by Desiree Holt
Damn it.
The place was nearly full when they walked in, but Drew spotted a booth in the far right corner, curved to fit the wall. In seconds Carrie found herself seated between the two men, her briefcase somewhere out of sight, and an attentive waitress batting her eyelashes at Drew and Linc.
“What can I get for you?” She smiled at the men, pointedly ignoring Carrie.
“Bourbon on the rocks for the gentlemen,” he grinned. “Carrie? What’s your poison?”
“Just a glass of chardonnay, please.”
The waitress moved away, and Carrie suddenly felt herself so close to her two companions every movement brushed against them.
“You need to get out of that jacket,” Linc said, looking at his friend. “Business is over for the day.”
“You’re right.”
He stripped off his jacket and tie, laying them on the end of the seat, unbuttoned the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Carrie couldn’t help notice the play of muscles beneath the tanned skin or the dusting of dark hair on the skin. Her mouth which had been dry before suddenly began to water. She had an incredible urge to lean down and lick the skin.
Damn it, girl. Keep your head on straight.
The waitress delivered their drinks, and the men raised their glasses to Carrie.
“To a pleasurable evening,” Drew said, a funny little smile teasing his lips.
Evening? Evening? But this is supposed to be just a drink.
Carrie touched her glass to theirs and took a healthy swallow of the wine. It coursed through her veins, smoothing out the day’s rough edge and easing her inexplicable anxiety.
“So, Carrie.” Linc set his glass down carefully. “How long have you worked at Magellan?”
“Two years.” She swallowed more wine. Why the hell was she so nervous? Nothing ever made her nervous.
“About the length of time I’ve been gone. Probably why I don’t remember you.”
“I was lucky to get her,” Drew told him. “She works magic with our nervous clients who worry about what’s happening with the economy.”
His hand tightened on her shoulder and his fingers began a stroking motion that was so light she had to wonder what he was doing. Was it just an unconscious movement on his part?
“Thank you.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how really valuable you are to the company. My bad.”
Drew inched closer, if possible, and draped his arm casually along the back of the booth. His hand rested on her shoulder and he didn’t seem inclined to move it. Carrie swore she could feel every ridge of his fingertips burning into her skin. “Hiring you is one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.”
She felt the heat on her cheeks. What the hell? She never blushed. “Thank you very much. I really enjoy my job.”
His fingers were moving in circles now, and…Wait! Was Linc’s thigh pressing harder against hers? Squeezing against it? She made herself look up and stare from one man to the other. The sexual heat flaring in their eyes nearly knocked her off her mental perch.
Okay. Okay. Take a breath. What’s really going on here?
“Have you always lived in the city?” Linc wanted to know.
Carrie was so surrounded by their combined scents, she could hardly breathe, much less speak. Woodsy. Spicy. Lemony. Male!
“Born and bred,” she told him. “My folks moved to Arizona last year, so I inherited the house.”
“A house?” Drew looked at her. “I didn’t realise that. I guess I just assumed you had an apartment or townhouse or something.”
She shrugged. “They told me I could sell the house and do whatever I wanted, but the place had such wonderful memories for me.” She smiled. “And it’s a great respite on the weekends.”
“I’d love to see it sometime,” Linc said. “
Drew tensed beside her. “I’m sure Carrie has plenty of things to do on the weekends besides showing off her house to someone just passing through.”
“Maybe I’ll spend a little more time this visit.” There was suppressed laughter in his voice.
“You can hang out at my place. I keep Carrie much too busy to waste her time with house tours.”
Wait! What’s that note in Drew’s voice? Surely not jealousy. Or possessiveness. The wine was screwing with her mind, that was it.
“How’s your wine?” Drew asked. “Do you like the taste?”
“Wine?” I blinked. “Oh. It’s fine. Very good.”
“It looks like you made a serious dent in it. Let’s get you another one.” He signalled to the waitress and pointed at her glass.
“Don’t forget, I still have to drive home,” she told him.
“Not to worry. We’ll get plenty of black coffee into you. Or else I’ll get a car service to take you home and bring you back in the morning.” He paused. “Or give you a place to crash for the night.”
A place to crash? And exactly where would that be?
The waitress brought her a fresh glass of wine, and Carrie took a very large, unwise gulp of it. The wine was dulling her senses, her brain, making her forget that she lived her life by sensible choices. Getting drunk with her boss and his friend didn’t seem to be on that list.
She tightened her fingers on the stem of the wine glass as she sensed the flex of muscle against her thigh again. No, it wasn’t her imagination. There was plenty of room for Linc to slide a fraction of an inch to the left and put some space between them. Instead, he seemed to have moved closer.
She chanced a look at him and was stunned to intercept the glance he and Drew shared.
A silent message of some sort, and she knew without doubt it had something to do with her.
Then the look was gone, almost as if it had never happened, and she wondered if she’d just imagined it.
“So how long have the two of you been friends?” She struggled to find some kind of neutral conversation .
“Since college,” Linc answered.
“We roomed together,” Drew elaborated. “Joined the same fraternity. Went on to get our MBAs together.” He chuckled as he looked over at Drew. “Shared a lot of life experiences together.”
