ControlledBurn (5 page)

Chapter Six

Ellie padded across the living room floor for the tenth time
and twitched aside the curtain to look out at the drive. Pearce was running
late. He’d called to let her know he was fine and he’d be home for dinner.

It wasn’t unlike him to stop to help in a car wreck he
passed on the way home or to break up a bar fight, but he usually dropped her a
text to let her know what had happened.

She suspected that tonight, Mitch Morelli had happened.

Heat coursed through her and took up residence between her
thighs. Damn, she hoped Pearce hurried home. She was practically drooling for
him to take her to bed, though she hadn’t gotten all dolled up for him as she
had the other day.

After work, she’d changed into a pair of yoga pants and
t-shirt, and thrown her hair up into a ratty ponytail. Maybe she should slip on
a baby-doll nightie and light some vanilla candles instead. She’d put a frozen
pan of lasagna into the oven and the scents of cheese and garlic filled the
house. Not exactly an aphrodisiac.

But we won’t need it. We have Mitch to light our fires
now.

She paced off toward the kitchen, where she uncorked a
bottle of wine and poured two glasses. The heady scents of the liquid made her
head spin. Yeah, after a sip or two, she’d be raring to go.

Hell, she was ready now. Her clit throbbed heavily. She
leaned against the counter and slid her hand between her legs, pressing lightly
to ease the ache.

Suddenly she heard the crunch of tires on the drive.
Hurrying back to the front of the house, she entered the foyer at the same time
the door opened and two big males tumbled through it.

Pearce and Mitch.

Her blood surged and her cheeks heated.

“Hey, baby. Smells good in here.” Pearce’s light tone was a
trifle forced. The expression in his eyes asked if she minded that he’d brought
the object of their desires home for dinner.

Ellie felt the corners of her mouth lift into a smile.
“Lasagna. Hi, Mitch. You hungry?”

The beautiful man let his gaze cling to Ellie’s a beat too
long. The pool of warmth between her thighs grew. “Very hungry, actually.”

She got the feeling they weren’t talking about noodles and
tomato sauce.

Pearce removed his boots and caught Ellie up in his arms. He
smelled as if he’d recently showered, but a faint trace of Mitch’s musk clung
to him. She tipped her face up for Pearce’s kiss.

Rather than drop a peck to her cheek, which she expected, he
captured her lips. He slipped his tongue over the seam of her mouth and she
opened to him automatically. He plunged his tongue into the depths, chasing
hers around her mouth. She moaned as he flipped it against hers, igniting her
fires.

He lashed her against him, lifting her onto tiptoe and
stroking her nape with one hand, giving her shivers.

Mitch made a noise and she and Pearce broke away. A flush
crept over her and Pearce laughed.

“She’s a blusher.”

“Good to know for…later.” Mitch’s gaze caught hers.

She practically squirmed, fighting to keep her hips from
moving wantonly on their own. Breathing hard, she said, “Come in and have some
dinner. It’s almost ready.”

As she led the way to the kitchen, she felt the men’s hot
gazes on her spine. She clenched her fingers into fists to keep them from
trembling with excitement. Pearce wouldn’t have brought Mitch home if he didn’t
have ulterior motives. How was she ever going to eat a single bite of dinner
with those ferocious and rugged firefighters staring at her? Hell, they sucked
the air out of the room and replaced it with testosterone.

She walked straight to the oven and took out the pan of
lasagna with some oven mitts.

“Wine?” she heard Pearce ask Mitch.

“Beer?”

“Sure.” Pearce rummaged through the refrigerator while Ellie
focused longer than necessary on pulling the aluminum foil from the top of the
steaming entrée. Her hands shook, her knees wobbled and her belly was gelatin.

“Baby, how was your day today?” Pearce’s voice sounded
inches behind her.

She twiddled with the foil, wrapping it carefully before
throwing it away. An inherent shyness crept through her. She hadn’t seen
another man naked in a long time, let alone had sex with one. It was impossible
not to be nervous around Mitch now, knowing he and her husband were having
relations and planned to include her.

Or she hoped they did. Because whatever her reservations,
she was getting some action tonight. Oh yes, she was going to be pinned between
two massive chests and feeling all twelve ripples of their abs hemming her in.

