by Cari Quinn
There was nothing he could say to that, so he said nothing and waited for her to continue. Knowing she would.
“You’re the first real taste of freedom I’ve had. When it’s just you and me, I can breathe. I like you, Nick. This isn’t a game to me.” She clutched him tighter. So damn tight. “I’m not using you, I swear.”
“I like you too,” he echoed, feeling like a chump. But she didn’t seem to hear him.
“When we’re together, I don’t have to wonder what’s wrong with Gray. Between us, it’s just sexy and fun.”
Nick grunted. Sexy fun. Right. He’d have to remember that the next time his chest and dick were taking turns feeling stomped on.
“Gray won’t talk to me anymore. Every time I try to figure things out, he shuts me down. Something’s not right with him, and I don’t know how to fix it.” She rubbed her eye, hard. “He walked away from his life for me. His family. And I’ll never be enough to—”
“He’s in love with you. That’s why he’s not right.” Nick brought her hand to his mouth, kissed the tips of her fingers. “You offer a man something he’s always wanted, hold it two inches from his nose, then deny him from having it, he’s gonna get a little crazy, baby.”
“I haven’t denied him anything,” she whispered, and Nick’s throat went tight and hot. In sympathy. In fury. In fear. “He’s never asked. He hasn’t ever said one word.”
He tried to come up with a suitable response that wasn’t “why in the frilly fuck am I talking about this with you?” But his brain didn’t want to work.
Jazz sighed. “Let’s say you’re right, that he thinks his feelings for me have gone beyond friendship. With everything that’s gone on in our history, with how he’s protected me, how could he ever be sure that it’s real?”
“I’m sure.” The statement echoed through the door, as quiet as a gun with a silencer. And just as deadly—at least to Nick’s hand, now caught in the pinching death grip of Jazz’s fingers.
Gray walked in, looking as cool as a flame dipped in ice. Every part of him steady and resolute except for the wild intensity of his eyes. “I followed you,” he said. “You borrowed my car to come here?”
She didn’t speak. Just shook faintly, as if she’d suffered an electric jolt to the heart.
Nick’s free hand tensed beside his thigh. How long had Gray stood in the hall listening to their conversation? And how long did he have to grab the fire extinguisher and aim it in Gray’s face before he booked for the door?
Yeah, maybe it made him seem like a wuss, but his bruises had just started healing from the last fight. He’d start taking appointments for a fresh ass whupping at the end of next week.
Gray shut the door behind him and braced a hand on the wood above his head, then turned and strode over to the sofa, his gaze fixed on Jazz. Not wavering for an instant. Power and purpose thrummed through him, cutting a swath through the room as physically as a gust of air. He knelt in front of her, his Adam’s apple rising and falling with every breath.
Gray and Jazz stared at each other so long that Nick thought about getting up to leave—though it was his place—but Jazz’s fingers had turned into implacable iron clamps around his. She clearly intended to make Nick bear witness to…whatever the fuck this was.
Maybe even making him a part of it. Somehow.
The silence pulsed like a heartbeat. Then Gray leaned forward and caught Jazz’s face in his hand, lifting it to meet his mouth.
It wasn’t a kiss. Nick had seen fistfights more loving than the clash of their lips. It was mating, pure and simple. Hunger strained like a crazed beast between them, snapping in the air. Charging the basement with way too much lust in way too small of a space.
Nick shifted, his jeans uncomfortably tight. He needed a cigarette. A forty. A blow to the head to knock his ass out. In that order. He was a bystander to this clusterfuck and shouldn’t have been affected. Especially since this guy was kissing the girl he’d fingered to orgasm what, six hours before? He wasn’t a stranger to threesomes—or foursomes, then there was that one time with five—but this wasn’t that. If he joined in this fray, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d come out balls intact.
He really liked his balls. They’d been with him for twenty-three years now and had provided many hours of faithful service.
But he also liked Jazz, and she wasn’t letting him go.
