by Angel Payne
“Uncle!” I gasped it—barely. Dizziness set in from thrashing around.
“What was that?”
“Uncle!” I panted. “I give up! Stop!”
He dipped in a little closer, stare boring into mine, the chiseled angles of his body seeming to hit all the most perfect parts of my own. Half a smile canted his lips before he dictated gruffly, “Say ‘I submit.’”
“Whaaa—what?”
“Say it or I’ll keep tickling you.”
“Okay, okay! I submit.”
“Perfect.” Drake, the bastard, had been watching the entire time—a fact I hadn’t missed. Also not missed—the steady steps that moved him closer to the bed. But while I detected his general movement, I couldn’t discern other details, thanks to the mountain of down pillows into which my head was half-sunken. Details like what, exactly, dangled from his hands. I only knew it was white. That narrowed the possibilities down to, ohhh, about a million things.
Finding out should have been a priority—but wasn’t. I lay there, air sawing in and out of my lungs, giggles still breaking loose every now and then.
“God, Tolly…you are stunning.” Fletcher’s tone was reverent. All I could do was smile. Well…beam. To have a man gaze at me like that, even with tracks of teary laughter running down my face—not as glamorous as it sounded—had to be one of the most incredible feelings in the world. I adored him just a bit more, if that was even possible.
“She’s about to look even better. Take her clothes off.”
Drake’s commanding tone spurred Fletch into motion. I glanced between the two of them as the man peeled my princess party clothes off, setting fire to every inch of my skin with the kisses he bestowed in the wake of his eager but graceful motions. But even through the haze of arousal, I quickly sensed they were up to something.
“Wh-what are you two doing?”
Fletcher set free a low chuckle against my left breast. Drake picked up where he’d left off, continuing the sound in his seductive baritone. “We’re going to blow your mind. Then later, we’re going to have a little talk.”
“Can we just stick to the mind-blowing part?” I tried for cheeky.
“How ‘bout just the blowing part?” Fletcher added.
Drake answered that with a pointed glance—turning into something with more meaning as Fletcher rolled from me. Meaning that sent quivers down my completely naked body and turned my breath into pants of heavy anticipation…laced with trepidation. Apparently, playtime was over.
“Lift up your ass.” Fletcher issued the command while pulling the covers to the foot of the bed, leaving me naked as the day I was born, in the middle of a mattress the size of Rhode Island, open to the gazes of the two most delicious men I’d ever known. They stood on either side of the bed, twilight and midnight in the form of two powerful stares, once more making me shiver all over.
Until I realized what Drake was holding.
“Oh, hell no.” I scrambled toward Fletcher, but it was no use. He climbed back on the bed with lightning speed, back on top again, holding me in place.
“You’re going to love this.” How the hell did he make it a promise and command in one?
“No,” I snapped. “I’m not.”
He cocked his head, seeming genuinely confused. “Why?”
“I just—I don’t—just no.”
“Tolly.” The muscles in his shoulders stood out as he tightened his grip. “Do you trust us?”
I could only nod. Dammit.
“Do you think either Drake or I would ever hurt you?”
A bit more slowly, I shook my head.
“Then relax and let Drake play a little.”
“Play? That’s what you’re calling it?”
“Ssshhh.” He dropped a soft kiss to my forehead—before pushing back up.
“Wait!” I gripped the ends of his long fingers.
“What?”
“Where are you going?” I sounded panicked, even to my own ears. Let Drake play a little. What did that mean? I couldn’t bear the thought of Fletcher not being here too.
“I’ll be right here, sweetheart. But this is more his thing. I just get to reap the very awesome rewards.” He gave me the full force of a grin so devilish it should have been trademarked. The eyebrow waggle didn’t hurt. “Okay?” He seemed to need my verbal consent.
“What if…I don’t like it?” I chewed my lip while studying Drake, who wove the white rope in and out of the cut-outs in the headboard. And I’d thought they were just really cool décor accents. I should have known better. My guys were as resourceful as Eagle Scouts—which, I had to admit, was usually a good thing—but still, someone was mighty confident. And smart. Fletcher was top of the game at negotiations, and we all knew it.
