Ménage à Music (Rock Starz Book 3)

by Lily Harlem

  “You like brandy?” Tim asked already screwing off the top of a bottle of Sir Hector.

  “Perfect.”

  He poured three generous measures of amber liquid into fat-bottomed crystal glasses.

  “Here.” He handed me one. “Happy Christmas.”

  “Happy Christmas,” I said and raised the drink to my lips. The brandy was burning and tangy and coated my tongue with its syrupy texture.

  Tim took a sip of his. “Do you like it?”

  “Yes.” I placed it on the counter, feeling the heat spread in my belly. “It’s Christmassy.”

  He smiled and placed his drink next to mine. “Did I tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for us this year?” he asked in a low murmur, and stepping closer.

  I backed against the shiny white cabinets. He followed. I looked up at his handsome face, at the small groove in the center of his chin and his intense eyes. “Er, yeah a few times.” My breath hitched at his closeness. His shoulders were so broad, his chest so wide. He filled my vision.

  “Did I show you?” he asked, cupping his palms around my cheeks. “How appreciated you are.”

  “Well, you did send those flowers last week,” I whispered.

  “Mmm, I don’t think that showed you just how grateful I am for all your hard work.” His mouth lowered another fraction and then he was kissing me, like he had before, hard and confident, his tongue probing for mine.

  I didn’t stand a chance.

  I opened up and let him in. Found purchase on the tight muscles of his upper arms as my body turned boneless under the lethal expertise of his kiss.

  He tightened his fingertips in my hair and held my head still as he slanted his mouth and plunged deeper. We both let out a moan as our hot, brandy-laced tongues set up a wild, crazy dance.

  “Ah, Sylvia, you have no idea what you do to me,” he gasped. He slid his hands from my face, down my shoulders and wrapped them around my waist. With one swift movement he plonked me on the work surface.

  I landed on a wooden breadboard and a toaster rattled in the hollow of my back.

  He reached around me and shoved them hastily to one side. “You’ve been like, driving me nuts, so nuts, right until I ache…in my nuts.”

  “You should have told me,” I said breathlessly as his mouth trailed across my cheek to my ear. “I could have helped you out sooner.”

  “Jeez, can’t happen soon enough,” he murmured, splaying out his hands on my knees. He began to push my tight pencil skirt upward, bunching it around his wrists as his kisses headed down my neck.

  “But what about Dean?” I asked, tipping my head and delving my fingers into his thick hair as he kissed my neck.

  “Don’t worry about Dean, he’s cool,” Tim muttered, shoving his hips between my legs as my skirt shifted high enough to allow my knees to part. “He’s a cool brother, real understanding.” He rocked back and looked down at my lace stocking tops. “Oh, fuck, you really are trying to finish me off. I’ve been imagining this sort of thing under these tight skirts for weeks.”

  “Does it live up to expectations?” I asked as he plucked the thin satin straps that attached the stockings to my suspender belt.

  “Hell, yeah.” He was kissing me again, with even more urgency this time, as if he wanted to devour me, consume me. I didn’t mind, I wanted to be devoured and consumed—by him.

  Suddenly he pulled back. “What?”

  “Lose these,” he said in a deep, husky voice, stroking the silky material of my panties.

  I lifted my hips and he bunched my skirt around my waist then slipped my panties over my buttocks. My bare butt hit cool granite and he looped my underwear off my feet. I watched the thin slip of silk land silently on the white sparkly tiles of the kitchen floor.

  He reached behind himself. Grabbed the back of a chair from a low breakfast table and set it in front of me.

  “Like this,” he said, sitting down and reaching for my calves. “Put your feet on my shoulders.” His eyes caught mine. “I want to taste you. I want to sample the flavor I’ve been dreaming about.”

  Oh fuck. Really?

  He lifted my stockinged feet onto his shoulders. I curled my toes into the warm material of his t-shirt and felt hard muscle beneath my soles.

  My whole body was on fire with desire. I rested my hands behind myself as he settled a firm hand into the small of my back. A carnal grin spread on his lips as he slid my naked pussy to the edge of the counter. Right up close to his face.

