by Cari Quinn
They’d spent hours varnishing that hardwood, lovingly restoring it after the previous owners’ lackluster care. Now it would be ruined.
Everything had been ruined. Everything.
“Fucking hell, I’m coming.”
Tristan’s exclamation sent her careening back into her body, ripping away thoughts of the floor, of life as she’d known it before she walked out the door that night. In its place was something entirely different, a new reality she couldn’t quite focus on as her eyes struggled to behold what her mind couldn’t—wouldn’t—comprehend.
“Me too. Shit.”
She clutched her beer, her heart rampaging so hard she feared she’d pass out. Her nipples puckered, and her vision blurred. Their long, muscled, perspiration-sheened bodies doubled. Even so she was incapable of looking away from the erotic tableau spread out in front of her.
Tristan reared back to tear off the condom, then gripped his long, erect cock—maybe she still had double vision, because he couldn’t be that big—and pumped it over Matt’s flexing back until long streams of cum shot off like a fountain. Tristan groaned and tipped his head forward, working his erection for every drop.
She breathed through her mouth, stunned and aroused beyond belief. And she was confused. So freaking confused. But she couldn’t turn away, and she couldn’t shut off the longing knifing through her lower belly.
It took all her will not to fling herself over the threshold and beg Tris to take her the way he’d seen fit to take their best friend. Hard. Untamed.
That was what she craved.
She didn’t want Tristan to treat her as if she were a delicate, breakable doll, his innocent Caity Bait, the name he’d christened her with in college because she’d been younger than everyone else and too tempting for the older guys.
She needed to be possessed in the way he’d possessed Matt. Ached to be caught beneath that spray of cum. Except she wanted it on her breasts, where she could use her fingers to mop it up. Then she’d taste him, let the flavor of his release explode on her tongue. Drink up every bit of him and ask for more.
To keep from moaning herself, she took a quick swallow of beer. It still tasted off. Not like it had tasted even minutes ago.
Matt stroked his own cock now, fast and rough. Any instant now, he’d go off too.
She’d never seen two men together before. Never realized she wanted to. Especially her men. But God, it was so hot. So unbelievable.
Matt shifted slightly, giving her a better view of the show. And then he came with a wild cry, his spurts disappearing into the tangled sheets, making her clench with unfulfilled want.
Cait gasped and took a step backward. Her knees locked, making further movement impossible. Jesus, what was her problem? She could process what she’d seen later, after she was safely in her own bedroom, far from the pants and shudders that had arousal pooling in her panties.
But she’d only managed a step when Matt shifted his head as he fought to catch his breath. His eyes met hers for one long, charged moment.
“Holy shit,” he whispered.
Tristan laughed, but he didn’t respond to Matt’s curse, probably figuring it had to do with his spectacular finish.
Not quite.
Matt looked as shocked as she felt. Gobsmacked, actually. He started to get up, but Tristan bent, still holding his cock, and licked a trail up between Matt’s shoulder blades. Matt fisted his hands in the sheets again and closed his eyes as aftershocks racked his body.
Tristan licked for a while, careful to clean up every remnant of the mess he’d made. Matt barely whimpered, but she could tell from his rigid stance over the bed he would be ready to go again in no time.
If she hadn’t been there, he would probably already be rolling over and taking hold of Tris’s cock, bringing the still-stiff length to his lips and swallowing the salty tang of the release she yearned to taste.
A hot wave of urgency swept over her. She quivered, her tight nipples pressing against the bodice of her wool dress. She couldn’t watch this anymore. Not unless she intended to become part of the scene and not just a voyeur.
Not that they’d invited her.
The party she’d crashed was clearly just for two, and she’d already overstayed her welcome.
Though she stumbled, she managed to turn and get the hell out of there.
CHAPTER 2
Matt watched Cait spin away from the doorway, her long blonde hair flashing in the darkness. He deliberately released his grip on the sheets, one finger at a time.
Playtime was officially over.
