They skated well together. She’d done a bit of figure skating when she was young. He was all about hockey skating. But somehow they suited, he with his arms about her, she skating backward much of the night. She felt secure in his arms, giving herself over to his control and the sweet enchantment of the night. When she shivered, chilled, he took his muffler and wrapped it around her, then used it to secure her for a kiss.
After, they had a light postskate dinner and he’d driven her home. He walked her up the steps, and she turned to face him at the door.
One look and she knew that effort was too paltry to stop him.
“I want you to invite me in,” he said, all implacable. “I want you to introduce me to your brother.”
He’d been in the lab one night when she and Matt and Jack were leaving to meet Rich and Carlie for pizza and a movie. He knew that she wasn’t hiding her relationship with Matt and Jack from her brother.
He wanted her to acknowledge him that way, too.
She sighed. Then she bowed to the inevitable and took Daniel’s hand and pulled him in.
Rich and Carlie were at the dining room table—a mess of dishes from dinner pushed aside to make way for their books. They had end of semester exams, too.
They got up to greet her with hugs. Rich’s eyes widened when she introduced Daniel.
That one had managed to take his coat off as though he was staying, and still, keep a hand on her back.
“I’ve heard of you,” Rich said, reaching out a hand to shake. “Matt and Jack, uh—”
“Yeah,” Daniel took over, all grin and charm. “They admire me and are a little afraid of me. Just the correct approach to one’s mentor.”
He shook hands with Carlie as well. She was a young, bright, and pretty woman. Daniel’s eyes didn’t linger, and Caroline wanted to kick herself for noticing.
When all that was over, Daniel handed her his coat, an obvious challenge in his eyes. She suppressed another sigh, took the coat, and motioned him to the sofa in the living room. “Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll make hot chocolate. Would you like it with amaretto or peppermint schnapps?”
He raised a brow, and she knew she’d made a faux pas. Too girly. “Or Irish whiskey?”
He nodded at that, though she was pretty sure he was tempted to tell her to forget the chocolate and go with straight whiskey.
She offered some to Rich and Carlie as well, but they hastily cleared their dishes and then took their laptops and books into Rich’s room. Rich caught her eye before he disappeared, a question in his expression that she couldn’t answer. He paused, then came back and met her in the kitchen for another hug.
They stood with their arms around each other for a long moment. They were each other’s family, and they watched out for each other.
He tugged her hair, looking into her eyes with concern. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
She grimaced, not quite a smile. “Not entirely.”
“Do Matt and Jack know?”
Caroline buried her head in her brother’s shoulder, seeking both comfort and escape. Matt and Jack had come to the apartment together to talk with Rich. It had happened that first week after they’d formed their three-way relationship.
Rich was important to her, they’d insisted, a part of her daily life. She wasn’t going to be able to hide from him that she was involved with two men. And they didn’t want to lie to him or even mislead him.
So they’d “manned up,” as they phrased it, and told Rich the truth.
They told him that they both loved Caroline and were both committed to her. That the three of them were going to be together. They didn’t ask Rich’s permission but gave him the respect of telling him the truth.
She’d heard about it after from Rich rather than from either Jack or Matt. She understood the concept—Matt and Jack would consider it man business, their responsibility to take care of.
She’d grumbled to Rich that she was surprised there’d been no negotiation of the number of blankets and ponies to be offered in trade.
Rich hadn’t hidden his concern. It helped that he’d known and liked Matt, and he respected the pair of them for coming to him. But it was hard to think of “giving” his sister to two men.
She leaned into Rich now, wanting to rely on his strength. This wouldn’t be easy for him. Daniel was older, with that mantle of power.
“Yes,” she said. “They know.”
“They’re okay with it? You’re okay with it, Caroline? Three men?”
“Jack and Matt really like Daniel, Rich. They admire him a lot. And we’re thinking of it, yes.”
“You’re thinking of letting three men—”
“Share.” It might sound bad, but it was better than another word Rich could use.
“Share you? Really, Caroline?”
“It’s what’s happened, Rich. I didn’t plan it. None of us did. They’re three friends, great friends. And they—love me. And I love them.”
He raised a brow, giving her a long look and shaking his head. Finally, he gave in with a heavy sigh. “’Kay then. I’ve got your back.”
They both smiled. It was their traditional response when one of them was taking a chance, going out on a limb for some risky goal.
“Love you.”
“Back at you.”
He walked away, and so Caroline had nothing to do but pick up the two mugs of chocolate and face the particular music that awaited her in the living room.
Daniel stood when she approached, watching her with that sharp intelligence.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded but was really too close to tears to speak. She handed him his cocoa, and they clinked mugs before sipping.
“Good,” he said, but he seemed more attentive to the way she licked chocolate off her lower lip than to his drink. Watching her hotly, he waited for her to take another sip before he took her mug along with his and set them both down on the coffee table.
He faced her then and wrapped his arms around to lift her against him. He sat back on the couch, bringing her down with him so she straddled his lap.
“Caroline,” he said, and he put a world of desire and determination into it. He slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders and then cupped her head. Gently, resolutely, he pulled her down to his mouth.
