by Pam Godwin
“But Trace gets to see your beautiful face.” Cole moves behind me, trailing fingertips over the curve of my backside. “He gets to watch every sexy little nuance in your expression as the burn releases chemicals in your brain and morphs into pleasure.”
I’m still struggling to reconcile how they’re okay with this, how Cole is tolerating my naked body spread out over Trace, and how Trace isn’t knocking Cole’s hand away as it slides down the crack of my ass.
I gasp as those fingers dip between my legs to trace the slit of my pussy.
Trace reaches behind me and grips my arms, pinning them tight against my back. His other hand wraps around my neck, holding my face in front of his. “Tell me why you’re being punished.”
“I gave up on both of you.” My stomach bottoms out, and I choke on a ragged breath. “I should have stayed and fought for you.”
He touches his brow to mine, his warm breath like an erotic kiss against my mouth. “I love you.”
“I love y—”
A blazing sting shoots across my backside, the pain so razor-sharp I don’t register the smacking sound of Cole’s hand until the echoes through the room.
“Dammit!” I twist to glare at him over my shoulder. “You could’ve warned me.”
“That was your warning.” He rears back his arm.
I return to Trace, teeth clenched, and brace for impact.
“Breathe, Danni.” Trace holds my arms against my back and cups my face in his strong hand. “Deep breaths.”
My lungs release as the next strike lands with a heavy smack. Fire spreads across my buttocks, permeates skin and muscle, and jars my bones. Fucking hell, it hurts, and he’s just getting warmed up.
It doesn’t take long for him to let loose. His breaths grow shallow, and fewer pauses come between the hits. The pain is all-consuming, stealing my air, watering my eyes, and blistering every nerve-ending in my lower body. But Trace holds me steady, in his hands, in the strength of his unflinching gaze.
I’ve been spanked by both of them more times than I can remember. Nothing compares to this…this dichotomy of staring into the eyes of one man while another pummels my backside. Every blow Cole delivers is meant to penetrate and arouse, and the panting sounds of Trace’s breaths heighten the thrill. I already feel the pleasure gathering inside me, coiling, heating, and throbbing between my legs.
But I’m afraid to enjoy it. Terrified I’ll crave what I can never have. My mind refuses to change course, however, my thoughts tunnel down a treacherous path that summons fantasies of Cole unzipping, pulling himself out, and ramming inside me while I writhe and buck on top of Trace’s swollen cock.
The ruthless slaps of Cole’s hand blur together in an endless sea of velvet fire. Feverish flames melt through my body, intoxicating my blood and numbing my brain. I sag against Trace’s chest, moaning helplessly and rocking my hips.
He tightens his grip on my neck, bringing my mouth an inch from his, teasing me with the sinful shape of his lips so close, so perfectly kissable. I know exactly how scrumptious he tastes, and the need to lick him rages inside me. I try to press closer, stretching my neck, reaching, needing, but he stops me, denying the kiss I want so badly.
I won’t beg, won’t make demands. I love the freedom in surrendering too much. Under their control, restrained by their will, I’m exactly where I belong.
Eventually, Cole’s strikes transform into languid caresses, his hands roving hypnotically up and down my spine and over my backside.
It’s heaven and hell, divine temptation and wretched torment. I’m naked and exposed between two virile, sexual, wickedly good-looking men—two men I love more than anything in the world, and I have no idea where this will lead.
It won’t end in a tangled trio of panting, sweat-slick bodies. They’ve been very clear about not sharing. Doesn’t stop the avalanche of hunger ripping through me in merciless waves. I’m insanely turned on, pulsing and soaked between my legs. And Cole knows it, feels it, as his fingers glide through my folds.
I gulp down a whimper, locked in the prismatic blue of Trace’s eyes.
“Do you want to come?” His gaze dips to my mouth.
“Not if I’m the only one.”
“That’s not up to you.” He glances at Cole behind me.
I don’t know if they’re having one of those wordless conversations, but the instant Cole’s fingers sink inside me, all rational thought evaporates.