“Let me up,” he said in an undertone, his mind whirling. He had to go to her. Alone. If Tristan got involved, he’d churn them all up until they couldn’t have a rational conversation. She’d be excitable enough on her own.
Hell, from the shock he’d seen written on her face, that was probably an understatement. She had to be perplexed. Hurt even. Betrayed that they hadn’t told her.
Christ, she probably hated them now.
“Somebody sounds cranky.” Grinning, Tristan did as Matt had asked. He cleaned up with a tissue, then searched out his abandoned condom and disposed of both with former Boy Scout zeal. “Next time you can take a turn at bat. If you’re good.”
Matt rolled his eyes, so not in the mood it wasn’t even funny. Of course if Tris knew why, he wouldn’t be jovial either. But Matt wasn’t about to deal with both him and Cait at once.
His best friends were like two lit matches, each encouraging the other to burn. As much as he loved them, putting out one fire at a time was plenty.
“I’ll put it on my list for Santa.” Matt sat up and reached for his boxers, determined to ignore the wetness drying on his back. He needed a shower, but that would have to wait.
“Santa came early.”
“Ugh, mental pictures are forming I don’t need, bro.” With effort, Matt made his tone light as he got dressed. Fast. “Thank God you stopped dressing up like him for Cait’s nieces and nephews, or I’d be scarred for life.”
Tristan snagged his dress shirt off the back of a chair and shrugged into it, leaving the crisp fabric unbuttoned over the trousers he tugged up with annoying efficiency. He always skipped underwear, claiming it saved time. Matt’s hands were still shaking—though that might have been for more than one reason—but Tris’s grip appeared rock steady.
As usual. Unflappable Tris. Except when he wasn’t. Then heaven and hell both needed to watch out.
“What’s your rush?” he asked, his tone mild. “You forget to DVR SportsCenter?”
“No. I just have a…phone call to make. To, uh, my mom.”
Smooth. Matt shook his head. Finish sex with a hot guy, and hurry out of the room to call Mommy.
Not that he really intended to do that, but still. He caught Tris’s sexy smirk and turned away to tuck in his T-shirt. Much more of that and Matt would be on his stomach on the bed again in no time.
“Right. Well, have fun. I’m going to grab some quality laptop time. Want to use the phone in here?”
“No,” Matt said, a little too quickly judging from Tris’s raised eyebrows. “Think I’ll get a beer.” Maybe a couple.
“I’ll be down in a while,” Tris said, already heading into the living room.
“Take your time.” Again he got the raised eyebrow look. “I mean, it’s been a while since I’ve talked to Mom and—”
“Knock yourself out. I’ve got plenty to do up here. Besides, Caity’ll be back anytime.”
Matt plastered a bland smile on his face as he ran a hand over his hair. Tris was a hair puller, so it was a freaking mess as expected. Damn shame he was overdue for a cut. He pulled a rubber band out of his pocket and yanked it back into a short ponytail, wincing at the scrape along the back of his neck.
Stubble. Had felt damn good at the time, not so much now.
He rubbed his own bristly jaw. How could women stand that sensation on their thighs? He’d have to be more mindful of shaving, since he normal
ly considered it a hit-or-miss activity.
Being with Tris had made him more mindful of a lot of things. Personal grooming. How much fun it was falling for your best friend, even if no one else could know. Exactly how deliciously vulnerable it felt to be at your lover’s mercy when you knew he’d show you none.
And now Matt was mindful that their other best friend was about to rip into his ass in an entirely new way.
“See ya,” he said, already reaching for the doorknob. He didn’t hear Tris’s reply.
Halfway down the hall, he picked up an unopened bag of cheese puffs.
Cait’s favorite.
He sighed. Dear God, what was he going to say?
He found her in the kitchenette. She had a perfectly good kitchen upstairs in her own apartment, but he’d rightly guessed she’d be downstairs.
Anything to get away, if not very far.
