Twisted Little Games - Book 2 (Little Games Duet)

by Dee Palmer

  The fourth time they do this, I’m frayed, breathless, my skin has a sheen of perspiration, and my nerves are on the raggedy edge I’m wound so tight.

  “Please, please…I can’t do that again. Please I need—” I can’t finish my sentence.

  “What do you need, angel?” Logan climbs on the bed and pulls my hand, and my body rouses from an exhausted prone state. He lifts me and positions himself with his back not quite to the headboard, I straddle his waist, and Atticus is kneeling behind me, kissing my neck and running his hands the length of my spine.

  “I need you both inside me.” I’m beyond begging, beyond wanton. I’m going to die if they don’t let me come.

  “As you wish,” Atticus whispers in my ear, and Logan sits up so we are nose-to-nose, his lips crash to mine, his tongue demanding and desperate. He smiles against my mouth, and I turn my head to see Atticus. His crystal blue eyes look inky black with undiluted lust and desire. His kiss is more reverent but just as urgent, and I take an inordinate amount of comfort that we are all suffering this sublime kind of erotic torture. Atticus and Logan’s hands lift me until I am suspended above Logan’s angry looking erection. They lower me down, and I know this is heaven because nothing feels so sublimely good as being stretched and filled by someone you love. He reclines and his strong arms encourage me to follow. I lean down and suck in a slow, deep breath, feeling Atticus move behind me, scooping all the wetness from around where Logan and I are joined and smearing it over my one remaining hole. I puff out a nervous breath and pinch my eyes shut.

  “Hey Tia, look at me.” Logan’s deep voice is hoarse, strained, but his eyes are filled with love and concern. “You okay, angel?”

  “Nervous. I’m worried it’s going to hurt and I’ll regress.” I confess on a shaky breath.

  “Stay with me, with us and I promise, any pain and we stop.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not going to hurt you, princess. Feel me and talk to me. We’ve got you.” Atticus holds me secure, and I feel every part of him cosseting me. I feel secure, safe, adored.

  I nod and force a relaxing breath, willing the right muscles to follow suit.

  “Relax baby, you got this.” Logan kisses the tip of my nose, and I let out a light laugh. What the hell am I frightened of? I love these men, my husbands. I trust them with my heart, with my life; I can certainly trust them with my pleasure.

  “Oh wow!” I exhale at the first push. Tingly needles prickle and there’s a building pressure that feels odd, not painful though. I can feel the tip of Atticus’s cock ease its way against the tight muscles that I am acutely aware are fighting the intrusion.

  “Talk to me princess, you doing all right?” Atticus asks, his voice a mix of level and strained.

  “It’s intense, and the pain feels…mmm…” I drop my head to Logan’s chest and let the first roll of deep pleasure ripple through my body. It’s different but not in a bad way.

  “Feels?” Atticus asks

  “Is it hurting?” Logan seeks more clarification, his dark brow furrowed with uncertainty.

  “Yes, but, god, it feels good. More…more, please.” He beams, his smile softening and chasing away any fragment of worry.

  “I can do more.” I hear the tension in Atticus’s voice and I let out a chuckle that causes them both to draw in a sharp breath. Clearly, laughing involves more than just my tummy muscles. He eases inside me, and with each inch, I swear I feel it in every single nerve ending throughout my body. I’ve never felt so full, stretched…alive.

  We all take a precious moment when Atticus is fully inside me. I never thought I would be here, not only with the two men I love fully in my life, but actually taking both of them inside of me. They are fucking enormous. I want to pat myself on the back, but this isn’t the time.

  “God, you’re amazing!” Atticus exhales the words, kissing me along my shoulder up to my ears, punctuating the words.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Logan says, and there’s the moment gone. I blurt out a short laugh, and we all freeze.

  “Fuck!” Logan and Atticus moan, and I pant; the urge to laugh died with the shooting pain that came with the last outburst of humour.