  “Perfect,” he said, staring at my exposed intimate folds. “Absolutely perfect.”

  My heart was pounding so hard I could hear every pulse as I watched his fingers trip up the pale flesh of my inner thighs. His mouth followed and finally reached the lips of my sex. My head dropped back against the cabinet and I shut my eyes tight. I had a feeling Tim would know how to work his tongue.

  He did. He slid up between softly swollen folds, delving and probing with the hard, inquisitive tip of his tongue. He laved back down and explored my wet, juicy entrance, tunneling in, high and thorough with hot laps. I tightened my toes on his shoulders and felt a shock wave of pleasure surge through my body. I’d so missed being adored by a willing man’s mouth.

  His fingers joined in the fondling of my pussy, pushing into my entrance at the same time his tongue tangled with my swelling clit. I groaned and slid my legs farther over his shoulders until the delicate tops of my stockings touched his ears and my calves rested on his shoulder blades.

  My clit throbbed, straining for him as he suckled it deeper into his mouth. I lifted my head and looked down. His face was completely hidden between my thighs. “Oh, God, yes, yes, yes,” I gasped, tightening my grip on the edge of the work surface. “Tim, that’s…ahh…” A long-overdue climax was building, curling up in my pelvis and growing, getting ready to explode and rack my body. My head fell back again and I squeezed my eyes shut. An image of Dean, with his slightly leaner jawline and his longer, more graceful limbs entered my brain—but it seemed my choice had been made for me. A twang of regret encroached upon my magical moment. But only for a second, because then Tim upped the pace; his tongue became more insistent and he added another finger to my pussy, pushing up against my G-spot with perfect pressure and rhythm.

  “That’s it, just there, I’m…I’m…” I cried out as I came. The explosive climax was hard and fast and my high-pitched gasp echoed around the kitchen. My pussy clamped Tim’s fingers as my clit pulsed in his mouth. Intense pleasure washed through me, spreading over my skin like liquid gold and twisting my insides until my body went boneless.

  I felt myself slipping, my elbows gave way and my spine curled. I was sliding off the edge of the counter, the rim perilously near the edge of my buttocks.

  Suddenly big arms clamped around me and hot lips pressed down on mine. I fed desperately off the demanding tongue as I was held tight against a wide, hot chest.

  “It’s not polite to leave someone out of the party,” Dean breathed into my mouth.

  Chapter Three

  I opened dazed eyes and stared straight into Dean’s mossy green irises. “Oh God, Dean, I’m so sorry,” I panted.

  Tim raised his head and lifted my legs back over his shoulders, placing my feet on his knees.

  “I didn’t mean…” I said in a shaky voice, curling my fingers into Dean’s t-shirt to keep him close. Keep him from walking away. “I’m sorry, I…”

  One side of Dean’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. He glanced down at Tim, who was wiping his shiny chin with the back of his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, shivering as a final orgasmic shudder claimed me. “I just, I don’t…” I shook my head. “It’s been a long time.”

  Dean grinned. “I can tell,” he said. “Jeez, you just about exploded off the worktop. Good job I walked in and caught you when I did.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  “You—you don’t mind?” I asked, looking at his smiling face.

  “He
ll, no. Seems like the best solution for all of us. We both like you, you like both of us.” He paused. “At least I think you do—”

  “Yes, yes I do.”

  Dean smiled. “So let’s all have fun together.”

  “Yeah,” Tim said, smoothing his hands up my legs to the tops of my stockings. “What better way to spend Christmas Eve than being surrounded by brotherly love, eh Sylvia?”

  I looked between them. Was this really happening? Were they really suggesting I didn’t need to make a choice?

  It seemed they were.

  I swallowed tightly as Dean pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek. “Say yes, honey,” he murmured. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  I didn’t think for a minute I would.

  “Yes,” I said, tucking my fingers under the hacked-off arms of his t-shirt and feeling smooth, warm skin. “Yes, I want you both, I didn’t know how to choose. I couldn’t. I—”

  “Good, that’s all we need to know,” Tim said, pushing up from the chair and scraping the legs noisily on the floor tiles. “’Cause you got me so hard it’s getting damn uncomfortable in these jeans.” He plucked me out of Dean’s embrace into his and lifted me off the counter. “It’s time to all get naked. But first I need a shower. Pounding those drums under the studio lights worked up a bit of a sweat, as did that moment of excitement.”

