Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel

by Lacey Alexander

  But that doesn’t matter. Stop thinking so much. Just let yourself feel this—two men you trust wanting to bring you pleasure. That was the only way this would work.

  Rogan’s strong hands molded to the curve of her waist as she sank into him, now letting that hard bulge press against her zipper, right in the spot where she wanted to feel it most. She ground against him without thought, without plan, as they kissed. She wanted him. She wanted all of this.

  And that’s when new hands closed over her hips, ass, from behind. Ethan. Ending the kiss with Rogan, she instinctively turned her head to look. And he was right there, his eyes meeting hers and twinkling like blue flames. She leaned to kiss him, too.

  She couldn’t have envisioned how electrifying this would feel, being between these two male bodies, having both their hands on her. She finally ceased thinking, worrying, wondering—now she wanted only to experience this.

  She found herself turning fully back again, this time into Ethan’s arms, but still cozily tucked in between the two men. Rogan’s hands didn’t leave her as he lowered a fresh kiss to her shoulder. Lord, she wished she could kiss them both at once—but she had to be content with this, and this wasn’t bad; no, it wasn’t bad at all.

  As she continued kissing her boyfriend, his hands rose sensually up her sides until they cupped the outer curves of her breasts, then closed firmly over them. And part of her wanted to suffer some old sort of embarrassment at having him touching her someplace intimate in the presence of someone else—but it just didn’t happen, just didn’t make sense all things considered. She liked that Rogan was there; she liked the feeling of openness, freedom, beginning to come over her now. And she knew that Ethan had—at least in some ways—been smart to invite Rogan into this situation, because these were the only two men on the planet she could be so open and free with.

  When Ethan stopped kissing her and took a step back, she instantly missed the nearness, the sense of being so snugly sandwiched between them, but she knew there was more to come. And Ethan wasted not even a second before reaching for the hem of her tank top, beginning to slowly push it upward.

  She flashed back to earlier, in the hammock, when she’d so boldly removed it over her head only to have her seduction attempts halted. She couldn’t have dreamed that the next time her top came off it would be like this.

  Now Rogan had pulled back her hair and resumed raining kisses across her sensitive neck, and she again bent her head to one side to better feel them. She shut her eyes, also drinking in the sensation of Ethan raising her top higher, higher, until she felt the fabric being lifted over her breasts.

  That made her reopen them, though, glance down. The two globes of flesh looked pretty to her, plump, the lush inner curves rising from the cups of her pastel bra. And it struck her in that moment that she wasn’t afraid anymore of what was happening here. It wasn’t that she felt bold or aggressive at all—hints of nervousness still swam within her, but actual fear was gone now.

  And that was good.

  Because that was when Ethan hooked his fingertips into both cups of her bra and pulled downward on the fabric—and her breasts tumbled out, fully bared.

  A soft gasp escaped her as a breeze wafting through an open window passed cool and light over her nipples, turning them harder than they already were.

  And it felt to Mira as if … well, as if they’d reached a point of no return.

  Chapter 4

  “Sit,” Ethan whispered then.

  She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Rogan, but it didn’t matter because Rogan’s hands closed firmly around her bared torso to begin drawing her back—back against him, and then back into the same chair she’d vacated a few minutes before. She’d left it pulled out and at an angle perpendicular to the small kitchen table in her rush to dance to the Rod Stewart song that had long since ended and been replaced by another fast and wild disco song. Rogan sat in the padded chair, thighs spread wide to let her fit in between. And still that glorious erection pressed insistently against her rear.

  As Ethan knelt in front of her, the alcohol, the heady music, the unfamiliar surroundings—and, of course, the fact that she was fooling around with two men—all made her feel as if she floated in a dream. A damn sexy dream. A dream she wanted to continue.

  When Ethan’s hands closed over her exposed breasts, she sighed, watched, liked that Rogan was watching, too. And then Ethan leaned in, flicking his tongue over one turgid mauve nipple to make her gasp again.

