She bit her bottom lip, rather than pulling away.
“You’re not wearing anything under your dress.” Wyatt’s tone held a blend of scolding and desire.
Fiona smirked. “Nope.”
Wyatt glanced at Parker. “Too bad none of this goes on camera.”
“I’ve got my memories.” Parker laughed the comment off, but it lingered. Wyatt was right; Parker missed the carefree side of this. But he wanted it with Fiona, and he was tired of playing by the competition rules.
It was a means to an end, though.
Fuck it. Like the other footage he had, just because this existed didn’t mean anyone else had to see it. He spun the camera toward Fiona and Wyatt. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing.” Fiona swatted Wyatt’s hand away.
Wyatt twisted and grabbed her wrist, eliciting a surprised squeak. He raised her fingers to his mouth and sucked on one, lavishing attention on it. Fiona’s lips parted, and her eyelids fluttered half-closed, a quiet sigh escaping when Wyatt let her go.
“Absolutely nothing,” Wyatt agreed.
The most teasing, sensual sort of nothing.
Parker’s erection strained against his jeans. It was different, watching it through the viewfinder of a camera. “You’ve got me torn. I don’t know if I’d rather capture this or be a part of it.”
They were walking at a snail’s pace now, and the few other pedestrians brushed past them in irritation. Parker didn’t care. He was focused on more important things.
Fiona’s smile was mischievous. “There’s an easy solution.”
“There is?” Besides getting back to the hotel as quickly as possible and setting up his tripod? Because he didn’t have the patience for that.
She nodded. “I’ll capture it, and you participate.” She stepped close to press her frame against his, her hip digging into his cock. Her breath was hot on his skin. She snagged his camera and twirled away. “Now you can join in.”
Parker opened his mouth to argue, but Wyatt kissed him before he could speak. It was a hard, hungry crush of mouths. Fiona’s delighted giggle matched Parker’s groan, and—fuck—how did this feel so good?
Wyatt pulled back to meet his gaze, and the air between them threatened to ignite. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Wyatt asked.
Parker wasn’t sure. “That if we keep doing this on the street, things will get indecent real fast?”
“Eh... I was thinking I want a copy of everything that’s recorded tonight. But clothes coming off is involved, so I’d say we’re on the same page.”
“Parker has work to do. Videos to produce.” Fiona’s tone was difficult to read.
Wyatt shrugged. “So let’s finish this tour. I’ll keep narrating.”
It was going to be near impossible to think, since all the blood had rushed from Parker’s head, but he could point the lens at things. Fiona handed his camera back, and they resumed their stroll.
“That restaurant over there doesn’t look like much on the outside, but it’s nice inside. Four stars, easily.” Wyatt gestured at a brick-faced building on the other side of the street. “Crystal wine glasses, cotton tablecloths—the works.”
“Classy.” Fiona sounded impressed.
“Perfect for feeling someone up underneath.”
Parker rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. He wasn’t going to be able to use any of the sound from these clips, and he was fine with that. “You know from experience?”
“Nah.” Wyatt shook his head. “But I’ve always wanted to find out, if you’re volunteering.”
“Pout,” Fiona said.
“What’s wrong?” Parker suspected it was nothing serious, from the way her lips were quirked up.
She forced her lower lip out. “I’m not sure if I’d rather be the volunteer, or watch the two of you.”
“Fuck, I love the way your mind works.” Wyatt’s voice was gravelly.
Parker agreed with both of their statements. The rest of the walk was filled with Wyatt’s wish list of places he figured were good for getting off. The trip was both too long and over too soon.
They stepped onto the elevator together. “Keep recording,” Wyatt said as he pressed the button for his floor.
Parker did, watching both real life and the tiny screen in front of him, as Wyatt teased his hand under Fiona’s skirt again, making her squirm.
The few seconds it took to reach their destination left Parker so hard it ached. It was an odd sensation. A step between participant and voyeur, intimate and public at the same time.
They reached Wyatt’s room. Parker hung back to capture the scene. It was like watching a film, but still being so close he could reach out and touch.
“Stay.” Wyatt settled his hands on Fiona’s hips and positioned her in the middle of the room.
“Yes, Sir.” Her response was breathy.
Wyatt slid her zipper down, teeth pulling apart one at a time, to expose her pale back. He slid his fingers under the straps and tugged them off her shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the ground in a circle around her feet. “You really aren’t wearing anything else.”
“I wouldn’t make up something like that. How cruel,” she said teasingly.
Parker moved as they did, to keep a good view. He was tempted to stroke himself through his jeans.
Wyatt looked her over, standing close but not making contact. “I was so wrong.”
“About what?” Fiona asked.
“About how stunning you are naked. I thought I knew, but I wasn’t even close.” He rested his palm on her neck, then glided it down her shoulder and over her breast, pausing to caresses and elicit a moan before dropping his hand away.
Fiona raised her eyebrows. “Are we going to just stare at me all night?”
Wyatt threaded his fingers in her hair and tugged, drawing a sharp gasp.
Fiona stared at him, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Her lips were flushed, and her chest heaved with each breath.
“You promised to trust me.” Wyatt’s voice had shifted to forceful and commanding.
