His cock head breached her, her wet heat encompassing him inch by inch. She was so damn tight, her pussy clenching around him, that he had to strangle the urge to come. Once he had his cock entrenched, he nodded to Keegan, not sure he could speak, he was gritting his teeth so hard.
Keegan didn’t need to be told what to do. He closed the distance between them, spread her cheeks and worked his cock inside her ass. Keegan didn’t go slow. He took what he wanted, making Jules scream with pleasure.
This time, they fucked her hard and fast. No finesse, no stopping them.
He wanted to get her off fast and intense and then he wanted to blow his load. She barely registered as a weight in his arms, only as a pressure around his cock.
His balls tightened and he knew he was close.
Behind her, Keegan kept his own pace and the dueling sensations were enough to light her up.
This time when she came, she flooded him with her juices, pulling her along with him until his cum joined hers. Just as he pulsed one last time, Keegan pulled out, shooting his cum over her ass then rubbing his cock between her cheeks until the last drop had been spilled.
Hanging limply between them, Jules let out a deep breath then laid her head on his shoulder, her lips brushing against his ruined cheek.
He considered it progress that he didn’t flinch away.
And he wondered if he’d be able to let her walk away.
Keegan sucked in a couple of deep breaths, made sure he had his legs under him then reached out to take Jules’ limp body from Erik.
Erik held on to her, sliding an arm around her legs and holding her against his chest. Keegan’s brows raised and, over her head, Erik scowled at him. The guy looked almost embarrassed as he carried her to the other side of the room.
Setting her on her feet, he wrapped her in a towel then gave her another to dry her hair. Jules gave Erik a sated, sexy smile as she sat on the vanity stool. Erik moved to the side but not too far away and Keegan wanted to pump a fist in the air.
Maybe now Erik would make his way back to the world of the living. He’d been hiding long enough. Too long.
As Keegan grabbed a towel to dry off, he saw Erik do the same just before he excused himself and headed into the other room.
“When was he scarred?”
Keegan barely heard Jules’ question, pitched low enough that Erik couldn’t hear her from the other room.
He crossed the room to lean against the counter. She deserved the answers Erik would never give her.
“Two years ago. Someone sabotaged our lab. He wasn’t supposed to be there that night. The explosion knocked him out. The fire spread fast and he was trapped. But he made it out.”
Her eyes glowed with compassion, not pity. “Has he been afraid to go out since then?”
“He’s only recently taken to working in the lab again. The scars were worse at first, and sometimes I think he doesn’t realize how much they’ve faded over the past year. Sometimes—”
“You talk too fucking much.”
Erik stood in the doorway to the bathroom, a furious look on his face.
Damn it. He’d probably heard everything and would be pissed as hell that Keegan had opened his mouth.
“Erik—”
“Do you always speak to your best friend like that?” Jules cut in, standing between the two of them. “Is that how you’ve isolated yourself, here, in this house? You use words to cut off everyone else, don’t you? Push them away. Make them think you’re a prick.”
“How do you know I’m not? I did pay you to fuck me and my so-called friend, after all.”
They were back to this shit again. God damn Erik. This time Keegan was going to break the bastard’s jaw for disrespecting her this way.
Erik was expecting him to do exactly that. He didn’t put up a hand to stop him. And neither did Jules.
Keegan’s fist connected with Erik’s jaw. He hadn’t pulled his punch and Erik’s head whipped to the side, nearly taking his entire body with it.
Sonofabitch. That fucking hurt. The bastard’s jaw was still hard as a rock. Just like his head.
As Keegan cradled his hand to his chest, Jules stepped up next to him, her arms crossed.
“Feel better now?” she asked.
Erik shook his head, as if settling his brain back in the right spot, then rubbed a hand over the bruise Keegan could see developing.
“Yeah, actually, I do.” Erik raised a brow at Keegan. “Do you? I know you’ve wanted to do that for months now.”
Keegan grimaced. Yes, what he’d said was true but… “I won’t allow you to be a bastard to her.”
