The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3)

by Nikki Sloane

  His hands washed down my body. One stopped at my hip, but the other continued on. It moved down over the top of my thigh, gliding over my knee, and then slid onto Travis’s. It didn’t rest there. His fingers splayed out so as he began the journey back up, the pad of his thumb traced a line along the inside of Travis’s thigh.

  The hands gripping my arms tightened, but I got the feeling it was simply surprise and not shock. Travis . . . didn’t hate Clay’s sensual touch. In fact, he probably enjoyed it because his cock flexed inside me.

  Clay’s thumb narrowly avoided touching the other man anywhere that would cross a line. It swerved at the last second as his hand moved back up onto my thigh and slid over to touch me just above where Travis and I were joined.

  Had Clay been teasing us? Or was he curious and testing the waters with the other man?

  He shifted on his knees, maybe to find a more comfortable position, or maybe to give himself a moment to catch his breath, since he was still struggling. Clay’s expression was a mix of uncertainty and need, and I wasn’t sure which was going to trump the other.

  It was at that moment I lifted my hips just a little too much while Travis was retreating, causing his cock to fall out of me. His voice rasped with urgency, like he might die without it. “Oh, fuck, put it back in.”

  I’d thought he was talking to me, but the hands on my arms didn’t let go. He didn’t release me to carry out his command.

  Time suspended, and the image before me shimmered like I was gazing at it through air so hot it distorted everything.

  Clay was impervious to the heat and didn’t hesitate.

  He wrapped his fingers around the other man’s dick, positioning it where it needed to be, and guided Travis back inside me.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Since we’d entered the bedroom, there’d been an undercurrent we all sensed lurking beneath the surface. It was dangerously powerful, and maybe the men had tried to avoid it. But now it had us, sweeping us away and pulling us down into a place where everything was blurry.

  It hazed the sharp edges of fear, and shame, and inhibitions.

  My moan mingled with Travis’s as he pushed back inside me, sliding deep and hitting the spot that felt so good, it should have been illegal. Clay’s hand returned to where it’d been before, rubbing furiously, because he didn’t want Travis to be the only one giving me pleasure.

  They were supposed to share me, after all.

  Sweat beaded on my forehead and tension coiled in my center. Travis picked up the pace, and my heart chugged along so fast, I became dizzy. I was getting close to my orgasm, and my greedy body took over, trying to go faster and find release.

  So it wasn’t surprising when my attempt to change the tempo backfired, throwing off his rhythm and he came out of me again. He groaned as if in agony, but it wasn’t frustration—it was deep satisfaction.

  Travis’s cock was wet from being inside me, and Clay’s fist tightened around it, pumping up and down in a slick stroke. Jesus. It was easily the hottest thing I’d ever seen. It’d be scorched into my memory for the rest of my life, I was sure.

  A sound welled up from behind me. It was too strong to call a whimper, but it was heavy with desperation. A victorious smile broke on Clay’s face and power flashed in his eyes. He enjoyed having control over the other man. Doing it through pleasure might not have been his preferred medium, but he was still pleased.

  “You like watching this?” he asked me.

  “Yes,” I gasped.

  He gave Travis another stroke as he leaned over me, sucking my nipple into his mouth. My arms threatened to buckle. I was turning into a molten mess and was going to drip through the hands of these men who made me melt.

  Clay pressed the tip of Travis’s cock against my entrance, and this time when I slid down on him, Clay’s finger was there too, stretching me. It was shocking and erotic to have a part of them inside me at once.

  He had his palm up to the ceiling and moved his finger independently of Travis’s rhythm, and my brain emptied of thought. I let the sensations take over and have me in the same way I gave myself over to the men.

  “That’s so fucking sexy, Lilith,” Clay said. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder,” his tone was wicked, “if this hot little pussy of yours could handle both of us at the same time.”

