Three of a Kind

by Jess Dee

  “You’re joking, right?” Because seriously, he had to be. Who in their right mind would ask such an outrageous question? But then who in their right mind would go down on his female housemate and in the same night allow himself to be fucked stupid by his male lover?

  Trev shook his head. “Not this time, Gracie.” He took a step toward her.

  She threw up her hand. “Don’t you come any closer.” Last time she’d been so close to him, she’d wound up with his tongue in her vagina.

  Trev’s lips twitched. “You scared of me now?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You scared I’ll kiss you again?”

  Her heart lurched.

  “Christ, I’d love to kiss you again,” Trev groaned.

  Kiss her again? After he’d kissed his boyfriend? What if he’d kissed his boyfriend the way he’d kissed her—very thoroughly and all over? Hell no. No way. She didn’t want that mouth or tongue anywhere near her. “Kiss me and I’ll break your nose.”

  “Is that what you want to do? Break my nose?”

  Only if she could knock all his teeth out in the process. Two-timing dickhead.

  Although could he be two-timing her if tonight was their first moment of intimacy, and he’d promised her nothing? “I don’t want to break your nose. And I don’t want you to kiss me. In fact, I want to have nothing to do with you from here on. Nothing. Got it?”

  Trev reeled back as though she’d slapped him. “That might be tough, since we live together.”

  She shook her head furiously. “I’ll move out. I’ll find somewhere else to stay.” She didn’t really have a choice. She would have to move out now. No way could she live with Trev knowing he was gay. Bi. How could she ever explain it to her family? They’d never be okay with her staying here. But where would she go? Where would she stay? Maybe Hunter would let her sleep on the couch at his place?

  With Jay and Julia?

  Uh, not likely. Way too awkward, that.

  So that left her with exactly no other options. “It might take a week or two to find another place. But I’ll leave as soon as I’ve sorted something out.”

  “Don’t go.” Trev reached out to take her hand in his, but she quite deliberately folded her arms behind her back.

  “I can’t stay.”

  “Yes, you can.” He took a step toward her.

  She took a step backward. “No, I can’t.” She couldn’t live with him. It wasn’t that she had anything against people who were homosexual. Or bisexual.

  It just wasn’t a lifestyle she chose to associate with.

  Another step closer. “If you don’t leave, then you stay,” Trev pointed out logically. “It’s that easy.”

  Ah, no wonder Trev was such a successful lawyer. He obviously had a way with words.

  Not.

  Another step backward, and she clasped her hands together, making sure they were nowhere near anywhere he could grasp. “I don’t want to live with you.”

  “I want to live with you. I want to do a whole lot more than just live with you.” Another step closer.

  “Just what the hell does that mean?” Hah. As if she didn’t know. She took a larger step backward—and hit the wall.

  Trapped. With her hands behind her back!

  And damn it, by the gleam in Trev’s eye, that was exactly how he wanted her.

  He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat. Before Grace could draw breath again, Trev captured her lips with his.

  She opened her mouth to blast him, and Trev took full advantage, slipping his tongue between her lips. Just like that, he began a serious assault on her senses.

  No. She would not kiss him back. Ever. Would not respond in any way or form to his exquisite gentleness. Would not caress his tongue the way he caressed hers. Would not explore the secret delights of his mouth the way he explored hers.

  She would not enjoy this moment in any manner. She’d keep so still, he’d have no choice but to withdraw, sensing her disinterest. Because now that she knew he was…whatever the hell he was, she was no longer interested.

  Grace kept so still even her eyes refused to open after she blinked.

  See? She could do this. She could fend off the gay man. Bi man. Fend off the man who’d made her orgasm with the very tongue that now seduced her mouth. The very man who’d orgasmed before her eyes—with a penis in his ass.

  A penis. Just like the one that now pressed against her belly, growing firmer by the second.

  Okay, so maybe she couldn’t suppress the moan that threatened to erupt from her throat. But that was a moan of defiance. Of anger. How dare Trev kiss her? And with the same mouth he’d used to kiss someone else, on the exact same night? Deplorable.