“Then my father had a heart attack,” Linc told her, draining the last of his bourbon.
“Had to take it easy for a long time. He was a private contractor for the government, and someone had to step in and run the business.”
“That’s how you ended up in the Middle East,” she guessed.
He nodded. “It’s made for a very interesting life. But I’m glad I’m back.”
“Me, too.” Drew laughed again. “Been a long time since we could do things together.”
By now she was swigging the wine. Either she was misreading the energy flowing in the booth or there was a lot of innuendo being thrown around. And Mike’s was filling up, the noise level, while subdued, still rising.
“You know, folks.” Drew slid his arm from behind her and reached for his wallet. “It’s getting a little crowded in here. Why don’t we go upstairs to my place? I think I have a better bar, too.” He looked at her. “How about it, Carrie? Can I persuade you to come upstairs for just one more drink?” He winked. “Always good to relax with the boss.”
Upstairs? To his place? With both of these men? I didn’t care how casually the invitation had been issued. I was thirty years old. I knew when something had S-E-X written all over it.
Okay, Carolina. Make up your mind.
“Um, sure.” Carrie drained the last of her wine. “Sure. That would be nice. But just one drink, all right?”
“Just one drink,” he agreed. Then he winked again.
He slid out of the booth, lifting her briefcase with one hand and extending the other to help her. When she stood up they were as close as they’d been in the hallway outside his office. Closer. He lifted the briefcase to hand it to her and his knuckles brushed her breasts through her jacket and blouse.
Carrie’s face heated, and she looked up to see if it ha
d been an accident, but a wicked glint of mischief danced in his eyes. There was no mistaking the intent behind the invitation.
What she had fantasised about for so long might just be about to come true. This was a big leap for her. Could she take it? Fantasy was one thing, reality another.
“After you,” he grinned, and stood aside to let her move.
The elevator ride upstairs differed from the other one only in that it was longer. Once again, she was sandwiched between the two of them, and her wildly dancing mind wondered if that was symbolic of things to come. She was vaguely aware of Drew and Linc chatting over her head, but she couldn’t have said what the conversation was about if someone had paid her to do it. She only knew that this was an outrageous situation, and her body was so aroused she couldn’t wait to find out what happened next.
Chapter Two
By the time they stepped off the elevator into the hallway leading to Drew’s condo, Carrie felt as if her body belonged to someone else, and she’d taken leave of her senses.
Every bit of her was about to self-destruct from all the sexual energy vibrating through it while her brain was telling her to get out of there as fast as she could, or she might not have a job tomorrow. But then Drew opened the heavy carved door and motioned them inside. As she stepped into the foyer, she knew she’d crossed the boundary line.
She followed them into the living room, a room of vast space with two walls of windows looking out over the city. Thick carpeting softened their steps, and heavy wood and leather furniture was arranged in conversation grouping. Interesting art was hung sparingly on the stark white walls. A giant plasma television occupied the wall space over the fireplace.
An archway on the right wall of the foyer led into a kitchen. The only light came from a soft glow over the range but she could see the granite counters and the mosaic floor, and the gleaming stainless steel of appliances. Did he cook? Order in? Eat out?
To the left of the living room was a short hall with three doors. Bedrooms, she assumed.
A lot of space for a single man, but then he probably had friends who visited. Like Linc Conover.
It was exactly the kind of place she’d imagined he would have.
“I’ll get our drinks,” Drew called, heading for the wet bar tucked away on one wall.
“Linc, why don’t you help make our guest comfortable?”
“I can do that.” He deftly relieved Carrie of the briefcase she’d been clutching, then reached from behind her to help her off with the jacket to her very businesslike pants suit. He tossed it casually onto a nearby chair. “Easy enough, right, Carrie? To relax? We don’t bite.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “Unless, of course, you ask us to.”
“Y-Yes. Easy. Enough.”
She ignored his other comment and stood like a mannequin, heart thundering, while his lean fingers slid along her shoulders and down her arms. His palms brushed against her breasts, lingering just an extra second.
“How’s that?” he asked.
“Fine. Thanks.” What was she supposed to do next?
Linc rested his hands on her shoulders and swept her hair to one side, bending his head to nuzzle the spot beneath her ear. His lips were warm against her skin, a sizzle of heat that singed her nerves. When the tip of his tongue flashed and touched her, the wet heat of it sizzled through her.
The first thought that whisked across her mind was, They certainly don’t waste any time.
The second one was, Be careful what you ask for, little girl.
Well, she’d fantasised about this, hadn’t she? Having wild sex with Drew Magellan.?
Maybe with a friend thrown in for good measure? And she was apparently going to find out what it was like.
Then she decided not to think at all.
Carrie closed her eyes and rocked back against Linc, squeezing her thighs together against the insistent throbbing in her cunt. Reality had shifted for her, and she was no longer Carrie Derosa, financial client services counsellor. She was someone else, a sensual woman who was excited about the looming temptation of the evening.
“Your drink, kitten.”