  I wriggled my hips and shoved my skirt back to my knees. I glanced at my panties, twisted and abandoned on the floor. They could stay there. I was looking forward to getting naked too. My sweater felt hot and itchy on my super sensitized skin.

  Tim tugged my hand and led me out of the kitchen. Dean was close behind. I could hear his footsteps and feel his breaths on the back of my neck. We walked past the sparkling Christmas tree with its dramatic backdrop of the London skyline. I didn’t pause to admire it; my one short, sharp orgasm had made me greedy for more and the thought of getting my hands on both the Coltrane brothers at the same time had me almost coming again with excitement.

  Tim paused briefly at the enormous stereo in the living room and flicked a switch. The room filled with the intro to “Slip Knot.” Loud and intense, the deep bass of Dean’s guitar groaned like an excited lover getting ready to enter the final throes of ecstasy.

  “This way,” Tim said over his shoulder.

  We went into the bedroom. Smoky mirrors filled every wall, creating a million infinite images of us hurrying over the plush carpet. I glanced at the brothers’ faces.

  Both wore the same hungry, determined expression, one in front, one behind me. There was no turning back.

  I didn’t want to turn back.

  Tim threw open a mirrored door to an en suite and ushered me in. I caught my breath. It was enormous, as big as the bedroom nearly. There was a giant, walk-in shower cubicle with two heads and hundreds of small jets sunk into the wall, two big sinks surrounded by toiletries. A separate door, slightly ajar, revealed a toilet and bidet. In the corner of the main bathroom, beneath a picture of Venus emerging from rolling waves, was a plus-sized chaise longue. It was red and white striped and its legs were polished silver and shaped like fat feet with claws.

  “This is fabulous,” I exclaimed, stepping farther in. Their song continued to play from speakers in the ceiling, Robbie belting out the first verse about knots, headboards and all-consuming love.

  “Yep, it’s definitely big enough for three,” Dean said, removing his sneakers.

  Tim did the same, then dragged off his t-shirt. I studied the small silver bar he had through his right nipple. I’d seen it before—in the summer all the band were prone to stripping to jeans—but seeing it now, after what he’d just done to me and what we were about to do, made it so damn sexy I wanted to curl my tongue around it.

  “I don’t think this bathroom has hosted a threesome before,” Tim said, flicking on the shower. “Ian and Robbie are only into one at a time.”

  “And you?” I asked over the sudden sound of blasting water. “Have you shared a girl before?” I wanted to know. This was a first for me. I needed to know if it was a first for them too.

  “Let’s just say we know how to satisfy a woman we’re both hot for,” Dean said, reaching for the bottom of my sweater. “Not just in the bedroom.” He paused and rolled his eyes with a grin. “I mean not just in the bathroom, but in every aspect of life.”

  I lifted my arms as he slid the sweater over my head. My hair swung back around my cheeks.

  “Yeah.” Tim stepped behind me. “We know how to please a woman, right down to every tiny, important detail.”

  “So you’ve had a threesome before?” I asked.

  “Mmm,” Dean murmured. “We have.”

  My heart did an extra string of beats, which made me a little lightheaded. Should I be nervous or should I be grateful they knew the logistics?

  “Yeah, but we haven’t had a threesome with you, Sylvia,” Tim whispered on a hot breath into my ear. “So this is special. Tonight is very special.” He fiddled with the clasp on the back of my bra and I felt it loosen around my ribs. Nerves and thoughts of practical considerations fled my mind as Dean tugged the straps from my shoulders. My breasts hung heavy on my chest—my flesh tingled with anticipation and my nipples stuck out like hard beads.

  “Beautiful,” Dean said, looking down at me. “You really are exquisite.”

  A flutter of excitement claimed my body as he reached out and brushed his thumb over first my right nipple and then my left. My areolas tightened further.