Tea whistled mournfully on the stove. She ignored it, staring off into the distance while she pressed dents into the dials with her white-knuckled fingers.
“Cait.”
She whipped her head around at his voice. Her blazing blue eyes drilled into his. “I don’t want to speak to you.”
“Too bad.” He tried to ignore that she was trembling, so faintly he doubted she even realized. “I’m here, and we’re talking.”
“There isn’t anything to say.”
“Bullshit.”
She pressed her lips together and faced the cheerful rooster-patterned wallpaper above the burners. “I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but Tris already had that honor.”
“Jealous?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “We both know how much you’ve wanted that particular piece of ass since college.”
She glared at him. If he wasn’t mistaken, her trembling had become straight fury. Good. If she started to cry, he’d lose it. He could handle anything but that.
“Are you jealous?” she countered. “Since if I want his ass, I must not want yours.”
“Oooh, I’m crushed.” He rubbed his palm over his heart, his gaze measuring hers. This conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t expected, but he’d ride it out. “I expected you to deny it,” he said, hoping like hell his voice stayed even. “To tell me I was wrong.”
Cait shrugged jerkily and yanked her teapot off the stove. She glowered again when he came up beside her to turn off the burner. “I can handle that myself, thank you very much. Don’t you have a bed to be bent over? So sorry I interrupted your private time.” She turned away, but he shot out his hand and grabbed her arm. “Let me go, dammit.”
“Not bloody likely.” He tugged her closer, noting the flare of her nostrils and the way her irises darkened like storm clouds.
She had such expressive eyes. Each nuance of emotion showed up there, a virtual guidebook to her thoughts.
Right now anger brewed in them. Maybe even jealousy. But there was more.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked softly, tightening his hold when her shaking intensified.
She shifted her face away. “I asked you to let me go.”
“You really do want him,” Matt murmured, pressing his fingers into her sensitive skin. But he couldn’t let go. Her scent wrapped around him, fresh like peaches but warmer, sweeter.
Drugging him into forgetting he was supposed to be making her understand.
She set the teapot aside on the small refinished hardwood table. If Tris were there, he’d grab an oven mitt and slide it underneath to protect the wood.
Since he wasn’t, the pot remained.
“I bet you loved it when you realized I’d be out for a while tonight. Plenty of time to rip the rug out from underneath me and use it to whack each other off.”
Since that phrase made him think of a mobster show and not sex, he had to fight back a smile. “Why should you care? You’re not sleeping with either of us.”
“Why should I care? Did you really just ask me that?”
“Yes.” He stepped a fraction closer. “I did. So?”
“How long have you been fucking each other right under my nose?”
Matt swallowed, hard. “Almost a year.”
Her eyes widened, and she whirled out of his grip. “A year? You’re kidding me. There’s no way, just no way you could be—” She clutched her midsection. “There were girls. You’ve been with women since then. I know you have.”
Now he was the one to shrug. “Yeah. We’re still into women too. It’s not an either/or with us.”
“No, it’s screw whatever’s available, right? If it’s some pussy, fine. Or a cock in the ass. What difference does it make?”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” he said, his tone easy. “Have you?”
“God. Only you would turn this into an excuse to talk about sex.” She picked up the teapot and sloshed tea into her favorite cartoon coyote mug.
“Isn’t everything?” He stepped closer and rested his hands lightly on the table on either side of her, effectively boxing her in. She wouldn’t be running from this like she’d run away upstairs.
She drank her tea, swallowing audibly, and didn’t reply.
“So,” he said, moving his face closer. Almost immediately she bristled from the feeling of his breath hot on the back of her neck. Or maybe it was the erection he’d be damned if he would try to hide. “Anal sex. Ever tried it? Ever let a guy slide his dick inside your ass? Stretch you wide open and make you burn from the inside out, until it feels like your whole body’s throbbing, aching for relief. Until you’re begging him to make you come.”