He definitely had no complaints when Gray pulled back enough to yank her shirt over her head and send it flying. She wore a bra, sort of. It was basically a band with a couple ribbons holding up each of her tits. In about three flicks of Gray’s fingers, that was gone too, and the flesh banquet on display had Nick groaning and pressing a hand to his dick. They’d resumed kissing like maniacs and didn’t seem to care that he was about ten seconds from going to jerk off in the bathroom.
The sounds in the room grew. Pants, whimpers. None of them his.
Just when he’d definitively decided to get out of there, Jazz shifted onto Nick’s lap, her still-purple eyes beaming straight into his and pinning him in place. He couldn’t move. Could barely breathe as she feathered her hands over his chest, rubbing them up and down while her breasts brushed his already inflamed skin. God. If he’d thought his brain had turned into a stirfry before from their conversation, now she’d turned the temp up to broil.
She glanced back at Gray and waited for some signal. It came in the form of a nod that nearly caused Nick to slide from the couch.
Okay, so his balls were in knots big enough to block his vision, but had Gray really nodded for this to continue? With him?
Nick hauled in air as she slipped her hand under the waistband of his pajama pants, her pupils dilating as she felt how hard he was. Not too surprising, since he knew every ounce of blood in his body had redirected to that spot. She slid down his legs as if he was a human slide and crouched in front of him, peeling down his pants without hesitation. He sprung free, stiff and ready. The tip wet. Eager for her mouth.
It didn’t get it.
Gray moved behind her, his long-fingered hands encircling her breasts. Hiding her from Nick’s gaze. Even without words, he got Gray’s meaning.
Sharing with you doesn’t mean I like you. Nor does it make her yours.
Message accepted. Just sex. If Nick chanted it like a mantra in his head, who could blame him? It was easy to forget in the moment. Hard to remember when he’d just had a heart-to-heart with a woman who mattered.
Gray leaned forward to lick her shoulder, his gray eyes flicking up to Nick. They were feral and possessive, as if he guarded the last available scrap of meat and was on the verge of going homicidal if anyone dared touch it.
Oddly enough, Gray’s territorial expression soothed Nick. For a minute he’d felt like he’d stumbled into the Twilight Zone. Now he was back on firmer ground.
Gray was challenging him to a duel that was no different than the guitar swordplay he and Simon had engaged in since they were kids. Except they’d fight to share this beautiful instrument of war and pleasure between them.
And her name was Jasmine Edwards.
Nick lifted his thumb to caress the valley between her breasts, skirting close to Gray’s no-touch zone and earning a growl for his efforts. He smiled and continued up her throat to her parted damp red lips, slipping between them like he ached to do with his dick. She sucked hard, her dark lashes coming down to shield her eyes. Her head fell back against Gray’s shoulder as his hands began to massage her, squeezing more gently than Nick could’ve managed with his current erection. He was even having trouble not jamming his thumb into Jazz’s mouth.
After a minute or two of watching Gray pluck her nipples until they were tight and dark pink, Nick decided to up the ante by undoing her jeans. He flipped open the button, yanked down the zipper and tugged the denim over her curvy hips. She wore a lacy thong that matched her bra, and he wanted it off her. Now.
“Up.” It was Nick’s turn to growl.
While she struggled to her feet,
stumbling more than a little—he must not be the only one who felt dizzy—he leaned over to open the drawer of the table next to the couch. Bingo. A stack of foil packets awaited him. Simon stuffed rubbers every place he could. Tonight his best friend’s excessive need for latex came in hand. He grabbed a couple and tossed them on the cushion beside him, waiting for Jazz or her gallant knight to pull the plug.
Jazz didn’t bat an eyelash as she finally got off her boots and went to work on her jeans, shimmying them the rest of the way down with a twist and wiggle Nick knew wasn’t strictly necessary. Nick lifted a brow in Gray’s direction, almost daring him to back out. But he only rose to shed his own T-shirt, shoes, jeans and briefs.
The guy had lots of black ink on his back and his right arm, a fact that seemed to surprise Jazz since she was staring at Gray’s tats like she’d never seen them before. Either that or the sight of Gray’s muscled back was enough to make her turn into a statue.