Before I could think of another objection, Fletcher held up a pair of odd-looking scissors. “We’re ready to cut you free. Immediately.”
That had me thinking for a second. “Maybe that’s why you chose scissors?”
They both chuckled. At least the levity went over well with them. I wasn’t so ready to feel at ease. Doing that would somehow make this more real—as well as the fact that I was going to let it happen. And that I was actually aroused because of it. What the hell is wrong with me?
My stomach danced and twirled while Drake moved in without a word—though the new darkness in his eyes spoke volumes to me already. He wrapped the silky rope around my wrists, just tight enough to keep me secured to the headboard, but not tight enough to leave marks. Instinct dictated that all of it might feel better if I closed my eyes, but that so wasn’t happening. I searched from Drake to Fletcher then back again, receiving waves of warmth and desire from both. I should have been calmed by that, at least a little. Instead, my heart sped up and my skin prickled. Rationally, I knew they wouldn’t hurt me. Irrationally, I’d watched plenty of episodes of 48 Hours. Bad things happened to naïve women.
Drake moved to the foot of the bed.
Tied one of my ankles to the bed frame.
My throat tightened. My muscles clenched.
“Wait!” My outcry was strangled. Drake halted, raising his gaze to mine. “Can’t—can’t you just leave the other one free? It will give me some peace of mind.”
His eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated the request. “Okay. But no kicking or it gets tied. Deal?”
“Deal. No kicking. I’ll be good. Promise.”
A thick, almost predatory look prowled across his dark features. I didn’t want to enjoy it…but who was I kidding? My words gave me power over him, just as his ropes gave him power over me.
The men returned to opposite sides of the bed, then began undressing. I snapped my head back and forth as if watching a tennis match, trying to take in their progress.
Drake, with his shirt already off, had a distinct advantage. His hands went right for his jeans, dropping them along with his boxers. Dear God…yes. I worked my free thigh against my bound one, battling the new ache at my most intimate core. I’d seen them both naked before, but I swore to heaven, the sight was breathtaking every time. His body was chiseled and primed, carved in perfect detail, a classic statue brought to life.
As he approached the bed, he met my fixated stare. I surveyed from his bobbing cock to his determined face, unwilling to miss a single aspect of his perfection.
“You are so sexy, Mr. Newland.”
His features deepened with pleasure. “And you are fucking beautiful, little girl—especially when you call me that. Shoots right to my cock.” He emphasized the point by stroking himself while I watched.
“Ohhhh…wow,” I finally got out—and before I could help it, licked my lips. “I—I—really like watching you do that.”
“Do you?”
His sultry drawl brought out similar reflexes. I writhed and arched, very aware of the erect points at the top of my tingling breasts. “Mmmm hmmm.”
“Well, then…maybe I should just stand here and beat off and you can watch. No touching.”
&nb
sp; I scowled like he’d just told me chocolate had been outlawed. “I hate that idea. That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”
He laughed, but didn’t move. Well, except for where he continued stroking his cock. Slower. Tighter. From tip to base with movements that twisted a little, so I could see his forearm muscles bunch and coil.
I gasped as white drops appeared on his taut head. Licked my lips again, craving the tart nectar. “Come closer.”
He shook his head, continuing to stroke with those languorous pulls. The whole time, Fletcher stood like a statue on his side of the bed. He was midway through removing his shirt, so it dangled from his neck with his arms free. He didn’t take his gaze from me as I watched Drake. Raw lust defined their lush blueness. Wow.
“Fletcher?” I begged it and didn’t care. “Come lie with me? Touch me.” Surely one of them could be convinced to ease my ache.
Drake growled, apparently not liking that idea—especially when Fletcher eagerly moved to oblige me. He gave a slight shake of his head as Fletch pushed a knee to the mattress. “No, man. She can do this. And so can we.” Though the clench of his jaw conveyed otherwise, Fletcher straightened and backed away—even when I mewled in protest.
