Shayla Black - [Wicked Lovers 01]

by Wicked Ties

  “What?” Jack barked.

  “I want two men.” The words tumbled out of her.

  Jack grabbed her hips with renewed urgency and shoved his way inside again. “Fucking you at once?”

  “Yes,” she managed to squeeze out on a pleasured moan.

  A curse slipped out under Deke’s breath as he adjusted the very tight fly of his jeans. Morgan’s heart beat so hard, she barely heard it over the roaring.

  “Look at him!” Jack roared, reaching around her to lift her chin, forcing her to meet Deke’s gaze.

  And he stared back, his denim-blue stare pouring over her bare flesh like hot acid, scorching her, as Jack tunneled with relentless, measured strokes in her sensitive back channel. She felt each hard inch and every vein of his cock, the heavy swell of his glans scraping past all her nerve endings as he shoved his way home, propelling her teeth-grittingly close to orgasm.

  “You’d want Deke’s cock in your pussy while I’m deep in your ass?” he rasped in her ear.

  Even the words cranked her need up so tight it neared pain.

  “Yes, sir.” She sobbed, clawing at the table. The idea turned the burn between her legs into an inferno that was about to explode into a conflagration beyond her imagining. “God, yes!”

  “Jack, get your fingers on her clit before the poor girl dies. She needs to come,” Deke pointed out, his voice calm and even, despite the arousal flaming from him.

  “Don’t tell me how to fuck my woman,” Jack growled.

  “You’re pushing her too far, too fast. She’s not used to this. You’re about to break her.”

  Behind her, Jack snarled something distinctly unpleasant to Deke. But he took his friend’s suggestion. For that, Morgan thanked God.

  The second Jack’s fingers touched her clit, the massive ache between her legs converged into a hard, dark ball of fire licking at her restraint, tormenting her very skin.

  “Come!” he shouted.

  The sensations concentrated, blurred with pain, burned from the inside out as she burst like a thousand suns.

  Morgan screamed as she convulsed around Jack, clamping down on his cock. The sharp crest of the orgasm slammed into her, and her surroundings disappeared until all she knew was Jack and pleasure and a release so sublime, so perfect, she lost all sense of hearing, the need to breathe. Vision blurred. Her heart threatened to burst from her chest.

  But she felt Jack’s hands tighten on her, felt his teeth in her neck, then the hardening of his erection deep inside her. A long, harsh groan tore from his chest.

  He slowed. Stopped. Morgan slumped on the table, beyond exhausted. Still, she was conscious of Deke’s gaze hot on her body.

  Worse, she felt every bit of Jack’s tension behind her.

  Suddenly, he withdrew from her body, tore off the condom, and tossed it in the trash can in the corner. “Son of a bitch!”

  Jack threw Deke a filthy look as he padded to the door completely naked.

  What . . . ? Morgan watched Jack through stunned eyes. Where was he going?

  Once he reached the threshold, Jack turned to her with a fierce, furious stare, as if she’d betrayed him somehow. His pain and anger singed her in that one glance.

  Then he slammed out the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THE silence in the wake of Jack’s exit deafened Morgan. Down the hall, he slammed the door to the bathroom. Despite being strapped to the table, she flinched.

  With a long sigh, Deke shoved away from the wall. Morgan watched him watch her as he drew closer, really understanding the feeling of a deer in headlights. What must the man think of her, after she’d admitted she wanted him buried inside her clinging sex while Jack pumped her ass full of his cock? She was better off not knowing. Yes, according to Jack, Deke was into ménage, but still, what a thing to confess out loud. At least Deke seemed incredibly unruffled by everything . . .

  Unlike Jack.

  Her worst nightmare had come true; she’d given in to Jack and the submissive nature he swore she had, then told him her fantasy. And he’d freaked. Not like Andrew had. Jack hadn’t called her a depraved whore and suggested she get professional help. But he’d been blazingly pissed. He couldn’t have made that any more clear if he’d drawn her a picture.

  God, she’d ruined everything! What the hell was wrong with her? If her ultimate fantasy shocked even Jack, she must be totally, terribly wicked.

