by Gail McHugh
Nails biting into Ryder’s back, I gasp, burying my face in the crook of his neck as I feel my release approach, one I fear will destroy every future contender. At first, it tiptoes across my skin, building in intensity, until it strikes with hot, wicked bolts of passion deep within my womb. My legs lock around Ryder’s waist as I tense, attempting to prepare myself for an orgasm I’m positive is about to rock my skull.
A lethal blend of pleasure and searing flames tears through my core as I buck between them, driving myself onto their cocks in synchronous rhythm. I hear their groans and curses as I gasp again, my muscles buzzing under their attack.
“Ah, fuck. She’s starting to come.” Brock clutches my ass tighter and Ryder pumps into me harder, deeper.
“Let go, peach.” Ryder rears back, our gazes colliding before he jerks his hips forward, plunging into the furthest depths of my pussy. My eyes roll back, my heat milking his cock, swallowing every inch of it as a sharp intake of air fills my depleted lungs. “Let it all go for me.”
Mindless, my ribs stretch, my shoulder blades pulling together as my back bows under a swirling mass of ecstasy. I try to scream, but can’t as I come apart. The most intense, beautiful orgasm I’ve ever experienced arcs through my core, destroying me from the inside out. Legs convulsing around Ryder, I let out a wail of completion as the torturous need for release in my lower belly explodes, shattering the fragments of the tainted woman I’d once been. Seeking their own releases, Brock and Ryder clench my waist, hips, and ass, their cocks shifting, throbbing inside me as both men control me, owning my soul, my very existence, in ways I never thought possible. So close to breaking down, they groan in unison, the deep, primal sound sweeping through the room.
“Brock!” I cry out, his cock filling my ass, flaring me wider. Still, the physical pain’s nonexistent, a whisper of nothing compared to the pleasure surrounding me. The need and agonizing ache for more of him, of them, of this . . . that’s the real pain, the near devastating mental addiction. Feeling every pulse of blood speeding through his heavily veined piece, I gasp, reaching behind me, my desperate fingers sinking into his hair as he works me over.
“Christ,” Brock snarls, his hips bucking in fast, clipped pumps.
With one last thrust, he catches my jaw, turns my head to the side, and angles his lips over mine, stealing my breath with a kiss that sends me higher, hotter, each languid pass of his tongue bringing me closer to another orgasm as he comes inside me. “Ah, fuuuuck,” he groans, his tempo slowing as he runs his mouth along my flushed cheeks.
On a satisfied sigh, he carefully removes himself, my body immediately feeling ten notches past bereft the second he does. Green eyes sated, he lays a row of kisses on my neck, and backs away as he goes to settle on the bed, propping his back against the mountainous pile of pillows. “I’m just gonna hang out and watch the rest of the show.” Folding his arms behind his head, he springs a wiseass brow. “Make sure you finish my girl off the right way.”
Paying Brock no mind, Ryder snags my lips in a slow kiss, his need for release darkening his gaze as he whispers, “You’re the sweetest sin there is, and this here boy’s gonna more than finish you off the right way.”
Though he’s kissing me like an animal, like a man on death row devouring his last meal, his desire to prolong this moment is palpable.
“Look down so you can watch my cock slip in and out of you,” he commands through a deep growl. “I wanna see the look on your face as you watch me fuck this beautiful pussy.”
“Oh God,” I whimper, my chest seizing at the sensual sight as I watch every thick, magnificent, rigid inch of it—glistening from root to tip with my juices—slide in and out.
This is intimate—almost too intimate—the simple act alone trumping every sexual act of my past. I’m all too aware that not only are we physically one in this moment, but also mentally and emotionally—our hearts melding together. My legs convulse around his waist as he lifts and slams me back down onto him. “Yes! Oh my God, Ryder, yes!”
“Say it again,” he grits out through a strangled whisper. “I need to hear you say my name.”
“Ryder.” My fingers white-knuckle his hair as he thrusts me back down onto his cock.
“Again,” he growls. “Say it again, Amber.”