  “Oh, God.” It was a knee-jerk reaction to the image he projected in my mind. I saw the two of them, their cocks pushed together as they slid in and out of me. The mental picture just threw gasoline on the fire already consuming me.

  He cupped the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him and his sinful eyes. “What do you say?”

  “We could,” I said between two huge breaths, “try it.”

  Oh, lord. He looked so happy with my answer, it sent emotional pleasure scattering through my mind. He withdrew his finger from inside me, lifted it to my lips, and pushed it inside my mouth. It allowed him to lean closer and look over my shoulder, down to the man beneath me.

  “Do you want to share her with me like that? Because I want to fuck her while my dick’s rubbing against yours and feel like I’m fucking you both.”

  Because Clay’s finger, wet with the taste of sex, was in my mouth, it muffled my stunned moan. Travis’s entire body jerked, nearly throwing me off. He stopped moving, and as he throbbed inside me, Clay pulsed his finger past my lips.

  He’d been so private and reserved, but now it spilled from him without hesitation. He continued detailing his desires without a hint of shame.

  “I want to make her come on us, Travis, and then . . . I want to know what it feels like when you come inside her.” He gently pulled his finger out and traced the damp pad of it over my lips. “You want that, don’t you?”

  It wasn’t clear whom his question was for, but I nodded at the same time Travis whispered the word. “Yes.”

  Clay exhaled loudly, laced with relief, and I felt it in my chest. We all breathed it together.

  “Turn around on him,” he said to me. “I think it’ll be easier that way.”

  Travis let go of me and both men helped me move, and I was grateful for it because my thighs were tight and strained. Reverse cowgirl was great and all, but I found it more taxing than other positions.

  Anticipation and anxious energy made my hands shake as I got on top of Travis, but then his lips pressed to mine in a reassuring kiss that striped away nervousness and left only excitement.

  Was he excited too? In theory, sharing me this way should appeal to both men. Clay would get to design and control the scene, and Travis would get both pleasure and to feel like he was on a level playing field with the more experienced dom.

  As soon as I was settled into the new position, my breasts pressed against Travis’s chest, I felt Clay’s fingers work in alongside the cock that was fucking me. It was a lot to take, but I enjoyed the uncomfortable stretch. I stared down at Travis’s bottomless eyes and wondered how he felt about this. Did he enjoy both the concept and the sensation as much as I did?

  I didn’t get a chance to ask because he jerked me down into a blistering kiss.

  The bed shifted as Clay moved behind me, and his warm fingers curled around my hip. Then, there came a sound like he’d spit in his palm and now was using it to lube himself up. I was so wet, he probably didn’t need to, but it couldn’t hurt. Plus, it was filthy, and I loved the slick sound of him touching himself.

  Travis sensed the other man’s approach because he slowed to a stop and wrapped his arms around me, caging me in.

  Clay sounded breathless. “Ready?”

  It wasn’t so much a question as it was a warning. His grip on my waist tightened to hold me steady, and then he was there, nudging. Pressure built as he pushed, forcing his way in alongside Travis.

  I sucked in a sharp breath. There wasn’t pain when he gained entry, but it was a deep ache. A fullness that demanded all my attention. I blinked my wide
eyes at it, trying to process the tightness.

  Travis’s eyes lidded with pleasure, and air escaped him in a quiet moan.

  “So . . . fucking tight,” Clay groaned.

  As Travis held still, Clay continued to fit himself inside me. I had my hands on Travis’s shoulders, and when I dug my fingers in, concern streaked through his face. “Okay?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. My head was cloudy, and I was a passenger in my own body, but the sensation was amazing.

  He’d been tense and anxious, but when I issued a soft sound of enjoyment, he relaxed enough to start moving. And then both men were moving inside me with gentle, shallow strokes, each breathing tight breaths between groans of pleasure.

  “Do you like it?” I asked Travis.

  He caressed my back and satisfaction burned in his eyes. “It’s good,” he said. “It’s so fucking good.”

