But—my hips thrust up without me meaning for them to, driving my cock through my tight fist, and I groan again—honestly, before I’d come to my senses, seeing him there, it hadn’t made me want to stop.
Not at all.
I start working my hand faster, needing to refocus. Dylan isn’t part of this fantasy. This is all Cate.
If we’d kept going, would she have pulled that loose shirt over her head, or would I have torn it off of her? I like the idea of her naked, but call me a caveman, I like it even better when I’m the one to do it. Let her know how badly I want her. How irresistible I find her.
Yeah, tearing is good.
Those panties, though… after having seen her in the bath, I don’t think I’d have the patience for her to get out of them, tearing or not. I’d want to just shove them to the side and get to the good stuff right away. Touch her. Feel how wet she was for me. I’d seen it, and my breath hitches as I imagine how good it would feel to let my fingers explore that wet spot I’d seen at the front of her panties when we broke apart.
And damn, the fire that had been in her eyes…
Heat pools in my stomach, liquid want making me lightheaded as my balls pull up even tighter.
I’m really fucking into my fist now, but can’t help it. All too easy to imagine sinking my fingers into that blissful wet heat, teasing her clit until she’s gasping and squirming and making hot, sharp moans against my shoulder. Those same ones that escaped when we were kissing, that made me so damn hot I lost all reason.
The look in her eyes when we were fighting was crazy hot, the crackling anger interlacing with raw, animal hunger. I want to see her look at me that way again.
Shit, I want that look again and again and again.
I could fuck her endlessly and never get enough. Just that one taste, and I already know it. And speaking of tasting… Christ. I almost come, and I snap my eyes open again, buying a little time. The vision is too good to let it end yet, not after I’ve waited this long to let myself go here.
Eyes wide open, though, I can still see her.
I want to taste her so fucking bad my mouth waters.
Want to find out everything about her, claim every part of her, hear her beg for me.
No, not beg. Not my Wildcat. I want her to demand that I give her what she needs. That’d be a sweet final nail in the coffin of my old insecurity about her not wanting me, and fuck if that fire in her didn’t do it for me.
Throbbing hunger pulses through me as I think about tormenting Cate in the sweetest ways, about working her up to a fever pitch before letting her have what she needs, what we both need. I swear softly, my hand getting frantic again as that liquid heat pulls behind my balls, getting tighter and tighter as I prepare to unload. Fuck, I want to take everything Cate’s got, and then… I hiss as my thumb brushes over the head of my cock and sends a jolt of pleasure through my nerves that almost undoes me.
I want to give her everything I have.
I can’t help but buck into my own hand, the images racing through my brain too hot for any human being to withstand. Would we have made it to the couch in the living room before I couldn’t stand not being inside her anymore, or would we have been so damn keyed up that we’d have been unable to resist going at it on the floor of the landing? Or up against the wall. Yeah, fuck. That’s how I’d take her.
I groan as the hot, twisting need inside me ratchets up another notch, like a goddamn roller coaster about to plunge over for the part of the ride that leaves you screaming.
Cate, tearing at my clothes.
Cate, those sexy-as-fuck moans.
I want you, Jack, I need it.
She’s never said it, but I can hear it anyway. She sounds like an angel. Like torment. Like the kind of hot promise I’d never let go of.
I swallow hard on a suddenly dry throat, and my fantasy changes in a flash. I’m not pounding her into the wall, she’s shoving me down, desperate for me. Mounting me like she was made to do it, sinking down onto my full length in one burning movement, fitting around my cock like we’re a matched set.
I shudder, my body aching to feel it, to feel her.
The Wildcat I’d had in my arms on those stairs would be riding me at a gallop, those perfect breasts bouncing and her face the picture of ecstasy as she uses me, takes everything she needs, shows me that she’s been desperate for it for way too long and I’m the only one who can give it to her right.