His stroking, curling, diabolical touch spreads sparks of bliss across my skin, wrenching breathless noises from my throat. My arms ache to move from the unnatural position behind me, but Trace keeps them bound, my wrists clenched in his grip. I want to clutch his shoulders and pull him closer, but he gives me something better.
Ducking his head, he captures my mouth in a plundering kiss. His tongue swoops past my lips and slides against mine, licking, owning, and making me crazy with need. The onslaught of pleasure crashes through me, igniting every cell in my body and liquefying my bones. I groan against Trace’s mouth and grind against Cole’s hand, overstimulated, overwhelmed, and overflooded with emotion and desire.
Cole must be kneeling behind me, because I feel the warm brush of his lips on my backside, then his teeth, and holy shit, he’s burying his mouth between my legs.
Trace devours my moans, his chest heaving and hands digging into my arms, holding me immobile. He kisses me until my tongue no longer knows how to move and my lungs only work because they have to. I squeeze my knees around his hips, glorying in the indefinable sensation of being pinned down, pleasured, and dominated by multiple mouths.
The rush toward climax swells through me, spasming along my inner walls and locking up my lungs. I’m right there, rising, cresting, adrift in the passion of their lips, their tongues, and the erotic resonance of their groans.
Cole circles a finger around my clit and plunges his tongue wickedly, deeply inside me, spiraling me headlong into release. Starry bursts of light scatter my vision as I moan and pant and come undone. Cole grunts with me, the guttural sound vibrating against my pussy and prolonging the orgasm.
When my mouth falls slack against Trace’s lips, he trails a path of kisses across my cheek to my ear. “So damn beautiful.”
How can he say that? I don’t know how he can be kind to me at all after I just came on another man’s mouth.
“We need to talk about this.” I pull on my arms, lethargic and deliciously twitchy as my breathing slows to normal.
Trace releases my wrists, letting me slide off his lap to sit beside him.
“You think too much.” Cole grins, still kneeling on the floor.
At some point, he removed his shirt, and his chest glistens with perspiration. He lowers his gaze to the swollen length trapped behind his zipper, and a pained expression kills his smile.
I steal a peek at Trace’s groin—also hard as a rock.
With a jab of guilt, I shift to the edge of the couch, aggravating the burn on my backside. “It’s my turn to—”
“No,” they say in unison.
I glance down at my naked body. Should I push the issue and try to seduce them? Or should I cover myself and forget about it?
“I can…” I lower my voice, nervous. “I want to pleasure you. I can do it separately. In different rooms.”
With an agonized growl, Cole stands and paces away, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
Trace drops his head on the back of the couch and closes his eyes.
“I’m making it worse, aren’t I?” I whisper.
Without opening his eyes, he blindly reaches for my hand. “Your car was delivered while you were taking a nap.”
“I don’t care about the car. You’re changing the subject.”
Cole’s amused huff draws my attention across the room. He faces the windows, bent slightly forward with his hands on the ballet bar, smiling at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Yesterday, you cared about the car.”
“Yesterday, I was
n’t staying.” I stand and grab his shirt off the floor.
“Don’t get dressed. I need to rub ointment into your sore backside.” He glances at the outline of his erection. “In a minute.”
“I’ll just put the shirt on.” I pull it over my head, and the hem falls midway down my thighs.
Trace doesn’t move on the couch, his lashes low, expression sleepy, but I feel those heavy-lidded eyes watching me. Cole stares out at the darkening sky, his posture bent and stiff, his hands clenched around the bar. Each of them is battling desire in his own way, and I feel like a greedy tease, standing here half-dressed and glowing with a post-orgasm flush.
“Do you guys feel weird about what just happened?”
“It’s fine, Danni,” Trace murmurs. “Let it go.”
I make an irritated sound. “All that talk about being open and honest—”
“What do you want to know?” Cole straightens and rests his fingertips in his pockets.
“I feel like we’re playing by rules, but I don’t know what the rules are.”
“We’re not playing,” Trace says.
“Maybe you should.”
