Three Men and a Woman: Evangeline (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (10 page)

“Come to bed with me, Evvie.”

“Yes, Chase.” There was no doubt for her, no hesitation. Somehow, this made it all right.

Heat in his eyes told her he liked her quick, acquiescent response, and he didn’t seem to want to give her a chance to change her mind. He pulled her to her feet and tugged her along behind him.

He’d come down a set of back stairs into the kitchen, but this time he took her around to the main entrance. The staircase there was a grand one, wide and curved with carved wood and marble banisters. But his room was up one more flight, a lone, large, round room that formed the entire third floor. It had windows all around and a raised, domed glass cupola at its center.

Glass block shaved off an arc of the room at the far wall, and she figured that for his private bathroom.

His big bed was backed up against the glass block with its foot just reaching the space under the dome. The bed was framed, with drapes that could be closed around it and even a retractable canopy. It took her a moment to understand. The room was full of light, lovely, and entirely not conducive to daytime sleeping. Rather than spoil the finely worked wood and metal casings of the dome and windows with shades or curtains, he’d cleverly made himself a sleep cave.

It was so—Chase. A solution at once practical and extravagant, meeting his physical needs but still indulging his appreciation for beauty.

“I love it, Chase. This is beautiful.”

But he had other physical needs in mind now, impatient with her impulse to stop and admire. Murmuring, “yeah, yeah,” so quietly she almost didn’t hear, he towed her to the bed. It was open—the bedding as well as the canopy and drapery. He’d readied for her. Even to the extent of having placed a little pile—a pile!—of condoms on the bedside table.

He caught her looking and had the grace to blush a little. “I never have sex without a condom.”

Oh, yeah?

He read her mind and actually blushed more. “Okay, with one exception. About that night, Ev—”

She really didn’t want one more apology about it. She got it anyway.

“I acted like a jerk. I’m so sorry I came to you that way.”

“It was a horrible time for all of us. And I wasn’t sorry.”

He held up a hand, realizing he’d offended her. “No, that’s not what I meant. Making love to you that night was the single moment of comfort and hope in that whole week of shit, and for the weeks of shit after. But I was an idiot, not the least careful of you or your feelings. Or—of the consequences.”

“You were young and hurting.”

“You were younger, Ev, and hurting, too. I should have done better. I regret that, a lot.”

He was holding her, face to face, and touching her gently. Soothing.

Shit. She loved him.

“It gave me comfort and hope, too, Chase.” More, way more, than he knew.

He kissed her. The gentlest touch of his lips that had her body thrumming. “I’m glad.” He held the kiss now, making more of it. “I’m so glad, Evvie.”

“Anyway, you don’t have to use a condom. I’m sure you get tested, right?”

“Yes, I get tested. But the other—”

“We’re good there.”

He looked at her in question.

“I’m sure.”

“Nothing’s one hundred percent sure.”

“I know. But we’re good.”

He looked at her for another minute and then bent over her, looming tall with her in flat, slip-on sandals. He circled his arms hard around her and lifted, groaning when she wrapped her legs around his waist. His cock was centered right between her thighs, her loose skirt doing nothing to hinder that sweet pressure there.

Kissing her deeply, he took her up onto the bed. She kicked her feet free of her sandals and fell into the soft plush of the bed. He was right on top of her, his weight held on his elbows and knees, but his chest and his cock rubbing against her in all the best places.

When he was done kissing her, he lifted to look at her breasts. She wore a cotton top that buttoned down from the vee-neck and then tied at her waist. He put a hand below her breasts, spanning her ribcage, holding her as he looked into her eyes. “Open your blouse for me.”

The fierce heat in his gaze sent a shiver through her. Slowly she moved her fingers to the top button. When she’d loosened it, he used his thumb to pull at the fabric, revealing as much of her as he could. The action tightened the cloth over her breast and stimulated her hard nipple. She could hear the excitement in her own breath.

“Keep going.” His voice was rough, stirring.

She did what he said, one by one opening the buttons and then the tie, pausing between as he savored each new bit of territory uncovered. He nuzzled her breasts all the while, slipping his tongue or finger under her bra to nearly—
nearly
—reach her eagerly waiting nipples.

She wore the elastic waist of her skirt low, below her navel. He spent a long time there when her blouse was all the way open, running his lips along her abs, delving into her belly button. His hands gripped her rib cage on either side, bringing her up against his roving mouth.

Finally, he moved back up, not stopping now until his mouth reached one nipple. Her bra got in the way as he tongued her, and she moaned in frustration. Arching up, letting him help, she lifted enough to reach back and unfasten her bra. She tore both it and the blouse away before she collapsed back onto the bed.

He admired her work. He kissed her mouth once—a reward for her efforts—and then took her breast. He drew the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, intensely, erotically. He moved his hand to the other, grasping her nipple between thumb and finger like he was working a dial.

“Aaah.” She moaned and writhed, practically coming with just that. She flexed, trying to get a little more stimulation against her clit, but his cock was off-center now, not where she needed it. “Chase.”

He looked up briefly. “Patience, sweetheart. I’m not done here.”

But she was. She was.

She flexed again, but his weight was too much for her. She flopped back with a little huff of complaint.

He lifted his mouth again, but not his hand. “All right, my needy little girl. I’ll take care of it for you.”

He pushed up on one elbow and used that hand to take over at her breast. She couldn’t complain about that—he had very, very skilled fingers. With the other he reached for the hem of her skirt.