She hadn’t gotten nearly as bug-eyed over the dragon tattoo on Nick’s ribs. He wasn’t even sure she’d seen it. As far as being mesmerized by his body? Nope. Not so far.
Whatever. He wasn’t dwelling on it.
Nick stood and kicked off his pajama bottoms, then walked to the door and flipped the locks. Since that was no defense against keys, he grabbed his cell and called Simon. “You and Deak can’t come home.”
“Aw, man,” Simon whined, sounding drunk. Such a shock. “You’re getting a shot at that sweet Jazzy pussy, aren’t you?”
“Tonight it came with a gift with purchase. Think I might return it. Pretty sure it’s defective,” he said, eyeing Gray as he pulled Jazz into his lap. She faced the room so that Nick could see every nuance when Gray spread her thighs and ran his thumbs up the insides of her legs. Between her thighs gleamed the swollen, hairless pink crease he’d been fantasizing about since the last time they’d been in this very room.
“Huh? What did you buy?” Simon wasn’t good with subtext on a normal day, but when he was drunk, forget it. He’d believe anything. “Did you keep your receipt?”
Nick would’ve grinned if his cock wasn’t perpendicular to his torso. Even breathing was a challenge. “Can’t talk now. Gotta go.”
“Wait. When can we come back?”
“Morning.” He clicked off and threw his cell in the direction of the table.
Nick knelt between Jazz’s spread legs. Though he wasn’t one of those guys who went down on every chick he messed around with—unlike Simon, who passed out oral like lollipops—his mouth was actually watering. But he didn’t move. Not yet.
She wet her lips and relaxed against Gray, wriggling a little from what Nick knew was the very hard cock wedged against her back. Gray’s fingers wandered higher, drawing circles over her inner legs, sliding up to the tops of her thighs. Barely making contact. Sliding closer to the juncture between.
Jazz squirmed like she couldn’t stay still as Gray’s thumb darted between the lips of her pussy, almost shyly. Did Gray expect her to refuse him? Couldn’t he see how she was jiggling back and forth, her skin prettily flushed and already damp with sweat?
All of her was damp. Nick fisted his throbbing cock. Seriously fucking damp.
Gray’s long fingers met up with the piercing that caged her clit and his hand stilled. He grabbed her chin with his other hand, making her look at him. “What the hell is that?” he growled against her lips.
She whimpered some unintelligible response before slanting her mouth over his. At the same time, Gray slid his fingers inside her. Even muffled by their kiss, Gray’s long, ragged groan echoed in Nick’s head.
This wasn’t just a good fuck to Gray. This was a dream coming true.
And he was about to break it wide open.
Nick edged forward. He had no intention of coming on his own stomach, and if he didn’t do something fast, he was going to. He leaned in and captured one of her nipples between his teeth, pulling hard while he twisted the other. She writhed between them, Gray’s fingers dancing over her with a skill he hadn’t only learned on his instrument. While he’d been expecting Jazz to save herself, he’d obviously been screwing his share of chicks.
Nick switched his attention to Jazz’s other breast, licking the swollen tip while he looked down at the action way too close to his cock. Gray’s fingers pressing in and out, wet from her. So wet, all the way up to his knuckles.
“Christ.” Nick contented himself with her breast, sucking hard while he covered her clit and piercing with his thumb. Gray made room for him, spreading his arms so that one finger from each hand pistoned into her, cramming into that tight little slit until each movement sounded slick from her arousal.
So fucking hot.
Nick nearly groaned and counted to ten in his head to try to distract himself. Man, he was so close. Evidently so was she. Two, maybe three strokes of Nick’s thumb and Jazz exploded between them, twisting back and forth without shame. God. Nick bit down harder on her nipple than he’d meant to but she only cried out again.
Such a sexy thing she was. All pent-up and ready to go. And so was he.
Instead of Gray demanding a condom—as Nick would’ve in his place—he reached down and grabbed the backs of her thighs, lifting her up to Nick. Putting her pussy so damn close to Nick’s face that he would’ve been a moron to say no.
He wasn’t a moron.