  The moan must have disturbed Trev, because he pulled his face away—an inch.

  “God,” he rasped. “You smell so good.” He buried his nose in her neck and inhaled.

  Inhaled?

  “I’m so used to Max. To his cologne.” He inhaled again. “You’re like a breath of air. A vanilla-scented delight.” As he spoke, his breath tickled her throat. “You make me want to lick you all over.”

  She tensed her shoulders. “Go lick Max. Leave me alone.”

  “I could lick you both.”

  Grace jumped when the tip of his tongue touched the pulse that beat in her throat, just below her ear. And licked. A small lick, but a lick nevertheless.

  No, damn it. She wasn’t enjoying it. Not one single bit of it. She wasn’t leaning her head a little over to the side to give him better access. She wished he’d get the hell out of her room. Go away and leave her alone. She wished—

  He nipped her neck.

  Oh, dear God. Yes, she wished. She wished with all her heart.

  Her pussy filled with liquid heat.

  Trev groaned, the sound echoing in her ear and vibrating over her skin. “Not just vanilla.” He dragged in a deep breath. “That scent. Something else. Something…richer. Sweeter.”

  Push him away.

  She couldn’t. Her hands were caught between her back and the wall.

  Knee him in the nuts.

  Brilliant idea!

  She tried. God help her, she tried, but the second she bent her leg and lifted her knee, he slipped his thigh between hers and pressed it against her crotch.

  Fuck. No panties!

  She’d removed them on the way to Trev’s room, determined to pick up where they’d left off before her date. Before the big discovery. Plus, she had on a wispy skirt, one that simply feathered over Trev’s thigh, so when his leg pressed against her crotch, nothing interfered. Nothing.

  The tiny hairs covering his leg tickled her pussy, and the liquid that had pooled between her legs trickled out, dripping onto his bare flesh.

  Trev panted in her ear. “That scent. It’s you, Gracie. It’s all you.” He rocked his thigh against her, his skin dragging torturously over her sensitive lips and her clit.

  Wetter than she’d ever believed possible, Grace could only gasp at the commotion his leg set off in her center.

  “I have to touch you. Have to smell you. Lick you. Taste you.”

  Grace’s eyes popped open as his hand skimmed up her naked thigh and over her butt cheek. Her distress quadrupled as she found herself staring into the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen.

  Her initial perception of Trev had been one of masculine perfection. She’d been convinced no one else could compare. Yet the man who filled her doorway, clad in jeans and nothing else, his shoulders as wide as a football field, was just as handsome, and several inches taller.

  Taller than Trev? As it was, Trev towered over her. In his arms she felt as petite as a porcelain doll. But Trev’s lover stood well over six feet, and every inch of that height was jam-packed full of hulking muscle. His piercing blue gaze was fixed on her
face, his eyes hooded and his luscious, full red lips fixed in a frown.

  Dear God, the man was breathtakingly beautiful. Every woman’s fantasy come to life.

  “Max,” she whispered, shock burying itself deep in her bones.

  Even as she voiced the name, Trev’s hand traveled closer to her pussy. He pulled his leg away seconds before a finger trailed over the seam of her pussy lips.

  Trev swallowed audibly. “I have to touch Max too. Lick him. Taste him.”

  Her jaw dropped. Trev had no idea Max stood behind him, watching his every move. She should say something. Would have said something, except Trev chose that second to slip his finger between her lips, deep, deep into her channel.

  Her voice died a sudden death.

  Max’s gaze lowered. From his angle he’d clearly be able to see Trev’s arm disappearing underneath her skirt. He’d have no doubt what Trev was doing to her.

  Trev sighed. “Wet. God, you’re so wet. And tight.” He nibbled a path up her neck. “Max needs to taste you too. Lick you.”

  Her heart slammed into her ribs. Her eyes widened. Max. The magnificent specimen of man taking in the entire scene in speculative silence.

  Dear God. She needed him to taste her.

