Beyond Jealousy (11 page)

"Ace sent you flying. I want you back on the ground before I fuck you the first time." He rocked his hips, and the tip of his dick slicked between her folds, tauntingly close and not nearly enough. "I want you to feel how empty you are before I fill you. I want..."

The words trailed off, and she shivered. "Tell me."

He did, low and harsh, as if he hated himself for admitting it. "I want to fuck you so hard you feel me for days."

Another wave of lust tempered by tenderness washed through her, and she looked back at him. "Then do it. Don't let me forget."

And maybe that permission was all he needed, because he took his cock in hand and guided himself into her. He was
big
, so wide he only made it a couple of maddening inches before stilling with a groan. "Fuck."

Again, the pain seethed with an irresistible promise of mind-blowing pleasure. "Don't stop." Rachel bit her lower lip, but a whimper escaped.

Ace smiled and cupped her cheek, freeing her lower lip from the sting of her teeth with his thumb. "You want it, don't you, angel? That beautiful damn cock. I know it's big, but you can take it, can't you?"

"Y-yes--" Rachel panted. Then Cruz pushed deeper, and her answer melted into a moan.

"That's it," Ace soothed, his voice low and warm. His words spun around her as Cruz worked into her body, both of them forcing her to feel everything. "Next time we'll suck him off together, and I'll show you how to take him all the way. I love a good face-fucking, but that bastard'll blow in five seconds if you get on your knees and part these pretty lips for him."

The mental picture may as well have been
contact
, a lick or a pet that had her clenching in response. She opened her mouth but lost whatever she was going to say when Cruz growled and surged forward, dragging her hips back at the same time to turn a short thrust into all-out warfare against her senses.

It was possession, no less than Ace's hand in her hair or his demanding words, and it tore away the last of her protective walls. Cruz claimed her, branded her inside and out, not only with his body invading hers, but with the fine tremor in his hands. The rough rasp of his breath. The way he clutched her closer, grinding against her.

How was she supposed to survive this?

As if he'd heard the thought, Cruz growled again, hauling her hips up so his next thrust went even deeper. "Your fingers," he snapped at Ace. "Let her lick them."

Ace lifted two fingers to her mouth. She parted her lips and drew her tongue over his fingertips, gratified to see her own lightheaded astonishment reflected in Ace's captivated expression. He kept poking at Cruz, demanding the man unleash his darkest desires, and he couldn't handle them any more than she could.

Nothing had prepared them for what they'd get when Cruz let go.

Cruz freed one hand from her hip and ran it up her back to curl in her hair, and she was shivering even before he tightened his grip and pulled her head back. "Now rub her clit, and don't stop until I do, I don't care how many times she comes."

Sucking in a breath, Ace reached beneath her. The wet tip of his middle finger slid between her pussy lips and circled her clit as Cruz thrust into her again, harder than before, hard enough to drive her several inches across the bed, and somehow, Ace knew to follow.

She wrapped her fingers around Ace's forearm, relishing the play of muscle as he worked her. The now-familiar heat flared to life, and Rachel threw back her head with a cry that turned into words. She was trapped between them again, only this time she didn't fight it, she embraced it.

She
begged
.

And they gave her everything she asked for. More, deeper, harder, and when Cruz's cock bumped across her G-spot and drove a cry from her lips, he answered her plea--
right there
--and fucked over the spot again and again, rough and relentless and growling encouragement as Ace's fingers stroked and teased.

She came with another scream. It didn't stop, one shudder after another, until she was hoarse from crying out, but Cruz didn't follow her over the edge. He pumped his hips in shallow strokes while she shivered and panted for breath, and just when she thought she'd found purchase on the world, he shattered her reality with a deep thrust--the hardest yet--and the startling,
terrifying
truth crashed into her.

This wild ride, all the passion and hunger, and he was still holding back.

"
Fuck!
" Her free hand clenched in the bedspread, then slipped, ripping the fabric.

He hauled her back into his next thrust with a grunt. The sound wasn't enough to drown out the slap of skin against skin, their bodies colliding in every way possible as Ace pressed his forehead to hers. His fingers were still moving, faster now, three of them working her clit as he groaned. "Now he's just showing off, isn't he? Does it feel as good as it looks?"