His touch was hot on her skin as he dragged the soft cloth slowly up. He watched what he was doing until he got it all the way up, so his hand was at the very top of her thigh and her panties were just visible. Then he looked at her, watching her eyes, as he let his fingers drift over.

It was just a brush, a touch over silk, so soft she might have imagined it. But her body was primed for it, waiting, overly sensitized. That one light stroke sent a shock of pleasure through her.

“Mmm. Chase. Mmm.”

“Yes, sweetheart. Let it happen.”

He draped one leg over, his thigh across hers and his foot hooking back to secure her. Then he flicked at her clit, still through the silk of her thong.

It was sweet torture, the way he confined her, made her subject to that light, tantalizing stroke of her clit. She wanted to rock, to open for him, to seek more pressure, more pleasure.

But he held her captive, allowing her to have only what he would give. She started tossing her head, but he took that, too, moving his hand to tangle fingers in her hair.

She moaned in complaint. “Chase. More. Hurry.”

“No,” he said, running his tongue along her neck to her breast. “This is enough.”

It wasn’t. It wasn’t. And then it was—
almost
. Just that light stroking, hardly a touch at all, nearly had her coming. She cried with it, trying to buck against him, but held there by the weight of his body.

“Oh, no.”

“Yes, baby. Yes.”

Then finally,
finally
, it
was
enough. His fingers didn’t just brush but gave her good, hard pressure. She shuddered, quaking as a storm of pleasure rolled through her. She wailed, riding it to the end as he encouraged her.

“Yes, sweetheart. That’s it. Yes.”

“Chase.”

“Yes, Evvie.”

It was wicked and so, so pleasurable. To be held by him, contained. At his mercy. He was a powerful man. He’d taken control of her, bent her to his will.

And she’d liked it. Loved it.

She wanted more. And he was going to give it.

He slipped out of his pajama pants and went to his knees, settling between her legs. He grasped the waistband of her skirt, sliding his fingers underneath in a slow, deliberate way that made her feel the pressure of each fingertip. He nudged her hips up so he could slide it under her ass, then lifted her legs to remove it.

He kept his hands on her legs, controlling them with a grasp on her shins, keeping her knees bent up. Slowly, he pushed them apart, opening her.

He spent some time enjoying the look of her little yellow thong.

Evangeline had a limited supply of sexy underwear, most of which she’d never worn. Typically, she wore cotton bikini briefs under her jeans. But she’d tapped into her small lingerie drawer when she’d dressed on Friday. That fuchsia silk seemed to call for it.

Or maybe, if she were honest, it was the thought of seeing Briggs, even though she hadn’t imagined that he’d have the opportunity to learn what she wore under her suit. Not really.

Anyway, he’d apparently got her sex switch turned on, and when she’d chosen clothing for the wedding, her fingers had gone for the hot undies.

A fact she was grateful for now, given Chase’s keen appreciation.

He parked one foot at his shoulder now, giving himself a free hand. He looped his finger into the band of her thong. Watching her face, he yanked on it. It was a good, hard pull, dragging the silk along her clit and chafing the thin line in the back along her ass. Moving his gaze, he took a look at the havoc he’d caused.

The thong cut into her, still covering her clit but pressing into her pussy so she knew all but the very center of it was exposed.

He liked what he saw. He growled in appreciation and tugged at the thong again, milking her with it.

“Very pretty, baby.”

Evangeline was heating up again. He noticed and flashed his gaze up again. “You like what I do to you, don’t you, Ev?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Anything I do. Everything.”

“Yes. Everything.” She was giving away the farm and didn’t care. Yes. He could do anything to her, and she wouldn’t object. She would want it.

Three powerful, sexy, and sexual men. An eight-year drought. Apparently, a perfect storm for no-holds-barred, hot sex.

“Good.”

That one, highly satisfied word sent a thrill through her.

He’d toyed enough with her underwear now. He pushed her knee up again to slide the elastic over it, then ran it down her other leg. When he was done, he ended with both of her feet pressed into his shoulders.

He pushed up, bringing her knees high, lifting her ass up off the bed.

It was an extremely vulnerable position, and he gave her a little time appreciate that fact. She took in his face, meeting those hot, determined eyes. Then his chest—hard muscle rippling down to his abs.

And then his cock. Hard, long, thick. Thrust up, suspended over her pussy. It held her attention, and he let her look, let her think about what was coming.

After a long moment he took hold of himself and placed the tip of his cock right at her opening. Her breath caught in anticipation, in expectation of a hard taking. But he just held there.

“Take me in,” he said.

Surprised, she looked up at him. But, like hers, his interest was really in that place where their bodies touched, almost joined.

But not joined, though that was what he wanted.

And he wanted her to do it.

She could hardly imagine managing it, the way he had her trussed up.

But he seemed to think it could happen. “Fuck me with your pussy.”

Jesus Lord.

She huffed out a little breath—excitement tinged with a touch of panic. Then she tried and found she could do it. Pressing her feet into his shoulders and her upper back into the bed, she learned she could rock her pelvis up, riding herself onto his cock. She managed a couple inches.

He liked it. He murmured encouragement, not gentle, sweet words but harsh, hard fuck words. And instructions, commands. He wanted more. There were still inches to go. Many inches.

It seemed impossible to do more, and impossible not to.

With a whimper, she took him in. It was wicked, impaling herself on him like that, having the process of penetration an active one rather than passive. Not one of acceptance but of self-determination. Self-destruction.

Her pussy was stretched tight, her body invaded by his. Somehow, this deliberate, self-rending act was more powerful, more enthralling, than anything she’d ever experienced.