by Taryn Quinn
Tristan nudged her forward, altering the angle of Matt’s entrance enough to give himself a prime view of Matt tunneling inside her. He could see everything. How wetness dripped down her thighs, how Matt’s shaft seemed to be engulfed by her swollen, slick folds.
And when Tristan forced his focus to their faces, how both looked as if they were teetering on the edge of bliss.
He wanted to share that bliss. No more waiting. He couldn’t.
Using his other hand, Tristan coaxed a finger inside her, making room beside Matt’s cock. They both shuddered as he started to rub, building the friction. Her inner walls clamped around them as Matt reached down to thumb her clit. He barely touched her before she went off, her pussy contracting in powerful waves that seemed to last forever. Her cries reverberated in Tristan’s head while he withdrew his finger and licked off her juice.
“You’re going to give him more of that, aren’t you?” Tris rasped. “Make him nice and wet so he comes inside you while I’m in your ass.”
Her helpless whimpers intensified when Tris slipped his fingers free of her rosette and slid his tongue inside her instead, trickling saliva and thrusting with enough suddenness to make her jerk back against him. More of her arousal trailed down her legs, glistening in the faint overhead light.
“You’re ready,” he said, hefting the rigid weight of his erection, “and so am I.”
After adding more lube, he inched the head of his cock inside her hole, expecting her to shriek and curl into Matthew. Back there she took tight to a whole new dimension. He would hurt her, and he couldn’t avoid it. He just hoped she wouldn’t hate that she’d agreed to this once they were through, because he’d want to take her ass again for damn sure.
Soon.
But she didn’t make a peep. When she clutched a pillow, Matt reached out to weave his fingers in with hers, murmuring softly as he withstood what had to be a bruising grip. Almost immediately the tight ring of muscle around Tristan’s dick eased, just enough for him to proceed.
Tristan smiled. They were so damn cute together. Something he’d marvel over later.
Much later.
Then Caity’s body clutched at him, and his attention blinked out. Tris forged on, as gently as possible. Her spine arched in silent suppliance.
God, she was so beautiful. Just right in every way.
And now she belonged to them.
Carefully, Tris pushed in and stopped, moved forward, then stopped again. He gripped the soft mounds of her ass and tipped his hips, sliding all the way in on a hot rush of breath.
Dammit. Fucking heaven.
Tris steadied himself while trying not to notice Matt’s thick cock on the other side of the thin membrane that separated them or the slippery flesh that clung to the ridges of his dick.
“All right, sweetheart?” Tris murmured, rubbing her lower back.
“She’s fine. Aren’t you?” Matt kissed her forehead and shifted, easing out before sliding home again. Sensation rippled along Tristan’s dick, and he rolled his neck forward to let it wash over him. “Show him how fine you are, Cait.”
She lifted her head from Matt’s chest and glanced back. For an instant, Tristan thought he glimpsed the glitter of tears. He stiffened, prepared to pull out. Hurting her wasn’t acceptable. Not enough to make her cry.
But she started to ride, haltingly at first, then with growing confidence.
“Move,” she gasped over her shoulder, her tousled blonde hair falling across her face.
He moved.
Buffeted between the men, she seized hold of Matt’s biceps and thrust her ass in the air. Matt pulled out, and Tristan sank in. Fuck, she took them deep, deeper.
All three of them groaned as they found their rhythm, alternating their strokes and experimenting with speed and pressure. Tristan knew he was driving her too hard, that he’d likely leave bruises on her hips as he jerked her back and forth. But if he cocked his head just right, he could see the way Matt plunged into her slick pussy, and he sure as hell could feel every excruciating inch of Matt’s hard-on.
Every grind and slide. Each warning pulse that meant their fun wouldn’t last long.
Though it was pointless, Tris tried to slow things down. He lengthened his plunges, timed them to offer a respite between. But when Caity’s body bowed as her climax claimed her and dragged Matt along for the ride, Tristan gave in. With their mingled cries filling his head, he gave one last wild thrust and flew over the edge with them.
“Yes, yes, fuck, yes.”
Panting, he let the orgasm take him over as he spilled himself into the condom. Hearing his lovers’ moan again as he came only made the moment more sweet.
Nothing had ever, ever been sweeter.
As the residual jolts subsided, Tristan slumped against Caity’s back. He knew he was too heavy, but he couldn’t move just yet.
“Just a sec,” he mumbled. “Promise.”
Caity fumbled behind her for his hand. “’Kay.” After a moment, she added, “You know, that shaving thing. Not such a bad idea. Feel…everything.”
Matt and Tristan chuckled at her dazed, awed tone. “Glad it works for you,” Matt said, rubbing his nose against her cheek until she let out a soft giggle.
Tangled together, they sprawled over every inch of the bed. Tristan brushed his cheek over Caity’s damp back and breathed her in, enjoying her and Matt’s combined scents. The smell of sex filled the air, mixed with peach and the wintergreen of Matt’s aftershave.
A perfect trio.