Erik immediately turned to Jules and bowed, looking slightly ridiculous with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “My most sincere apologies, Julianne. And my most sincere thanks. I would’ve never gotten him to take that swing if it hadn’t been in defense of you.”
Keegan’s mouth dropped open before he slammed it shut. The bastard. “Why the hell didn’t you just ask me to take a swing at you?”
“Because you wouldn’t have done it.”
He was right. No way would Keegan have ever hurt him, not after what he’d been through.
Keegan was still shaking his head when Jules rose from the stool and placed herself between them. “I think it’s time I went home.”
“No.”
He and Erik spoke in unison and her mouth curved into a beautiful smile. The woman truly could make a dead man come, as the Stones had said so perfectly.
“Yes, it is. My mom and I have plans for tomorrow… Well, I guess I should say for today. It is Christmas Eve.”
Neither he nor Erik had a comeback for that one. They hadn’t really planned for the holiday. Erik’s housekeeper had set up the tree in the living room. Keegan hadn’t even bothered with one at his place.
He’d figured he’d spend Christmas Eve at the office then have dinner with Erik. Erik’s mother always had them over for Christmas Day dinner because Keegan’s family were all still in Ireland. Of course, neither of them really looked forward to that dismally formal affair and Keegan had actually considered feigning a migraine just so he wouldn’t have to go. But he never would’ve left Erik to go alone. Angelica Riley really didn’t live up to her name.
Erik and Keegan exchanged a glance, but neither of them had a good reason for her to stay.
Except that they wanted her to.
Keegan had it on the tip of his tongue to offer her a meal before she left, but Erik stepped forward.
“Thank you for coming tonight, Julianne. I’ll get your clothes.”
***
From the window, they watched her drive away in her twelve-year-old Honda Civic. Rust was eating away at the body, the right tail light was out and the engine sounded like a herd of braying donkeys being massacred.
“That damn car is a death trap.” Erik’s jaw felt so tight, he was afraid it would break. “Make damn sure she cashes that fucking check. If she doesn’t, I’m going to deposit the money in her bank account personally.”
“She’ll cash it. She can’t afford not to.” Keegan sighed. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”
No, Keegan had known this was a bad idea from the moment Erik had proposed it. Erik just hadn’t wanted to listen. He’d been so damn sure this was the only way he could get what he wanted and get her to take the money.
So why did he feel like a Grade-A ass now?
“We’ll never see her again.”
Another brilliant observation. “When did you turn into Eeyore?”
“When did you lose your humanity?”
“Fuck you.” Shit, even he could hear the words had no bite. “You’ve been watching too many soap operas. Melodrama isn’t your strong suit.”
Keegan turned to him with a narrowed gaze. “And bitchiness isn’t yours.”
Erik’s mouth screwed into a grimace. “She’s gone. Time to move on.”
“Neither of us wants to and you know it.”
E
rik admitted, if only to himself, that Keegan had a point. And that he might have fucked up what could have been a very good thing. He wanted to go after her, bring her back to the bedroom.
“So what do you suggest?”
Keegan just stared out the window.
“Let me think about it.”
***
Her hair still damp, Julianne drove away.
Five-hundred-thousand dollars richer and fighting the urge to turn around every other second.
It was stupid, really. Thinking the three of them had made a connection in any way other than just sex. Neither man had tried to stop her when she left. That in itself should tell her all she needed to know.
And yet…
She didn’t think she’d seen the last of Erik and Keegan.
She started to smile.
About Stephanie Julian
Stephanie Julian writes stories with alpha males—kinky hotel owners, geeky scientists, werewolves, berserkers, elves, Yeti and Bigfoot. Definitely not your average heroes. She blends hot sex, lush fantasy and gut-clenching emotion. There’s a little something for everyone in her list, whether you like contemporary, paranormal, romantic suspense or a combination of all of the above. She’s a Browncoat, a Whovian and a Trekker, and her captains are Mal, Jack and Kirk (either incarnation). She believes vampires do NOT sparkle, Bigfoot is real and the truth is out there because Giorgio says it is. A good night always includes a good book. And a good hockey game.