“Ryder,” I moan, his ragged breath on my cheek as I circle my hips, my core seeking the head of his cock with each punishing thrust. “Ryder,” I pant, licking the masterful streams of art painting his sun kissed skin, my tongue laving a devil’s fiery horns splayed across the curve of his neck. Blazing bright red, the demon’s wicked eyes stare back at me as my tongue follows the beast’s progression, flames, and Chinese writing lining the sinister, black-shaded body, its tail curling under Ryder’s right bicep. I moan again, my gaze lost in the beautiful pops of color, my body lost in Ryder’s talent.
He presses his forehead to mine and utters words meant only for me. “Sweet Jesus, you’re a goddamn dream. I’m afraid that’s all this night is—a fucking dream. I’m scared to death I’m gonna wake up and find that none of this really happened.”
His confession stills my heart, thieving the breath from my lungs, as my body races toward another climax. He moves across the room and sets me on the minibar. My eyes flash in surprise, the cold granite surface racing a chill up my spine. However, it only lasts a second, flames searing my flesh as he tugs my legs over his shoulders, pulls me to the very edge of the bar, and sinks his cock inside me. Shot glasses and bottles of liquor clink against each other in rhythm with our frenzied coupling, nearly crashing to the floor before Ryder sweeps them out of the way.
Staring into my eyes, Ryder drives deeper inside me, the force of his beautiful intrusion nearly painful as he finds my clit, circling the pad of his thumb over it. I arc against the pressure as my fingers join his.
“That’s it,” Ryder hisses, grabbing my wrist. “Finger yourself for me, beautiful girl. I wanna feel them on my cock as I fuck you.”
Mind bent with ecstasy, I obey, not a single second of hesitation before I plunge them into the deepest depths of my sex. I’m an untamed creature of pleasure as I go at it, finger-fucking myself like I never have before. Though my eyes are wide open, I can’t see; I’m in a place no man has ever been able to take me, Brock included.
I meet Brock’s heated gaze across the room as he slowly strokes his cock, watching us from the bed.
Every glorious sensation, confused emotion, and excited beat of my heart is all too much, the sheer erotic intensity of this moment setting me off.
“Oh God, Ryder,” I pant, my hands flying to his forearms, my hips bucking beneath him. “I’m—I’m going to come.”
Ryder grips my hips, driving into me with one long, hard thrust. I scream, the final explosion of my orgasm bursting a rainbow of color through my vision as I hear Ryder growl, “Mine.”
A single word, barely audible to my ears, let alone Brock’s, as he loses himself in his own pleasure, spurting his release deep inside my core, covers me in warmth. Its silky echo slides through my bloodstream, balling into a knot of dirty emotions in my belly, before welding its meaning around my heart.
Mine . . .
His . . .
But all the same, that single word cloaks me in a blanket of paranoid confusion as Ryder’s strong, hard body convulses over mine, his fingers fisting the back of my hair with each violent shudder.
A strangled curse, my name falling from his mouth, and one last thrust has him spilling his remaining release inside my womb, his head falling against my chest with a light thud as we start to come down from our high.
Surely it was just the moment. Ryder can’t possibly mean what he said.
The heat of our joining, the intensity of the last few hours, and the agonizing wait for each other made him go temporarily insane.
“You’re mine, Amber,” he whispers raggedly against the shell of
my ear, his hands cradling the back of my head.
So much for my temporary-insanity theory.
Opening his baby blues, he gives me a slow, passionate kiss. “You’ve always been mine, peach. I think you know it too.”
My heart swells with equal parts confusion, emotion, and my own temporary insanity, my insides lighting up like lightning as my conscience screams that he’s right. Though I’ve tried to fight it, Lord knows I have, it was a battle fought in vain from the second our worlds collided, our pull too magnetic, strong, and powerful to ignore.
I stare at him for what feels like an eternity before slipping from his hold, my instinct to flee kicking in. As my feet hit the cool marble floor, all the control I thought I’d gained tonight unhinges, unraveling faster than either of us can blink.