She flicked her tongue over her bottom lip. “I do.”
In the bedroom. Parker would leave it implied. That was what everyone meant, and no way was he ruining this.
“Good girl.” Wyatt slid his fingers between her legs. “Fuck, I love how wet you get.”
“I’ve...” Whatever she meant to say faded into a groan. Wyatt stroked and teased. Parker knelt next to them—to see Wyatt’s fingers slide inside her, then back up to stroke her clit.
Fiona rocked her hips in time to the attention, swaying on her feet. Her groans grew louder. That familiar noise that meant she was close to orgasm made Parker’s dick twitch, wondering why it was still caged.
She cried out when she came, grinding into Wyatt’s fingers until the sweet sounds she made faded into panting breaths.
Wyatt knotted his fingers in her hair again and crushed his mouth to hers. How was this so arousing to see? Parker itched to set down the camera and join in, but he also liked drawing out the anticipation.
Wyatt released Fiona, then moved behind her. He stripped off his shirt, folded it diagonally, and rolled it twice, before fitting it over her eyes and tying it in place. He grasped her fingers. “Follow me. Slowly. I won’t let you trip.”
“All right.” She let him lead her to the edge of the bed.
“Kneel on all fours on the bed. Hands at the edge of the mattress,” Wyatt ordered.
Fiona did, and he shifted her a few inches, looking satisfied when he finished. He stepped back and looked at Parker. Wyatt pressed a finger to his lips, indicating they should be quiet.
Time ticked away, the silence growing heavy in the room. If this was tough on Parker, how did Fiona feel?
It was delicious.
“Hello?” she asked, her voice tiny.
“No talking.” Wyatt slapped her ass, leaving a pink mark.
Fiona gasped.
The sharp sound left a ringing in Parker’s ears
after it faded.
When Wyatt reached around to hit Stop on the camera, it startled Parker. He’d almost forgotten he was part of this. Wyatt took the device away, set it aside, and pressed his body to Parker’s. “I want to see you fuck her face,” he whispered, as he slid down Parker’s zipper. His fingers around Parker’s cock were electric. With the buildup, it almost made Parker come.
Any doubts Parker had about this affair vanished in a haze of anticipation.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
FIONA RECOGNIZED PARKER’S scent. His rough grip as he tugged her hair and pushed her down. And his taste when he thrust in her mouth. He hit the back of her throat with the head of his cock, and she had to focus, to keep from gagging.
She could stop this if she wanted. There was no doubt in her mind. But having her sight gone and being on display between these two was a new kind of high, and she wasn’t ready to come down.
Parker drove against her face. It was familiar and foreign at the same time, with these new restrictions in place. She wanted to reach between her legs and finger herself, but his intense pounding meant she needed both hands to keep herself upright.
Something nudged her opening. Wyatt. When he slid inside her, she groaned against Parker’s shaft. Wyatt’s movements were slower. More controlled. The mismatched pace set her brain off kilter.
Wyatt found her swollen clit and stroked gently. It was almost too much against the still-tender nub, but he kept his touch light. Being caught in the middle, being used and attended to at the same time, pushed her to the edge of climax, but Wyatt eased off each time she was right there. It was incredible and terrifying, how in-tune he was with her.
When he finally let her come, she wanted to scream. It was nearly impossible to do with Parker in her mouth.
Wyatt eased up on her sex but increased his pace. She clenched around him, riding the edge between too much and not enough. He gripped her hips hard, and she recognized his grunts. The staccato sound of him drawing close. Of his orgasm. The frantic pounding that accompanied it.
Parker slid from her mouth, startling her, and a spurt of warm and sticky cum hit her face.
Wyatt slowed to a stop but didn’t pull out. He yanked her head back and pressed his chest to her back. “Do you want one more?”
She wasn’t sure her legs would hold her up. She also couldn’t find her voice, to answer.
“Later, then.” Wyatt kissed down her spine, then slid out of her. He helped her to shift and sit on the mattress.
Her limbs were heavy, refusing to move, and a heady buzz hummed in her skull. Fiona couldn’t think. She wanted to wrap herself in this cloud and stay for a while.
The blindfold fell away. Despite the gentle lighting, she blinked several times as her eyes adjusted.
“I think your shirt is ruined.” Parker handed it to Wyatt.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Parker kissed Fiona’s fingertips. “Be right back.” He returned a moment later with a washcloth, and was tender as he washed away the physical evidence of the evening. He left and returned a second time, and handed her his shirt.
She pulled it over her head, sinking into his familiar scent and the soft fabric. Her every nerve ending was supercharged. Each sensation was amplified.
They drifted into friendly conversation, but she had a hard time focusing. She recognized enough to be happy Parker and Wyatt were getting along. They watched a movie, but she couldn’t climb out of her own head.
Sitting with Wyatt behind her and Parker next to her felt so right. She wasn’t supposed to trust Wyatt—she knew that—but she’d never felt safer. Wyatt’s breath on the back of her neck and Parker’s fingers tangled with hers were more comforting than she thought possible.