Other Books by Stephanie Julian
See more of Stephanie Julian’s books at www.StephanieJulian.com
I
The heavy bass guitar line that rumbled from the auditorium’s loud speakers caused Lindsey’s entire body to throb.
She’d been to several Sole Regret concerts at stadiums, so was painfully aware that their local auditorium didn’t do Owen Mitchell’s skill with four-strings any justice. The intimacy of the small venue made up for the inferior sound system, however. She’d never managed to get this close to the stage before. The anticipation of seeing the five members of Sole Regret from the second row had her rocketing out of her worn velveteen theater seat and leaning against the curved wooden chair back in front of her. She didn’t even care that the move earned her several annoyed looks and a loudly hissed, “Sit down!” from someone behind her.
Sit down? At a Sole Regret concert? Was it even possible to remain seated when they were on stage?
Lindsey’s best friend, Vanessa, grabbed her wrist and forced her to sit in her seat again. “Your boss is here,” she whispered harshly. “Try to control yourself.”
That was easier said than done. Lindsey squirmed on the edge of her seat. Hearing Owen play, but not yet being able to see him was hell on her girly bits.
When Lindsey caught her first glimpse of the bassist as he strolled casually across the creaky wooden stage, fingering thick strings with a steady cadence, she almost swallowed her tongue. The man was devastatingly gorgeous. His light brown hair was styled into a playful sweep that brushed his forehead. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from this distance but knew from staring at his pictures for hours on end that they were a hypnotic, brilliant blue. Her gaze moved from his perfect profile, down his neck to his body. Her hands clenched as she fought her need to launch herself on stage, tackle him to the ground, and explore every inch of his hard physique. Tonight Owen wore a tight navy blue T-shirt that clung to his nicely muscled chest and shoulders. A set of silver dog tags swayed between his cut pectoral muscles. As he continued his intro, she became fascinated with the masterful movement of his fingers over the thick strings of his bass guitar. Why were guitarists so fucking hot? It simply wasn’t fair.
Lindsey groaned aloud as she imagined all the things those strong, skillful fingers could do to her body. What she wouldn’t give to be that man’s fret board.
“Girl,” Vanessa said, “you’re seriously crackin’ a moisty right now, aren’t you?”
Lindsey’s panties were decidedly wet. She couldn’t deny it. “He’s just so…” Her entire body shuddered as she couldn’t find words sensual enough to describe the man.
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. He’s cute and all, but I don’t think the mere sight of a man can inspire a big O.”
Lindsey released a breathless chuckle. “You’d be wrong, Nessi. I’m halfway there already.”
Vanessa turned her head in the opposite direction. “T. M. I,” she said under her breath.
When the drummer, Gabe Banner, entered the song with a heavy, building progression of bass drum thuds, Lindsey’s heart thumped to match his rhythm. She could just make out the red tips of Gabe’s mohawk behind the drum kit and the occasional flailing drumstick as he pounded out a wicked progression of beats on the skins. As the tempo built, Owen turned at center stage and rushed forward, halting at the front edge as the rest of the band came into view and joined the song. Adrenaline surged through Lindsey’s body. She was such a groupie for these guys. If her prudish boss, who was seated several seats to Lindsey’s left, hadn’t been sending her disapproving looks from behind her thick rimmed glasses, Lindsey would have already shed her bra and tossed it on stage. Fortunately, Lindsey still had enough self-control to keep from flashing her bare breasts at the band. Maybe.
Owen held a special appeal for Lindsey, but there was something about the band’s vocalist, Shade Silverton, that demanded attention. He knew how to work a crowd. Shade encouraged the audience to its feet by holding one hand at waist level and lifting it up and down. Lindsey knew they wouldn’t be able to keep to their seats long.