Her pussy pulsated and released a fresh flood of moisture.
Damn, she wished she’d had the foresight to put on something better than
loungewear. Like a miniskirt and no panties. Or a silky wrapper and nothing
beneath.

She spun slowly to face the men and found their gazes on
her, hot with longing. Suddenly, she realized her yoga pants were no
barrier—they’d get them off her no matter what.

Pearce pressed the wine goblet into her hands. His green and
gold-flecked gaze met hers, a knowing expression in them. “Have a drink, love.”
Then he leaned closer and whispered, “It will relax you.”

Nodding, she brought the cool glass to her lips and
swallowed some of the delicious red wine. “We’ll just wait a few minutes before
we cut into that lasagna.”

We’ll wait a few minutes before I strip out of these
clothes with wanton abandon and beg you to fuck me in all ways.

Mitch took a seat on the barstool, fingers wrapped loosely
around his frosty beer and his gaze cool. She didn’t know the big Italian stud
well, but he didn’t appear to have a bit of unease about the situation.

Pearce, on the other hand, revolved between her and Mitch,
orbiting like a moon. He shifted closer to Mitch and leaned casually against
the counter so they could gossip about the guys at the firehouse. One was
getting married soon and another scheduled for a vacation to Jamaica.

Then Pearce drifted back toward Ellie and slid an arm around
her waist, trailing his fingers against her ribs in that way that maddened her,
asking again about her day.

The last thing she wanted to discuss was the dull hospital.
She’d sat through endless meetings while distracted to no end by the thought of
what Pearce was doing today with Mitch.

What
had
they done? When she’d kissed Pearce, she
smelled Mitch’s earthier cologne and musk on her husband. Leaning in, she drew
a deep breath in hopes of gaining another whiff.

Pearce gave her waist a squeeze and she dropped her head to
his shoulder. When their mingled scents filled her nostrils, it was like a
wallop. Her knees threatened to buckle. She swayed.

“Whoa. You okay, darlin’?”

“Must be the wine hitting my head already.”

Pearce’s gaze darkened. “I thought it always went to your
pussy.”

A scorching blush crawled over her throat and face. Mitch
made a quiet sound and set down his beer abruptly. She trembled as he came
around the counter, approaching very quietly considering he still wore his
heavy boots.

His body was sculpted from the angular cut of his jaw to his
thick calf muscles bulging against tight denim. His chest was a fraction
bulkier than Pearce’s, and where Pearce’s waist was tapered, Mitch’s was broad.
Her nerve endings tingled, thinking about what she’d see beneath his shirt.
Beneath his jeans. And beneath his boxers.

During their intense lovemaking, Pearce had talked about
Mitch’s cock slipping against his, thick and hard as steel.

She quivered.

Mitch moved in closer and closer, until he invaded hers and
Pearce’s space. He shot a look at Pearce, who nodded. Then, with excruciating
slowness, Mitch lifted his hand to Ellie’s face. He caught a lock of her hair
and rubbed it between his fingers. “I’ve always wanted to touch your hair.
Always wondered if it was hot like fire.”

“Other parts of her are,” Pearce said suggestively.

She practically moaned, her breasts aching, thighs
clenching. Did they really have to go through the motions of pretending to eat
before they whisked her off to the bedroom? She couldn’t care less about any
sustenance besides what they could provide with their touch.

Mitch let his fingers skate down her cheek to her jaw and
along the lines of her collarbones. His gaze was locked on her mouth.

Pearce closed his fingers around Mitch’s, stopping his
caress. Their gazes snapped together and held, locked in a silent union. The
sight stunned her. When had they become so intimately bonded? Judging by their
expressions, these hunky firemen had shared more than a kiss or a masturbation
session. How far had they gone?

“Let’s eat.” Pearce’s voice was a sandpapery tongue running
over the skin of her mind, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

Mitch dropped his hand but his gaze continued to stroke her.
“Of course.”

He took up his stool once more and Pearce nudged Ellie
toward the center stool while he set about dishing up three plates of lasagna.
When he took the seat on the other side of her, she nearly screamed with sexual
frustration. Were they going to tease her all night? Make her wait, wiggling on
this stool while they bolted down ricotta and fresh sauce?