Smiling, Tris loosely linked his fingers with Matt’s. Then came a soft sniffle.
Tris lifted his head. “Caity?” he asked, stroking the curve of her hip. “Are you crying?”
“No.” She sniffled more and turned her face into Matt’s chest. Matt met Tristan’s gaze over her head and shrugged.
“What’s wrong, short stuff?” Matt asked, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“Nothing. Fine. Afterglow.”
“Right.” Matt shook his head. “I cry after coming all the time.”
“Did I hurt you?” Tristan glanced down at her ass and frowned at the bright red handprints. He brushed his fingers over them in apology. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got rough. Didn’t mean to.”
“I’m okay. It didn’t hurt. Much.”
They shifted apart and quickly cleaned up before Matt and Tristan aligned on either side of her and boxed her in with their arms and their kisses. They’d get it out of her, whatever it was.
“Gonna tell us?” Matt asked, cradling her hip in his palm while his lips roamed her cheek.
“No. It’s stupid.”
“Tell us.” Tristan nuzzled her neck and hoped to God he hadn’t hurt her, despite her assertions otherwise. She was so small, so easy to bruise.
“I won’t do this every time,” she said, seeming to calm for a moment before the floodgates opened and tears raced down her cheeks.
Again Matt looked at him. Chick thing? he mouthed.
When her sobs began to slow, Tristan nudged her onto her back between them. “We don’t have to do that again, if you don’t want. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Ever. I promise.”
“I liked it, a lot. I came, didn’t I? A couple of times. And God, so hard. All of it was beyond incredible.” Her shudder gratified Tristan, and he could tell from Matt’s grin he felt similarly. “It wasn’t the sex. Or it was,” she said, wiping her tears away with obvious frustration. “It just hit me all at once when you were both inside me. What we were doing. What we are now to each other. How I won’t ever be alone again.”
“Oh, Caity—”
She shook her head, cutting Tristan off. Her quivering chin pierced an arrow in his already sore chest. “I love you,” she whispered to him.
“I love you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“And you,” she said, shifting to stare up at Matt.
“I love you,” he replied without any of his usual bravado.
Ca
ity looked between them, her eyes narrowing. “And?”
Tristan glanced at Matt, who was already looking at him. “And what?”
She rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. “Isn’t there something else you want to say? To each other?”
Catching her drift, Tristan swallowed and met his best friend’s gaze. “We’re good.”
Matt nodded rapidly. “Yeah. Fine. We’re really fine.”
She screwed up her mouth and laid a hand on each of their chests. Yep, they were done for. There could be no escaping her clutches.
“Say it. It’s not enough to know. Some words don’t hold weight. But in this case, they matter.”
Tristan knew she was right. If someone asked if he loved Matt, he immediately knew the answer. Of course. But turning to Matt, and saying aloud I love you seemed like overkill. They each knew where the other stood—
“I love you, you jerk,” Matt blurted as both Tristan and Caity glanced at him in shock. “Now get over here.”
Tristan was grinning before their mouths connected. A skim of lips, a hint of teeth, a whole lot of heat. As they slipped apart, he murmured, “I love you, Matt.”
Matt grinned back, and then together, they glanced at Caity. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” She laughed and gave each of them a quick kiss before darting out of bed. Her steps faltered, and she looked back, biting her lip. “Oops. Sorta forgot I’m sore.”
“Where are you going? We can run you a bath—” But she was gone before Tristan finished.
“Women,” Matt said as he flopped down on the mattress.
Tristan caught his breath at the memory of her retreating naked body and adjusted his newly revived cock. He lifted his brows at Matt, who looked similarly interested.
“Think she’ll be up for some swapping action later? I’d love to take my turn back there. Her ass is delectable.”
“You’re telling me? Think I know that better than anyone.”
“I want to know too. Like…really. A lot.” Matt smacked his lips together. In another moment, he’d be drooling. “Wonder what I can say to convince her?”
“Lick her. That tongue could convince anybody about anything.”
“Yeah, you do have a point. My tongue’s a legend in its own time.”
“Heard that,” Caity said, sailing back into the room with her big black tote bag in hand.
“Which part?”
“Most of it. Pervs.” But she looked far from dismayed. In fact a sexy smile curved her lips. “Let me rest up before you plan the rest of the night, ’kay, studs?”
Matt grinned and elbowed Tristan. “Oh hell yeah, I’m so getting that ass.”
With an arch look at her men, she dropped the bag on the bed. Then she hauled out a small ancient boombox and a tiny Christmas tree draped in a few strands of lights. What the hell?
“Uh, Christmas was weeks ago, Cait,” Matt said. “You forget that?”
While they stared, she plugged in both items and set them up on the nightstand. Twinkling bulbs soon flashed multicolored beams of light across the bed. “Perfect,” she said, flicking on the small white star at the top.
She crawled back in between them and slung an arm around each of their necks as “The Chipmunk Song” filled the room.
Inspired choice.