  “Okay, no laughing,” Atticus says even as I feel the smile on his lips press against my skin.

  “Yeah, laughing bad,” Logan agrees on a choked breath.

  “Well, how about no jokes then,” I manage between careful breaths.

  “No jokes. Got it.” His eyes crinkle with the warmest smile, and I tilt so I can see Atticus. His expression is pretty much identical.

  “Love you,” I say and make sure I keep eye contact with each one in turn when I say the words. “But I swear, if you don’t let me come, I’m going to laugh like a drain in a monsoon just for the shiggles.” They don’t respond, not verbally at least. Logan pushes his hips and starts a rhythmic motion that makes my eyes roll to the heavens and sets a fire blazing across my skin. His cock surges inside, and I sink down, relishing every inch, Atticus only moves in a gentle rocking motion, barely moving at all, but damn, I feel every bit of him so deep, it’s like he’s touching my soul. His hand squeezes my arse cheek and the other hand has my breast. We writhe together like a sexy slick machine, hands, lips devouring, worshipping and consuming each other like we are one.

  I gasp when my climax ignites deep inside with a mere spark and only a glimpse of the intensity of things to come. My eyes must be like saucers, and my whole body starts to shake. I grip Logan’s shoulder and brace as thunder begins to roll through my body. My other hand flies to Atticus’s thigh, and like the one on Logan’s chest, my nails dig into the taut flesh.

  “Oh shit!” I cry out.

  “It’s all right, baby, just go with it. We’ve got you.” I don’t know who says this, the noise of blood rushing is deafening. My deep panting breaths and my pounding heart drown out any other sound.

  “I don’t think you have.” I shake my head at the enormity of what’s about to hit my body, which takes over, and a tsunami breaks from deep inside at the base of my spine and floods every fibre, every cell and synapse. And it doesn’t stop; it just keeps hammering through me, wave after wave, obliterating my helpless body with insurmountable pleasure. Lightning, stars, explosions to light the night sky fill my vision, and I have no idea if Logan and Atticus are with me. I hope so because I’m not sure I’ll ever recover enough to do this again. I think I cry out, maybe to a god I finally believe in or maybe just to shout out a quick thank you before I pass out, because that’s exactly what happens…I pass out.

  My ears pop and wake me up. I’m hot because I’m a tangled mess of limbs, and it only takes a shameless moment to vividly recall where I am.

  “Hey there, sleepyhead.” I peer up through my lashes at Logan looking down at me. I feel the shift in the bed behind me, and Atticus appears over my shoulder.

  “Thought for a moment we’d have to get an ambulance to meet us at McCarran Airport.” Logan taps my nose.

  “What happened?”

  “You passed out when you came,” Atticus says with barely hidden pride in his voice.

  “Really? Shit, sorry.”

  “Why the fuck are you sorry?” Logan laughs, his smile the widest I’ve ever seen.

  These two look like they’ve just won Mr Universe. Actually, perhaps their pride is totally justified. After all, they did collectively make their wife have the best orgasm of her life.

  “Well, I mean I’m sorry if I left you hanging.” My apology is rightly sheepish.

  “You didn’t, you came so hard you kind of took us with you, whether we were ready or not. It was intense.” Logan’s voice is filled with awe. It’s cute.

  “It really was. Sorry I missed the ending.” I snicker.

  “No need to be sorry, princess, you may have missed that one, but we have a lifetime of happy endings we can’t wait to give you.” Atticus slides a little closer and Logan moves to fill the space before me. He exchanges one more of those glances I may never
get used to, but when Atticus speaks, I know I’m not ever going to complain about them either.

  “In fact I think we have time before we land to give you one that you will hopefully remember.”

  The End

  A huge thank you Shannon Boltin, my wonderful PA, Nicole, Nese, Caroline, Alison, and Sarah who tirelessly promote and pimp me to all and sundry and I know Facebook doesn’t make it easy.I am and will be forever in your debt because I literally would not be visible in the ocean of Indie authors if it wasn’t for you ladies.