  Hearing that caused Clay to thrust deeper, and it wrung a deep moan from me. Travis’s fingertips traced down the line of my spine, and when he discovered Clay’s hand on my hip, he grasped on to it. Both used their hold to urge me to move on them.

  It was exactly as it’d been designed. With Clay driving behind me and Travis’s slower thrusts from below, Clay was the one in control. He was fucking us both.

  God, it was insane. I wanted it to last forever.

  The three of us became one body, one unit. Our short gasps alternated with moans, and were punctuated with whispered words of pleasure. It played as a beautiful melody, filling the room.

  “Fuck,” we uttered.

  “Yes,” we answered back.

  Tension built in my core. The position meant I could grind my clit against Travis’s pelvis and maximize my enjoyment. I reached back to grab on to one of Clay’s hands while Travis’s mouth latched onto mine. I wanted to be connected to them in every way possible. I’d never felt this tight, or full or . . .

  Complete.

  My orgasm tore me apart, but the men held me together with both their hands and encouraging words. They gasped as my body contracted and tried to milk every last drop of satisfaction it could squeeze from them. My vision hazed to black and my heart stopped, but when I finally found air to draw into my lungs, it restarted.

  Beneath me, the body solidified into stone. Travis feared if he moved while I was coming, he might not be able to hold himself back, and he wanted to focus on me. Our foreheads were pressed together, and I panted for breath, all while Clay continued to maintain his steady pace.

  “It’s such a tight fit, Travis.” Clay’s tone was seductive. “I feel every goddamn inch of you, and you feel so . . . fucking . . . good.”

  Oh, that was the wrong thing to say.

  Or maybe it was exactly the right thing to say because Clay wanted to be the one to make Travis lose control. To send the other man over the edge.

  Travis’s body jerked and stuttered as he came, and loud, desperate moans poured from his mouth between ragged gasps for breath. It was the strongest response I’d ever seen out of him and it created aftershocks of pleasure deep between my legs.

  “That’s it.” I couldn’t see Clay, but I pictured the commanding look he’d have as he demanded it. “Come all over me and fill her up.”

  This prolonged his orgasm, judging by his loud exhale and the pulsing throb inside me, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Clay had slowed to an unhurried pace, enjoying the slippery slide in and out of me, and it was hard to focus on anything but that.

  As Travis recovered, he pulled me down into a kiss, and when his tongue filled my mouth, Clay picked up speed. I wasn’t likely to orgasm another time, but it still felt incredibly good, even when Travis’s cock slipped out of me and Clay was on his own.

  He seemed eager to find his end as the rest of us had, and his hard, punishing thrusts that racked my body were perfectly balanced by the gentle, passionate kiss Travis delivered.

  And when he came with a guttural groan, he collapsed forward, sandwiching me between the two of them. Our skin was glossy with sweat and everyone’s heart seemed to be pumping at a thousand beats a second. Clay began to lean to one side and the three of us fell in a heap of arms and legs and hands and mouths. I lay on my side with my head on Travis’s arm and Clay spooning me, and when his palm came to rest on the flat plane of the other man’s chest, it made me smile.

  It felt natural.

  And I was thrilled with how comfortable these men were. Maybe I was in love with them together. So I was grateful they at least seemed to like one another. I put my hand on top of Clay’s, which covered Travis’s heart.

  “Thank you,” Travis said, “for tonight.”

  I knew he was talking to both of us. I smiled and planted a sweet kiss against the side of his neck.

  Clay drew in a deep breath. “You’re welcome.”

  I awoke when Noir jumped on the bed and ran her damp nose against my fingers, seeking a hand to pet her. I was happy to do it, until awareness of my situation hit me.

  I was in Clay’s bed, a man was softly snoring beside me, and he was not Clay.

  Travis lay on his stomach, his hair disheveled but a peaceful look on his face as he slept with the sheets pushed down to his waist.