“Have I ever mentioned that to you?” Her voice caught and gave on an impatient breath. “You know I tell you everything. If I’d done…that, you’d know.”
“Obviously we don’t tell each other everything.”
“You don’t. I do.”
“Really.” He reached up to undo the ponytail gathered at the base of her neck. She stiffened, but she didn’t stop him. Interesting. “Except that little thing about you wanting Tristan.” Her gaze bounced to the stairway leading upstairs. “He won’t bother us,” Matt added, tossing aside the band and running his fingers through the silken gold strands.
“How do you know that? And what are you doing? Is leftover lust addling your brain? Christ.” She elbowed him in the gut—without checking her strength—and turned to face him. “I get what you’re doing, you know.” She banged the mug on the table. “You’re trying to get me to forget what I saw. I know your games, Matt. I’ve seen you use your tricks on other chicks. Do you really think I’d fall for them?”
“My games. My tricks. So is that why Tris got in bed with me, you think?” Idly, he twirled a lock of her hair. “You think I coerced him the way you obviously believe I do with women?”
“You got him into bed. Not the other way around. Right. That’s why he was inside you, ramming away.”
“You’ll learn, sweetness, that sometimes the one on the bottom isn’t any less powerful than the one on top.”
Something hot and primal flashed in her eyes, and she firmed her trembling lips. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Huh?”
“I. Wouldn’t. Know. I haven’t been underneath anyone. Or on top. Or any other damn way.”
His breath tripped. Nope. Couldn’t be possible. She wasn’t saying what he thought she was saying.
She couldn’t be a virgin.
Matt searched his memory banks. She’d discussed sex with him lots of times and not in the abstract. He always got the deets if her boyfriends got her off—or if they didn’t. Usually he heard more details than he needed, and he reciprocated in kind.
For nine years, they’d been the kind of close friends where anything went. No detail off-limits.
Except him and Tristan being lovers. From day one, he’d hidden that from her, not knowing how she’d take it. Or knowing precisely and being unwilling to see the judgment in her eyes.
But she wasn’t judging him right now. What lurked in her gaze brought to mind s
omething else entirely.
“What are you saying?” Maybe he’d read her wrong. Didn’t happen often, but it did now and then.
“I’m saying I’ve never had sex. Not all the way.” She reached for her mug and tossed back the rest of the tea, wiping her chin with the back of her hand when some escaped her lips. As if it were on a spring, his cock swelled and stretched for glory. “Maybe I should be like you. More open to all experiences. Find myself a nice whomever and go to town.”
In spite of the tightness in his groin, he grinned. “A nice whomever. Sorry to say, I’m not that indiscriminate.” At her eye roll, he added, “And nice doesn’t have a whole lot to do with what attracts me to someone.”
At least usually. In her case, it did. He’d been attracted to her for years, and the reasons weren’t all physical. She was so funny and sexy and sweet.
Cait was a nice girl. A good girl.
One he’d yearned to taint for so long he’d almost resorted to taping his dick down whenever she was within speaking distance. Another secret withheld between them.
She tipped her head to the side. “So what does? What made you one day look at Tris and say, ‘I want that ass’?” She made a face. “Or vice versa.”
He swallowed and fought the urge to take a step back from the perceptive gaze she trained on him. “Hypothetically,” he began, relieved when she smiled.
It was their little game, the way they revealed things to each other when the topic became too personal. Cait had started it the first time she’d told him about a guy going down on her, and she’d wanted his advice about how to encourage her boyfriend to give her what she wanted. Since then, anytime the conversation turned to intimate topics, they used the word as a signal things were about to get serious.
“Of course.”
“Hypothetically, it may have had to do with us both wanting someone else. At least at first. Now…”
Now everything had changed. If he hadn’t been in love with Tris a year ago—though he was reasonably sure he’d been on the way—he sure as hell was now.
That love was reciprocated, he knew. They didn’t talk about it because they didn’t have to. Like the other shared burden they’d avoided discussing since the first night they’d gotten together.