by Eve Langlais
One of them would be touching her. The other already had, and she couldn’t get that touching out of her mind. Her bra felt tighter; her nipples were taut little points growing more and more sensitive the closer they got to her cabin, until she felt as if they were two charged contacts channeling sexual energy directly to her clit.
She almost laughed when she realized how much she’d been thinking about sex all day.
Amazing what associating with sexy men could do to a girl’s libido.
There was a big black case with a handle on top sitting on Cherry’s front porch. She went to help Brad take it inside, but after trying to lift one end she quickly gave up. “This thing weighs a ton. How did Cain get it here by himself?” Cherry opened the door and reached for it again.
Brad waved her off. “It’s all in how you lift it. Why don’t you turn the light on and move your poor little feminine self out of the way.”
“Oh, you are so asking for it.” She laughed and then did exactly that. Brad grabbed the handle, picked the table up, and carried it inside. The only sign it was any kind of effort for him was the delicious bulge of his muscles.
He set the case in the open space between the bed and the kitchenette and opened it. More opportunity to watch his muscles flex. Cherry didn’t think she could ever grow tired of watching him move. He was so comfortable with his body that he didn’t seem the least bit awkward in the worn jeans that rode low on his hips and cupped his package in a perfectly praiseworthy manner. His faded T-shirt stretched so tightly, it molded his muscular chest as if he’d painted it on.
It was at that point, while admiring said package and chest, Cherry realized that after a little over twenty-four hours at Feral Passions she wasn’t even thinking of her own clothing or even her weight. It was a shocking revelation, since they were both issues that generally occupied a large portion of her frontal lobe when she wasn’t stressing out over other stuff that was just as inconsequential in the overall scheme of things.
Obviously, her newfound change in focus was going to require some thought. Later.
A couple of quick flips and Brad had the table set up in the only open space in the small cabin, which made the cabin seem infinitely smaller. What had reminded her of an old folding cot her dad took camping was now a comfortable-looking massage table with a beautiful leather cover and a form-fitting attachment at one end with a hole for her face.
Cain knocked on the door as Brad was locking the table legs in place.
“You timed that right,” Cherry said. She held the door open for him and Cain walked in with two large tote bags. “Brad just got the table set up.”
“That’s good.” He set the bags down. “Okay, Cherry, before you get to take off your clothes and turn yourself over to my magic touch, I want you to set some candles out around the room. There are half a dozen of them—find places that feel right to you.”
“Feel right?” Cherry took the basket filled with candles he handed to her. “I didn’t picture you as the New Age sort, Cain.”
He laughed. “I’m not, really, but I do know that candlelight is relaxing, and these have a mild vanilla scent that can calm anyone.”
“Thank goodness it’s not lavender.” Cherry took the basket and walked into the kitchen area to place the first candle. Anything to keep her from thinking about Cain’s words. The ones about taking off her clothes. “Everyone says lavender’s supposed to remove stress,” she said, “All it does is make me sneeze.”
“I’m glad I left the lavender at home.” Cain pulled out a soft white flannel sheet and covered the massage table with it while Cherry hunted for places for the candles. One in the kitchenette on the granite counter, another went on the table beside the bed. She put one on top of the armoire and another on the little table in the opposite corner. There was a good spot on the bookshelf in front of the window—she hadn’t even had time to look at the books in it yet—and the last one went on the bathroom counter in front of the mirror.
Cain was setting up what looked like a fancy TV tray for his lotions and oils. Cherry shivered. He was so capable looking, and it was obvious from his practiced moves that he did this sort of thing a lot. She’d had exactly one massage in her life—from a very nice lady—when Christa gave her a certificate for a massage for her twenty-fifth birthday over three years ago.
That masseuse was nothing like Cain, who was as masculine and sexy as Brad, who had taken his shoes off and sprawled on the bed as if he was already planning to spend the night.