I crack my eyes open, my abs flexing as I curl up to work myself even harder. Faster. My breath’s coming in hard little pants now, fast and ragged, and my hand’s practically a blur around my cock, but I’m only half-aware of being here on my bed. All I know is those long, hot thighs of hers flexing and shaking around me, my hands gripping her sweet, full ass as she impales herself on me, fucking me at a merciless, punishing pace, just like the one I’m using now.
Yeah, Cate, that’s it, baby. That’s so fuckin good, so good, Wildcat.
I’m so close to exploding I can barely stand it, my balls pulled tight now and every nerve of my body molten with lust.
And then—
My brain does something it’s never done before.
Something I thought I’d had some solid, industrial-strength protection set up against.
It tosses me a picture of Dylan.
And not just a flicker of a thought, either, like when you suddenly think about a bill you gotta pay. This is a full color, surround-sound broadcast that makes me freeze into a statue, my fist around my dripping cock and my ass tightened up mid-thrust.
Dylan interrupts us, just the way he did the other day, but now—even when I squeeze my eyes closed tight and try to get my mind back on Cate riding me, all I can see is his face. Not instead of hers. Christ, I’m a dirty fuck, aren’t I? Dylan’s there, too. Grinning down at me as Cate loses it, behind her, twining a hand in her hair so he can pull her head to the side and get at her throat. Kiss along her jaw and swallow her moans. And I’m not… not mad. Not screaming “mine” like I probably should be.
I’m so fucking hard I hurt.
I’m still not moving, not even an inch, but it still feels like I’m about to come just from that.
Cate on top of me, moaning into Dylan’s mouth, his hands covering her breasts as her body tightens around my cock like a vise. She’s squeezing me, sending me reeling, overloading me.
Holy shit.
I’m not holding still anymore. I’m fucking my fist so hard I’m gonna be raw. The thought may be wrong—everything I’ve grown up with tells me it is—but the reaction from my body is immediate, harsh, and unequivocal.
I want this.
I fucking need this.
Jack’s hot. I’d probably kiss him if I had the chance, too.
A bolt of sensation rips through me, so strong it makes me groan through gritted teeth. Fuck if hearing him say that hadn’t stopped me in my tracks. Hadn’t sent something hot and wild tearing through me that I’d known for sure was not okay. I mean, you know a guy’s gay, and maybe it’s a shock, but you’d think it’d occur to you that maybe he’s looked at you that way before.
But somehow, I hadn’t let myself go there.
Hadn’t ever thought Dylan noticed me… like that.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m going to come, though. I can’t stop thinking it now. Can’t stop hearing him say it. Can’t help but wonder—I shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t, but—how would Dylan taste?
He’s got stubble. He’s not soft. Not curvy. He’s a man, and I shouldn’t be sharing fantasy-Cate with him, much less wondering shit about not just sharing but… indulging. But I can’t stop. My cock jumps in my hand like it’s got a life of its own, and even if the brain in my skull doesn’t know what to do with thoughts of Dylan in the middle of getting myself off, the brain in my pants sure as shit does.
I’m barely breathing now. Breathing too hard. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I just know I’m tipping over that edge where nothing I do is gonna matter, I’m
going to shoot hard and fast and I can already tell it’s going to be better than what I’ve had in a long time. And yeah, sometimes when you’re getting off your dick likes something your brain doesn’t, like when a chick in porn uses a weird word that normally would make you go lady what the fuck, but this, this—
Jesus H. fucking Christ! My cock is slick with all the precum dripping out of me, pouring out, I’m hot and thick and letting loose with sounds that are too much. Too raw. Too fucking needy to really be from me. My cock is painful now, straining as I pound into my strokes desperately, picturing all three of us together.
This isn’t some kinda porny fluke, this is something different altogether.
This is weird and fucked and new and intense. So goddamn intense I feel like I can’t breathe.
God help me, I’m beyond trying to clean up my thoughts. I lean into it. Let my imagination have the reins. Tell myself that I’m just along for this ride, can’t help it, can’t stop it.
