The Complete Series Boxed Set (23 page)

“‘Out of the way’? You say that like it’s a root canal,” Laura teased.

“How about we try being direct,” Dylan interrupted. “Laura sits on the Sybian while giving Mike head.”

Stunned sile
n
ce was Laura’s only answer. Mind-blowingly stunned silence. “
You want me to do that?”
 

Her answer was Dylan’s hungry hands on her, sliding around from behind, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples to full attention with one little brushstroke. “We do.”

Mike’s only response was a raised eyebrow, a gesture that echoed inside her and made her bloom with heat.

The tidy little ottoman in the middle of the living room was so unassuming that the average person would never—
ever
—guess the kink hidden within.
And that was precisely the point.
 

Hide the fun in plain sight.

Hide the source of judgment from those who did not—or willfully
chose
not to—understand.

Mike pulled the lid off and exposed the wonder underneath, making Laura’s breath slow down just as her heart sped up. Time always changed here in the cabin, unlike anywhere else—even their bedroom at home. Sex was different here. Completely planned and yet utterly spontaneous. Dylan’s hands continued their slow tease from behind, his cock rubbing up against the cleft of her ass, the hair on his chest tickling her back. Mike embraced her from the front, and the heat of his skin, all six-plus feet of him, made her fe
e
l complete.

She had them both.

Well—more technically,
they
had
her
.

Hands began their well-worn path down the curves of her body, those dry and supple and those wet and wanting.

The Sybian was a simple device, with a dildo attached to a rocking seat. She was more than wet enough as she eased her way down, muscles clamping tight at the slick entra
n
ce of something much smaller than either of her men, and yet tantalizing as she felt Mike’s hot flesh in her hand, Dylan’s
own hands on her back and breasts now, connecting and adding to the loop the three shared. Like electricity, something flowed between them when they were in touch together, though Mike and Dylan drew a strong boundary at touching one another. Laura had wondered about it but never asked. Sometimes privacy within relationships had a place, and this was one of those times.
 

No complaints came from anyone, though, for what they
did
have—so she stopped thinking about what wasn’t there.

A shudder of shock and heat ran through her as she lowered herself and clasped her thighs and knees along the device, D
yl
an straddl
ing
her from behind, on his knees and encircling her. His hand traveled down to find her hot, throbbing nub.

Oh, this would be over fast.

Mike’s cock was thick and ready, and as her mouth enveloped it his thighs tensed. Primed to know his signals as well as she knew Dylan’s or even her own body’s triggers, she
figured
she had a minute, Maybe less.

Better make it good.

Dylan gently rocked her forward, the Sybian slipping and moving with such grace that she felt a moment of feral self-consciousness, as if the device were too prim and proper for what her ragingly wild arousal was about to make her flesh release. An orgasm swept over her and only sheer force of will kept it back, her brain firing wildly to make sure she remembered Mike’s pleasure, the fullness of him in her warm, wet mouth now too much. The combination of so many sensations on her body and the need to meet his sexual release made her circuits overheat.

Desperate to give him pleasure, she slid her fisted hand along the fine, soft skin of his shaft, Dylan’s fingers on her, her tongue traveling well-worn paths until Mike uttered her name and released into her just as her own tidal wave of climax made her groan deep in her throat, the sound making Mike jolt with more ecstasy.

And just like that, they had knocked out Climax #1 for all three of them.

Strangely energized, Laura swallowed and smiled up at Mike. He looked down from quite a distance, given his height, and smiled broadly.

“Four hours and six minutes to
g
o. You up for more?”

She most certainly was.

Both of them were on her as if she’d sent them some telekinetic signal, as if she’d summoned their bodies by pure desire to come to her, the length of so much flesh pressing into her curves with such impulsive need that they shocked her.

“You’re ready…
already
?” she asked Mike as Dylan stole her words away with a breathtaking kiss, tongue sweeping across her mouth like wind and fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and Mike’s answer was two hands that took her breasts like he was staking a claim on them.

Ah. Well. So.

She guessed he was.

A burst of wet heat turned her legs to jelly, and the thrumming sense of pounding as her blood rushed to and fro, building to something so much greater, took her rational thought and shattered it to shards.
Reaching for Dylan, she found his thick, strong shaft, and he groaned against her teeth as she stroked him, a simple reuniting that made the fire inside them all flame higher and higher.
 

Sex wasn’t just sex anymore. Not after two years together. It wasn’t just intimacy or connection or some necessary act that they indulged in for pleasure. It was, instead, a constant, consistent re-commitment to be each other’s heat, to ma
k
e each other tremble in awe, to use fingertips and tongues and smiles and groans
in order
to be the most important soul for each other.

Acceptance is the greater part of intimacy.

H
ow much more accepting
could
three people be when exploring the bounty of flesh, tendo
n
, bone, muscle—and the pure frenzy of driving someone to a release that catapult
ed
them out of their mind?

Trusting both, she sighed deeply, Mike’s touch between her legs making her gasps turn to his name, cried out in sighs and moans, a language of arousal and more.

Trust
.

Mike was in her first, hard as rock, his lips on her face and neck like a hungry man who was touching a woman for the first time in decades. His hands were rough against her back, her ass, the globes of her breasts, the
sensation
just on the edge of her comfort zone but so raw and real she couldn’t stop wanting more.

Heightened senses and the sound of their breath in the room, background noise coming from the woods in
the
form of the rush of leaves pushed by wind, the calls of birds she could not name, and it all turned into a tunnel-vision pinpoint of nothing as Dylan entered her with aching slowness, patient gentleness, from behind, stretching her to the point of
oblivion
, a kind of disintegration of the self that came only after so, so much pleasure.