“What do you mean?” Cole tips his head, brows furrowed.
I walk to the stereo, scroll through the songs, and cue up one. When the soothing guitar chords lead into Lovesong by Adele, I step aimlessly through the room, gently swaying with the husky vocals.
“Music is the soul of life.” I meet Trace’s gaze and turn to Cole. “You sing to it, cry to it, dance, love, laugh… You play it.”
I approach the dance pole and grip it high above my head, circling, humming, and smiling as they follow me with their eyes, seemingly mesmerized.
“Sixty…seventy years from now…” I tilt my face to the rafters, weighing my words. “I want to look back on my life and know that I played it like a song, that I felt it so deeply it gave me chills, and that I savored every vibrating moment—the tragic moments, the blissful moments. I don’t to want miss a second of it. So I say play it in excess, live it up, surfeit yourself on every drop of pleasure. There can never be too many songs or too much dancing. Life should be playful—enjoyed and appreciated to the fullest.” I suddenly realize I’m rocking my hips, subconsciously seduced by the music. With a laugh, I shake my head. “You must think I’m crazy, rattling on and dancing around with a blistered ass.”
“You’re you.” Cole lowers his head, smiling to himself. “Flawless and addictive in every way.”
Trace leans forward and clasps his hands together between his knees. “You are the soul of life.”
My cheeks warm, and my chest rises with a happy sigh. “Are we playing by rules?”
“Loosely.” Trace licks his lips. “Cole and I have guidelines that will bend and evolve as we go. We’ve intentionally kept these from you, because we don’t want to limit you.”
“How do I follow the rules if I don’t know what they are?”
“You don’t,” Cole says. “We know the boundaries and will keep you safely within them.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I have concerns.”
“Such as?”
“Sex.”
“One-track mind.” He smirks.
“No.” Maybe. “Sex is the part I screwed up last time.” I peer at Trace. “I don’t feel like I can touch either of you. Or flirt. Or express my feelings in an intimate way.”
“I’ll make this very clear.” His bright blue eyes latch onto mine. “In a polyamorous arrangement, you can cheat on the rules, but not on each other. From your perspective, the only rule is honesty. We want you to act on your feelings.”
“Okay, but we’re not polyamorous.”
“Cole and I aren’t, but you are. You love more than one person, have multiple relationships, and everyone involved is aware and tolerant of what’s going on.”
As I absorb his words, I loathe myself even more. “Then we’ll just avoid sex and skip the whole poly—”
“Poly isn’t defined by sex.” Cole releases a heavy sigh. “As long as you’re romantically committed to both of us and no one else, this is where we’re at.”
“It’s temporary.” I close my eyes, breathe in, and stare at the floor. “Is that why you’re consenting to this? With your time line and rules and hope for a monogamous relationship at the end, you’re crazy enough to believe this is all worth it?”
“Yes.” Trace scowls at me.
“You are worth it,” Cole says firmly and gentles his tone. “Are we good?”
“I think so.”
“Head to the bedroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I narrow my eyes. What are they going to discuss without me here?
Suspicious and reluctant, I exit the dance studio and head down the hall toward the bedroom, slapping my bare feet on the tiles with deliberate loudness. Before I reach the doorway, I turn back, tip-toeing as quietly as possible.
When I arrive at the dance room, I press my back against the wall, remaining out of view.
“Because you fucking kissed her,” Cole whispers angrily. “Don’t look at me like that. Your goddamn tongue was down her throat.”
“I’m not the only one who put my mouth on her,” Trace says in a cool tone.
Jesus, I’m gone two seconds and they’re already fighting?
“Yeah, well, I followed the plan,” Cole says, “so get off my back.”
A heavy exhale breathes from the room, followed by a tense silence. I strain my ears, listening for footsteps, whispering, something.
“Danni!” Cole barks, making me jump. “Get your ass to the bedroom.”
“Fuck that.” I storm into the studio and anchor my hands on my hips. “I thought we were done with secrets.”
“I thought we were done sneaking around.” Cole lifts a brow.