  No, she didn’t. Definitely not. He was a stranger. A stranger in love with the guy currently seducing her.

  Trev pumped his finger into her channel. Slowly, leisurely.

  She couldn’t help it. Didn’t mean to do it, but she shuffled her legs farther apart, allowing him to delve deeper, add a second finger.

  “Don’t leave, Gracie. Stay here. Live with me. We could do this every night.”

  Grace searched desperately for her elusive voice. “Max,” she finally squeaked, although that was all she was capable of saying.

  “Oh, yeah.” Trev nodded. “Max too. We could both do this. To you.” His voice dropped a notch. “Or to him.” Then lower still. “Or to me.”

  Dear God, she had to respond, had to tell him Max was in the room with them. But she couldn’t say anything. The sensations simmering in her pussy were too damn wonderful. Each press of his fingers inside sent her spiraling closer to ecstasy.

  She shouldn’t enjoy this. Shouldn’t desire more. The very experience should repulse. It did repulse. It did. Definitely. Repulsive. So damn repulsive she moaned.

  The knowledge that Trev’s male lover watched should shrivel her desire, not increase it. Hmm, maybe it had killed her lust. Maybe that explained the flutters in her belly and the short gasps that seemed to have replaced her breathing function. Why else would the sight of Max watching Trev and her leave her speechless?

  Or maybe it was more. Much more. Maybe this whole scenario was a silent power struggle between her and Max. A battle to see who Trev desired more. A struggle for dominance. Without saying a word, they fought over Trev. And in this position, with Trev’s hand buried between her legs, Grace held all the power. Trev was hers.

  Or was he? If he was hers, Trev wouldn’t continually bring up Max’s name. Wouldn’t fantasize about Max while seducing Grace. His sole focus would be on her.

  And could she be in a real position of power when one man watched as another finger-fucked her? When every lick of common sense drained from her body, and she allowed the man to finger-fuck her?

  The man who liked other men. The man who liked the other man in the room. The other man, who gazed at her now with eyes bluer than the sea and—

  “Oh, God!” The exclamation burst from her lips.

  He freaking bit my nipple.

  A gentle bite, maybe, but a bite nevertheless. A nip that scraped the tip of her breast through her shirt and bra, sending flames of desire ripping straight up her spine and back down again.

  “Mmm,” Trev mumbled. “So soft. And lush.” He bit her again, sending pulses of shock skittering through her nerves. “Max is all muscle. You’re all gentle curves.” He licked at the cleavage exposed by her low-cut shirt. “Both of you…delicious.”

  Her breath came in uneven spurts. Max was all muscle, all right. And every bit of that muscle strained now. Anger? Or restraint? The muscles in his chest and arms were not the only ones bulging. The thick ridge of his erection was clearly outlined against his dark blue jeans.

  Was Max about to lose his temper, or join Trev?

  “I want him here now,” Trev muttered. “Your pussy in this hand.” He stroked inside her, so gently, so tenderly, so seductively tremors began to build. “Max’s cock in my other hand.”

  Grace froze, even as the tremors increased. Her gaze caught Max’s and held.

  “I’d love to jerk him off while I finger you.”

  This had to rate as the most bizarre scene of intimacy she’d ever encountered. While one man had his fingers buried in her pussy, she shared a secret, knowing look with his lover.

  It shouldn’t be so arousing. So titillating. Shouldn’t make her belly tumble with desire or her pussy clench with delight, but damn it, it did.

  “No!” Trev’s impassioned denial jerked her attention back to him. “I want to suck you. Both of you. Together.” Trev nodded against her breast. “Suck him, then lick you. Lick you, then suck him. Taste you both. Let your come mingle on my tongue.”

  He nipped at her breast again and stroked his thumb over her clit.

  Sensation overwhelmed her. Her pussy clamped down around his hand, trapping him, as wave upon wave of pleasure slammed into her.

  “Yes!” Trev cried. “God, yes. Come for me, Gracie. Come all over me.”

  She did. Couldn’t stop herself, couldn’t hold back the bliss that swamped her. Couldn’t tear her gaze away from Max. Watched him watching her climax. It only made her come harder.

