her to climax, Donovan slid his thumb over her clit, pressing in rhythm with his fingers. Her body tightened and when she heard Mary Ellen’s shriek and Goodwin’s groan of release, her own climax took over. Her body shook, she clenched around Donovan’s fingers and muffled her scream of pleasure into the bedcover until the most intense waves had passed.