  Morgan resisted the urge to close her eyes and cry. She’d done that once before, after Andrew slammed her. Tears didn’t do any damn good. Shedding them over this particular fantasy and all the associated problems wasn’t happening again.

  Jack himself had been swearing to her that her wants were perfectly normal and nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. Liar, she wanted to shout. She saved her breath.

  So much for all his assurances.

  Damn it, these fantasies kept screwing up her life, wracking her with guilt, chasing men off. She had to move past them, get them out of her head. Somehow.

  Deke rounded the table, and Morgan watched his progress, craning her gaze over her shoulder as he settled behind her without a word. He could see . . . everything. The long line of her spine. The wet heat of her sex swollen by Jack’s touch. The bare globes of her ass. A fresh wave of mortification rolled over her, along with something else she didn’t want to name. She closed her eyes.

  Clamped at wrists and ankles, Morgan could do nothing but let him look and absorb his heat as he stood directly behind her. In exactly the same spot Jack had occupied mere minutes ago. Her breath hitched.

  In silence, Deke leaned over her, blanketing her cooling skin. The soft cotton of his shirt and the hard muscles of his chest covered her bare back. Hard as iron, his jeans-covered cock burned hot between the cheeks of her ass. A spark of shocking heat, too strong to ignore, blended with her humiliation.

  That alone had to prove how twisted she was. Why couldn’t she just . . . turn it off?

  His hot palm fell to her waist, settling in the curve with warm fingers that soon dipped down the swell of her naked hip. He nuzzled his face in her neck, and Morgan drew in another shaky breath. Oh God, what was he going to do? She was already stripped, bound—defenseless. The only things keeping him from violating her was a button, a zipper, and his conscience.

  Jack’s warning that Deke wasn’t a nice guy rang in her head. Morgan panicked.

  This huge blond stranger was going to touch her, seduce her. Fuck her. She couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him. Fantasies of ménage aside, she didn’t want it or him—not without Jack.

  She tensed against her trembling limbs and warned, “Deke . . .”

  Behind her, his cock only got harder. “Now I know why Jack is so crazy for you. You smell fantastic.”

  His voice was like a caress feathering its way down her spine in a sensual vibration. She shivered. Broad fingers clamped harder at her hip to keep her still.

  “Damn it, get me out of here!” she demanded.

  “Shh,” he whispered into her hair, the pad of his thumb caressing down her hip a fraction. “Patience, doll.”

  “Screw patience! Being used and abandoned doesn’t bring out my best virtues. I just want the hell out of here.”

  Deke sighed. His free hand caught the latch at her right wrist. He repeated the process on her left. Then he eased back, withdrawing the solid heat of his body away from her back. He knelt and unlatched her ankles.

  “Can you stand?” His gaze, which shone with both mischief and concern, snagged hers.

  He’d let her go? Just like that? Relief fell out of her in a shaky breath.

  Morgan stood straight up and zipped her gaze over her shoulder to find Deke adjusting his fly.

  “You’re gorgeous, and I’m still a guy.” A smile flirted with the corners of his wide mouth. “I’d never fuck you without Jack. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers in the Scouting symbol.

  But he’d fuck her with Jack? Morgan shook her head at the ridi
culous question. After Jack’s reaction to that very suggestion . . . She had a better chance of being nominated for sainthood. And her body leaping at the prospect . . . damned annoying and totally irrelevant.

  She turned to face Deke, crossing her arms over her chest to cover her exposed nipples through the cutouts in the indecent bra. Deke hadn’t touched her . . . but she still wasn’t the sort of siren who stood basically bare-assed naked in front of virtual strangers.

  “Um, thanks, but you don’t look much like a Boy Scout.”

  “I wasn’t,” he admitted. “I just meant general principle and all. Besides, you’ve had enough for the night.”

  In a flash, the evening replayed in her head. Jack coming. Jack cursing. Jack leaving.

  Damn him! Granted, it wasn’t Deke’s fault—Jack should be taking all the blame—but he wasn’t here. Deke was the nearest testosterone-based mammal, so he’d have to do as her temper’s whipping boy.

  “You think?” she shot back sarcastically as she stepped away from the table.