Lord, the man could kiss. He took her softly, then hard. He used his lips, tenderly, just touching, and then his tongue and teeth, roughly, deeply.
He kept one hand holding her head, securing his access to her mouth. He moved the other over her, stroking her back, her thigh, then cupping her breast.
He rocked up between her legs, letting her feel the rising of his cock, and stimulating a responding, inviting release of moisture in her pussy.
He groaned, and she answered him. He flexed into her, and she countered, arching into his hands and against his body.
He whispered her name in hoarse sighs, and she did the same with his.
After long, intense minutes of it, he sat her up a bit. He kept his hands on her hips, steadying her for that little rocking motion they had going, pelvis to pelvis. Then he moved his fingers to the edges of her sweater. He lifted it up enough to see a little skin.
“I don’t get to fuck you,” he said. “But they didn’t say I couldn’t look. Raise your arms.”
She did, and he peeled the sweater and her undershirt off over her head. He put his hands on her waist, and she shuddered at the strong, hot touch. He looked her up and down, admiring her breasts, enjoying, she was sure, the way they lifted with her rapid breaths, filling the lacey cups of her bra.
His hands at her waist drew her down, rubbing her pussy more firmly against him. For balance, she braced her hands on the couch above his shoulders. But she couldn’t resist his strength, when he slid his hands further up her back, pulling her forward until he brought one breast to his mouth. He opened and took her in.
She fell into incredible heat, unrelenting suction. Caroline cried out as exquis
ite pleasure shot through her. She arched, pressing herself into his mouth, giving herself. Her pelvis flexed, rubbing her clit against the solid mass of his erection. He encouraged her, settling one hand on her ass to assist in her efforts. He roughly broke suction from her breast, briefly looking up at her, meeting her gaze with harsh breaths. Then he grasped her bra strap, jerking it down her arm. The lacy cup went with it, chafing along her breast, catching at the inflamed nipple until, with one more tug, she sprang free.
“Oh, God,” Daniel breathed, his voice uneven. He looked at her breast, there right in front of him, until, with a greedy moan, he took her. Hungrily, his mouth closed over her, drawing her into his heat.
She was gone then, rubbing against him, pleasuring herself. Somehow her bra was completely off, and he nuzzled and sucked at both breasts, using one hand to tug and squeeze at her nipples. He slid his other hand along the center seam of her jeans, digging his fingers in right at her anus, stimulating there and urging her along where her clit rubbed his cock.
“Daniel.” It was a whisper, a plea, and a question.
“Keep going, baby,” he answered. “Sweetheart. Don’t stop.”
Each breath was a moan now, her face grimacing in need. She was going to come, whether this was right or not, and he sounded like he was close, too. He’d started lifting off the couch, thrusting against her hard.
His fingers pressed into her, chafing her bottom with the denim of her jeans, using his strength to urge her on. To master her. He groaned, nearly out of control. “Hold your tits to my mouth.”
The words came out in urgent command.
She opened her eyes briefly, saw that he’d let go of her breast to reach into his back pocket. She kept herself braced with one hand on the back of the couch and used the other to lift one breast to his mouth. He took her greedily again, and she watched as he retrieved a white handkerchief and worked it down the front of his jeans.
He kept his hand there, kept up that hot torture of her nipple with his mouth, and used his hand on her ass to steady her as he jerked against her.
At the last moment he lost contact with her breast, throwing his head back against the couch so he could see her as she fell apart. Those blue eyes darkened with his intent as he drove her over. She arched back, tossing her head as the overwhelming orgasm took her over, acutely aware of how he watched her. She knew her movement placed her breasts right before him, put them on display for him.
She loved it, reveled in it, as she heard him groan and curse. He wanted to watch her, she knew, wanted to stay in control, keep her in his power, as he made her come. But he lost it, burying his face in her breasts, still cursing and grunting as he suckled and nipped at her. He rutted hard up against her, letting loose a long, shuddering growl as he climaxed.
Their bodies crashed against each other, spasming, convulsing. He wrapped both arms hard around her, and she circled arms around his head, holding him to her breast. They huffed out long, harsh breaths as they rocked together, slowly coming down.
She felt barely conscious when his words reached her brain, and she was sure she’d missed the first of them.
“Not done,” he ground out. “I’m not done with you.”
She wanted nothing more than to collapse against him—well, to stay collapsed against him. But she felt him gather himself, lifting her up.
In a blur of movement, he laid her down on the couch. He knelt between her legs, looking down at her.
His gaze was still hot, like he hadn’t just brought them both to a wicked orgasm.
He wanted more and, clearly, would have it.
Losing eye contact for only a moment, he lifted his sweater off over his head. Underneath he wore a silk tee. It was a soft-cream color and clung to him like a second skin. The short sleeves stretched over the bulk of his muscled arms. It outlined his torso, the contour of his pecs, even the six-pack ripple of his abs visible beneath.
Oh, my. Her body heated just looking at him. She wasn’t going to be the one to stop him from having his way with her.