The moment that thought flashed into her mind, the muscles between her legs did an involuntary clench and ripple that took her breath. Thinking about how sexy these two looked had her body taking control.
She was still trying to process the sensation when Cain walked across the room and handed a glass of red wine to her. He’d pulled out a cold beer for Brad and one for himself and raised the bottle in a toast. “Cherry, to you and your week here at Feral Passions.” He raised an eyebrow and added, “And to new experiences.”
She clinked her wineglass against Cain’s bottle and Brad’s, and sipped thoughtfully, tasting the wine, thinking of the day she’d had. Wondering what these two had planned and what those “new experiences” might entail.
“Tell me about your hike,” Cain said. He led her to one of the chairs at the small table in the corner, seated her as if they were out on a date, and then took the chair across from her. Brad stayed on the bed, but the cabin was so small, he was almost close enough to touch.
“It was so much fun!” She’d had a fabulous time with her sister and Steph, and Darnell had kept them in hysterics. She was funny and so very “L.A. Hollywood” that they’d really enjoyed her stories and sense of humor. “We hiked for what felt like forever, but it wasn’t, obviously. We’re just out of shape.”
“Which is why I’m here. But finish your wine first.”
She made a face at Cain. “Yes, master.” And took a swallow of her wine.
“I think I like that,” he said. “‘Master’ works.”
“In your dreams, sweetheart. Anyway we got up to Blackbird Lake and it’s so pretty and peaceful. We saw a couple of wolves along the way. One even trotted alongside us for a bit. Darnell was so excited she could barely even talk, but we got to the lake and had our lunch under a huge tree. There were wood ducks in the water, and their colors are so amazing they don’t even look real. I’d never seen one before. Ronan and Wils are really fun and they finally convinced us we should all go skinny-dipping.”
“Oh, they did, did they?” Brad appeared to have suddenly grown interested in her story. He got off the bed and took the third chair at the table. “And of course they didn’t look when you girls all stripped down, right?”
Cherry almost choked on her wine. “Are you kidding? We told them we’d only do it if they’d strip down first. So they did, and we had to.” She laughed. “It wasn’t all that hard to convince us by then. It was hot, we were all dusty, and that lake is unbelievably clear. It’s also damned cold, if you want the truth.”
Cain stared past Cherry at Brad. “And we all know what happens to a man’s equipment in cold water, right, Brad?”
“C’mon. I got a good look before they got wet.” Cherry took another sip of her wine. She’d had plenty to drink at dinner, and this glass was already relaxing her. “Ronan and Wils are extremely well-endowed. They did not suffer any embarrassment from the cold water. In fact, I would say it appeared to invigorate them.”
Both Cain and Brad laughed hysterically, for whatever reason. Cherry looked at her wineglass. She was definitely relaxed, and whatever they found funny had obviously gone right over her head. She tipped the glass to her mouth and emptied it in one big swallow.
Cain added a bit more. “Are you ready for me to work my magic?”
She blinked. Already? “I guess. What do you want me to do?”
“Not a thing. I’m doing it all, with Brad’s help. He’s my minion for the night.”
Cherry
glanced at Brad. “You don’t look like a minion. They’re little and yellow and have one eyeball in the—”
“I’m a Feral Passions minion. Trust me.” He laughed. Then he shoved his chair back and pulled a large white towel out of Cain’s tote bag. “Come with me.” He crooked his little finger, and like a puppet on strings, Cherry grabbed her glass and followed him into the bathroom.
She finished her wine while Brad first turned off the light and then slipped her sandals off her feet. The tiny candle reflecting in the mirror over the sink filled the room with a soft glow. She set the glass aside so he could help her out of her dress, touching and kissing, even licking her nipples once he’d unhooked her bra.
She thought of asking Cain to go home so she could just spend the evening with Brad, but she figured that would be rude. Brad sucked on her nipple. She whimpered.
Next he slipped her panties down over her hips, but it wasn’t until he’d wrapped her in the soft towel that Cherry realized he’d just seen her completely naked and she hadn’t even blushed.
