by Ophelia Bell
When Ignazio invited her back in, Pomona was relieved to note the distinct lack of tension between the two men.
“Those are the faces I like to see,” she said, smiling at them both as she set their desserts down and sat in her own seat. “So, everything’s back to normal?”
“Close enough,” Bryer said. “Especially now that you’re here.”
Pomona laughed. “You mean now that your dessert is here. I am not the food, guys. We’ve established that.”
Bryer’s eyes twinkled and he opened his mouth to say something that she was sure would be on the verge of lewd. Then he just shook his head and took a bite instead. His eyebrows drew together and he looked down at his dish.
“Mmm, what is this? It’s fucking amazing.”
“No shit,” Ignazio said. “I believe I have a new favorite.”
“It’s bread pudding, actually, and isn’t strictly new, just new to you.”
“Do you ever cook the same thing twice?” Bryer asked.
“I’ve repeated meals, but I’m still trying to figure out which ones are your favorites.”
“You repeat breakfasts and lunches. I don’t think I’ve seen the same thing twice for a dinner or dessert yet,” Bryer said.
She shrugged, amused by the way Ignazio seemed fully engrossed in savoring each bite of his dessert.
“I have no problem with the variety,” he said.
“This one’s an old favorite, actually,” she told him. “Mom’s recipe … one of a small collection of comfort food recipes I keep and make when I’m feeling down. It seemed like you guys needed something like this.”
“Comfort food?” Bry asked.
“Yeah, don’t you have comfort food? The kind of thing your mom makes you when you’re sick or stuck in the house during bad weather—like grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.”
Bryer smiled and nodded, leaning over his dish and taking another, slower bite. “My mother would cook us dragon spice soup. What other recipes do you have like this? Have you cooked any of them for us?”
“No, this is the first one, but I can’t divulge all my secrets at once. You’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Such a tease,” Ignazio said.
Everything seemed right again as the three of them sat, enjoying dessert. The tension was gone between her men.
Not your men, Pomona. It was so easy to think of them that way, after all the evenings spent sitting right here talking to them. They were her friends, her employers, nothing more, but she’d never felt closer to them than at that moment.
“How do you think Nessa would have handled your problem?” she asked, suddenly curious. She knew the two of them loved their regular chef and were close to her.
Ig and Bry looked at each other across the table, thinking, then Ignazio said, “She probably would have just told us to get our shit together and left it at that. Nessa has very little patience for drama.”
Bryer chuckled as he scraped his bowl clean and licked his spoon. “You have definitely spoiled us.”
She gaped at him. “You think I’m a pushover?”
Nessa hadn’t struck her as a battle-axe—the woman clearly seemed to have a soft spot for these two men. But then, Nessa probably saw them as her brothers.
Pomona wished she could get to that point—in spite of the wisecracks and humor that persisted whenever any reference to her first night came up, she still harbored a deep longing for more of their attention, one that had only grown over the weeks since her arrival.
“Not a pushover at all,” Ignazio said, sitting up straighter.
“Just very easy to love,” Bryer said.
She hesitated as she reached for her empty dish and rose to clear theirs.
Easy to love … His words echoed in her ears and her body grew hyperconscious of the two men.
“You mean it’s easy to love my food, of course.”
Bryer’s blue gaze seemed to heat. When she reached for Ignazio’s dish, his solid, strong frame in the chair felt too close.
“We mean you,” Ignazio said.
“You know what we need before we do,” Bryer said. “Nessa’s good, but she was never that good.”
“Tonight wouldn’t have happened without you,” Ignazio said. “We’d have kept avoiding each other until it was too late.”
She nodded and moved around the table to pick up Bryer’s dish.
“That’s what friends are for,” she said, giving Bryer a smile. “You guys are easy to love, too.” She swallowed and offered a tiny shrug as she reached for Bryer’s dish.
Bryer wrapped his fingers around her wrist and held her, keeping her from picking up the bowl.