CHAPTER 19
Ryder
I CATCH AMBER’S ELBOW, hoping to calm her down. Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have told her she was mine, but sweet mercy if I could help myself. The moment she reached her plateau I knew she belonged to me. Hell, I knew it the second she tripped into my universe. Tonight only magnified my feelings for the girl, doubling them into something I didn’t expect.
If I’m being brutally honest, it’s scaring the shit outta me, bringing me right back to a place I swore I’d never revisit after Stephanie blew my heart to smithereens.
But, Christ, this angel’s worth every ounce of pain and torture that might very well careen me into a ditch of regret if this little setup doesn’t work. The way Amber felt wrapped around my cock, her cries for more, the way her eyes glimmered while watching me fuck her, the addictive taste of her excitement on my tongue . . . Yeah. I can’t even.
All of it did me the fuck in, adding to the petrifying knowledge that no one’s ever felt so good, tasted so sweet, or been so goddamn right for me. The whole thing’s something I know is gonna burn me. Something I’m completely cool with getting burned by. Not only did she accomplish what she set out to do—rid my mind of that fucked-up night—but Amber made me forget all the rest who came before her, memories of my time spent with numerous women vanishing with every soft touch she branded across my skin.
Lips hued ruby red from our frenzied kissing, Amber looks up at me from beneath a fan of thick, dark lashes as she nibbles on her thumbnail.
“Did I scare you?” I keep my voice soft and soothing, trying with everything in me to toss it away from the stalkerish level.
Considering her breathing’s a mess, and she’s staring at me as though I’m a maniac, I’m not quite sure if my attempt to level her out is working. I gather her cheeks between my hands, the silkiness of her flushed skin searing my palms as I study her face. She tenses, another round of panic swelling her beautiful features. My asshole-ometer dings, going off like a siren. Jesus, I can’t tell if she’s nervous because she wants to get the fuck away from me, or if her trembling is the result of my touch, her usual reaction.
Either way, I’m about to test it out, praying it’s the latter.
I drop my hands to her waist, clenching her soft curves, while trying to control my own choppy breathing. This girl has no idea what she does to me. Hell, I don’t think she ever will.
I lower my head and stare into her widened eyes for a beat before brushing my lips over hers. The hairs on my nape jump the second we connect. “Because if I did, I apologize. That wasn’t my intention, peach.”
“No. You didn’t scare me, Ryder. It’s . . . it’s just . . . me,” she whispers, her muscles going lax as I part her lips with my tongue.
I still, hold it there a second, trying to gauge her reaction. She gives me what I want, what’s all too fast becoming an absolute necessity to my sanity.
She whimpers and clutches my forearms, her eager tongue peeking out to seek mine. Dizzy from her touch, taste, and scent, I reciprocate, kissing her deep, ravishing her slowly, the need to take her again thickening my blood as she twines her fingers through my hair. Her exasperated mewls tease my ears, each one of her needy little pants driving me fucking nuts. A groan hurdles from my throat as she claws at my back, whispers my name, and hooks her leg around my waist, the pain fisting my balls worth the torture. I snag her lip between my teeth, every cell in my body getting off on the warmth of my release—easing from her pussy—swathing my hip, her sweet nectar coating a thin sheen of our juices along my flesh as I drown in everything she is.
Just knowing I’m in her, on her, my stamp surrounding every inch of her beautiful body lights me up. Soaring, completely motherfucking high, I rough my hand down the back of her thigh, gripping it, my cock throbbing against the smooth surface of her belly as I lick through the silk of her mouth. She moans, a glorious sound. Though my confession might’ve momentarily made her second-guess her decision to go through with this, Amber’s not running from me. She’s running from her feelings, trying to free herself from the confusing emotions tripping up her head. She loves Brock. This I know. Been aware of it for more than four months. However, I know she feels what I feel, knows what I said is the undeniable truth. Done deal: Amber’s been, is, and will always be mine, the reality behind that fact scaring the fuck outta her.