  Her juices dripped from her lips, drenching Trev.

  “Max,” Trev rasped, “fuck, she’s coming. All over my hand.”

  Holy crap. He knew!

  “Fuck with a capital F.”

  Max’s mouth curved into a small smile. A knowing smile. A smile so damn sexy a fresh wave of spasms flooded her pussy.

  “Max?” Trev hadn’t lifted his head.

  “Yeah?”

  His voice was deep. A baritone that vibrated across the room, down Trev’s arms and through his fingers. The fingers buried in her pussy.

  “Get over here. Now. And get rid of those jeans.”

  Uh-uh. No way. Grace had not just heard what she’d just heard. It had to have been a hallucination. An auditory hallucination, brought on by shock. And shame. And extreme pleasure.

  Really? A hallucination? Then why were Max’s jeans already halfway down his legs…correction, being kicked off?

  Why was he crossing the room, stark naked, with a massive erection?

  And why, dear God, why was Trev dropping to his knees and slowly, torturously extracting his hand from between her legs, leaving her weak-kneed and wobbly, leaning on the wall for support?

  No. No freaking way.

  This isn’t happening.

  Holy crap. It most definitely was happening.

  Trev’s mouth was closing around Max’s shaft. Max’s thick, long and hard shaft. And she should know what that shaft looked like, since she couldn’t haul her gaze away from it.

  Couldn’t draw breath as his cock disappeared, inch by inch, between Trev’s lips.

  “Trev, fuck…!” The baritone echoed through the room, lower even than the first time she’d heard it. “Christ. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

  Trev mumbled something unintelligible in response, but Max must have understood, because he answered. “Yes. Fuck, yes!”

  Max’s deep groans filled the air as Trev fed on his erection.

  Fed? He devoured it as though it were the most delicious treat in the world. And God help her, but the way Trev sucked on it, it did look delicious. Mouth-watering.

  Grace w
ould have objected, would have stopped this outrageous act, if her jaw had not dropped so low it now chafed against the carpet.

  Wrong. This whole scene was wrong.

  Trev had a lover. A male lover. She should not be aroused by it. Not at all. Not one little bit.

  So why, why, why, why could she not tear her gaze away? Why was the sight of Trev blowing Max the single most erotic vision she’d ever seen? And why was her hand now inching its way toward her pussy? The same pussy that had just clenched in orgasm from Trev’s fingers.

  Because the amount of testosterone spilling into the air had reached dangerous levels? Maybe she was high from the fumes.

  Yep. Had to be that. She was slap bang in the middle of a biochemically induced haze. Max’s and Trev’s biochemicals.

  Uh, did humans even produce biochemicals?

  Did it matter?

  Dear Lord. Her hand was no longer creeping. It was home. Where it belonged. Or where it belonged while in the midst of a biochemically induced haze, anyway.

  “Lift your skirt.”

  The words buzzed around her head before settling into a pattern that made any sense.

  Lift her skirt? For whom? Trev, or Max? Couldn’t be Trev. His mouth was stuffed full. No way he could have spoken so clearly.

  “Let me see.”

  Voices like Max’s should be illegal. Because seriously, he could bring a woman to orgasm just by speaking. Hell, he could quote texts from the Financial News and she’d tumble through multiple orgasm heaven.

  “Higher.”

  Higher?

  “Lift your skirt higher,” Max said.

  Startled, Grace realized what she’d done. Grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up. Just like Max had ordered. And she’d be damned if she wasn’t edging the fabric up even farther now.

  Trev groaned, a low, sexy sound that grew louder as she pulled the skirt right up, exposing herself—and her hand—to the two men.

  “Beautiful,” Max whispered. He rocked his hips as he stared at her hand, pushing himself into Trev’s mouth.

  Trev grabbed Max’s hip, bracing himself, then opened his lips wider, allowing Max to pump into his mouth.

  Christ, this shouldn’t be a turn-on. Shouldn’t make her wet and wanton.