  “So pretty,” Tim said, his chest hair pressing into my shoulder blades. I could feel the nipple piercing, cool and hard as he moved in tighter. He slid his hands around my waist and up over my flat stomach until he was cupping the underside of my breasts. Dean stooped and took my left nipple into his warm, wet mouth. I moaned in delight as Tim gently squeezed and massaged the flesh his brother was working with his tongue.

  “You like that?” Tim asked huskily.

  “Yes, oh, yes,” I said, tipping my neck into the dip of his shoulder.

  “Good, ’cause there’s plenty more to come.”

  Dean was touching my breasts too—four big, male palms and one hot, hungry mouth, worshipping, kneading, suckling. I let out a whimper as a sudden, blinding lust pierced my body. If there was plenty more, I wanted it now.

  I pushed Dean away. “I thought we were all getting naked,” I said, my voice deep and needy.

  “Oh, don’t worry, we’re going to,” Dean replied, an impatient shard of desire slicing across his pupils as he straightened.

  Tim’s hot breath caressed my scalp. “Much as I’ve been fantasizing about this obscenely tight skirt you wear, it’s time for it to go. It’s well and truly served its purpose.” He tugged the zip just below the arch of my back and I wiggled my hips to let the skirt slither down my legs.

  I stood before them in just my black silk garter belt and my delicate, lace-topped stockings.

  Dean ran his hand over my bare hips, the thin straps of my garters and down my thighs. When he reached the stocking tops he looked down at me, taking in my pale skin and my thin strip of light brown pubic hair. “Phew,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Best damn Christmas stockings we’ve ever had, don’t you agree, Tim?”

  “Hell, yeah.” Tim was smoothing over my butt. “This is exactly what I asked Santa for in this year’s stocking,” he murmured. “I must have been a very good boy.”

  “Not everyone’s definition of good is the same as yours,” I said, watching Dean unhook the small, round clips of the garter belt. “I think you’re both being really bad, actually.”

  Dean looked at me and his eyebrows twitched.

  “In the best possible way,” I said with a smile and cupped his scratchy jawline in my palm.

  He grinned back as my garter belt fell to the floor. Both men squatted, each rolling down a stocking into a fat ring at my ankles. I placed my hand on Dean’s shoulder, lifted my left leg while he pulled his stocking off my foot and tossed it
aside. I did the same with my right leg and let Tim take off my final article of clothing.

  They loomed back over my nakedness, tall and wide and oozing desire. Tim’s breath was hard and fast on my neck and Dean’s high cheekbones had flushed. I noticed beads of sweat on his upper lip, settling in his stubble. The running shower was heating up the room as much as our lust was.

  “I’m way ahead of you,” I said softly, sliding out from between them. I stepped toward the shower. “Slowcoaches.”

  I stuck a hand into the blasting water, checked the temperature, then shimmied through the glass partition. I gasped. The water was hot and fierce, peppering hard bullets onto my sensitive breasts. I pushed my fingers through my hair, scraping it back over my forehead as water soaked through it. A bottle of jasmine shower gel caught my eye and I reached for it, flooded my palm and set about soaping my breasts, my stomach and my hips. I held my face to the streaming water and breathed in the summer sweetness that laced my tongue like sherbet. The hot pounding and the slippery gel washed away the busy day and I let go of every thought except here and now.

  And what a here and now!

  I opened my eyes and came face-to-face with two big, naked rock stars looking decidedly single-minded about what they wanted from me. I fought a tremor of nerves. Could I do this?

  Of course I could.

  I placed my sudsy hands in the center of their sternums. Each had a sprinkle of darkly coiled chest hair, though Tim’s was thicker and spread out to his nipples and swirled around his piercing. Dean was a fraction taller than his brother, his chest not as broad but every taut muscle was defined, his pecs square and his small, chocolate-brown nipples erect.

  “Glad you could join me,” I quipped as the water streamed down, flattening their hair and beading their skin with crystal droplets.

  Neither of them spoke. They just looked at me hungrily. Tim tugged his bottom lip with his teeth as Dean pulled at the inside of his cheek.

  Swallowing, I slid my hands lower, spreading slippery shower gel over hard, wet flesh and bricked abs.