She twirled some mozzarella cheese around her fork and
brought it to her lips, but she had no appetite for anything except their
savory bodies.

Pearce finally coaxed some conversation about her day from
her, and Mitch took a genuine interest in the things she had to say. But when
she asked about their calls today, they both clammed up.

Stiff-shouldered, Pearce plowed into his meal as if he were
starving. And Mitch just shoveled food into his mouth, polished off his beer
and, making himself at home, retrieved another from the fridge.

“The call was that bad, huh? How close was it?” She glared
at her husband. They had an understanding—he didn’t have to talk about what
went on in the field except when it was really bad. She had a right to know
when his life had been put into danger. It didn’t stop her from flipping about
it, but at least she wouldn’t read it in a newspaper or hear about her
husband’s near escape secondhand.

“There was a meth lab in the warehouse where we got a fire
call.”

“Jesus!” She dropped her fork with a clatter. Pearce slipped
a warm palm onto her thigh, anchoring her and trying to calm her
simultaneously. “You were in there? It might have exploded anytime!”

“Not me, but Mitch was.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder
and latched on to Mitch.

The man released a low sigh. “It’s all good. Lived to eat a
great meal, drink a beer with friends and hopefully…to gain a little pleasure.”
The smooth way he said “pleasure” sent her into paroxysms of need.

She swung her gaze to his face. His gaze was locked with
Pearce’s in that special way again that made her think of silken sheets and
handcuffs. Mitch let his gaze slip to Ellie’s.

Pearce’s breath washed over her throat as he bent his head
to the curve between her neck and shoulder. “Kiss her, Mitch. Take her mouth.
She’s hungry for you.”

A spasm of shock claimed her. She jerked, feeling as if
she’d stuck her finger into a wall socket.

Mitch didn’t wait for another invitation. He wrapped his
fingers around her upper arms and drew her toward him. Her ears rang and
another wave of dizziness struck her when he moved in. Dark hair, bronzed skin,
intense eyes all rushed at her. And then his mouth was on hers, paralyzing her
in a sea of sensation. She fell still, drinking in his taste and feel—so
different from Pearce’s.

Images of him kissing Mitch wove through her mind. While she
wanted to experience everything Pearce would offer her, she also wanted to
witness the men together—stroking, rubbing, licking, swallowing…penetrating.

Fires consumed her core. Pearce made a sound of longing and
directed her head in the perfect position to receive Mitch’s kiss. The first
intimate stroke of his tongue against her lips threatened to undo her. She
squirmed and Pearce cupped her breasts, holding her in place.

She gasped and Mitch swallowed it, feeding her a groan. He
plunged his tongue into her mouth. She detected garlic from the meal and traces
of mint and the deeper flavor of male she’d found clinging to her husband.

Pearce rolled her nipples expertly between his fingers. She
arched to give him better access even as Mitch bowed her into her husband’s arms.
Pearce’s mouth left her throat and found Mitch’s neck.

“You done eating, love?” Pearce rumbled.

Done? She was nowhere near finished eating up these amazing
specimens of manhood. She wanted to lap at their warm, steely flesh, feel their
coarse hair against her lips, all the way down to their hard cocks.

Without thought, she reached for each, clamping a hand on
their muscular thighs.

“I take that as a yes.” Mitch feathered his tongue over her
lower lip as he pulled away.

Pearce lifted her from the barstool, her legs dangling over
his strong forearm. “Time for bed, baby doll.” He whisked her down the hall
toward their bedroom. Mitch followed on their heels, crowding close. Over
Pearce’s shoulder, she met his gaze and melted into a puddle of longing.

His kisses had been tempered but she craved more—for him to
let go with her and show her the same passion Pearce claimed the men shared.

Pearce shoved through the door and in seconds she was
deposited onto the bed. They stared down at her, chests heaving, legs braced
wide as if they battled something.

“I want…to see you first,” she said, that shy note back in
her voice. She was determined not to let her worries about how she sounded stop
her from experiencing this fully. She’d never participated in a threesome, but
had always dreamed the time would come.

Pearce’s lips quirked up, cutting brackets into his handsome
face. “That so?”