Still, as she kisses me, her feverish little tugs on my hair, urgent strokes, and hips bucking against mine like a crazed nympho says all this cat needs to know. All that’ll help him sleep like a goddamn baby tonight.
She’s cool, we’re cool. That’s all that fucking matters.
In the same breath, my confession bugged her out a little something and, for this, I can’t help but acknowledge my douchebaggery for making her panic. I’d rather die than fuck up this girl, this unique gem.
No matter how worthy I become of her, I’ll never be worthy enough.
I gotta fix the damage I’ve done, making sure she knows tonight wasn’t just sex for me. That no matter how twisted this scenario gets, I’m in it for the long haul, remaining by her side every tormented second of the way.
I sweep Amber up off the ground, her legs dangling over my forearms, her eyes popping with surprise as she tangles her arms around my neck. A smirk cocks my mouth as I kiss her forehead, reveling in the heavy scent of my cologne, saliva, sweat—hell, my entire body—layering her skin. Not an ounce of her vanilla perfume remains, the sweet fragrance buried beneath one hundred percent pure, raw, unabashed sex.
“C’mon.” I kiss her nose, knowing if I could worship her twenty-four seven, it’d still never be enough. She’s turned me into a fiend, her touch the crack to my goddamn pipe. “I think this gorgeous body needs some insane spoiling.”
“It sure does,” Brock concurs with a grin, slipping from the bed. He saunters across the room and kisses Amber’s pretty bow of a mouth, his grin widening as he drags his lips to her nipple, tugging it between his teeth. She gasps, her hand darting out to playfully swat his shoulder. “Tons of spoiling.”
Sobering, she stares at him a second, a hint of guilt shadowing her features as she cups his cheek. He softens against her touch, the silent exchange between them punching me in the gut as she leans up to kiss him.
With Amber still in my arms, and me feeling out of place—a third wheel observing their undeniable connection from the sidelines—I start for the bathroom, abruptly breaking their nauseating moment of affection. Not giving a single fuck that I have, I gently set Amber down on the edge of the Jacuzzi, trying to kill my jealous thoughts as I swipe a strand of her hair away from her face. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this setup.
Now I just have to figure out how to cope with sharing what I know the good Lord above created for me, and me only.
I might be determined to make this . . . unique arrangement work, but I’m sure it won’t happen without me losing my shit somewhere along the way. It’s nearly impossible. If I do reach my goal of keeping the peace in our little trio without killing my best friend, there’s no doubt a pair of cuffs, a blindfold, a dark cabin hidden aw
ay in the woods, and a warrant for my arrest—regarding Amber’s kidnapping—will be involved.
Sure. My IQ borders genius, but I’ve never once claimed to possess much in the way of sanity. Where Amber’s concerned, all bets and every lick of common sense are off.
Amber looks up at me, concern edging her eyes. I swear the girl can read me like a goddamn book, her thoughts in tune with everything—except my plan of possibly holding her captive against her will—flying through my head as she studies me.
I grin, attempting to brush off what I’m aware she can see.
She casts me one last worried glance before she sighs, her pout all kinds of cute as she leans against the marble tile surrounding the Jacuzzi. “Lord help me,” she says with an exhausted groan, “you two are predators, sex addicts at their best. Believe me when I say there’s not a muscle in me that’s not sore, weak, and pissed for what I allowed you two to put it through. So, sadly, I must RSVP no to your invitation.”
Brock and I shake our heads, chuckling as an impish smile colors her face. “On top of feeling like I can sleep for an entire month, I think I broke a rib during our little sexcapade. I couldn’t go another round if I tried.” She pauses, her demeanor flipping from depleted to vixen in under a second. “Well, not yet, at least.”
Clearly intent on driving us nuts, she slides her hands up her thighs, along the flat of her stomach, over the gorgeous swell of her tits, and into her hair, where she knots her fingers through the dark, wavy strands. “Give me a few hours to recover.” She spreads her legs, her soft moan causing me to swallow what feels like a lump the size of a golf ball as she lifts her thick, silky mane off her neck, piling it on top of her head. “I beg thee both, masters, for mercy.”