Still keeping her in his hot gaze, he reached inside his jeans, adjusted himself in some lingering way that appeared to turn them both on, then brought his hand out. He had the used handkerchief in it, which he tossed carelessly to the floor.
He looked her over some more. Her breasts, just a bit cool, rose up for him, her nipples tautening at his attention.
He grunted in admiration.
With no more notice than that, he tucked his fingers into her jeans right at the center, and tugged her toward him. He was crouched then, right between her thighs, spreading them with his own muscular legs.
He unfastened her jeans and opened the zipper. He ruffled his fingers over the lace of her thong in quick appreciation, then tugged at her jeans. More eager than she thought might be ladylike, Caroline lifted her hips to help. With just a moment of wriggling, she was out of them.
She could tell he liked her thong. It was white lace, letting him have peeks of her bare pussy underneath. She could see he’d left his cock angling up toward his waist, and it stirred now.
A bit regretfully, she thought, he ran his fingers under the lace and slid them away.
Then it was her naked pussy that held his attention.
After a good long look, he lifted her hips a little and nudged up so he had his knees under her ass as he sat back on his heels.
“Lift up,” he bade. “Show yourself to me.”
Caroline’s breath shuddered once, in and out.
He watched her quietly, expectantly.
She gathered herself and, with a little hum of breath, lifted her hips up.
She was there, her pussy nearly at his face, entirely open to him.
“That’s good, sweetheart.” He helped a little, palms under her ass, and brought her closer. “You’re very pretty down here.”
He touched his lips gently to her clit, then nuzzled.
Even that soft touch was almost enough to distract her from her awkward, vulnerable feeling of exposure. She whimpered a little, self-conscious, but nonetheless eager.
“Slide your left leg over the back of the couch.”
She drew in a deep breath and did as he instructed, shifting some of her weight onto the sofa.
She’d hardly settled before he took her. His mouth roamed over her. He tongued her clit, circling over and then drawing her in with urgent suction. Then lower, he thrust his tongue inside, fucking her with it.
Caroline moaned, already hot, already rocking to meet his thrusts. It was an erotic blend of helpless submission and staggering stimulation, suppressing any instinct to resist, to guard herself.
He took her weight in one hand and used the other one to add stimulation. He thrust two fingers deeply into her, working her pussy while he suckled and tongued her clit.
“Pinch your nipples for me,” he instructed. She could barely hear him, barely process his words over the rush in her head. “Hard,” he said. “I want to see.”
He nudged her a little, using her name to get her attention. “Caroline. Do what I tell you.”
His skill at her clit almost had her gone already. She shook her head to clear it then followed his instructions. She took a nipple between thumb and finger of both hands. Then she tugged and pinched, working them harder when he urged her to.
Playing with herself under his direction, while he watched, was amazingly hot. It wasn’t like touching herself so much as it was his hands, his fingers doing the stimulation. As she knew he would do, as she knew he wanted, she pinched harder.
“Good girl,” he said roughly, taking her harder with tongue and fingers.
Then one more thing and he sent her over. Keeping his two fingers up her cunt, he put his thumb right at her anus. With steady, unrelenting pressure, he pushed in.
“No,” she said, moving her hips in a way that both begged for more and sought escape. But he did something different with his tongue and then it was all about finding more, seeking that blessed relief.
<
br /> She rocked into him, splaying herself open for more of his tongue and meeting the thrust of his hand, taking in more of his fingers and that wicked thumb.
“Daniel,” she cried.
“Yes, baby,” he urged. “Let go.”
And she did. She covered her face with a pillow, pressing down with both hands so she could bellow her come into it without advertising it to the rest of the household—or the entire building. Her whole body arched, spasming, jerking into that hot stimulation he kept generating, not giving way, not letting her rest until she was spent, beyond able to respond.
Finally, when her keening cries faded to weak whimpers, he let her down. He eased alongside her, removing his own shirt so, when he cradled her, she was bare skin to his hot flesh.
Sheltered there, all warmth and safety, she slept.
* * * *
Daniel still wasn’t done.
He held her, his woman now, fucked into a coma.
Pretty damn good for having kept his dick in his pants.
Yeah, but it was his dick that wasn’t done. No way could he watch her fall apart like that, her body buffeted by that rocking orgasm, and not have his dick screaming for relief.
He felt pretty comfortable that he was abiding by the spirit of his agreement with Matt and Jack. He’d put nothing inside her but his fingers, and he’d already gone there when they’d made their pact.
Well, okay, his tongue, too, but he hardly considered that crossing the line. He was pretty sure they’d be satisfied that he hadn’t exactly fucked her. He knew he was walking that ridiculous, semantic, president-and-intern precipice, but, hell.
He needed her.
He needed her so badly, he’d tucked a handkerchief—a monogrammed gift from his mother, dug out from deep in his underwear drawer that it was—into his back pocket before he’d left the house.
He’d known he’d have use for it. And damned if he didn’t wish he’d brought two.
He turned a little, looking over his shoulder to where he’d tossed it. Crumpled and soiled as it was, he thought it had a little life left in it. At least one small dry spot.
Three Men and a Woman: Caroline (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 16