  “Such pretty tits,” Rogan murmured deeply, and something in the simple observation made her breasts swell further against the cups that now framed them so tightly. That’s when Ethan moved to the other, licking across the beaded peak, then swirling his tongue around it in circles. A slight, high-pitched moan echoed from her throat as the soft yet intense pleasure radiated through her whole being.

  And as Ethan began to suckle her, firm and rhythmic, kneeling between her parted legs, she felt it more than she thought she ever had before. Because of the other hard male body behind her. Because Rogan’s presence amplified and multiplied even this one simple sensual affection to wild proportions. Because now that she knew this feeling, nothing inside her would ever be quite the same again.

  And when Rogan resumed kissing her neck, her shoulder, she was simply … lost to it all. Two male mouths on her flesh at one time—it was like being delivered to a naughty version of heaven. She shut her eyes, drank in the pleasure, felt it pulsating through her veins, as if heating her very blood—felt it flowing thick and heavy down to the needy spot between her thighs like a second heartbeat.

  She didn’t look at Ethan now, not because she didn’t want to, but because her eyes had once more dropped shut in surrender. Yet at some point she remembered she wanted to see this, witness it; she wanted to again watch him kissing and sucking her breasts and at the same time take in the sight of Rogan’s touch—now one large hand splayed across her stomach, as if holding her in place for Ethan’s ministrations. And when she looked past Ethan’s head, past the fingers cupping the side of her breast, she could spy Rogan’s forearm anchored around her.

  It was when Ethan began to undo her blue jeans that he finally lifted his gaze back to hers, their eyes locking. And she thought he might ask if she was okay, if she was ready for more—but instead all he said was, “Lift up,” so he could tug her jeans down. He clearly knew she was okay. He clearly knew she was ready for more.

  So she lifted her ass slightly and let him pull at the denim, watching through the dreamlike haze as her peach-colored cotton panties came down in a tangle along with the jeans. She bit her lip, watching them go, feeling them go, feeling exactly how naked she was becoming while still in Rogan’s embrace.

  And then the song on the radio ended, and for a long second until the next began she heard nothing but her own labored breathing filling the room, filling all their ears. She hadn’t realized until now that she was making any noise.

  As Bad Company launched into “Feel Like Makin’ Love,” Rogan’s hands boldly gripped her bare thighs, lifting them, spreading them farther, until each of her legs were stretched across his own, his knees holding her that way, open and exposed. Even more exposed than she would usually be if in the same position, she realized, because she’d shaved away most of her pubic hair for the weekend, leaving just a pale brown thatch extending upward from her slit, which she knew turned Ethan on. And yes, Ethan had seen her with her legs opened to him like this countless times, but this was different. Very different.

  Her breath still came heavy, heated—and when Rogan’s finger dipped into her naked pussy, stroking upward, just once, through her wetness, a shocked moan escaped her. And then his hands were closing hard over her breasts at the precise moment Ethan moved back in, pressing his palms against her inner thighs and sinking his mouth where Rogan’s finger had just been.

  There was nothing tender or gentle about this—Ethan ate her vigorously, clearly as excited as she was now. She whimper
ed helplessly as the pleasure spiraled through her, Rogan kneading her boobs at the same time, and her arms rose instinctively over her head and behind her to thread through his thick hair as she raised her pelvis against Ethan’s mouth.

  As before, Rogan spilled hot kisses across her shoulder, then up her neck—one more sensation added to the barrage she now basked in. Then his mouth pressed against her ear and his voice came low, sexy. “You’re so fucking hot, babe. Always. But right now more than ever.”

  The rasped words fueled her, empowered her. Don’t be shy here. Just react the way your body tells you to. And so she found herself thrusting harder at Ethan’s mouth—which he’d now closed over her clit. She bit her lip, then sucked in her breath hard when he thrust two fingers into her below, fucking her with them.

