“Feel good, baby?” Ethan asked. Maybe he’d noticed her lack of response.
But this meant it was okay to say it. “Yes. So good.” She was still learning the rules here.
And then Rogan began to move in her.
And she began to respond, meeting his thrusts.
And she could smell him again, his musky scent filling her senses, and it made her even hotter, wilder.
And as he began to fuck her hard, harder, making her grit her teeth with the rough pleasure it sent pounding through her, she realized she’d actually braced herself against Ethan’s chest and that he held on to her elbow now. “Oh God, oh God.” She felt blessed to be reminded that both of her men knew how to use their cocks so, so well. She’d had a boyfriend or two who hadn’t been especially skilled with that, so she knew the difference and knew to be damn thankful for it.
“Look at me, honey,” Ethan said, and she realized her eyes had fallen shut amid the harsh pleasure Rogan delivered, and so she forced herself to do that, though for the first few seconds, it was challenging all over again. I’m used to sharing this kind of raw intimacy with one man at a time, not two.
Yet the longer their gazes met, the more she understood with further clarity that such raw intimacy was making her feel closer to him, closer each moment. He was watching another man fuck her; he was watching how she responded to every hard stroke. He was listening to her cries of pleasure, the ones she couldn’t hold in. And she was letting him. And looking into his eyes. And she was pretty sure she’d never felt more vulnerable—and therefore more truly, deeply open—with another human being, ever.
Soon she found herself actually clutching at him with her fist, trying to hold on to him somehow—and so he held on to her, gripping her arm tighter while Rogan moved in her, saying, “That’s so good, baby, you’re so hot. It’s so hot to watch him fuck you, so hot to watch you take it,” and his words struck her as both dark and unerringly arousing.
She didn’t quite understand the pleasure he derived from this, but if they were both enjoying it, who cared? And maybe there was a dark part of her that liked finding out that even all-around good guy Ethan possessed a shadowy, mysterious sexual side, a kinky side she couldn’t completely grasp or take control of.
It surprised the hell out of her, though, when Rogan went still, then pulled out of her.
She even gasped her shock and turned to look over her shoulder.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, panting softly. “Didn’t want to come. Not yet. Too fucking excited.”
Yeah, she guessed she could understand that. He’d endured a lot before finally getting in on the act. “It’s okay,” she said. But her pussy instantly missed him.
And—oh Lord—he must have known that because he didn’t waste another second before standing up, rolling her onto her back, spreading her legs, and bending over to lick her.
“Ohhhh,” she moaned as the sudden pleasure rushed up through her like a fountain someone had just turned on. It came with the light scratch of his stubble on her soft, recently shaved flesh, and though she normally found such a scratching sensation painful, right now, at this moment, it was one more unrefined sensation adding to her lust. She responded on pure instinct by clutching at her own breasts as she leaned back her head to soak up his ministrations.
And then Ethan was there, hovering over her, kissing her, kissing her slow and deep and passionate, pressing his tongue into her mouth as Rogan feasted on her below. Her arms came around his shoulders and his hand caressed her breast and she tasted remnants of herself in his kiss—and she slowly sank deeper and deeper into what it was to be pleasured by two men.
“Oh!” she cried out when Rogan suddenly thrust his big cock back into her without warning—and it ended the kissing since both she and Ethan looked up with a start. Rogan stood between her thighs, hands clamped to her hips, plunging into her with deep, hard strokes that shook her body and made them both let out little groans at each impact.
Ethan sat up now, watching—watching her face, at other moments watching where Rogan’s shaft entered her so powerfully. At some point, her legs curled around Rogan’s hips and his hands rose to frame her tits as he rammed into her.
And then Ethan’s cock was in his hand, hard again, and the sight turned her on further, especially when he moved in close to her, near her shoulder, and leaned over to rub his stiff length across her nipple. “Ohhh,” she heard herself moan as the dirty little added delight swept through her. She almost wanted to reach out, grab on to his dick, and pull it to her mouth, but she was still a little too shy here to be the one making moves—and she was already completely well-pleasured with the moves being made on her.