She glanced at the empty wineglass. It was probably a good thing Cain had brought the bottle with him, because she definitely wanted—and needed—to be relaxed.
One more kiss from Brad, and he opened the bathroom door.
CHAPTER 8
Brad kissed her again as they stepped into the main room. Cain had turned out the lights, leaving only the flickering candlelight. Forest sounds played in the background—the soft swish of wind, an owl hooting, and for a moment the haunting cries of wolves howling.
It reminded Cherry so much of her dreams last night, she broke out in chills.
“Are you cold?” Brad wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.
She shook her head, unwilling to speak. How could Cain possibly have known to duplicate her night of amazing dreams? It was almost as if he’d read her mind.
Or had been there with her.
Impossible. It was just an amazing coincidence. It had to be.
Cain waited patiently beside the table, bare chested now, still wearing the pair of black sweats he’d had on when he arrived. They hung low on his hips, soft and clinging, faded almost gray. His feet were bare.
Candlelight sent a soft glow across Cain’s chest while shadows emphasized the beautiful musculature of his upper body. Where Brad’s chest was mostly smooth, Cain had a dusting of dark blond hair that caught the flickering light. She stared at the line of hair trailing down from his navel, leading her imagination beneath the waistband of his sweats.
Then Brad took her hand and her concentration shifted as he walked her over to the table and helped her lie down on the soft flannel sheet covering the leather. She’d never felt so aware of textures before—his hands were rough and callused, the flannel so soft it felt almost silky. The air in the cabin was warm, drifting over her bare shoulders. Cherry lay on her stomach with her face cushioned in the ring at the end of the table.
She closed her eyes. One of the guys—Cain, she thought—twisted her long hair into a knot and pulled it forward so that it hung over the end of the table. She scooted around a bit to make herself more comfortable as Brad gently tugged the towel out from under her.
She was naked with two men looking at her. If this had happened with anyone else, she would have been freaking out, blushing multiple shades of red, and trying to cover herself.
But not with these two. For whatever reason, she trusted them. Completely.
Instead of feeling humiliated and embarrassed, she listened as Cain whispered to Brad. “She’s even more beautiful than you said.”
“She is, isn’t she? I think she’s absolutely perfect.”
Had they really said that? Or was she just hoping they had? Probably wishful thinking. She’d had a lifetime of doing that, and tonight? Everything had taken on a dream-like quality. The illusion of fantasy was a powerful aphrodisiac, and with the cushion that supported her face deadening the sound just enough to give their voices a faraway, almost mystical quality, it was so easy to relax and just let whatever happened, happen.
“I’m warming the oil with my hands, Cheraza, but please let me know if it’s too cool for you.”
“Hmmm.” She loved the way he said her name. She rarely heard it. She’d been Cherry since before she could remember.
Cain’s hands were slick with the scented oil. More vanilla, but subtle. He was right—the vanilla was soothing even as her skin shivered beneath his sensual touch. She wondered where Brad was, if he was watching while Cain touched her.
Would that bother him? She and Brad had been as close to intimate last night as two people could be without actually having sex, and now Cain was touching her, his hands working the knots in her shoulders and the sore muscles in her calves and … no. Two sets of hands. Brad was obviously helping. She sighed and relaxed even more as both men made magic happen to her tired muscles. Drifting, she lost herself in the recorded forest sounds, the haunting cries of the wolves, the ultimate fantasy of two totally sexy men with their hands all over her.
She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or merely drifted under the sensual massage, but Cain leaned over and whispered in her ear that they were going to turn her, and it made her smile, picturing a big spatula flipping her over like a pancake, but she was really too limp and relaxed to care how they did what they did.
One minute she was lying on her stomach and the next she was on her back. She flashed on how exposed she was, her breasts and belly, even her sex, openly displayed, but the magic of Cain’s fingers massaging her scalp and Brad gently tugging and rubbing her toes and feet left her sighing and relaxed once again. This was even better. They’d found the rhythm of the forest sounds Cain was playing, moving in time with the wind in the trees and the soft hoot of an owl.