  “Oh God, oh God,” she murmured. She watched Ethan’s face as the pleasure quickly arced higher and higher. She took in the sight of Rogan’s hands firmly massaging her breasts. Beyond that, though, she didn’t think—she couldn’t think. She simply followed the ebb and flow of her body’s instincts. And when Ethan began to rub his tongue in hot, rhythmic circles on her hungry clit, more high-pitched, uncontrolled whimpers left her.

  “Aw, that’s right, babe—fuck his mouth. I want to see you come. Come for both of us. I want to see you come so fucking hard.”

  Rogan’s deep voice had always possessed the ability to push her over the edge when he whispered dirty things, and this time was no exception. A few seconds later Mira tumbled headlong into a wild, jagged orgasm that shook her body of its own volition, vibrating through her like an explosion as she cried out her release, over and over.

  As she came down from it, trying to catch her breath and recover, she heard herself whispering. “Oh God. Oh God.”

  When she’d been younger, there had been times while fooling around with boys, not even necessarily having sex, when … well, she knew if regret was going to set in, it would arrive now, on the heels of orgasm, when the fever of lust and need had been quenched and sanity returned. And so she looked down at herself, sprawled rather inelegantly at the moment, and tried to gauge her feelings, tried to weigh it all. Yet before she could even begin to grasp her own reaction to any of this, Ethan stood up, ripped his T-shirt off over his head, then undid his khaki cargo shorts and let them drop.

  She just watched, sucked in her breath. Why had she thought, even for a second, that her climax was the end of anything?

  Self-involvement, she supposed. Which perhaps made sense right now. She’d been the unsure one here, the one who’d needed a little coaxing, convincing. And Ethan had driven home repeatedly that this was her birthday present, about her.

  But now she was remembering that he’d candidly admitted he wanted it, too. And she knew with clarity that Rogan was just as into it, as well. So, yeah, maybe she could be a little selfish here, but at the same time … she was being reminded that she wasn’t the only one playing, and she wasn’t even the one calling the shots.

  Ethan kicked off his shoes as he stepped free from the shorts, naked and well-built before her. As a younger woman, she’d of course been drawn to male bodies, but only as she’d begun to get a little older had she really grown to appreciate the full measure of their beauty. Where women were beautiful because they were soft, men were beautiful because they were hard. And Ethan fit her image of a beautiful, hard male body just now. The muscles of his shoulders, arms, were not as pronounced as Rogan’s, but they were well-defined, almost chiseled, from working out a few times a week—a habit he’d kept up even after leaving the police force. Dark hair sprinkled his chest, narrowing into a line that led straight down his stomach to the stiffened cock that stood at attention between his legs. And that was where her gaze stuck.

  Just looking at it made her pussy surge with fresh moisture, even after having just come. The walls of her vagina contracted with want as she studied the thick cylinder shot through with lines and veins that made it appear almost … angry, and certainly demanding, powerful.

  Yet as he stepped forward, she realized her pussy wasn’t where he was going to put it right now. In fact, it hovered at the exact height of her mouth—which, to her slight surprise, made that part of her body yearn to take his erection inside, as well.

  And so as he moved even closer, holding the hard, beautiful shaft down level to her, she parted her lips, opened wide. She watched as his cock came closer, a dot of white pre-come having gathered on the tip—yet as he fed it slowly but surely into her waiting mouth, he said, “Look at me.” So as the erection slid toward her throat, stopping when her lips rested about halfway up its length at the point Ethan knew she could handle comfortably, she raised her gaze.

  And even as she began to glide her mouth wetly back and forth on her boyfriend’s beautifully solid cock, as she let it fill that part of her to capacity before easing back slightly and then going deeper once more, she thought how strange it was that Rogan still held her. Through all of this. Odd that Ethan was the one doing things to her, yet it was Rogan who cradled her in his embrace. He still caressed her breasts, though slower now, in time with her movements up and down Ethan’s shaft; his own erection still pressed firmly to the center of her ass through his blue jeans. And now he whispered, voice low in her ear, “Suck that cock, babe. That’s so damn good. Keep sucking it.” She wondered if Ethan could even hear the words. And if he couldn’t, did he wonder what Rogan was saying to her?