Can’t care right now about how twisted or kinky or flat-out wrong it might be.
My eyes roll back and my mouth falls open and for now, at least, I’m past giving a shit. Living in the moment. Ready to shoot right into the unbearably perfect heat of Cate. And then… and then… oh Christ. Oh, fuck. How tight would she be with both of us inside her, me and Dylan, both giving her everything we’ve got?
How much would she love that, love all that attention and friction of the three of us all connected?
Fuck, I bet she’d go off like a goddamn Fourth of July rocket.
Scream for us, Duchess.
And that’s it. It’s over. Heat explodes through my body and my brain blanks out, my thoughts all seared away by the white-hot pleasure racking my body. Cate’s ecstatic face, Dylan’s, both of them, oh Jesus fuck —!
I cry out as I shoot all over my stomach, halfway up my goddamn chest, scalding spurts of relief that seem to go on and on and fucking on.
Goddamn.
I can’t think about it.
Can’t… think.
But fucking-A, even after I come down, not letting myself think about it can’t stop me from wanting.
9
Dylan
It’s been a lovely Saturday afternoon so far. No drama, no nothing. I remember how terrified Cate looked when I walked in on her and Jack earlier in the week, and so I’ve tried my best to keep things nice and relaxing, friendly, low-key and low-commitment. It’s been wonderful, despite the fact that I want her every time I lay eyes on her.
Speaking of which, I’m watching her now, her lovely curves moving with purpose as she unhitches and folds old drapes.
“I loved these drapes as a kid, but they have to go,” Cate says, continuing her work.
I laugh. “Yeah, Sully’s taste was always a bit Old Spice, wasn’t it?”
“That’s definitely one way to put it,” she replies teasingly. “I think we can do a lot to brighten this old house up.”
“Yeah, I agree,” I say, standing on a small stepladder and helping with the next set of drapes. “The ones you picked out are astounding. Very chic, very welcoming. You’re amazing at this.”
“Thanks, I try,” she says, smiling.
We still haven’t talked about the townhouse. I feel like time is starting to run out, but there hasn’t been much that I could do about it for the past few days. Jack isn’t taking my calls, and Cate has been determined to move on as much as humanly possible. She’s a tough cookie, that one, but I’m caught in the middle of these two again. I’m starting to feel like that might be my place in their lives, which isn’t the worst thought in the world, but it’d be nice if we could get things settled.
Even nicer if we could get things good.
“All of those interior decorating skills are going to come in handy if it comes to preparing the house for sale,” I say, wincing the minute the words are out of my mouth.
Sure enough, Cate stops for a moment and shoots me a glare. Kind of cute, if I’m being honest, even though I hate to have upset her. Still, it might as well be an air-kiss for how non-threatening it is.
The two of us have been falling into a playful rapport, and I’m glad to see that it can stand up to a discussion like this. We won’t make it far if it doesn’t, and regardless of what happens with the townhouse, now that Cate’s back in my life, I don’t want to let her go again.
“I don’t want to let this house go, Dylan,” she says, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face as she all but parrots my thoughts with her words.
Well, so she’s talking about the house, but the connection between us? Even with our current lack of sex, I can tell she feels it, too.
“I don’t care what we have to do, but we’re going to figure this out together,” she goes on firmly. “We’re not leaving this house to anyone else. It’s our home.”
I want to agree. Instead, I say, “The only problem is, we’re not the ones who can make that decision. Not just the two of us, anyway.”
Jack’s always on my mind.
“Just say it, Dylan,” Cate says, throwing me a playful look.
I haven’t brought Jack up since he stopped by, knowing she’s not nearly as okay with her attraction to him as I am, and it’s good to see her teasing me about it instead of looking like she might combust.
She finishes with the drape in her arms and throws it onto the stack on the floor, adding, “This has been so nice with the two of us, it really has, but I know the… the situation with the townhouse—” with Jack “—has been hanging over our heads like a guillotine all week.”