She watched, sighed, began to pant as he stimulated her beaded nipple with his cock, sliding it back and forth over the pink tip—and then finally began smacking the shaft against the soft flesh of her breast, over and over, almost as if spanking it. And—oh Lord—why did that feel so good?
Ethan let out low groans as he continued slapping her tit with his rock-hard erection while Rogan still fucked her, and she relished looking up to see both their faces contorted by lust, relished knowing she pleasured them both by doing nothing but lying there, making her body available to them.
“Shit, aw shit,” Ethan murmured—and then he was working his cock in his fist again, even as he thrust it against her breast, and finally the come spurted from it, the first shot creating a thick white puddle where he thrust at the side of her tit, the next two arcing across both mounds of soft flesh.
She gasped, watching, feeling the wet splatter. The truth was, she’d never liked having a man come on her—but this time she did. Because she was still being fucked, still absorbing more pleasure, and as Ethan used both hands to thoroughly massage his semen into her plump breasts, it was just one more hot stimulation. Given that Rogan continued to plunge slickly into her pussy below, she’d never felt more sexually wet, more … bathed in sex in her life.
Though after Ethan finished rubbing his sticky come into her, he fell to his back, on the bed beside her, clearly exhausted. Which made her shift her full focus on to the man between her legs.
Their eyes met—for the first time in a while. And maybe it was the only time since Rogan’s arrival that she’d unthinkingly allowed herself to really look at those eyes, really connect with them on a level that drew her back in time to what they’d once shared.
Before a few minutes ago, despite all the dirty things happening, he hadn’t been inside her; their bodies hadn’t been intimately joined. And for her, that took things to another level. His dark brown gaze shone with a brazen heat that ran bone deep, and it was as if he spoke to her through them without ever saying a word. I’m fucking you again. I’m making you feel me—again, again, again. And it’s still every bit as hot between us as ever.
Her face flushed with new warmth. It was like … embarrassment. Or … maybe an admission. Of guilt.
Oh. That’s what it is. It’s that Ethan’s eyes are shut now and it feels almost like Rogan and I are alone. Fucking.
So it’s not about Ethan at all right now. It’s only about Rogan.
Their gazes never broke the whole time. And she knew hers spoke to him, too, telling him the obvious. I still want you this way. She hadn’t known that before today. Though they hadn’t broken up because either of them had no longer desired the other—their problems had been about his level of commitment, dependability.
So had she ever really stopped wanting him? Did anyone ever really stop just because of a breakup? Time had healed the wound; she’d found Ethan and fallen in love with him—but did those things kill the chemistry, the lust, the want with someone else? Of course not.
Now Rogan slid his hands beneath her ass and eased her farther back on the bed as he climbed on with her, his cock leaving her for only a few seconds before gliding smoothly back in. And then he was bending down over her, bringing them face-to-face, eye to eye. His strokes had slowed to a rhythm more sensual
and potent than hot and hard. She heard herself breathing heavily as each warm drive permeated her core. Her arms automatically rose to circle his neck as he dipped to kiss her.
The missionary position hadn’t been his usual way—hardly ever—and yet here she was, peering up at him as she wrapped her legs instinctively back around him, digging her heels into his firm ass. Damn it, you’re supposed to be thinking of Ethan, feeling tighter with Ethan. But it was so difficult right now; she felt too strangely close to this man she’d only made small talk with for the past four years.
Next to her, Ethan appeared to have fallen into postsex sleep while all she knew was Rogan—inside her, all around her, filling her senses. “Wanna be deep, deep, deep inside you. Deep inside that sweet pussy,” he murmured over her, and she felt the words echo through her chest as well as below, where he moved in her.
“You are,” she whispered. “You are.”