“I don’t think you grasp how much this means to us,” he said, squeezing her arm gently.
Pomona looked at him, suddenly feeling small in relation to his huge frame. Even seated, he was still as tall as she was while standing. He didn’t release her, and when their eyes met, she saw a look of deep, desperate longing in them.
“You’re not Nessa,” Bryer said softly. “You’re so much more.”
22
A helpless sense of falling hit Pomona as Bryer tugged her closer. She lost balance and sank against his chest. He took the dishes out of her hands and set them on the table again, then slid his arms around her. Her off-balance sensation grew worse as he moved a hand up her back and cupped the nape of her neck.
Her entire world teetered on its axis, the small amount of emotional control she’d mustered over the weeks disappearing as his mouth found hers and his tongue parted her lips.
This was nothing like that first night when their carnal desire had burned away her resistance in a flash of sudden heat. Bryer’s only touch was his lips to hers and his arms holding her against him, but everything was in that kiss—all his raw, deep need for connection. It wasn’t blinding, searing heat, but a slow, languid, comforting warmth. It was gratitude and desire and reverence. It didn’t demand—it only gave.
Pomona whimpered softly as the last dregs of her emotional shackles fell away and she gave into the want. Even though she’d eaten well tonight, she felt starved after having just a taste of what Bryer offered—and the kiss meant everything. Everything she desired, but never dared to hope for—the connection she’d long believed didn’t exist for her, so she focused on her career rather than wasting her time wanting something she could never have.
Their kiss continued, a slow, almost rhythmic pull of lips and tongue, an ebb and flow of rising desire. When a pair of hands rested on her thighs, she broke away, breathless and dazed, but not surprised to see Ignazio crouching beside Bryer’s chair and gazing at her with the same look of longing his friend had given her.
Ignazio reached to her, cupping her face in his strong hands and pulling her in. His lips were hot and silken soft, and he tasted of the sweetly spicy dessert he’d just eaten. Ignazio’s kiss was every bit as filled with deep, attentive emotion, as though he needed to prove something to her, but didn’t have the words to say it. And what were they trying to say with these soul-awakening kisses?
It didn’t matter, because every molecule in her body wanted it—too much for the fading glimmers of logic and self-preservation to have any hold over her. She wanted this … she wanted them … and fuck, wasn’t that as confusing as the rest of it? It wasn’t just Bryer with his sharp sense of humor and tragic desperation to be whole again, nor was it Ignazio and his loyal drive to put his friend’s needs first. The two of them together made her feel whole.
Ignazio’s thumbs brushed her cheeks as his lips tangled with hers. She felt Bryer’s hands slide up her back and tug at the twin chopsticks she had speared through her hair to keep it up while she cooked. Her locks fell down around her shoulders in a fragrant cascade of golden waves, and Bryer threaded his fingers through the strands at the back of her head.
Ignazio released her, Bryer wrapped her in his arms again, where she sank against his chest and kissed him. Ignazio’s hands were at her feet, pulling off t
he comfortable flats she wore to cook in. His fingertips tickled up the backs of her bare calves, but didn’t go farther than the hem of her simple shirt-dress, a garment she’d chosen because it was both comfortable and flattering to her full figure.
She had her eyes closed while Bryer kissed her, one hand at her hip and the other resting on her shoulder, his thumb gently caressing the side of her throat. Then his mouth moved lower, lips brushing along her jaw and down. She felt a tug of buttons and opened her eyes, meeting Ignazio’s where he still crouched before her.
He smiled. “I promise not to destroy your clothes.”
“You have more willpower than I do,” Bryer murmured against her neck. When the button-front of her dress fell open, his index finger erupted into a sharp, blue talon that hooked beneath the band of her bra, neatly slicing through it in one sweep.
Pomona didn’t have the presence of mind to protest when he cupped one exposed breast and bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth. She squirmed in pleasure, her senses even more heightened by the low groan Bryer let out when her hip pressed against the rigid shaft of his erection inside his pants.
