by Sadie May
But there was something in their eyes when they looked at me that made me hot and cold all at once. It wasn’t a bad feeling. It wasn’t like the sick feeling I got in my stomach every time I caught Clint staring for too long.
On one hand, it was hot. Molten lava hot. I caught glimpses of something so sexy in both of their eyes that my panties were dripping wet by the time I left them.
But there was something so sweet there too. I know this sounds crazy but there were a couple moments there where I felt… cherished. Adored, even.
I know, I know. I sound nuts. Maybe it had just been so long since I’d been with a guy that I had a major case of wishful thinking going on.
I tip my head back and let my muscles relax. That must have been it. Wishful thinking. The moment I close my eyes, my favorite fantasies start up in my mind, and for the first time my fantasies grow even more vivid because now I have names and voices to go along with those hot bodies.
In my mind’s eye Ansel is next to me leaning over the hood, but instead of keeping a polite distance like he’d done today, he presses up against my side, his arm wrapping around my waist.
Dyce is behind me, that deep rumbly voice of his asking me how he can help.
Even in my fantasies I’m too timid to speak up and ask for what I want. But he knows. They both know. The water laps gently around me as I stroke myself, rubbing my clit as I imagine their hands tugging up my skirt, that deep voice ordering me to bend over so they can take turns giving me what I need.
Oh, fuck, I’m going to come.
Bam, bam.
My hand stills instantly and my eyes pop open at a knock on the door. I wait, thinking maybe I’d heard wrong. Who the hell would be showing up at my door at this hour?
When the knock comes again, I scramble out of the water and tug on my thin cotton robe, tying the sash as I reach the door.
I let out a little squeak of surprise when I glance through the peephole. Dyce? What is he doing here?
I probably should be scared. Most women would be. But I know better. I’ve seen him up close and personal and there is something so tender, almost gentle, in those dark, brooding eyes of his.
So I throw open the door, belatedly realizing that I’m only wearing a skimpy robe and that my body is wet, which makes the material cling.
Dyce stares. Gapes, really.
I’m equally embarrassed and turned on. I mean, I was already turned on thanks to my interrupted bath time, but now adding in his look of pure lust as his gaze rakes over my body… I’m ready to come right then and there.
He thrusts a briefcase at me. “This was in the backseat,” he said. “I thought you might need it.”
I nod as I take it from him. It was actually my spare and didn’t contain anything urgent but his actions were so considerate I don’t have the heart to tell him that. “Thank you.”
He hesitates and I know in a couple seconds he’ll walk away.
For some reason, I hate that thought. I normally love my alone time. I like living alone. I’m used to it. So the fact that having him here in the doorway makes me aware of a loneliness I hadn’t even known I was feeling? It was odd. Kind of like being made aware that your little toe has been throbbing for years but you’d been so focused on other, bigger health problems you never took much notice.
But now that you notice it, it’s hard not to feel the pain. It’s not a shrieking pain but a dull, insistent throb.
Shit. When the hell had I become so lonely? And why did seeing Dyce in my doorway make me suddenly aware of it?
“Do you want to come in?” I ask it without thinking. I just don’t want to watch him walk away. Not yet.
The flicker of surprise is quick—there and gone. And then he walks in and my apartment seems to shrink in size.
Good Lord, he’s a large man. I knew this, but in my apartment he seems that much bigger and everything else seems to shrink beside him. “Uh, would you like some tea?”
I see one corner of his mouth twitch up in amusement. Right. I probably should offer beer or whiskey or something. But I don’t have those. I have tea.
“No, thank you. Axle and I just wanted to make sure you got your briefcase and see what time you need us to take you to work tomorrow.”
It still throws me, that low, brutish voice combined with such kind words. I shake my head. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that. I can catch a bus or—”
His scowl stops me. “I thought we agreed.”
One would think I just reneged on my decision to marry him or something. He sounds so hurt, I can’t bring myself to argue further. “Um, okay. How about seven?”
He nods. “We’ll be downstairs at seven.”
I nod too, expecting him to leave. Waiting for him to leave. But then I see his gaze drop, his eyes darkening with undisguised desire as he takes in the sight of me.
Oh holy fuck. I am so hot and wet. Literally wet. The robe is clinging to me, molding to me like a second skin.
I know without looking that my nipples are jutting out, begging my attention, even as the robe clings to the V between my thighs. Holy shit, I’m more exposed than a stripper in this outfit.
I fold one arm across my chest as I tug the bottom away from my thighs, trying and failing to find some sort of dignity.
Our gazes lift at the same time, it seems. They lock, they hold. I can’t breathe as the air between us grows thick with sexual tension.
Oh fuck, I want him so badly. I want both of them but he’s here. Standing here like he’s been summoned from my fantasy. My pussy was already wet and needy from the interrupted bath, and I need it. I need something.
He takes a step toward me and stops, so close I can feel the heat from his body as if there’s nothing between us. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said in that growl of a voice. He cups my cheek with a large, calloused palm. “If you don’t want this, I need you to say so.”
I don’t speak. I can’t.
He hesitates. “Right now.”