Lowering his head, Nick made eye contact with her an instant before his tongue trailed over her soaked flesh. She reached back to fist her hands in Gray’s messy hair, locking him in place so he had no choice but to watch as Nick covered her with his mouth.
Nick pushed his tongue inside and curled it up to savor her burnt sugar taste. If he’d ever had technique, he didn’t tonight. He was shaking so hard he could barely lick, and it was a damn miracle he managed to suck her clit hard enough to make her moan. The piercing helped. He tugged on one of the crystals, trapping in between his teeth. She whimpered and shifted in Gray’s hold, a live wire about to overload on pleasure.
Knowing his fumbling wouldn’t get her there as fast as he needed to, Nick cheated and used his fingers. Curving them. She lost it within a few strong, deep thrusts. Her cries filled the room, the sound almost as arousing as her madly pumping hips.
He didn’t move his mouth away until he’d licked her clean. God, she tasted even better than she smelled. If he didn’t get her around him soon, he’d rub one off on the damn arm of the couch.
When she’d recovered, Nick stood up on wobbly legs to grab the condoms. He glanced back at Gray in question, who only minutely shook his head. His eyelids were heavy, low over his sleet-colored eyes, and Nick understood why when he glimpsed Jazz working Gray’s erection with her fist. Was Gray really going to satisfy himself with her hand when he could have all of her?
As Nick ripped open a condom with his teeth, he got his answer.
Gray’s groan tore from his chest, so loud that Jazz moaned too. She shifted enough for Nick to see her fingers moving like a blur. She was clearly determined to make the guy come. Now. If she squeezed Gray any harder, she was going to get Nick to come too just from the memory of how good it felt to be in her hands.
Almost without warning, Gray’s release sprayed over her side. Dripping like melted ice cream on her hip.
Nick gripped the opened condom and forced his gaze away from the tangible reminder she belonged to Gray and was—at best—on loan to him. He didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to know.
He busied himself with putting on the condom. But eventually he had to look again.
Gray had thrown his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. The cords in his neck vibrated with his harsh breaths. Jazz stared at Gray and traced her fingers an inch above his lips like she was afraid to touch. Then she settled for smearing her fingers over her side and pressing them to her own lips instead, sucking them as she slowly shut her eyes.
Nick swallowed hard, his own hand faltering with the latex half-unrolled on his length. What was he do
ing? He wasn’t a part of this. Any fool could see Gray and Jazz had something between them he could barely fathom. The guy loved her so much he was letting her have a threesome with a man he couldn’t stand. Now Gray was lying on the couch, his eyelids firmly shut. His refusal to watch any more of the events he had started clear.
And Jazz…
Jazz gazed at Nick, her wet eyes begging him silently. Her tears seemed trapped behind her contacts, unable to fall.
Make me feel good again. Take the pain away. Please.
Nick moved like a ghost, his feet barely gliding over the carpet. He bent and lifted her into his arms, tugging her on his lap as he fell back into one of the club chairs. With one tug the condom was in place and he was thrusting up blindly, looking for her in what felt like too much dark space. His sweat trickled into his eyes, burning, blurring, as he tried to adjust her thighs over him. To get her open enough to accept him.
One stroke and he was inside her. She didn’t cry out like she had when Gray’s fingers had pierced her. She just rocked with him, her arms banding around his shoulders, seeking her comfort from the endless siege of his body into hers. Erasing what had come before.
Nick brushed kisses over her mouth, cheek, neck. His gaze drifted, zeroing in on the man who wouldn’t look at them.
Gray fisted the cushion at his side, the only sign he gave that he was even awake. He couldn’t look, but he could hear. And he knew who held Jazz now.
Nick’s chest seized up, everything locking. His arms and legs. His spine. His mind. Trying to reject what was happening. It was sex. Just sex. He wouldn’t let it be more.
Nick grappled to steady her hips, but they were wet and he knew why. Didn’t much matter, since his palms were wet too. It was all a sticky mess, and the two of them were hurtling through it, sending the chair flying back against the wall, squeaking its old springs. He could barely hold on to her. She was racing too fast, slipping away. He’d barely gotten his hands on her and she was already shooting past him, her target clear.