His erection …
Her awareness of his arousal drew every wild and wayward intention she might have into sharp focus.
“You’re hard for me,” she said, shifting again in just the right way to rub against him.
“Are you surprised?” Bryer asked. “You drive me wild.” He looked at her, pausing his caresses when their eyes met. His gaze was intent, his brow twitching just enough for her to know he wondered whether she knew.
She smiled and nodded. “Surprised, yes. But happy.” Shifting over slightly, she put her hand against his hard bulge and squeezed.
“Fuck,” Bryer breathed, letting his head fall back. He dug his fingers into her hip, squeezing her thigh with his other hand. Eyes glazed, he said. “You don’t have to … Let us make you feel good again.”
“It’s all about you, baby,” Ignazio said. “We want to show you how much we appreciate you.” He tugged at the fabric tie that held the waist of her dress closed, then proceeded to finish unbuttoning the dress. He pushed it open, exposing her thighs and soft belly.
As distracting as Ignazio’s caresses were, she didn’t want to stop touching Bryer. His cock felt like a rod of molten need, and the suggestion of its thick length beneath her hand made her core ache to feel him inside her. She wanted to at least see it.
Bryer let out a rough groan when she squeezed the thick head through the barrier of his pants and pulled her into a hard, hungry kiss. She moaned into his mouth, and her breath hitched when his fingers teased up the inside of her bare thigh and brushed across the front of her panties. His hand pressed against her lower abdomen, sliding beneath her waistband and dipping into her sodden folds.
“Fuck, you’re wet. Let us taste you.”
Ignazio’s fingers hooked into the elastic band at her hips and tugged. She raised up, allowing him to pull her panties off, grateful for his consideration, though she hadn’t cared at all when Bryer destroyed her bra moments ago.
“Only if I can taste you, this time,” she said, her words punctuated by a harsh gasp when Bryer pushed two fingers inside her.
She wanted more. She tilted her hips into his thrusting fingers as Ignazio pushed her knees wider for his friend. Ignazio leaned in to kiss her again, his hands cupping her heavy breasts and brushing his thumbs back and forth over her nipples in maddeningly soft strokes.
She kept moving her hand along Bryer’s cock, marveling at the size and aching to feel his hot skin against her palm. If the pleasure was all about her, that was what she wanted … to touch him, caress him, ride him.
Her fingertips caught on the button of his pants and she grasped it, tugging until it came undone. Then she found the tab of his zipper. Her knuckles brushed against hot, silken flesh as the zipper came down.
Pomona’s pulse raced, her body growing hotter with the promise of that hard length of flesh coming free of its confines. She looked down between them, licking her lips and swallowing as she wrapped her hand around his massive girth and pulled him out.
“Oh, fuck. You’re beautiful,” she said.
“Can’t get it up, huh?” Ignazio asked and Pomona shot a confused look at him. Had Ignazio known, too? He must have, considering he was looking at Bryer now with one eyebrow arched.
“I don’t … fucking know …” Bryer gasped. “Didn’t lie, though.”
Ignazio chuckled and looked at Pomona. “I guess you’re a miracle-worker, hot stuff. You get him as hard as you get me.” He lowered a hand to his groin and squeezed, the look of ecstasy on his face making Pomona’s mouth go dry.
“Let me see you,” she blurted, hungry for more than just their touch.
Ignazio tore off his shirt and opened his fly, sitting back on his heels as he pulled his cock free. She kept stroking Bryer, her pussy tightening around his fingers at the sight of another glorious cock and what she’d love to do with them both, if given her way.
“Is this what you want a taste of?” Ignazio asked, thumbing the underside of his cock and squeezing his head until a clear drop of moisture gathered. He captured the droplet on his thumb and leaned forward, pressing his thumb to her lower lip.
Pomona opened her mouth and took him in, sliding her tongue around the tip of his thumb to taste his gift. The delicious flavor was a shock … he was sweet and spicy, just the way he smelled.