Answering meant words, and words meant thinking. Rachel couldn't think, couldn't
breathe
. Everything felt tight, hot, like she didn't fit in her own skin anymore. Like she was dying, and she never, ever wanted it to stop.

Then Cruz reached down and pressed Ace's fingers hard against her clit. The slippery friction vanished, replaced by a low, deep throb that shattered through her in prickles of light and heat.

The world was on fire, and so was she.

She shuddered, screamed, clutched at every bit of both of them she could reach, until a tortured noise rolled out of Cruz. He rode out his final jerky thrusts before collapsing, one hand braced above her head to keep the bulk of his weight off her. "Holy
hell
."

Every shift in position rubbed against nerve endings that were already overloaded. Rachel whimpered and wiggled onto her side, wrapping one arm around his. He settled behind her with a sigh, leaving them in a sprawl of tangled limbs and sweat-slicked skin, with her at the heart of it.

Her breathing began to slow, but Ace was still panting. She opened her eyes and allowed herself the luxury of a long, lazy appraisal of his bare skin--damp hair, broad chest, the muscled planes of his stomach--

And his prominent erection.

"You're fucking kidding me." Christ, with all the screaming, she sounded like she'd smoked two dozen cigarettes and downed a fifth of rough moonshine. "Again?"

Cruz's chest rumbled against her back as his laughter tickled her neck. "Christ, Santana. You horny bastard."

Ace grinned. "What, was I supposed to yawn while you fucked her cross-eyed and made her come all over my fingers?"

This was what elation felt like, warm and light, like it could carry her right off the bed--
if
she ever wanted to leave it. "Horny bastard's right." She snuggled closer and licked a line of ink running between Ace's collarbone and his nipple. "Or dirty bitch. No--filthy motherfucker."

"Talking like that's not going to make me any less hard," Ace murmured, lifting a hand to weave lightly through her hair. "Neither's licking me."

Cruz leaned over, and Rachel heard the drawer on his bedside table slide open. "Oh, I don't know," she drawled, buying him some time. "What if I bit you instead?"

"You angling to mark me, angel?"

"It'd be fair," Cruz replied, tossing a bottle to the bed. Oil slicked his palm, and he curled his fingers around Ace's shaft. "You've marked both of us."

"Fucking hell, man." Ace tilted his head back and arched, thrusting against Cruz's hand. "Fuck."

Witnessing this sort of unbridled sexuality could be addictive. Riveted, Rachel stared at him before leaning in to graze his nipple with her teeth. Then she stretched up, put her mouth right beside his ear, and sighed. "Is it this sexy, watching me get off?"

Ace parted his lips, but a groan spilled out as Cruz sped his strokes and answered for him. "Every damn time."

Her body was too spent to ignite into arousal again, but that didn't stop her heart from pounding or her hands from shaking as she clenched her fingers in Ace's hair and pulled. "I like it."

"Of course you do," he choked out, clutching at the back of her head. "My dick's fucking mesmerizing."

"No lie." Hard and thick, jerking in Cruz's hand. Rachel reached down to help, marveling at the contrast of hot and even hotter skin, slick and unyielding. "Come on me. I want you to."

And he did, spilling across their fingers with a moan, the only sound until Cruz shifted their fingers to rest on Ace's trembling abdomen. "Too bad we won't all fit in my tub."

"We will if we stand up." Giddy, Rachel laughed. "If we
can
stand up."

"Fuck it," Ace groaned. "Kick the blankets onto the floor and we'll sleep under the sheets. My mesmerizing dick and fine-as-fuck ass aren't moving."

"Until the next time you get excited?"

Ace rolled over, trapping her against Cruz's chest. "Bite your tongue, woman. I earned at least an hour of sleep."

Cruz wrapped an arm around both of them, and Rachel's heart skipped a beat. Together, the three of them filled the bed, with no room between them for things like doubt, no time to second-guess what had happened. Maybe that would come later, when the afterglow had faded and sense returned.

Or maybe, just maybe, they fit together so perfectly there would never be room for regret between them at all.

If only the bastard wasn't so damn hot.

Scarlet brooded into her fourth drink--vodka, neat--and watched Jade smile up at Dylan Jordan. What she had to smile about was anyone's guess, not to mention a mystery. Every time Scarlet herself had spoken to the man everyone called Doc, she'd come away irritable. Hot under the collar, in more ways than one.