I still don’t speak, because I want it. I need it. I want his kiss so badly I ache all the way down to my bones. So instead of the protest he seems to be waiting for, I tilt my head back, close my eyes, and let my lips part—inviting him in.
His mouth is so tender, his firm lips hot but gentle as he teases my lips and nips at the corners of my mouth.
My moan startles us both. Jesus, I must have been desperate for action if one kiss makes me moan like that, a needy sound that spoke of desperation.
He answers it with crushing force, his mouth claiming mine the way I need him to, the way I want him to. I don’t want to question my responses, I want to lose myself, and he intuitively seems to know that.
I don’t know if I move to him or if he pulled me into his arms, all I know is that the muscles of his chest feel amazing pressed against me, his strong arms are like iron around my waist. His mouth is a crushing, demanding force that keeps my brain satiated and quiet so my body can feel.
After a few moments of his kisses and his caresses, I lose all control. My mind goes blank as I spread my legs so his hard thigh can fit between them. I’m riding his thigh.
Jesus Christ, I’m fucking dry humping his leg like I’m a horny high schooler who’s never been fucked. But I can’t help myself. I’m desperate for release. Between my fantasy coming to life just a little while ago, and then my interrupted masturbation, my body is on fire and it’s desperate for release.
I’m desperate. Where the fuck is my rigid control? I have no idea. We could have been in public and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I couldn’t have stopped my body’s insane reaction if I’d tried.
He groans as he moves his mouth to my neck, my ear, trailing down as his arms pull me up. There’s hardly any weight on my feet, he’s holding me so tightly to him. My hips are out of my control. I’m riding his hard, muscular thigh, trying to get my release.
Later I know I’ll feel shame, but I can’t stop it.
He takes pity. Removing one arm
from around my waist, he slips a hand through the opening of the robe and seeks out my pussy. No fumbling, his hand clamps over my pussy and claims it like it’s his. Like it’s always been his.
I cry out against his lips and his tongue thrusts between my lips at the same time he slips two thick fingers into my hot, wet pussy.
He swallows my moan as his tongue and his fingers move in time. My muscles turn to liquid and I am putty in his arms as his tongue and fingers move in and out of me, fucking me senseless.
I can feel his cock throbbing against my thigh beneath his jeans. I want to touch it. I want to see it.
I need to feel him.
But my body is too desperate.
His fingers thrust as his thumb flicks my clit and I shatter in his arms. I come apart and my head falls back with my moan.
An eternity seems to pass, though I’m pretty sure it’s a matter of seconds. Then I’m back in reality with a jolt.
Oh my God.
Oh. My. God.
What am I doing? What did I just do? I don’t even recognize myself as I pull out of his embrace, wrapping my arms around my body as if that will somehow erase these last few minutes. I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. My body feels hot and cold at the same time. Tremors still rack my body at that amazing orgasm but my mind is back in control and I am too horrified to enjoy the rush of endorphins that come with that epic release.
I’m too embarrassed to do anything but back away, my head down, my brain scrambling for something to say that will end this humiliation. Because my gaze is firmly fixed on the floor I don’t see him approach so I gasp in shock as one of those thick, rough fingers gently tilts my chin up so I’m forced to look at him.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh. Oh holy shit, he looks so sweet. So gentle.
I mean, he looks like a terrifying giant—like some thug out of a mafia movie or something. But his eyes—his eyes are gentle, his gaze tender and sweet. “Please don’t be scared of me.”
That voice sends another shiver through me, a shiver of lust. God, that voice is hot.
“I-I’m not scared,” I say. And I mean it… kind of. I’m not scared that he’ll hurt me. If he’d wanted to hurt me he could have by now. I’d let him into my apartment, I’d let him have full access to my body.
And he’d pleasured me. He’d touched me like I was someone to cherish.
It was only then that my selfish brain absorbed the fact that while I’d come apart in his arms, he hadn’t had an orgasm.
Oh shit. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as my gaze automatically drops to his groin.
Yup, there it was. The hard bulge of evidence.
I was officially a selfish bitch.
He hesitates in front of me, clearly torn on what to say or do. I can’t blame the guy—this wasn’t exactly a typical occurrence for me either.
I clear my throat, hoping the right words would come. “I’m not scared of you,” I say more forcefully, because he seems to need to hear it. I’m scared of how I feel around you. “I’m just… embarrassed.”
That was putting it mildly.
“Don’t be.” He reaches out and touches my cheek so softly it’s barely a caress. “Please don’t be. What happened her… it was beautiful.”
God, he sounds so earnest. His words are too good to be true. But even if he’s silently laughing at me, I accept his kindness. “Thank you.”
He turns to leave and I let out a little sigh of relief. I need time alone to process what just happened and how I’m going to deal with it. Maybe I can take a different path to the garage. Use a side entrance or something. Maybe if I leave earlier in the morning they won’t be in the garage yet and—
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he reminds me.
Oh fuck. I barely manage a nod. In my shock and post-orgasm numbness, I totally forgot the arrangement I’d made with him and Axle.
How the hell could I escape them when they were my ride for the next few days?