Drew’s deep voice cut through the fog wrapping itself around her beneath the stroking touch of Linc’s hands. She opened her eyes to see Drew holding a wine glass out to her.
Where earlier there had been mischief in those silvery eyes, now they had darkened nearly to slate, and she could almost see flames leaping in them.
As she reached for the drink, she was vaguely aware that while he’d been licking and nuzzling her neck Linc had unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it halfway down her shoulders. Drew’s gazed dropped to her breasts where the swell of them peeped over the lacy edge of her bra. His fingers reached out to trace the slope and curve, dipping beneath the fine lace to find each nipple one at a time and squeeze them gently between his fingers.
“You know,” Drew murmured, “from the first day I hired you, I was dying to find out what was beneath these very professional pants suits you wear. I looked at all that wonderful blonde hair you keep so neatly tamed for the office and wondered, Is she a real blonde? Will her muff be just as golden? Look as soft? Tonight I’m going to find out.”
Carrie sipped at her wine, hands trembling, hoping the drink would calm her racing heart but aware she needed to pace herself. She’d tucked away the two drinks in Mike’s as if they were water. She knew the appropriate thing for her to do was toss the wine in Drew’s face, put on an over-the-top show of indignation and storm out of the condo. But her feet were glued to the floor, and her mouth seemed unable to form any words. She had no idea what would happen tomorrow. How her job would be affected. But tonight, damn it, she was going to live out her fantasy, even if it included an additional person she hadn’t counted on.
“Your face is flushed.” Drew trailed the backs of his fingers over her cheeks. “I think maybe you’ve got too many clothes on.”
Oh, they are so smooth. Everything so casual. So natural.
His eyes were boring into hers, his face inches from hers, but his hands stilled as if waiting for her to say something. And she realised this was the point at which she could thank him for the drinks, back out gracefully and go home to curl up with her regrets. But she hadn’t lived with her fantasies for so long to run away from the chance to finally act them out.
She stared back at him and dipped her chin a fraction.
Accepting her implied permission, he knelt and lifted each foot one at a time to remove her shoes. Then he unfastened the waistband of her slacks and lowered the zipper, pushing the fabric down her legs and helping her to step out of them. She shivered as his hands slipped gently up the sides of her legs, thumbs sliding beneath the bottom elastic of her tiny bikini panties.
His tongue licked at the tiny triangle of fabric covering her pussy, then it too was gone and his was burying his face in her wet folds. His warm breath and wet tongue sent tremors skittering over her body. When she lifted her arms so she could grip Drew’s shoulders for balance she realised Linc had removed both her blouse and her bra, and his warm hands were cradling her breasts. Calloused thumbs rasped against nipples suddenly so sensitive she was afraid they might burst.
“Let’s make her come standing right here,” Linc said, his voice so hoarse Carrie almost didn’t recognise it.
His words flashed through her sending shivers skittering along her spine. Instantly, Drew’s tongue lapped at her slit, a living flame searing her wet flesh. The walls of her pussy fluttered in needy anticipation. In all her midnight dreams, when she’d imagined Drew’s tongue licking her and his mouth closed over her clit, nothing had prepared her for the intensity of the sensations racing through her.
She was opening to him, like a flower dipped in water. The petals of her labia peeled back at the touch of his fingers and her cream seeped onto his fingers. She leant back against Linc’s hard body for stability, but the impression of his outrageously hard cock against her buttocks lit her up like a neon sign.
And his hands. Ohmigod. Those wonderful hands that cradled her breasts and tweaked her nipples as if he were plucking buds from a plant. She hardened almost to the point of bursting and still he kneaded, brushed and pinched the hard points.
Drew breathed into her molten pussy, his tongue continuing its busy exploration. When he found her opening he circled it and circled it, nudging her thighs wider apart with his shoulders, before plunging his tongue inside. Carrie shivered as heat streaked through her and his tongue licked inside her like a living flame.
Linc’s hands continued to caress and mould her breasts. When he captured each nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed hard the pain morphed at once into unbelievable streaks of pleasure.
“Such beautiful breasts,” he murmured. “And your nipples. Hard like diamonds and ripe like berries. I can’t wait to get my mouth on them.”
His words were hypnotic and almost as arousing as the things the two men were doing to her.
“How does she taste?” he asked. “Like a flower, I’ll bet. Or ripe fruit. I’m guessing a plum.”
“Mmm,” Drew murmured, his face buried against her. He lifted his head, her juices gleaming on his lips. “Better than any fruit I’ve ever tasted. You can get drunk on her nectar.”
He bent his head again and pressed a thumb to her clit and circled in a rhythm that matched the thrusts of his tongue. With each circular stroke, the desire building inside her grew stronger, hotter, more fierce. She wanted to come, wanted to feel the tremors rip through her, wanted the clutching of her pussy around his tongue. But the two men obviously knew very well what they were doing and how to do it. The brought her right to the edge and kept her there, hovering, her body begging for release.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she chanted as Linc increased the pressure on her nipples and Drew sped up the massage of her clit.
“I think she wants to come, buddy.” Linc pressed his mouth to her shoulder and his voice vibrated against her. “Let’s do it.”