She thought about the fact that his bare chest touched hers where Ethan’s semen had left her sticky, and that it felt almost like a metaphor for how intermingled the three of them were becoming, in old ways and new. And then, rather than think so deeply about it, she began to wonder if Rogan remembered the come being rubbed into her there, if he was aware of it, if it bothered him in any way, or if it … aroused him at all. But mostly, she felt that renewed connection with a man she’d never expected to be this close to again. Felt it, soaked it up, in both the soft ways, when he kissed her and moved in her slowly, and in the harder ways when he drew back slightly to drive more roughly between her legs.
Even then, their eyes stayed locked and Mira began to cry out again at each deliciously mind-numbing stroke—until finally Rogan said, “Aw, babe. I’m gonna come in you now. I’m gonna come in you so fucking hard.” And he did.
He let out only one long, low groan, tipping his head back, his eyes falling shut, and she watched him even as she took her own pleasure in those last hot, pounding thrusts. And she experienced the same sense of connection she’d been feeling with him all along, only more now.
And then she let her head drop to the right—to discover Ethan’s eyes on her. He wasn’t asleep anymore. “Hey,” he said, voice tired but blue eyes sparkling.
“Hey,” she softly replied.
Rogan splashed some cold water on his face, cupped a little more from the faucet in his hand to drink, then looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.
He was getting older. Next year he’d turn thirty-five. He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about his age, but maybe it had to do with Mira. With the fact that he figured she and Ethan would probably get married one of these days soon. Not that he wanted to be married, but … well, something about the thought made his gut pinch up, just a little.
She once wanted to marry you. That’s the kind of girl she is, always has been—the settling down, marrying kind. The kind who wants some security, wants to know what tomorrow holds. And he just wasn’t that kind of guy. Or he hadn’t been back then anyway. He hadn’t even turned thirty yet when they’d broken up, and that had felt young to him. Young in a good way. Young in a not-ready-to-get-tied-down way.
Walking quietly back out into the cabin’s main room in blue jeans, no shirt, he found Ethan and Mira lying snuggled in bed, still naked but now under the covers and with their heads on the pillows instead of lying crosswise like before. They looked like they were asleep. Another twinge pulled at him inside.
He’d made mistakes with her back then, for sure. When he’d sensed her getting too serious, becoming too attached, he’d pulled back emotionally, gotten a little distant—his gut reaction. And when he’d felt she was making too many demands on his time, he’d started showing up late for dates, breaking plans—his way of letting her know he needed his freedom. He’d loved her, but he just hadn’t been ready for what that meant, the kind of expectations it brought.
Heading across the room, he turned off the boom box, bringing a quiet solitude over the tiny cabin. Then he went to the fridge for a bottle of water, chugging half of it down, still thirsty.
He’d known after his relationship with Mira was over that he’d screwed up, but by the time he’d been smart enough to realize it, she’d been dating Ethan. In fact, maybe that had been what had opened his eyes—seeing his girl with another guy, and a guy he was longtime friends with, no less. Not that he and Ethan had ever been close, even during their police academy days—but he’d never had a problem with Ethan, and the guys on the Hostage Ops Team had a kind of unspoken code, that they’d always be there for each other. He’d just never imagined he’d end up being there for Ethan … like this.
Even after realizing he’d fucked up by letting Mira go, though, he hadn’t sweated it much. He’d just … turned off the feelings. Because that was what he did, the kind of guy he was. If you couldn’t have something, why stress over it? He’d moved on. To other women, other ways to occupy his time. He’d considered Mira a regret, but it was in the past and she seemed happy with Ethan. In fact, Ethan seemed more like her type. Clean cut. Dependable. Ethan would always be good to her; he’d never let her down. So maybe he’d let himself think things had worked out the way they were supposed to for Mira.
Except now … hell, he didn’t know what to think. He’d been shocked enough when Ethan had invited him to this naughty birthday party for his old girlfriend. But at the moment, he was even more dumbfounded. By the emotions bubbling up inside him. He found himself standing there peering over at the bed, somehow unsettled by what he saw. It made no sense.
