NeedMe

Need Me

Cari Quinn

Book three in the Unveiled series.

Some needs are so hot it takes more
than one man to fulfill them.

Marcia Daly’s been dating her
younger boyfriend Tony for years. They have a great relationship, so why can’t
she stop fantasizing about sleeping with his best friend, Cale? As much as she
cares about Tony, the idea of a threesome intrigues her. Though she’s not sure
how to broach the subject, her decision to write a sex advice book gives her
the perfect opportunity to explore her wildest fantasies.

Tony’s falling in love with Marcia
and wants to give her an amazing gift she’ll never forget before he asks for a
commitment. Sharing her with his best friend at Kink, a local sex club, turns
him on more than he would have guessed. One sizzling night soon turns into two.
But when the threesome tests their relationship, Tony wonders if Marcia will
ever let down her guard enough to trust his feelings for her…or to finally give
in to her own.

Need Me

Cari Quinn

Chapter One

She was screwed. And screwing didn’t always refer to sex. In
this case, it indicated Marcia Galvin Daly’s innate propensity to fuck herself
over.

In theory, she was enjoying a pleasant, uncomplicated
evening. What could be more innocuous than discussing computer geekery with
your boyfriend’s best friend? The fact that said best friend wore snug jeans
that outlined…
things
a girlfriend shouldn’t notice on other men was
irrelevant. That he smelled like cloves and mint and her nose had yet to stop
twitching, equally unimportant.

But her need to wring out her panties to prevent chafing?
Kind of a problem.

“The key to the site is virtual reality. It’s all
the rage right now.”

Marcia peered at Caleb Parker’s laptop screen. She
hadn’t seen many sites like it before but she didn’t spend a lot of time
browsing. Except for shoes. And lingerie now that she’d, erm, grown out of a
lot of her own. One of the downsides of having more free time since she was
currently unemployed. She tended to snack. Often.

“Virtual reality,” she repeated. “Like the games.”
Something else she didn’t know much about, other than that her boyfriend Tony
and Cale spent too many hours laughing while camped in front of the TV.

Cale manipulated a little fat-bodied Weeble
wearing a hard hat until he bumped into a Weeble with really big breasts. She
also had long blonde hair like Marcia. “You got it. VR’s hot.”

She grinned. “Hey, that’s me.”

“Sure is, Blondie.”

“I think she’s a bit more endowed than I am.”

He glanced at her chest and shrugged. “Works for
me.”

“I bet it does, perv.” She nudged his shoulder and
leaned in closer. “It looks kind of like a library.”

“Not a library but close.”

The two Weebles toddled down a wide aisle. Books
extended up the walls around them. Rows and rows of books. The pair took a left
and ended up in front of a fireplace bracketed by a pair of couches. On the
opposite wall hung a sign for “coffee stuff”.

“What is this?” she asked, eager to grab the mouse
and take her Weeble for a spin.

“This is the new website for All About The Story.”

“No way.” Marcia inched closer to the screen,
taking in all the details. Flames burned in the fireplace and other little
nondescript Weeble shoppers roamed between racks of magazines. “That’s so awesome.”

“You think? I haven’t proposed it yet. Kel and
Spence are expecting a nice average site and I’m ready to spring a virtual
shopping experience on them. But I think it works. They need something that
stands out. They can bill it as the store you shop online then visit in person
the next day.” He swiveled his chair to face her and grinned. “Just in case
they hate it, I designed another site too. One more in line with what they’d
expect.”

“Lemme see,” she said, already certain she’d try
to convince her brother to go with this site. If Spencer needed a push, she’d
happily shove him along.

“Sure thing.” He tapped keys and a perfectly
attractive site appeared. Soft mauve and cream tones worked together to create
a soothing ambience and the book in the center opened to reveal the different
pages of the site.

“I want the Weebles,” she muttered, making him
laugh. “They’re so cute!”

“They’re more than just cute. An interactive site
like this has a dual purpose. One, it’s fun and different. The other is that
people will remember it and in turn remember the store itself. Or at least
that’s the goal.”

“When did you learn to do all this?”

“I took a couple classes. Then I took some more.
Working nights at the Nook left me with free time and I always liked learning.
Eventually I decided to make some cash on the side doing sites. I offered my
services to Kel for free,” he added, not noticing the face Marcia pulled.