Chapter Four
Dyce
I try not to look too smug as I recount what happened to Axle. Still, that openmouthed look of shock on his face is hard not to enjoy. And yeah, maybe I feel just a little cocky because Axle is normally the ladies’ man—he’s the smooth talker with the smile that chicks seem to love—and yet here I sit. The man who made out with our dream girl.
“Dude.” He says it like a curse and a prayer. He knows exactly how big a deal this is… and he also knows how wrong it was. He shakes his head, “Man, I’m jealous as hell, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I was in your position—”
I arch one brow. We both know he would have done a lot more. I’d at least shown enough restraint to get out of there before I threw her on the couch and shoved my cock into that tight pussy.
Axle rolls his eyes, “Okay, yeah, I definitely would have fucked the shit out of her if she opened the door wearing just a robe and showed the slightest bit of interest.” He closes his eyes and drops his head back. “Fuck, I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
I allow myself a smug smile. Yeah. Seeing her nearly naked had been just as good as we’d always imagined. And touching that body of hers? Sweet Jesus, I think I might have died and gone to heaven.
Axle opens his eyes and fixes me with a glare. “I thought we agreed that she was off limits.”
I nod. We did agree to that, and I’m not certain we were wrong. The thing is, we both had a thing for Charlotte that went beyond the physical. She represents everything we want someday. She represents what we went overseas to fight for and protect, but after all we’d done and seen, we can’t fool ourselves into thinking someone like her would be interested in guys like us.
Not in the long run, at least. And we’d agreed that we were ready for long term. We’ve spent years taking girls home and screwing them. Yes, together. We share everything and always have. But it’s getting old.
Shit, fucking never gets old—but being alone does. We’re both ready for something more than just a one night stand or a booty call from Angela, the latest in a long line of casual hookups. She’s fun—hell, they’re all fun—but they just get off on being with two badasses. They don’t want to get to know us, and we don’t want to get to know them.
For years now it’s been physical and that’s it. But we agreed that from here on out we were looking for the real deal.
And Charlotte? She’s not for us. It hurts to even think that but we’re nothing if not honest with ourselves. She’s out of our league in so many ways. Career, looks, sweetness…she’s got it all. She deserves the best, not two guys who have more baggage than they can carry, who live over a garage, and who need more from a woman than is right to expect.
But…
I tap my fingers against the table in our little kitchen. Our loft isn’t much, but it’s home. And right now, I feel her absence here. I know that’s crazy, but it’s true. Walking away from her tonight had been hard, and now that I’ve had a taste of her, I don’t know if I can go without another.
And one more taste would lead to another and then another and then… fuck. If I had my way, we would have her in our arms and in our bed forever.
“What are you thinking?” Axle asks.
He’s the only one who ever calls me out like this. He makes me talk even when I don’t want to. Most of the time he already knows what I’m going to say—when you’ve been through the shit we’ve been through together, you get to know how your friends think.
But right now, he looks curious, and I’m not sure how to come up with the words. Because maybe I’m just being selfish. Maybe I’m trying to rationalize something and make it okay when what I should be doing is running in the opposite direction.
Still, Axle is watching me, waiting for me to talk.
“I’m just thinking…” I clear my throat and keep my eyes on the table between us. “What if she needs us?”
His silence is long and all the more meaningful because, shit—Axle is never silent.
I hear him shift in his seat and I glance up to see him watching me with a mixture of hope and hesitation.
I know that look because I feel it too. I’m hoping he can help me sort through this. Maybe for once he’ll be the logical one, because right now I can’t tell my head from my ass. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.
All I know—all I really know—is that I want more of what I had tonight. I want to kiss Charlotte again more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want to hold her in my arms. I want to watch her expression when Axle makes her come. I want to feel her warmth in our bed as she sleeps between us.
I want all that with a ferocity that’s terrifying, and trust me when I say I don’t scare easy. But this is the first time in a long time that I want something… someone. It’s the first time that I let myself hope.
Honest to God, if I hadn’t kissed her tonight. If she hadn’t let me kiss her, I would never have thought it possible. But she had let me and not only that… I shake my head, trying to find the words. “I think maybe she’s lonely, Ax.”
I see the doubt flicker with something like hope. He wants me to convince him just like I want to believe it too.
“I’m not saying she’d want us for anything more than a good time,” I say.
“Obviously,” Axle adds.
We know she’s out of our league. No amount of hoping and wishing would change that. But still… I know what I saw tonight. I felt her desire and saw the desperation in her eyes.
The girl needs to be fucked proper, not just this finger fucking in the doorway shit. More than that, she needs to be held and cared for and shown just how fucking hot and sexy she is.
I’d suspected her confidence might be in need of a boost earlier today when she’d blushed and stammered and hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact. Everything about her had screamed low self-esteem, which is just heartbreaking, really. A woman like that should always know how amazing she is. She should be told every morning and reminded every night.
Fuck, if I had a woman like that…
“So what are you suggesting?” Axle asks.
I shrug and reach for my beer. I’m not even sure myself. “All I know is that she deserves to be treated right, and she’s clearly willing.” I take a swig of my beer and let Axle fill in the pieces.