Even the stodgiest of attendees—who normally wouldn’t conceive of attending a metal concert—obediently rose from their chairs. It was easier for Lindsey to enjoy herself when the two rather large men beside her blocked her from Mrs. Weston’s ever critical glare of death. She was grateful to Mrs. Weston for hiring her to work at her investment firm, but the woman seemed to think she was in charge of every aspect of Lindsey’s life—both inside and outside the confines of the office. It was a good thing Mrs. Weston wasn’t a mind reader. She’d have been utterly scandalized by the X-rated thoughts racing through Lindsey’s mind as she watched Shade sing the chorus of Sole Regret’s hit song, “Darker.” Tall, dark and mysterious behind his pair of aviator sunglasses, Shade Silverton gave off raw, sexual energy. What was it about the man that made her want to drop to her knees and suck his cock down her throat?
“Now that man makes my pussy quake,” Vanessa said, her eyes glued to Shade, who completely dominated the stage with his unquestionable self-confidence. “I just want to…”
“Suck him off?”
Vanessa laughed. “Oh yeah. I’m on my knees already.”
The rhythm guitarist, Kellen Jamison, was whispering into Owen’s ear. They were both laughing at their lead singer and lead guitarist who seemed to be competing for crowd adulation. Lindsey worshipped the entire band. They didn’t need to fight for her attention. But those two—Owen and Kellen—made her entire body hum with pent-up desire.
Where Owen had light eyes and hair, Kellen was a bronze god with shoulder length black hair and almost black eyes that could stare a person into a coma. She praised all deities that the man never wore a shirt on stage. His long, lean body was filled out perfectly with tight muscles beneath taut, tanned skin. Tattoos decorated both arms in colorful sleeves. There was an intensity about Kellen Jamison that she couldn’t ignore. She doubted any woman could ignore it. And when he and Owen stood side-by-side, there was nothing more inspiring on the planet. That’s why the pair of them were at the top of her fuck-it list. She and Vanessa had constructed their fuck-it lists a few months before when complaining about their concurrent lack of boyfriends.
The list was comprised of the three men on the planet she most wanted to fuck and, if given the opportunity, she was given a free pass to slut it up. It didn’t matter if she was currently involved in a relationship, married, eight months pregnant, or had become a cloistered nun. I
f the man in question was on her fuck-it list, it didn’t count against her. Vanessa said so and her friend had never steered her wrong. Much.
Number one on Lindsey’s list was Owen Mitchell, and number two, Kellen Jamison, was standing right beside him vying for the top position. Luckily, Lindsey wasn’t in a relationship or pregnant. And her current sexual dry spell might make her feel like a nun some days, but she hadn’t taken vows of chastity. If only she could get close to them. Gain their attention. Offer her body willingly. Then maybe she could have at least one of the three men who made her drool like a recent root-canal-recipient.
In the middle of the song, the lead guitarist of the band, Adam Taylor, moved to the front of the stage to play the solo. His dark hair was thick and cut in a shaggy style that drew attention to his face. He had the most sensual lips Lindsey had ever seen on a man. And a collection of chains around his neck and at his hip that she wouldn’t mind getting tangled up in. Adam’s lightning-fast fingers flew over electric guitar strings, churning up images of fingertips brushing against Lindsey’s highly attentive body parts. He was about to kick David Beckham from the number three spot of her fuck-it list. Unless Shade wanted the honor.
“God, I’m so horny,” Lindsey growled under her breath.
“I can help you out with that,” Joe, who worked at her office, said in her ear.
It was like a cold bucket of water over her head. He hadn’t been sitting beside her at the start of the concert. He must have weaseled his way through the standing crowd when she hadn’t been paying attention. Lindsey shoved him out of her personal space and changed places with Vanessa so she’d have a best friend buffer that no man was likely to cross. The look Vanessa gave Joe—her dark eyes wide, eyebrows threatening her hair line, lips pursed in a harsh line—had him staring at his shoes and running a finger under his collar.
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