“You like the way I taste?” Ignazio asked, his gaze hot on her face. “You want more of me?”
She nodded, still sucking on his thumb. Then said, “yes” when he pulled free of her lips and swirled the wet digit around her nipple.
“And what about his cock? Mr. Can’t Get It Up sure looks like he’s ready to fuck. You want to fuck his cock while you suck mine?”
A frisson of pure pleasure rippled through Pomona’s body and she closed her eyes, moaning as she nodded. “God, yes.”
Bryer’s fingers slipped out of her and he squeezed her thigh. She glanced at him and saw a worried frown on his face. “Are you sure?”
“More than sure,” she said, confused by the question. “Unless … you don’t want me.”
His eyes blazed defiantly. “I more than want you, Pomona. But both of us … we go down this road, you wind up double-teamed by two hungry dragons more than the men who control them. Our primal natures are at the surface when we have sex, every bit as much as they are when we’re in the arena. When we’re in the middle of it, we don’t stop until we’re spent.”
“You won’t hurt me, will you? Those talons …”
Ignazio touched her chin and she looked at him. “We control the physical aspect. He’s talking about the souls of the dragons inside us. When we’re in sync with a woman, the dragons’ desires wind up taking precedence. But make no mistake, I want you … more than you know.”
“And your dragons …?” Pomona asked, a little breathless at the prospect of what they were suggesting.
“My dragon can’t wait to be inside you,” Bryer said, pushing his hips up into her grip.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as he pulled her into a kiss that proved to her he wasn’t lying. When he released her, Ignazio was standing in front of her, bending down to kiss her again, too. He pulled back and slipped out of his pants, then pushed her dress the rest of the way off, leaving her completely naked on Bryer’s lap.
There was an odd reverence to Ignazio’s touch when he took her hand and urged her to stand. Behind her, Bryer stood and undressed. She turned to watch, hungrily taking in every inch of his body, lingering on the now more faded scars that had been such angry red marks that first night she’d seen them. She traced her fingers over them, drawing jagged lines from the middle of his ribcage all the way down to the top of his thigh. One of the trio of marks came alarmingly close to his cock.
“The poison interfered with … ah … this for a long time,” Bryer said, wrapping his fist around his length.
�
�I know. I’m glad you’re better,” she said.
“Thanks to you.” He cupped her cheek and bent to kiss her. A moment later, Ignazio’s hands were at her waist, turning her.
“This is only the start, hot stuff,” he said, sitting down in the chair he’d positioned, leaning back. He held his cock in one hand and her hand in his other, pulling her closer. “Now, bend over and let Bry see that pretty pussy of yours.”
23
Bryer’s mouth watered at the sight of Pomona’s ass as she bent over. His craving for her felt boundless, his dragon roaring for him to take her hard. He warred with it, struggling to maintain control. It wanted her marked, claimed … but now was too soon. If he succeeded in fucking her, then he’d confess everything to her and to Ignazio right here, and hope she agreed when he asked her if he could make her his for good.
But he wasn’t there yet, and he still didn’t trust his body. He needed to know for certain that his cock could do its job. He’d gotten so many hard-ons in her presence that he’d stopped trusting it when none of them managed to pay off afterward when he tried to take matters into his own hands.
His erection throbbed almost painfully when he rested his hands on the ample mounds of her ass and squeezed. He parted her cheeks and brushed his thumb down her cleft, remembering how responsive she was that first night when he and Ignazio had taken turns fingering her ass until she’d fallen apart with pleasure.
Pomona shuddered and looked over her shoulder, her hands braced on Ignazio’s thighs. Her shining golden waves fell to the side, providing him with a perfect view of the creamy skin of her back, marred only by a tiny tattoo of a red pepper on one shoulder. The the low lights of the dining room cast a shadow that enhanced the curve of her spine, drawing his gaze down to the shining opening that beckoned him.
“Please fuck me, Bry,” she said. “I need you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Let me take it slow to start, all right? My dragon wants you so damn bad. It’s better this way.”