He unfastened his jeans then swiftly stepped out of them. He mostly went commando in casual clothes—heavens be thanked—so the immediate appearance of his dick wasn’t a surprise. It was much harder to be blasé about the full glory of his erect length, standing at attention the moment it was freed. Like the rest of his body, his cock was a long, graceful work of living art, springing from a patch of dark gold curls that also supported his engorged balls.
I ached to touch every inch of him, but with a gloating smile, he did it for me. I was helpless to do anything but lie and watch as these perfect men surrounded me with their beauty, throbbing cocks in their grips, smiles on their sinful mouths.
I closed my eyes. I needed relief from the antagonism.
“Watch us, Talia.” Fletcher’s commanding tone was an equal peer to Drake’s.
“Open your eyes and see what you do to us.”
“Dammit,” I moaned.
“Do it,” Fletcher gritted.
My eyes popped open. My gaze was confronted first by Drake. “Do you know what it’s like, sweet girl, when we’re right here in the same city and can’t see you?”
Fletcher wasn’t any less challenging. “Do you know what it’s like, baby, when we call you and you don’t return our calls?”
I stared again to Drake. He slid another slow stroke, dragging my eyes straight toward his erection. My mouth watered to taste him. I barely pulled all the drool back in time.
“Do you know what it’s like when we have to go to a motherfucking princess party perfection torture chamber to collect you?” I looked up to his eyes. They were raging storms, pulling me out to the sea of his fervent emotions. Desperation, frustration, anger and need were roiling, colliding in the depths.
“Uhhh…” I squeaked. “N-no?”
“It’s pure hell,” he rasped. His breath was ragged as more moisture dripped from his tip. He let his head fall back on his shoulders. “It’s pure hell without you,” He preached to the ceiling. When he leveled his head again, his eyes were black with desire. Clearly, he needed to be eased. Good thing he had a very willing volunteer.
“Please. Come to me. Let me make it up to you.”
“No. Not yet. You feel the need, too. You need to feel it badly. Feel it like we do when you aren’t with us, Natalia.”
My eyes shot wide. My full name. No one ever used it except my mother. Emerging from his chiseled lips, the syllables had a whole new effect. His voice dipped back through the ages, bringing to life all the regal sensuality of my ancestors. There was no more shame in our lust…only the sadness of not acknowledging it in full.
My desire grew to a fiery ball in my core. I needed them as badly as they needed me.
Needed.
Them.
“God!” A high whimper punctuated it. “I want to be with you! Please.”
“Then why do you make us chase you around town?” Drake countered. “If you really wanted to be with us, you’d be here, in our bed, every single night.”
I turned to Fletcher. He mirrored Drake. From base to tip, he stroked and squeezed his erection, spreading the precum back down his length, easing the glide.
“I don’t,” I blurted out. Desperate to be touched, I would tell them anything they wanted to hear. Their sexy, masculine scents grew heavier in the room, overloading every cell in my system, every thought in my head…every desire in my heart.
“You don’t what, baby?” Fletch tilted his head to the side, making his hair fall into his eyes. So sexy. I indulged a secret moment of gratitude about him waiting on that haircut.
“Make you chase me around town.”
He let out a low bark. “Girl, be real with us—and yourself. You’ve been playing cat and mouse with us since New Year’s.” He cocked his head the other way, tumbling his hair in the opposite direction, exposing his wry smirk. “Well…looks like the little mouse is all caught up in a trap, doesn’t it?”
“And she’s very pretty that way, too.” Drake’s deep, savoring rumble was matched by his intent steps back to the bed. Where Fletcher was built like a palm tree, long and lean and graceful, Drake was all dark, solid oak—and I was antsy to climb him. But with my hands strung up behind me, I could only lie and wait, at his mercy. The conflict was torture. How I longed to reach for him—for them both—to take them in my arms, assure them I wasn’t playing games.
You aren’t?
Dammit. I wasn’t. I hadn’t been deliberately ignoring them. I’d just been busy. Really busy. I’d had…things to do. Responsibilities. Appointments to keep.