  As in their past, she found that his throaty voice spurred her on, compelling her to do more of what already came naturally. She thought of oral sex as sort of … an acquired taste, an act she’d assumed was all for the man’s pleasure when she was younger, but she had since come to fully appreciate and even relish it. So at Rogan’s prodding, now she sucked Ethan’s cock a little more vigorously, went down on him a little farther and listened to him moan. And now he murmured hot words, too. “God, yeah, that’s good. You’re so good, baby, so good. And you look so perfect with my dick in your mouth.”

  She watched him the whole time and felt deliciously dirty to be reminded of how she must appear right now, how obscene with her mouth filled that way. And the fact that Rogan watched, too—Lord, his face was right next to hers and she could smell the musky aroma of him mixing with the scents of sex even as she took Ethan’s erection deeper, deeper.

  When Ethan began to thrust, she didn’t mind—she let his slickened length slide toward her throat and focused on loosening the muscles there, letting him fill her as much as possible without gagging. Because she wanted to amaze them now. She wanted to be their perfect, dirty, sexual plaything. Like before, as she’d neared orgasm, she reached that place of leaving the rest of herself behind for only the sexual being that resided deep inside her. She’d never found that part of herself before Rogan, but she’d experienced it many times since, and now she was experiencing it in a fuller, stronger way than ever before. She was all in this now, completely, and simply basked in the pleasure of having them watch her, these two most important men in her life.

  And though she already took ample pleasure in what was happening—oh Lord, much more assaulted her when one of Rogan’s hands dropped from her breast to the spot between her still parted thighs. He smoothly thrust two fingers inside her, immediately using the heel of his palm to massage her clit. She moaned wildly around the dick in her mouth—God, Rogan had always known how to use his hands, and he did nothing halfway, his mode of touching her now instantly bold and possessive, as if he were taking ownership of her pussy for a while.

  She undulated against his hand without thought as she groaned deeply around Ethan’s cock, meeting his small thrusts toward her throat with greater abandon. Sucking him had started out as a slower, less wild thing than when he’d eaten her, but now it had progressed to something ravenous and untamed.

  Until finally he drew back, pulled out of her mouth.

  Her lips felt stretched, a little sore, well-used.

  Rogan’s fingers stilled in her, and as she
met Ethan’s gaze she wondered what he saw in her eyes. So many emotions ravaged her, after all—she could barely process all of them. Was he seeing her as the “girl gone wild” she’d suddenly let herself turn into? Would she become to him exactly what she’d feared—would he have no choice but to see her as a slut, some brazen wanton who’d suddenly tossed her morals out the window?

  But that’s when he lifted his hands to her face, leaned down, and kissed her. A soft, deep kiss that resonated all through her. And for a second there, she forgot all about Rogan, forgot everything that was going on except for the fact that she felt … loved. And she realized what an extraordinary man she had in front of her.

  She could imagine that most men would promise a sustaining love when trying to talk their girlfriends into extreme sex like this, but she also suspected—even instinctively knew—that many of them would feel differently afterward.

  And maybe it wasn’t even their faults. Everyone was taught certain sexual mores from early in life and they could run gut deep, almost based more on conditioning than on any decisions a person could make about how he or she wanted to feel. And yet Ethan was showing her in this kiss that he still cherished her just the same, and she knew without doubt that opening up this way, letting her more sexual side take over, was indeed bringing them closer, was delivering them to a new intimacy, even just half an hour into this weekend of ménage à trois he’d planned for her, for them.

  Only when the kiss ended and their eyes met once more, his filled with fresh heat, did she think again about Rogan behind her. It wasn’t that she’d forgotten him—only that her focus had narrowed so tightly on Ethan for a moment. But Lord, Rogan’s hand remained between her legs and had been there—even if unmoving—the entire time she’d shared that sweet, sexy kiss with the man she loved. The very realization kicked up her heartbeat anew.

  That’s when Ethan stood upright and, without warning, walked away, across the room.