“I wasn’t… Okay, maybe I was sneaking.” Something tells me he expected me to do exactly that. “Why are you fighting behind my back?”
“We’re not fighting.” Trace reclines on the couch.
“We’re communicating.” Cole prowls toward me.
I back up, but not fast enough. He grips my thighs, tosses me over his shoulder, and carries me out of room.
Down the hall and into the master bedroom, we go. I try not to feel him up, but he’s shirtless and ripped and… I press my nose to his shoulder blade. Fuck, he smells so damn good. Like home.
He drops me on the bed. “Roll over.”
I close my eyes and relax into the bedding, pretending to ignore him just for the fun of it.
“Danni,” he growls.
“He thinks his bossiness is hot,” I mumble, peeking an eye open. “And maybe it is, but dammit, you can’t let him order you around all the time.”
“Are you talking to yourself?” A grin pulls on the corner of his mouth.
“When I need brilliant advice, I consult an expert.”
A smile cracks his face—all dimples and straight teeth and glittering brown eyes. Then he launches, his bare chest hard against mine, his hands in my hair, and a knee wedged between my legs.
“You shatter me,” he breathes against my lips.
I hum with contentment. “We can fall apart together.”
He gives me a searching look, expression raw with hope and hunger and something else—the mystery of chemistry, the irrefutable bond that glues us together. It’s a look that shares a kiss and steals the breath without so much as a touch of lips. A look that teems with the desire to leap, to fall, to give in and go under.
He doesn’t make us suffer, leaning his face closer and covering my mouth with aching softness. His lips slide lovingly, worshipfully, against mine. His fingers tighten against my scalp, and his breathing sprints into labored panting. He parts my mouth with his tongue, searching, sipping. The best part is the feel of his smile right before he plunges deeply and kisses the hell out of me.
We go wild, seething with heat and passion and surrender. I writhe beneath him, grazing fingernails across his biceps, relearning the sil
ken feel of his skin, and relishing the steely flex of the muscle as he clenches me tightly against him.
He tastes exactly the way I remember, like sunshine on the tailwind of a thunderstorm. His whiskers scratch my cheeks. The heavy weight of his body presses me exquisitely into the mattress, and his devilish tongue annihilates my senses.
The way he kisses me gets me every time, his lips so full of desire it feels like a first kiss, a reckless kiss, a forgot-my-own-name kiss, all rolled up into a perfect alignment of ridiculous happiness.
And yet, as intoxicating as it is, I’m conscious of the man I left in the other room.
The instant I think of Trace, I open my eyes and collide with the crystal blue of his. He stands beside the bed with his hands behind him, head angled down and deep lines of displeasure bracketing his scowl.
I pull my mouth away, fighting for air and drowning in shame.
“Go away,” Cole says to Trace and kisses along my neck.
I try to push him off, but he’s stubbornly immovable. Panic sets in, speeding up my pulse. I don’t want to upset Trace or cause a fight. At the same time, I don’t want to rebuff Cole’s affection and hurt him.
“You’re not doing anything wrong, Danni.” Trace’s gaze flicks to Cole and narrows dangerously.
“Cole.” I cradle his face and lean back, meeting his eyes. “If Trace is uncomfortable, I’m uncomfortable.”
He releases a heavy breath and drops his head on my shoulder. I run a hand through his hair, watching Trace watch me. Cole is smart enough to know if the roles were reversed, if he were the one standing on the outside, he wouldn’t like it.
Reluctantly, he climbs off the bed, avoiding Trace’s stare. Then he stalks across the room and disappears inside the bathroom.
Trace removes his shirt and jeans and climbs into bed wearing only boxer briefs.
“What are you doing?” I glare at him, scooting toward the edge of the mattress. “It’s too early to go to bed.”
He reaches over and pulls me across his chest, positioning me face down on top of him.
“Relax.” Lifting the shirt, he bares my backside to the cool air.
“It’s hard to relax when I don’t know what’s going on.” As the words leave my mouth, my body betrays me, softening happily against his.