  Her legs collapsed out from under her. If Deke hadn’t been quick to reach out and grab her, she would have fallen in an ignominious heap to the cold cement floor.

  With a curse, he lifted her into his arms, up against the hard heat of his chest. “You have every right to be pissed at Jack.”

  Morgan covered her swollen nipples with her arms and glanced up into the unreadable angles of Deke’s strong-boned face. “You’re not going to take Jack’s side?”

  He glanced down at her with a scowl. “Hell, no.”

  Spoken as if that should be obvious. Didn’t guys usually have each other’s backs, purely for principle?

  With footsteps that barely registered on the hardwood floor, he carried her down the hall, past that closed bathroom door, to the bedroom, and set her on the rumpled bed. Gently, he drew the sheet up to her shoulders, covering her exposed nipples.

  “Hang tight. I’ll be back.”

  Frowning, she watched him turn and leave the room with a sort of military precision that shouted of his years in the army. He was a soldier. A warrior. Big and ready to fight. Ready to protect. Ready to fuck. So like Jack. But Deke seemed easier to talk to. Why did she want enigmatic Jack so much more?

  Morgan sighed. Apparently, Jack flipped her switch because she needed more challenges in her life. She scoffed in the silence. Yeah, that was it exactly . . .

  On those same, mostly silent footsteps, Deke returned with a small tube in his hands. He sank down on the edge of the bed and brushed the hair back from her forehead.

  “I know you’re upset. Jack broke your trust. He made you a promise to care for you and your pleasure. Tonight, he didn’t do a great job. There are reasons. Jack will have to share those with you. Not my place to do it.” He shrugged and set the tube aside. “I can’t do much about how you feel inside, but I can help the outside. Sit up.”

  Dazed as she sorted through all of Deke’s words, Morgan complied, holding the sheet above her breasts. Jack had reasons? What the hell reasons could he possibly have for hurtling her high into the sphere of pleasure, then tossing her into the pit of despair? For making her feel like a freak yet again?

  Before she could sort anything out, Deke reached around her back with one hand. With a single pinch of his fingers, her bra with the handy cutouts came unhooked. As Morgan gasped, the straps fell down her arms. He ignored her and set a gentle hand on her shoulder to lay her back, then drew the sheet down to her waist.

  Morgan swallowed hard and raised her hands to cover herself. Deke anticipated her and grabbed her wrists, forcing them back to her sides.

  “Let go,” she snapped.

  He leaned over her and heaved a long-suffering sigh. The clasp of his fingers around her wrists was surprisingly gentle. “Look, I just watched you come hard enough to cause an earthquake while my best friend fucked your ass. Do you think we could drop the modest virgin routine? I’m trying to take care of you so I can go knock some sense into our mutual pal.”

  Hmm. Put like that, Deke had a really good point.

  With a sigh, Morgan stopped fighting and relaxed into the mattress.

  Shaking his head, Deke reached for the tube he’d set beside her. After a quick turn of the cap, he pulled it off and, with nimble fingers, squeezed the bottle. A puddle of clear oil collected in his palm. Deke rubbed his big palms together.

  Then he put one on each of her breasts.

  Morgan gasped, tensing, and zipped her gaze up to his face. Deke ignored her and focused on his task.

  The oil, warmed by his skin, permeated her breasts, coated her sore nipples. Until he soothed them with the liquid balm, Morgan hadn’t realized how raw they actually were.

  But as he rubbed his palms directly over the aching points, friction sent a zing of reaction straight through her body. Morgan closed her eyes, partly in shame. The other part of her reaction she didn’t want to think about. What the hell was wrong with her?

  Then he changed the stroke, concentrating the oil just above and below the angry red tips, rolling them gently between thumbs and forefingers, massaging in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. And with every roll, pull, caress, the sensation built into something uncomfortably but undeniably like arousal.

  “Morgan.” His voice was deeper, husky now.

  She tried to ignore the pull of his voice. But it echoed in her head, throbbing in time with his tender strokes across her sore nipples.

  Surrendering the losing battle, she opened her eyes and shot him a warning. Red flags of color dusted his cheekbones. His eyes now burned a deep midnight blue. Yet he removed his hands from her breasts, arched a brow, and flashed her a self-deprecating smile.