“Okay,” I say, and motion with my head for her to join me in the kitchen. “Let’s talk about it over some lemonade, yeah?”
A moment later, we’re both sitting on the couch with our fresh glasses of lemonade. It’s not that hot outside yet, still a little too early in the year, but we’ve been working hard all day and the sweet, cold liquid comes as a welcome relief.
“Everything you touch turns to gold,” Cate says, resting her head back into the cushions contentedly. “You’re going to be an amazing professional chef. They ought to just give you that certificate right now.”
I laugh, pleased, settling in and enjoying the moment. “Yeah, well, there’s still a lot I don’t know. Catching up quick, though.”
“Speaking of catching up,” she says, spearing me with a look.
Cate’s always been magnificent, but like this? Shedding the shyness and reserve she’s worn like armor ever since I’ve known her, a little bit more every day?
Sexy doesn’t even begin to describe her.
I take another drink of my lemonade, ignoring the surge of heat and refocusing on Jack.
Well, that brings another surge of heat, but I ignore that, too.
“The sooner we talk to Jack, the better,” I say. “If I have to be out of here this summer, I don’t have a lot of time to get my life together for a big move into a new place, and I know you’ve got to figure out what you’re doing, too.”
Cate winces, frowning. “Dylan, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been selfish this week, and you’ve been so, so perfect about making things lovely for me.”
I smile, and by the flush in her cheeks, I realize I haven’t been able to keep all the heat out of it. Not that I want to hide it from her, but I also don’t want to push her until she makes her peace with what she called “complications.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” I say, and yeah, Cate hears the innuendo.
She clears her throat, glancing away. “But you’re right,” she continues after a second, finally looking back at me. “Dragging our feet on this isn’t fair to you any more than it is to me.”
“It’s not fair to Jack, either,” I point out.
Cate bites her lip, and I wish for the millionth time she felt comfortable talking about her feelings for Jack with me. He’s the hottest man I’ve ever known, and if she thinks I blame her for wanting him, she really doesn’t know me as well as she might think. And if she thinks I�
��d judge her for that? Well, I’m not going to say I’d love sharing her with someone else. Would probably back off if that’s what she wanted. But Jack is… Jack. All I felt seeing them together was happy.
Well, happy, plus turned on, but I’d been able to tell that if I’d let on to that—at least, any more than I had with my comment about wanting to kiss him—it would have freaked both of them out even more than they already were.
“Jack has money and his own home,” Cate’s saying now, pulling my thoughts out of some of my hotter fantasies and back to the reason we’re talking about Jack right now. “No matter what we end up doing, he’ll be fine at the end of this.”
Jack’s money and position don’t necessarily equal “fine” in my head, but I’m not going to push that conversation with her.
Cate gives me a quizzical look, and something about the little flare of heat in her eyes makes everything inside me perk up.
“So, hey, personal question,” she says.
I laugh. Her tone is cautious, but I’m an open book. Like I’d said to Jack, I don’t hide who I am, and certainly don’t have any interest doing that with Cate.
“Shoot,” I prompt her when she doesn’t go on right away.
“Okay,” she says, her cheeks pinking up again. “Did you mean it?”
I’m at a loss.
“Mean what?” I ask.
She flushes even more, and her breath picks up a little. It’s sexy as hell, and even before she tells me, that reaction finally gives me an idea about the subject she’s fishing around so carefully.
“When you… when you said you’d kiss Jack too, did you mean that? Were you just trying to scare him off? What’s the deal there?”
I grin, raising my eyebrows. I’m trying to remember if we’d talked about anyone I was interested in back when we were kids. Anyone I’d dated. I think not. Certainly not Jack, because there was always that tension between the two of them, and not anyone else, because… well, honestly, because in the summers, when Cate was there, between her and Jack, I didn’t really pay much attention to anyone else.
Mine: MMF Bisexual Menage Romance Page 11