“I bought her the CD,” Matt explained, chuckling. “Had sentimental value for me and all.”
Tristan shook his head. Only Matt would show his softer side by purchasing the music that had been playing while they’d discussed their first time having threesome sex.
“Our Christmas kinda sucked, what with all the drama,” Caity said, drawing their attention. “All the ‘will I or won’t I’s,’ all the family nonsense.” She planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. “Now it really feels like Christmas.”
“Yeah, guess it does,” Tristan agreed, resting his hand just beneath the curve of her breast. In a minute, that breast would be in his mouth.
“Cute tree,” Matt acknowledged, sliding closer to nibble on her ear.
“I told Matt about your idea for us to have kids.” She said the words in a rush, her face upturned toward Tristan’s. “Just so you know it’s out there.”
Tristan widened his fingers over her belly and let himself imagine, just for a moment. Then he smiled. “Good.” He cast a glance at Matt. “Didn’t freak?”
“Nah. It makes sense.” Matt lifted a shoulder and returned his smile. “It’s good to have a plan, right?”
Every time Tristan thought he couldn’t love them any more, they went and said—or did—the most amazing things. “Sure is,” Tristan agreed softly.
“Now that that’s out of the way…” Caity stretched her arms above her head and gave them a wicked grin. “Who wants to give me their special gift first?”
If you enjoyed this, you might want to try JINGLE BALL by Cari Quinn. Wendy, Des, and Cole spice up their holiday party with a very happy ending.
Turn the page for a bonus read!
Jingle Ball
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Jingle Ball
© 2012 Cari Quinn
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First electronic edition: November 2012
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Chapter 1
Wendy Stanton picked up a length of multi-colored garland and sighed. Red, blue and green garland wasn’t classy enough for Martin & Warner Real Estate’s annual Jingle Ball. The event was the biggest schmoozer they held all year and lots of rich, important guests would attend. They’d already decided the color scheme would be silver and blue, so the decoration she’d picked up on a whim would just have to go.
She wrapped the garland around her neck and turned toward the full wall of glass behind her boss Des’s desk. She thrust out a hip and grabbed a long, narrow notepad, using it as a microphone. Then she rocked out, dirty Christmas style. She didn’t remember the lyrics to the song on the radio so she fudged them, making them up as she went along. Her husky voice wouldn’t win any awards, but she vamped it up, pushing a hand behind her head and wiggling her butt.
Behind her, someone cleared their throat. Wendy spun around and dropped the notebook, her eyes going wide at her boss lounging in the doorway. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his snug, faded jeans, and he wore a gray silk shirt and striped tie that offset his golden skin.
And he was smirking.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert, Ms. Stanton.” His voice was as warm and rich as the java he walked over to dispense from his personal coffeemaker. He preferred an expensive Costa Rican blend, the best of the best. Just as he preferred top of the line in everything in his life, from clothes, to office space, to girlfriends. She still wondered how she’d slunk into his office almost a year ago when his secretary had quit on short notice.
Des desperate was a mouth-watering sight to behold.
Fine, he was mouth-watering regardless. He had the kind of spiky dark hair that always stuck up in all directions and his eyes were a bright blue-green she’d only ever seen in the waters of the Caribbean. And his body?
Not. Going. There.
“Song’s over,” she said with a shrug, picking up the notebook she’d dropped. Feigning calm around him wasn’t anything new,
considering she’d had a crush on him pretty much since the first moment she’d stepped into his swanky office. He’d asked her what she considered her strongest skill and she’d been tempted to say sucking cock, just to see if she’d get a chance at his.
Instead she’d gone with the safe answer of her one hundred words per minute typing speed.
That she’d inquired about the job advertised in the window wearing a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, with her hair held back by an assortment of bobby pins and paper clips—hey, she’d been out grocery shopping before she’d wandered past the office—hadn’t ruined her chances as she’d feared. He’d called to hire her the next day.
They’d had a cordial, utterly frustrating relationship since.
“So it is. But as it’s a radio station,” Des gestured with his coffee cup at the sleek wall unit currently playing another Christmas classic, “they keep playing them. Keep singing.”
If she was anyone else, she’d probably hurry to obey the command in his tone. Though they were both barely thirty, Des and his best friend Cole Warner had one of the most successful real estate businesses in Eugene, New York, a decent-sized city just outside the one that never slept. They’d climbed far and fast, and that meant they weren’t strangers to making demands and ensuring they were met.
She suspected that was true in the bedroom too. Not that she knew firsthand. Both men were nothing but professional to their secretaries. Unfortunately.
It wasn’t as if she could tell Des she wasn’t a lawsuit waiting to happen. Nor was she trying to climb the corporate ladder, unless it led straight up to the eye-popping bulge in his pants. But that was just her fantasies talking. She wasn’t that girl.
Those jewel-like blue-green eyes stared her down, and like a fool, she began to sing into the notebook. She had to look ridiculous with her garland and her steno microphone, but he leaned back against the wall and watched her, seemingly riveted.