It wasn’t his first time doing something kinky and wild—just last Labor Day he’d found himself as part of a very hot and nasty foursome on a boat trip on Lake Michigan. But what shocked him tonight was … how different this felt. How much seeing Mira like this had excited him. It was a side of her he’d never imagined, and he knew her well enough to know this didn’t come easy to her, so he loved that she was being bold enough to step beyond her usual boundaries, and he felt lucky to be there to witness it, be a part of it.
But still, there was more to his emotions than just that.
There was that strange tug in his gut when they’d looked into each other’s eyes. He’d fucked plenty of women, but being with Mira was just … different. Still, now. He couldn’t quite explain it to himself. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was happy or sad at the moment. He’d gotten to be with her again, gotten another taste of how gorgeous and sexy and amazing she was. But he couldn’t keep it. It was only temporary. Which meant it didn’t count for much. And shit, since when was he a guy who wanted sex to count for much?
Yeah, he felt lucky to be a part of this with her and he enjoyed bringing her pleasure more than he could understand, but in the end, would this weekend arrangement be, for him, more about ecstasy … or torture?
“Shit,” he whispered then, and rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. You’re being fucking ridiculous. Since when do you look into a girl’s eyes—any girl’s—and get sappy about it? Your life is fine the way it is—damn fine. Sure, Charlevoix was a little quiet for his taste—at times he even found himself wishing for more crime, more action, the kind that got his blood pumping—but he liked his work, he still liked his freedom, and he liked not having to be accountable to anybody. Well, other than his fellow police officers, but that was part of the job.
As for what he’d just experienced with Mira and how it had stretched beyond his groin all the way up into his gut … well, that was about old times, nothing more. Old feelings. But that didn’t mean he really still felt them. He’d come here to give her a happy birthday for old times’ sake, and because, hell, being invited to a threesome had just plain turned him on. He loved sex, after all. And he’d seen the fact that Mira was involved as just a perk that would make it even more fun.
So that’s why you’re here, what you’re getting out of this weekend: sex. That’s all.
And that’s enough.
Chapter 6
Mira opened her eyes as the first pale pink hints o
f dawn sifted their way through the cabin windows. Then she remembered where she was—and why. Today was her birthday. And Ethan had given her … well, a birthday party unlike any other.
That was when she realized he was no longer in bed with her. In fact, neither guy was. The idea almost made her laugh—I’m sharing a cabin, not to mention sex, with two hot guys—but I’m in bed by myself?
A glance revealed Rogan sprawled on the couch across the room—he hadn’t bothered to pull out the sofa bed. And she suddenly wondered about the sleeping situation here. Had Rogan chosen the couch because he hadn’t felt welcome in the bed with them? Had Ethan at some point asked him not to share their bed after the sex was done? And was it weird that she felt a little bad that, after what they’d shared last night, he was sleeping alone?
And as for Ethan, he must just be in the bathroom or something.
Now, remembering exactly what had taken place the previous evening, she rolled to her back, peering up at the wide-beamed ceiling above. God, she’d been so wild with them at moments. And despite herself, that surprised her. But maybe it shouldn’t—after all, she knew them both so well sexually. Yep, Ethan had definitely nailed that aspect of this most elaborate gift.
She wondered now, though, did this change what Rogan thought of her as a woman, as a person? And should she care?
Well, it didn’t matter if she should care; she did care. That was just who she was.
And that took her back to all the nuances of everything that had happened last night. She hadn’t had much time to prepare for the ménage à trois, but one thing she hadn’t anticipated was how close she’d feel to Rogan again, that fast. And how her emotions would flip-flop so much, alternating between the deep new bond of intimacy she now shared with Ethan and the old feelings that had bubbled up for her ex.
Most girls probably wouldn’t do this—wouldn’t pick it all apart so much. Most girls would probably just be smart enough to simply enjoy it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, after all. And during the parts when she’d been able to let herself go and stop thinking so damn much … well, those moments had been what this weekend was supposed to be about. Or at least she thought that was what Ethan had wanted for them. Good sex. With the focus on good sex. Not anything else.
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