Fiona was supposed to be using this as a chance to get Wyatt out of her system, but she couldn’t. The realization was terrifying. She wanted them both—Parker and Wyatt. Shouldn’t have to choose. There was no desire for a random third person or experimenting with strangers.
She didn’t see any way that this desire ended well. For any of them.
WYATT WAS DRAGGED TOWARD consciousness by Fiona’s whimpers. His half-awake mind registered the terror in the sound, but he couldn’t claw past sleep to investigate.
He hovered on that edge, as the mattress shifted. He forced himself awake at the sound of the balcony door sliding open and closing again, and opened his eyes to see Fiona silhouetted by the moonlight. Parker’s shirt hung past her ass, leaving her barely decent.
A pang of concern spiked inside, as he put together the pieces of what woke him. He climbed from the bed.
“Don’t go out there.” Parker’s voice startled him.
Irritation grew inside, and Wyatt turned to him. “She was crying in her sleep.”
The only light in the room was what filtered in from outside and under the door. It let him see Parker scrub his face and sit with his back against the headboard. “She does that a lot,” Parker said.
“What?” Wyatt’s annoyance tilted toward anger.
“First several times, I joined her,” Parker said. He sounded tired, and not just because it was the middle of the night. This was more of an exhausted-soul type of sound. “She’s asked me to leave her alone until she’s ready to talk.”
Wyatt didn’t like the sound of the request. Of leaving her alone when she was upset. “Is that smart?”
“It’s what Fiona says she needs. I believe her, and it’s not my place to tell her otherwise.”
And that was one of the big differences between Parker and himself. Wyatt would push until he was certain she was taken care of. He didn’t like his flash of doubt, asking if he was the one in the right.
“It was getting better, but the last three nights...” Parker trailed off.
Which meant it started on the night of the bombing. “I’m sorry.” He pulled a chair out from the desk and sat facing Parker. It was odd, talking with both of them in their underwear and nothing else, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. “So you sit up until she comes back in?”
“She gives me space while I live stream. Keeps quiet when I do interviews. Arranges her work schedule to let me see a new city every few days. The least I can do in return is wait up until she’s ready to be around people again, when she gets stuck in nightmares about what happened with Tim.”
Wyatt’s envy mixed with anger. He tried to ball it up into a less potent cocktail, but it singed his thoughts. “I’ve given you a lot of shit about your relationship with Fiona, but the two of you are lucky.” He meant it to be a throw-away comment, but the reality of it pressed in on him.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
Wyatt didn’t want to dive into any conversation with depth. Didn’t want to form any sort of bond with Parker. “How’d you get into Queensrÿche?”
Parker let out a long sigh. “I had a high school teach who was a fan. Introduced me to storytelling through mediums outside of books.”
“And from there, it was a hop, skip, and jump to video blogging?”
“Lucky guess.” Parker’s chuckle sounded forced. “How do you do that?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Coax personal information from me without revealing anything about yourself.”
“Fiona sees through me.” Wyatt suppressed a cringe at the non-answer and the truth behind it.
“And I rarely see the world through her eyes. I get it—you’re in sales. It’s your job to milk the client. But who are you?”
Wow, that was a loaded question. Wyatt swallowed back the impulse that was always there. The one that insisted the answer was, whoever you need me to be, until I get what I want and move on. “Are you sure she’s all right?”
“Nice redirect.” A hint of disgust lined Parker’s reply. “If you don’t think I’m watching her closely, you’re not paying attention.”
“You really love her.” The air conditioner kicked on, the hum threading with Wyatt’s voice and buzzing in his ears.
�
��You knew that. Supposedly before I did. How did you turn this back on me? That’s a neat trick.”
“One you know. I’ve seen you employ it in your videos. Besides, you’ve caught more glimpses of me than most people ever do. What do you want to know?”
Parker scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over, which put him only a few inches away. “Why the cathedral?”
“I like the artwork.” Wyatt had the canned response without having to think.
Parker raised an eyebrow. “No stories about a tortured past in a private school?”
No, to any of the above. “Everybody’s looking for something to believe in. I’m no different. I used to go there when I was trying to find my faith. I was raised Catholic, but the only dark and dreary thing to come from that is I don’t have a fetish for school-girl uniforms.”
“And you’re diverting the conversation again.”
So much for staying away from the serious stuff. “My faith wasn’t there or anywhere else I looked, and I accepted it. Now I like it for the art and the reminder of that revelation.”
“So you do have a deep side.” Fiona’s voice startled him.
Parker must have seen her come in. How much did she hear?
How much did Wyatt want her to hear? He twisted to face her. “Surprised?”
“Only that you let it show,” Parker said, at the same time Fiona replied, “No.”
He liked both answers.
“Your phone’s been going nuts for about ten minutes.” Fiona nodded at the device where it sat on the dresser. “The light reflects on the glass each time it goes off.”
Wyatt would deal with it in a moment. A short one, since anything worth calling him about at two-thirty in the morning had to be critical, but this was more so. “Are you all right?”
She sat next to Parker and pulled his arm around her. “I will be. See what’s so important.”
As Wyatt scrolled through several text messages from work, then listened to the voicemail, the probing conversation faded away in a fog of worry and disgust.
Red Consumed Page 9