  “Now I know exactly why Jack is so over the moon for you. Sizzle and submission all in one soft sigh.” He drew in a rough breath. “Roll over.”

  “Over the moon for me?” She tossed her hands in the air. “You saw the same man I did, right? The one who cursed at me and stomped out of the room for telling him . . . Well, I should have kept that to myself. But his kind of behavior doesn’t say anything except get lost.”

  “Doll, I’ve known Jack nearly ten years. We went to Basic together. We’ve fucked women together, and the idea has never bothered him in the least. Until you.”

  Jack had participated in a ménage before? With Deke? Shock punched her in the stomach, stealing her breath. Her mind raced back over the conversation she and Jack had once had about Deke’s . . . preferences. It made sense that Jack knew about Deke’s sex life because he’d been part of it at some point. Even if the idea seared her with jealousy.

  But if he’d participated in the past, why did he suddenly find the idea so objectionable?

  “If ménage is your fantasy, Jack needed to hear that,” Deke assured.

  “But—”

  “He seemed pissed? Yeah, it’s his issue, not yours.” He sighed. “Roll over.”

  She hesitated, but Deke didn’t notice. He rose from the bed and disappeared from the room. With a frown, she stared at his retreating back.

  Odd man. Gentle, despite getting quite the floor show tonight. Seemingly calm and rational and normal, despite having three in his bed all the time. He was clearly aroused and doing nothing more than taking care of the marks another man had left on her body. He never pressed her for more, despite her own reaction to him, when most men would have viewed the first blush of her arousal as a green light.

  Then he tried to soothe her feelings, assure her she was meaningful to Jack. While Morgan knew he had that part all wrong, she appreciated him trying to make her feel better.

  Rolling to her stomach, Morgan lay her head on the pillow with a weary sigh. A ragged inhalation later . . . and she smelled Jack. Musk, leather, mystery, man. His scent never failed to work through her bloodstream like heady wine and drug her with desire. Only this time, it came with a pang of loss.

  Upon hearing her deepest fantasy, Jack had left her. He probably didn’t want her back. And that damn urge to cry now t
ightening her throat was really pissing her off.

  Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. Morgan tensed until she recognized the cadence of Deke’s footfalls, longer and slower than Jack’s, a bit more silent. She relaxed, somehow relieved and disappointed at once.

  With brisk hands, he covered the globes of her ass and parted them. Morgan clenched against him and opened her mouth to ask what the hell he thought he was doing. But the warm comfort of a hot washcloth covered her back entrance, and he rubbed gently, wiping away the excess lube.

  “If you’re sore later, a warm bath will help, but you should be okay,” he murmured, easing her onto her back again. “Sleep now.”

  Morgan nodded, watching with wide eyes as he leaned in. Was he going to . . . ? Yes, he was.

  A moment later, Deke laid his mouth over hers. The sweet press of lips lasted through one breath, two. Dry, almost chaste. Still somehow, he managed to convey caring, comfort, a bare hint of want. Then, with a light brush of his lips over hers, he drew back.

  “Yeah, now I know exactly why Jack is wild for you,” he said with a bittersweet curl to his mouth as he rose to his feet.

  “Wait!” She grabbed at his hand. “How did you come to terms with it? How did you learn to be okay with . . .”

  “Ménage?” He guessed it right on the first try and shrugged. “At seventeen, the first time I heard a woman scream in ecstasy under double penetration. There’s nothing like knowing the perfect way to drive a woman absolutely wild.”

  “But it’s not exactly what normal, everyday people next door do.”

  Deke crossed his arms over his chest. “Luc and I have neighbors. I doubt they know we share women, but I don’t give a shit if they do.”

  “Luc?”

  “My cousin. It’s his place. I crash there now that I’ve been discharged. He’s made it all warm and cozy and is just waiting on the right woman to come play house with us.”

  Morgan doubted a deaf woman would have missed the mockery in Deke’s voice. “You don’t think it’s possible to find someone?”

  She felt sad for him. The regret in his eyes told her how badly he wanted just that.