  It was light outside, so it was morning, and I searched the room for both a clock and the man with whom I jointly owned a cat. I found the clock first, telling me it was a quarter past eight, but there were no signs of Clay.

  The glasses he’d put on the dresser last night were gone.

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and gingerly climbed out, not wanting to wake Travis. Had we taken up too much room last night and driven Clay from his own bed? I hurried to dress in my clothes from yesterday, then ventured out into the house.

  He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. Cold dread lined my stomach. Had he left?

  No. The faint sound of something being nailed could be heard downstairs, and I let out a tight breath.

  Plus, there was a pot of coffee that looked freshly brewed sitting on the counter beside two waiting mugs. I poured myself one, added some sugar, and made my way to the basement steps.

  He was hunched over the workbench, stretching the leather-like vinyl fabric over a padded piece of wood.

  “Good morning,” I announced.

  I’d either been too quiet coming down the stairs or Clay had been too focused to hear because he jumped and spun to face me, suspicion flaring in his eyes. It dissipated once he recognized me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s all right. Good morning.” He honest-to-God had a pencil tucked behind his ear and I grinned. Why did I find that so sexy? He gave me an evaluating look. “I see you found the coffee.”

  “Yeah.” I glanced over at the tabletop. I wasn’t sure what he was working on but could tell this was new. Last time I’d been down here, the space had been empty. “Wow, you’ve been busy.”

  His gaze darted away, and he went back to stretching and stapling the fabric. “Trying to play catch-up with orders.”

  I strove for a causal tone. “What time did you get up this morning? I’m sorry if we drove you out of your own bed.”

  “You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Something was off. He seemed distant. “Oh. What’d you do instead?”

  He gave his answer by pulling the handle on the staple gun, causing another sharp crack as metal drove into the wood.

  I stiffened. “Clay. How long have you been down here?”

  “Since three, I guess.”

  I was suddenly cold and fought a shiver. He’d been down here for hours.

  It was impossible not to think last night was the cause. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, not sure what to say, and the silence was uncomfortable. Didn’t he like what we’d done last night? I still felt the sweet ache of both of them in my body, but he was acting so . . . indifferent.

  I flinched as he placed another stapl
e with a loud snap, making the coffee in my mug slosh.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked quietly.

  He didn’t look at me, perhaps pretending to be distracted by his work. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I don’t know.” I swallowed thickly. “You seem kind of—”

  “Is he still here?”

  He’d asked it like it didn’t matter one way or the other, but it very clearly did matter. It gave me the impression that whatever Clay was upset about, it had to do with the man upstairs.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He’s still sleeping. Do you want me to wake him up?”

  “No, that’s fine.” He paused, the staple gun hovering over its next target. “Just so you’re aware, I have to leave soon to get some more supplies, but you two feel free to stay as long as you’d like.”

  My mouth dropped open. Had he just dismissed me?

  He’d told me he didn’t date, so it wasn’t like I expected snuggling and breakfast together this morning, but after the sex last night he’d been so affectionate and warm. I hated this cold, guarded version of him, especially after everything we’d shared.

  It hurt, and not in the enjoyable way, but I refused to show it. My face heated as I plastered on an overly bright smile. “Okay, great. Thanks.”

  He must have recognized I was upset, but he had no comment. Instead, he pulled the handle on staple gun, which was like putting a period on the end of our conversation.

  “Well,” I said, barely keeping the emotion from my voice, “I won’t keep you from your work.” I turned and strode for the stairs, and it was crushing when he didn’t stop me.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Travis was awake when I returned to the bedroom. He sat up in the bed and ground the heel of his hand into an eye, but went on alert when I walked in. In total opposition to Clay, he seemed genuinely happy to see me.

  “Hey,” he said. “I thought I’d run everyone off.”

  Nope, just Clay, I thought grimly, but it was still early, so maybe I had read too much into my conversation with him. I shot Travis a smile that said he couldn’t run me off if he tried.