  My Beta readers, Jane Kennedy, Sarah Tandy ( you get another mention here :) ), and Katie Fezer-Sedan thank you so much for your invaluable input into making Twisted Little Games what it has turned out to be…hopefully good. My Core Street Team, Caroline, Sarah, Alison, Jenny, Nese, Nicole and also Gaynor, Lisa, Charlotte, Susan, Kellee, Mandy, Belle and Lynne..But really all my team, my new members…I love you ladies…you totally rock!

  My ever expanding review team and I’m not going to name you because Amazon will hunt you down and remove all your hard and valuable work…but you know who you are and I FLOVE you.

  Saya my wonderful editor for pulling me up and making me get the detail right and realistic—invaluable!, and Maggie Truelove, my speed proofreader…words fail me…I am so grateful for your grammar ocd…I can’t even. Stacey at Champagne formats I just hope I got this clean before it came to you…I can’t count how many time my work needs …just a tweak ;) and Judi at CLP for my glorious cover…You ladies are the foundation.

  My Divas…most of you I’ve already mentioned and I know I’m taking my life in my hands giving this an extra section but, Patty, Karen, Leanne and Steffy <3

  Bloggers: Claire, Steph, Vicki and Vivienne at Romance Readers Retreat, Jo Booklover, Jesey at Schmexy Girl, Michelle, Yaya, Tammy and Grace Afterdark Book lovers, Mel and Gayle Bloggers from Down Under, Tanya and Sharon from mom’s Secret Book Blog, Rachel and Jo from Hourglass…, Gitte and Jenny from Totally Booked and Jo and Kylie at Give Me Books I am super grateful to you guys. Other authors…because this is a community in every sense and I have drawn inspiration and guidance from many many talented people but here’s a few and in no particular order…Jana Aston, T.M Frazier, Pam Godwin, Alice Raine, always Jodi Ellen Malpas, M Never, Stylo Fantome, JL Perry, Kitty French, Donna Alam, LP Lovell, Stevie Cole, Leslie Jones, Skye Warren, Mandi Beck, CJ Roberts, Audrey Carlan, Aleatha Romig, Jana Aston, and JA Huss…Don’t get me wrong most of these people wouldn’t know me if I sat on their face but they have affected me in a positive way and for that I am thankful.

  I would also like to thank my bestie..Kymme because in all honestly there would be no books if it wasn’t for her, for all the swag making for the signings…I’m gonna take you to Vegas if I ever get asked lol… I love you to the moon and back.

  My family…again are quietly supportive…proud I think and certainly happy about the money!

  But mostly, I’d like to thank you, for choosing to buy my book and taking the time to read it—a huge, I mean really huge, thank you, you will never know how incredibly grateful and honoured I am that you have and I would be even more so if you are kind enough to leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.Please…please…oh and please :)

  The People who make it all happen.

  Dee Palmer—Author

  Website—www.deepalmerwriter.com

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  The Choices Trilogy

  Never a Choice

  Always a Choice

  The Only Choice

  Never a Choice 1.5—A Choices Novella

  Ethan’s Fall

  Disgrace

  Disgraceful

  Grace

  Wanted

  Dee Palmer lives just outside of London with her husband and (slightly embarrassed) children. Her passion is writing sexy steamy romance stories that will scorch the pages right off your kindle and are guaranteed to make your heart pound. She loves an HEA but isn’t afraid to put her readers through the ringer before she delivers.

  When not at her desk she can be found either fannying around on Facebook or with her nose stuck in her Kindle. Once in a while when the lights are down she might be spotted about town searching for the best French martinis and throwing some dubious shapes on the dance floor.

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  Bethany’s story starts right here with Never a Choice

  Four Years Ago

  “I FUCKING HATE you!” I scream it so loud, I can feel rawness burn in my throat, but there is no sound. Not even a whimper escapes my silent body, as the sorrow I feel in my heart rips me apart.