You mean with your pet turtle?
But they didn’t know that. How could they have? Even if they’d snooped, with Claire or Margaux or Taylor, I hadn’t spoken to a soul about this since we’d returned from Las Vegas…since the business trip that had become the trip of a lifetime, basking in their passion and spoiled by their desire. I hadn’t breathed a word about what was going on between the three of us. So truly, how could they have known if I’d been dodging them? Which I hadn’t been.
“Because we know you, Tolly.” Fletcher, with his direct line into my brain, answered the question that floated around in my mind. His sapphire eyes, deep with desire, bored into my flesh as he continued touching his own. “Sometimes we know you better than you know yourself.”
I attempted a disgusted snort. They responded in unison, each lifting a knee to the bed. Teetering my head back and forth I tried to keep tabs on the double assault of hotness. Pointless effort. Drake slid down, stretching next to me, while Fletcher did the same on the other side. Neither of them touched me, but lay close enough that I felt their body heat. As if knowing they were near, my inner walls swelled and pulsed, squeezing out creamy drops that teased and tickled my nearly spread folds. A needy moan tumbled from my parted lips. Neither of them shifted closer. “Dammit! Why are you doing this to me?”
“Oh, tell me your pussy isn’t soaked.” Drake’s matter-of-fact tone aroused me even more. Pressure mounted as soon as he mentioned it.
“Shall we test the theory?” Fletcher stroked up my thigh, ending just before the neat triangle of my pubic hair.
“No,” Drake, our group’s apparent drill sergeant ordered.
“No?” I retorted. “Come on. Why no? I like Fletch’s plan better. You’ll see I want you as badly as you want me. That I haven’t been running away. I mean, look at me!”
Yes, it was on purpose. Yes, because I knew they liked looking. If those wild hours in Vegas had taught me anything, it was their mutual passion for voyeurism. And passions were meant to be indulged, right?
“Don’t worry.” Fletcher leaned on an elbow then hitched up a knee, using the pose to pull at his dick again. His hardness grew, coming within an inch of my thigh. Bastard. “We’re looking.”
> “And appreciating,” Drake concurred.
“But?” I filled it in, knowing it was coming.
“But your body is the easy part, my beautiful girl,” he explained. “We know what will get you hot and tight…what will make your lips scream and your cunt clench. We can play your body like the amazing instrument it is all night long.” He reached—finally—but only tapped briefly at my forehead. “It’s what’s going on in here that’s worrying me.”
His tender kiss on my temple wasn’t any further help. Neither was Fletcher’s sweep of his lips along my hairline. “What are you hiding from us, baby?” he pressed. “Did we do something wrong? Something you didn’t like?”
“What?” I lurched, forgetting all about the ropes for a second. When they jerked me entirely too short of where I wanted to go, I huffed past clenched teeth. “No. No, that’s not it.”
Twinges of panic set in. Were they already tired of me? Of my naiveté in handling this ‘alternative’ relationship? If so, then whose fault was it? I’d known this would happen from the first moments of their seduction, back in Vegas. My conscience had screamed it at me—and I hadn’t listened. No. I’d chosen not to listen. I’d chosen their kisses, their bodies and their toe-curling lust instead…
Knowing damn well that one day, I’d pay the price for it.
Had that reckoning come?
“I have the perfect way to coax the words from her, bro.”
Drake’s declaration yanked me from the morbidity. And spurred that devastating devil’s grin across Fletcher’s lips again. “Oh? That so?”
Drake flashed his version of the look while rolling off the bed in a masterful sweep. His excursion to the dresser was over in no time flat. He brought something with him. What the hell was that? An electronic massager? Ha! Joke’s on you two, boys. If they thought I would crack and confess everything, especially the depth of my love for them, just because of a back massage…I mean, hadn’t they learned their lesson about that one yet? They’d tried the massage thing during our plane ride to Vegas, and only gotten me passing out into the sleep of the dead on them. If anything, they should have—