“Kelly’s already getting free labor from you and
Tony and the rest of the guys. For a site like this, she and Spence can fork up
the moolah. It’s an investment and well worth it, especially in such a
tech-crazy world. Without a site that stands out, they’ll fade off the map in
no time.”

“Even so, I owe Spence. A free site doesn’t begin
to touch that debt.”

“Why?”

“He gave me a job when I really needed one.”

“As if you couldn’t get one elsewhere.” She
laughed it off but she couldn’t help wondering. There was a lot more to Cale
Parker than met the eye. So what, exactly, did her brother know about Tony’s
best friend that she didn’t?

Saying nothing, he sent his Weeble over to the
shelves. When the miniature Cale took down a book, she squealed like a kid.

“Wow, Cale. Just wow.”

She sat back and crossed her legs, trying not to
react when his gaze dropped and lingered. They were sitting awfully close.
Realizing that, she discreetly rolled her chair away and reached for her purse.
“I’m calling Spence right now. He’ll bite.”

“No, wait.” He laid a hand on her thigh just
beneath the hem of her denim skirt and directed his attention back to the
screen. “Let me show you something first. Grab the mouse.”

She followed his directive, entirely too aware of
his large, rough palm on her bare flesh.
Tony’s best friend, remember?

She did remember. That was part of the problem.
Because sometimes when she fantasized about her lover, he wasn’t alone.
Sometimes his constant companion outside bed climbed between the sheets with
them.

And they didn’t curl up and take a nap.

“Now what?” she asked, shaking off her prurient
thoughts.

“Click on that book over there and enter a book
title.”

“Which title?”

“How about
Kama Sutra
?”

Catching her tongue between her teeth, she typed
in the title and swallowed hard as his low chuckle shot tingles down her spine.

Cale was too hot. Sizzle-worthy and then some. His
shaggy brown hair slid into wolfish blue eyes and his smile promised hours of
wicked fun. He seemed best suited to back rooms with black lights, where he’d
do very bad things to young, sexy babes while dirty-talking them through the
most explosive orgasms of their lives.

He also happened to be young himself. As young as
Tony, barely thirty. She’d seen thirty-nine on her last birthday and the next
loomed far too close for comfort.

Theoretically both Tony and Cale should be
off-limits. Which only made her want them more.

“Now hit enter. Then click on Marcia.”

With some maneuvering, Weeble Marcia pulled down a
book. It flipped open the width of the screen, allowing her to read a sample.
“Oh my gosh. That’ll work on any book?”

“Once I do some tweaks, yeah. I linked the
Kama
Sutra
as my test title.” The hand on her leg flexed, his fingers lightly
indenting her skin. Her pussy flashed damp. Shit, he might as well have
whispered details about the Tigress position in her ear.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Jeez,
hadn’t Tony finished making his sandwich yet?

“Nice choice.” She turned her attention away from
the screen to avoid reading anything sex-related. With the current state of her
panties, she didn’t need any help. Unfortunately she faced Cale instead and
found herself caught in his intense blue gaze. Sometimes his eyes seemed cold.
Icy even.

Not right now.

“I thought so.”

Heat washed over her, but whether it was from his
look or from the mad dancing of her inner lust demons, she couldn’t say. “Well,
I’m sold. Let me call Spence.”

“One more thing.” He grabbed the mouse, moved it
around until Weeble Cale was standing next to Weeble Marcia. This time when his
little hand shot out, it looked like he was grabbing her breast.

She couldn’t stop the laughter. “Oh God, I can see
this site being used for naughty purposes.”

“Can’t do more than grab unfortunately.” He
grinned. “That’s as far as it goes.”

She nudged his hand off the mouse and took over.
Weeble Marcia skated forward and bumped into Weeble Cale hard enough that they
both fell backward. “So what can I grab on you, huh?” she asked as she tried to
figure out how to get little Marcia to stand up again.

“Anything you want.”

His husky tone drew her sharp glance. Instead of
looking away, he held her gaze and licked his lips. Slowly. Maddeningly.
Inciting more liquid to rush between her thighs.

He inched that much closer and covered her hand
with his on the mouse while he turned his attention back to mini Marcia on
screen. His palm rubbed against her knuckles and she had to bite the inside of
her cheek to keep her face composed.

What was between them wasn’t anything deep or
complicated. It went down to the most elemental level possible. She cared about
him as a friend—
just
a friend—but she also wanted him. Badly.