Doctor
. Back in Sector Three, there was no such thing, not really. People assumed the title, of course. Some were even good at healing, provided they'd apprenticed with someone skilled in folk medicine. Other, more affluent sectors had real doctors, older men and women who'd trained for years in the formal schools that had existed before the Flare.

And then there was Eden. Rumor had it Dylan Jordan had learned his trade in one of the city's state-of-the-art facilities. Exiled since then, no doubt, but that didn't change facts. He wasn't some back-alley job with a bag full of drugs smuggled out of Sector Five. He was the real deal.

And a real asshole. Scarlet's stomach flipped over as Jade leaned closer to him, her smile widening. Whatever knowledge and skills Doc possessed were practically buried beneath a drug-fueled haze. He spent half his time high and the other half doing suicidal shit that would get him killed sooner rather than later.

Scarlet would be damned if she let him take Jade with him when he went down.

A drink thudded next to hers, liquor sloshing over the edge of the glass as Adrian Maddox leaned against the bar beside her. "When did that start?" he asked, jerking his head toward Jade and Doc. "He never sticks around to unwind after a visit."

Scarlet shrugged. "Beats the shit out of me."

Mad considered the pair for a few moments before shaking his head. "It's not going to happen. I don't care how pretty Jade's smiles are. Doc's not going to start smiling back."

He sounded almost jealous--though of which one, Scarlet couldn't begin to guess. She nudged Mad with her hip and snorted. "You know better than to go there. Just like I do."

He exhaled sharply, and it almost sounded like the start of a laugh. "Yeah, that's you and me, Scarlet. Smart."

"Liar." Her gaze drifted back to the dance floor, where Doc had laid a hand on Jade's waist. "We're both stupid as hell."

Mad's gaze followed hers, and she felt the sudden tension roll through him. "Stupid," he agreed. "But never selfish. You just met him. You don't know how good he was, how good he could be again. I tried to make him see it, but..."

He sounded so damn
sad
, and the answering twinge in Scarlet's chest pissed her off more. "The man's a fucking burnout, Maddox. Everyone knows it."

"Do they? Everyone
knows
you collect lovers, even though you're stone cold." He leaned closer, his voice dropping lower with every word. "Everyone
knows
you like the easily controlled, submissive ones. The ones you can play mind games with." He straightened abruptly. "And everyone in Sector One knows my grandfather performed miracles and I should bless their kids.
Everyone
knows shit."

Adrian Maddox on a defensive tear was a sight to behold, all clenched jaw and fiery, dark eyes. Scarlet smiled and fished a cigarette out of his pocket. "Stop trying to convince me your boyfriend is a prince and give me a light, would you?"

One thing was for sure, at least Mad could laugh at himself. He slid out his lighter, a nice, shiny silver one engraved with an intricate logo she didn't recognize. "I thought you knew, honey. I'm the prince."

"You're something close." Scarlet lit her cigarette and turned the lighter over between her fingers. "Are you gonna break up the party on the dance floor, or should I?"

Mad frowned and said nothing.

"It's okay to want to, you know. Whatever your reasons."

His frown deepened, and Scarlet knew what was coming. Anyone who'd known Mad more than five minutes would have. "If she can make him smile, I'm not about to get petty."

"Saint Adrian." Scarlet slipped her cigarette between his lips and raised both eyebrows. "Maybe you should go bless some babies, after all. Me? I think I'll go get laid."

She made it two steps before his laughter rolled over her, deep and warm, because Mad could be a stuffy martyr but he never took himself seriously for long. "Show me how it's done, Scarlet."

"Yes, sir."

Scarlet eased up behind Doc, running one finger up his back a heartbeat before dancing a hip-swinging circle around him to slide her arm around Jade.

Jade wasn't stingy with her smiles. She laughed and turned her head, and Scarlet got the full force of one as Jade leaned back into her. "Am I not dancing with enough enthusiasm?"

"You're doing fine, sweetheart. Doc's technique could use some work, though."

The man smiled, easy and blurred around the edges, a perfect match to his red eyes and flushed skin. "Scarlet likes to tease me," he said, his tone lending a lascivious double meaning to the word.