To the Max
Page 9
Beside her, Hunter groaned. Because he wanted to do the same thing? Damn, she wished she had a better handle on all things sex in real life, not just in the written word.
A moment later, Mason backed off, a silly grin on his face. “Sorry.”
She had a feeling he wasn’t. “Right.”
“Off.” The impatience she remembered Hunter having shone through in spectacular fashion.
“Geez. It’s not my fault I was interrupted.” Claire shimmied the shirt up, reaching her arms to the ceiling to remove it, but before she could take it completely off, Hunter grabbed her bound arms and kept them raised above her head. As a result, her face was covered by the material as well. “Hey.”
“Stay.” Hunter had been reduced to one-word grunts, which made a thrill go through her.
A mouth latched on to one of her silk-bra-covered nipples, puckering the bud tight before the cup was pulled below her breast. Fingers manipulated her other mound. Claire’s knees wobbled and someone pressed her into the wall.
Her nipple was sucked deep into a hot, wet mouth and then a tongue wrapped around it. Teeth bit gently and Claire cried out into the fabric of her shirt. She’d never experienced such a sensation, the sharpness of teeth followed by the soothing lap of a tongue. The clip between her breasts popped open with deft fingers and the cups fell to her sides, leaving her practically naked from the waist up except for the bunch of fabric around her face. She knew her nipples were standing out from her small breasts, and somewhere in the back of her mind she thought about being embarrassed but couldn’t summon the energy when what the two men were doing to her nipples felt so damn good.
“Sheeeesh.” Claire’s legs buckled on a particularly strong suck.
She squealed when Mason laughed and scooped her up in his arms. “Where’s the bedroom, baby?”
“Down the hall.” The shirt still shrouded her face but try as she might she couldn’t wiggle loose. She had a feeling Mason wanted it that way.
Light filtered through the hole at the top and she wondered what they thought of her scrawny apartment as they lit the rooms one by one. She knew what they’d find in her room. The walls were dark red—whore red she called it—the comforter plaid in a matching shade of red mixed with browns and navy. Not very girly, but then she wasn’t a very girly kind of girl. A touch of makeup on the dresser, a few simple dresses and a bit of jewelry were about as feminine as she got.
There was a shuffling sound and then the world spun as Mason turned and laid her on the bed. Her bare back on soft sheets told her the shuffling had been Hunter pulling off the comforter.
“Can I take this off now?” She squirmed in an attempt to extract herself. Who knew it’d be so hard to get your shirt off when you really wanted it off?
“I don’t know, Hunt, I kind of like her blindfolded.”
Claire stilled, her heart racing. Blindfolded? As in not being able to see? Anything?
She’d written the scenario lots of times. And the idea of doing it here and now made her clit throb in excitement. But still, if she didn’t at least pretend like the idea scared the shit out of her, what would they think of her? That she did this sort of thing all the time?
She fumbled out of the shirt. Her glasses came off with the material, and she eyed their blurry forms. “What do you mean?”
Hunter pulled a black, silky-looking scarf from his back pocket and showed it to her. “A little something to force you to feel, sweetheart.”
“Do you always carry little black scarves in your pocket, Hunter?”
“I like to be prepared.” His lips split into a sexy smile that made her belly flip-flop.
“Huh. I like prepared.” What the hell. It was the chance of a lifetime, right?
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