Except he was Tony’s best friend. And her feelings
toward Tony weren’t merely so simple. She l—

“Hey, you two.” She jerked back as Tony appeared
in the doorway and took a bite out of his double-decker sandwich. “Hungry?”

“I’m not hungry,” Cale replied quietly.

With effort, Marcia trained her attention on the
screen and away from the man who’d only just removed his hand from her leg and
his other hand from the mouse. It didn’t matter. Her flesh still bore the
heated weight of his touch.

“Me either,” she said, wondering if Tony could hear
the lie in her voice.

* * * * *

Forget screwed. She was fucked. And not in the manner she’d
considered yet again last night as she sat in front of Cale’s computer.

Marcia set aside the want ads and blew out a breath. Her unemployment
was long gone and her savings was about to be. Pretty soon she’d be reduced to
stripping to pay the bills. Hey, it worked for girls on movies of the week.

Ah, but there was the rub. She was no girl. At her age, she
wasn’t prime stripping material. Plus, she had a business degree already.
Weren’t the strippers always baring all to pay for law school or something?
She’d done her time pursuing higher education. Now she just wanted a decent job
and a reasonably satisfying personal life.

Small goals. Doable goals. But if she couldn’t find a decent
temporary position soon, she’d have to hit up her baby brother, Adam the
magnate—a nickname he claimed to hate, but she knew he secretly loved—for a
loan. How pathetic was that?

It wasn’t just about the money either. She’d been out of
work long enough that she’d begun to change all the way around, not just
mentally but physically too. Without a steady income, she’d let her gym
membership lapse.

Her lover certainly didn’t seem to mind. Instead of
complaining, Tony bought her sexy lingerie even more often. It was probably due
to her increased cup size. Truthfully she liked her new shape. As long as she
stopped while she was ahead, she wasn’t in any huge hurry to diet. Besides, she
was more than ready to find something to keep her busy. Then she’d have less
time to snack in front of the TV anyway.

She picked up the checklist she’d made of her skills. She’d
written the list to remind herself of everything she was good at. Numbers
three, six and eight through ten were various sex acts. Honesty was imperative
when finding your perfect job, right?

“Maybe I should be a whore,” she muttered.

Because that skirted a bit too close to her ex-husband’s
assessment of her, she sighed. All wasn’t lost. Spence’s bookstore would be
opening in late September so she’d have a job soon. Well, in four months. In
the meantime, she could always take a temp typing job. Even if her long nails
hampered her speed until it was nonexistent.

She probably should have thought more about what she was
doing when she walked away from her position as the manager of The Book Nook.
Smart people didn’t willy-nilly quit a job just because they hated their new
supervisor. Or old supervisor, since Diana had been her boss before. When Diana
had left the company six years prior, Marcia had fervently hoped she’d never
see her lying, conniving, slutty ass again.

No such luck.

Diana Sinclair seemed inoffensive enough to the naked eye.
She also happened to be a complete snake in a silk pantsuit. Job or no job,
there was no way Marcia would work under the woman who had once used Spencer as
a sexual bargaining chip in her lackluster marriage. Hell no. She’d strip for
change—okay, dollars—first.

Marcia glared at her checklist, wrapping a strand of hair
around her finger. Good thing she was keeping her options open, because she was
running out of them.

Her expensive habits didn’t help matters. She liked her
salon visits, her manis and pedis. Her lattes. She wasn’t a coupon cutter. But
she also wasn’t about to lean on her younger brothers or Tony for help. Not
unless she had no other choice. She’d gotten herself into this situation so
she’d damn well get herself out of it.

For weeks she’d been toying with ideas. She’d tried looking
for groups of skill sets, as career coaching books always advised. Supposedly
if she read between the lines, she’d see parallels between her abilities and
interests that would lead her to what she was looking for. But how many times
could she cover the same ground without getting anywhere? Maybe the temp agency
was her best bet.

On about her thousandth pass over the list, she saw what
she’d been missing.

Damn straight she was good at sex. She also loved books. One
of her talents was writing informative, sometimes inappropriately entertaining
project reports. Combine those three ingredients, stir and she had a fucking
new career.

Or a new career in fucking, if she chose to look at it that
way.

She grinned and sat back in her chair. She didn’t have to
become a purveyor of sex. She could
write
about having lots of it
instead.

Not fiction. She wasn’t built for devising erotically
enhanced heroes and inexperienced heroines. No, what she was good at was giving
advice. She’d always been all about straight talk. No filler, no bullshit. And
in this case, she knew her subject very well.