When the moment of climax came for all three, the combined explosion sent them all whirling into space, so separate from the very slick
skin that twisted and flexed, adjusted and morphed, their spirits in another realm that could only be accessed
by the very primal acts of flesh and want that their bodies committed.
 

It felt like a sacrament and a sin.

Like b
lasphemy and atonement.

Most of all, though, it felt so fucking
good
.

* * *

If she and the guys smoked, Laura could imagine this scene quite differently. Sandwiched beautifully between both men, their bodies twisted together in a pile of limbs and torsos that resembled a human pile of stretched taffy (
and was just about as sticky…
), she reclined in pure harmony with long, lean, blond Mike and compact, musclebound, swarthy Dylan.

All were complete
ly
sated. Sexually, that is.

“Who’s getting up for the ice cream?” she
teas
ed. Sort of. It had been a longstanding joke
among
the three of them to share a pint of something gooey and sweet right after sex, but they hadn’t done that in months. Too many quick
i
es, too many hot, frantic sex sessions done under the watchful timeline of a baby who might wake up at the slightest noise.

“How about steaks and shrimp?” Mike
aske
d, peeling the covers off him and moving like a human gazelle toward the kitchen, his strides more than double the length of hers. That dimpled ass always made her sigh. His body was a series of gears and pulley lines, all muscle under skin, and watching him was better than anything on Netflix.

“Sounds incredible,” Dylan murmured, turning over on his stomach, stealing the pillows Mike had just abandoned. His leg slid up against Laura’s, and she found a warm, tingling sensation beginning
at her “V”
. Again? Again! How could she still want more?

Mike wandered out to the
d
eck and opened the top of the grill that was, conservatively speaking, the size of a small compact car. Built-in refrigerator, four gas burners, an espresso machine with a blender, and separate shelves for bar items. You could live in the damn thing in a pinch. The next version of the grill probably wou
l
d come with a bomb shelter attached.

“Fired up!” he announced.

“Sure am,” Laura muttered.

Dylan snorted, then turned on his side, propping his head up on his elbow. One eyebrow arched slowly, with suggestion. “You ready for a little something else to top you off?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She felt so vulnerable suddenly, so exposed. Not in the same way she’d felt postpartum, but more that the inner self in Dylan saw
her
inner self. Like they weren’t just naked together.

They were
naked
together.

Caught off guard, she uttered a little white lie. “No. Just joking.”

The eyebrow lowered and Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “I can tell when you’re hiding something, you know.”

“Okay! Okay! I spen
t
$300 on a new Coa
c
h bag last week! It was a splurge!” she
confessed abruptly
, knowing that was absolutely, positively not what he was talking about.

T
he diversion did not work. “I don’t care about purses. I care about pussies,” he crooned, reach
ing
down her belly, hand sliding to the spot she needed him to touch—again. Again!
Her body warmed—revved, really—under his steady command, fingers finding the spot where she needed them, and the surge of pleasure that pounded through her made her grin.
 

“Happy?” Dylan asked as he glanced up at her, hands parting her thighs, face flush with want.

“More than happy.”

“Is that possible?”

“You make it possible,” she whispered, her voice catching on the last syllable as his hands caressed her belly, his mouth paying attention to the soft folds of tender skin a bit lower. When he went down on her it was like being transported to a slightly different universe, one where feeling and sensation replaced thinking and talking. If only you could live in this world forever.

Too bad it took sex to teleport oneself into it.

Note to self
, she thought.
Need more sex.
 

And those were the last coherent thoughts Laura had until she called out Dylan’s name, cried for mercy as the climax grew to be a force so big she couldn’t release it.
Muscled hands pinned the soft flesh of her hips, holding her in place, not letting her buck away from her own clenching climax. Emotion and pure kinetic energy tried to find its way out of her with a controlled sort of letting go, and that was the hitch: you couldn’t control a supernova. You couldn’t control a superstorm.
 

You could try, but you’d only be left frustrated.

And very,
very
wet.

Dylan’s tongue strummed her like a stringed instrument, the butterfly movements making her arch up and shift into higher, deeper, finer levels of arousal and build-up, the layers interwoven and seeming not to be related until suddenly the climax w
a
s there, at the ready, a big wave of orgasms that made her move without will, grind against his mouth without humility, seek pleasure where pleasure was offered and trust that Dylan would give and give and
give
until she was sated.

That
wa
s intimacy, right? The ability to be completely bare with another person, raw and real.

And if you
we
re luck
y
, like Laura was, you g
o
t love
and
intimacy, too.

Times two.

Her pussy walls moved of their own accord, like they had a hive mind that made them twitch with delicious glee, paroxysms of ec
s
tasy slowly, lazily finding their way out of her, drawing out the joy of what Dylan had just done. She rested on her back and closed her eyes, reveling in pure sensation.

Mike s
a
untered back in, whistling some tune that Laura knew was a pop song from one of the sm
a
ller college radio stations in the area. That was the only way he could possibly know that short melody. “You two done?” he asked, not at all seeming to be bothered by the fact that she had just
g
otten one of her orgasms in quite nicely,
thankyouverymuch
.
And was now in the lead in The Great Orgasm Race.
 

“She is. I’m not,” Dylan
said,
pulling the sheet up and peering down at his own upright cock. “Looks like my refractory period is a bit faster than yours.”

“I wasn’t hanging out in bed with
a
luscious piece of ass for the past ten minutes. I was busy putting marinated steaks on the grill and making garlic bread.”
Mike
reached down to give Laura a quick kiss, and she tasted garlic, oregano, basil, and something else.