  “She’s crying. Are you sure she isn’t in any pain?” My mother’s voice sounds as pathetic as the pitiful expression on her immaculately made-up face. Like she fucking cares. She’s married to a monster, and she is just as guilty to stand by his side now as they both decide to commit me to Hell.

  “Oh, Lady d’Aubeney, I can assure you she doesn’t feel a thing.” The pallid weasel of a doctor’s smile creeps across his face, as he takes the opportunity to comfort my mother with a carefully placed hand on her shoulder, fake concern crinkling his eyes.

  But he is so fucking wrong because that is all I feel pain–fucking brutal pain.

  “Her tears then-”

  “Just a side effect of the sedation,” he interrupts, drops his contact, and walks to my side. I mentally flinch at his nearness, but my body is lifeless. I so want my mind to join it. “It’s for the best. This way we can keep her safe and more importantly keep everyone else safe too. I can’t imagine what would make a young lady with such a privileged, supportive family steal a child.” He fiddles with the clear tubing attached to my arm, but I squeeze my eyes tight, as his lies slice through me. Lies…Fucking lies and he believes them.

  “Yes.” My father’s detached voice still manages to freeze my soul, despite the drugs coursing through my veins, numbing my nerves. “She has been a disappointment, but we have hope that with time she will be able to come home one day. Although given her little outburst….” He absently rubs the red marks at his neck. Tiny spots where my fingernails managed to scrape the skin before the needle ended my rage and I slumped to the floor. “We have an understanding doctor, which is why we brought her here to your private facility. I want to make myself clear. She doesn’t leave this place without my permission…yes?” His tone is resolute, as my mother dabs at her eyes that even I can see are dry.

  “Of course, Lord d’Aubeney, you don’t need to concern yourself with her now. We will keep her sedated for the foreseeable future and will await your instruction. We pride ourselves on our ability to give a very special, discrete service to our clients. Trust me, your daughter, Artemis, will be quite happy here.”

  “Well, you certainly won’t hear her complain.” My father’s deep chuckle turns my stomach, and I am incredulous when the doctor joins in the laughter. Yes, this is one big fucking joke.

  I close my eyes once more. I don’t want to see them or hear them, and I don’t want to feel the desolation of my life now, when only two days ago was bliss. It wasn’t just happiness, it was utter ecstasy.

  I can see them as clear as if they were in this sterile capsule I am lying in. A burst of vibrant colour against a clinical background of four white walls. They brim with life and are overflowing with love. Cal and our beautiful baby girl, Pip.

  I turn sharply and my smile hurts as it stretches across my face when Pip squeals with a fit of giggles. Peek-a-boo, the simple game that
keeps our baby girl entertained on the long car journey. Her tiny pudgy arms flail, her floppy wrists shaking her hands wildly. It’s the best game ever. I laugh out loud and turn to look at the most beautiful man on the planet. His jet black hair flops in spikes, which he absently drags out of his eyes. His jaw is all hard angles, his cheek bone high. He has thick dark brows, indecently long lashes and soft full lips but his eyes…I sigh. They’re something ethereal; dark green with hazel gold slashes in the iris that draw you in and hold you captive. I didn’t stand a chance, but I didn’t want to. My heart warms, though not from the sunlight streaming on through the front wind screen, burning up the worn plastic of the dashboard, but from the knowledge that he is mine. He loves me and our baby, and he didn’t run when I’d told him I was pregnant. I was just sixteen, though he was a little older. Twenty-one at the time and already more of a man than my father would ever be. He glances over at me and his soft lips curl into a faint smile, but his eyes don’t wrinkle with the same emotion. At the time, I thought it was tiredness from the drive I was unable to share. Concentrating on the road for eight hours with only the briefest of toilet breaks would make anyone tired and distracted.