Cain’s massage moved lower, his fingers working along her jawline and then to her neck, while Brad had moved up along her legs to the muscles in her thighs. Quadriceps. That’s what those big muscles were called, and hers were really sore from today’s hike.
Brad was gentle, so very gentle, though it was hard to imagine that strong man with the big hands treating her this tenderly. But Cain was every bit as gentle, rubbing her arms, massaging her biceps and then her forearms.
She already felt like warm pudding, her body so relaxed and fluid she could almost imagine dripping off the massage table into a puddle of goo on the floor.
Not a pretty image, but at this point did it matter?
Cain finished her arms and she heard him reaching for the bottle of oil while Brad used his thumbs to ease the tension in her groin muscles. She’d been sore there this morning, probably from all the climbing uphill to the lake, and the smooth press of his thumbs and the palms of his hands had her sighing with pleasure.
Then Cain began massaging her hands, and she forgot everything else. Stretching her fingers, putting the perfect amount of pressure on her palms, working each finger individually—it was heaven. Absolute heaven.
After he finished her hands, he arranged her arms alongside her body, palms up. She really didn’t want this to end, but when Brad paused she knew the fantasy was over. She’d totally lost track of time and had no idea how long she’d been lying there.
Cain’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Cheraza, Brad and I would like to continue, but we want to ask your permission. Will you trust us enough to give you a more sensual massage? Our touch will be more intimate, and we don’t want you to hesitate to ask us to stop should you feel at all uncomfortable. Brad’s going to blindfold you if that’s okay. It might not sound like it, but the blindfold will help you relax.”
She didn’t have to consider his words at all. Two men she liked, one who’d already brought her to an absolutely mind-blowing orgasm with his hands and mouth? She’d obviously gotten past the fact that she was lying here naked in front of them, so yeah, she could get on board with more. Even so, she kept her eyes closed, easily re-entered her fantasy world, and nodded.
Brad slip
ped the blindfold over her eyes, and Cain was right. She relaxed even more.
She wasn’t ready to watch what they did. She only wanted to feel.
Cain kissed her forehead. She knew it was him because his short facial hair tickled. It was much softer than it looked and she really wanted to rub her face against his, but his kiss had been so quick, there hadn’t been time. The recording he’d been playing changed. The wild sounds were there, but the long, sad howls of the wolves were different, more upbeat, if that was at all possible, and there was a subtle but sure tempo behind the natural sounds. It had to be a drum, but it was timed precisely to the beat of her heart.
Or was her heart syncing to the beat of the drum?
At first, nothing felt different. The massage continued, though Cain and Brad’s pacing was smoother, as they worked in time to the steady tempo filling the background more with each passing moment. The sound had been muted earlier, but now it filled the room, a low thrumming that could have been blood flow or a beating heart. She felt the sound deep inside, a primal beat that turned her body liquid, warmed her inside and out.
Cain’s big hands cupped her breasts, and she thought of Brad’s touch last night, the way he’d pinched and tugged her nipples until she saw stars. Cain massaged her, though, almost as if he purposefully ignored her nipples. It took all her willpower not to arch into his warm hands.
Not to beg for more.
Cain moved to her right side and she sensed Brad at her left. The two of them stroked her from shoulders to toes, their hands slick with oil. Hands along the outside of each leg moved slowly inward, sliding gently over her calves, her sensitive inner thighs, following the crease between her thigh and groin.
She thought of them as if they were disembodied things—not Cain and Brad, but two powerful sets of masculine hands stroking her body in a graceful dance of sensation. They massaged her breasts, teased her nipples—stroking, brushing, and then gently pinching. She wanted more, wanted that pleasure-pain that transferred so easily to her clit, but they teased her until she was slowly writhing on the table.