Three Men and a Woman_Indiana

by Rachel Billings

  The woman was fucking spectacular.

  Plenty of women had let him into their beds, into their bodies. He’d taken a while, though, to realize it wasn’t necessarily about sex. An embarrassing amount of time, in fact, to figure out a lot of those women weren’t above faking their pleasure.

  Nothing had been fake about this. Even if he hadn’t honed his aptitude for detecting feigned responses and fake orgasms, he wouldn’t have been left guessing.

  Indiana Jones—he’d learned the rest of her sweetly goofy name from Sigge—wasn’t faking anything.

  Slow to respond now—he liked that—she turned her head and lifted away a little bit so she could meet his gaze without being cross-eyed. He didn’t like that pulling away so much, so he shoved his fingers in a little farther to remind her who was in possession of her body. She seemed to get it and settled back a touch closer.

  He was pretty sure she blushed, but that could have just been her extreme…exertions. Her smile was sweet and beguilingly shy. “It’s…been a while.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, not at all unhappy to have her confirm what he’d already guessed. “Just how long?”

  They were face-to-face, eye-to-eye, and he thought he could fall into that pretty blue good and hard. Good and long.

  He waited for her answer.

  “Since the divorce.”

  He fucking loved hearing that. “How long is that?”

  “Four years.”

  Jesus. No fucking wonder. The woman appeared to have an entirely, delightfully reasonable sex drive, and she’d left it floundering all that time. Then he thought about what he’d heard her say before. Young, she’d said. Early college when she’d hooked up with the douche.

  “Indy,” he said, leaning in to touch her lips softly before falling back to look at her. “Was Garrison your only one?”

  She looked at him quietly before she nodded.

  “Jesus.” He said it out loud this time, awed. He took a couple breaths. “I thought he was an asshole before.”

  She nodded again, telling him she’d known that.

  “I mean…” He almost didn’t know what to say. He kissed her again, still gentle about it, his heart more touched than he could fathom. “He had you. And he gave you up. For…nothing. I’m sure it was nothing. That he got in trade, I mean.” What a loser.

  She murmured something, some kind of gratitude, and he moved. He had to.

  He lifted over her, regretfully pulling his fingers out of her. But she was still in her entirely cute, unsexy P.J.s, and he had a hard-on for her like it was the end of his own four-year drought. He held in a plank above her, just dipping down to kiss her. He made quite a deal of it, like his heart was in it, and he wasn’t faking either. “Thank you,” he said when he could get himself to let go of her mouth. “Thank you.”

  She nodded once, like maybe she understood what he meant, even if he wasn’t all that sure about it.

  After that, the urgent prod of his cock reminded him to get down to business. He went to his knees between her thighs and looked down at her. Two buttons were still closed on her shirt, giving him a good view of just one of her tits, and, though that was mighty fine, it wasn’t enough. He slid his left hand under her back and lifted her up.

  She was fucking fit, so he didn’t do all the work. She used her long, lean abs, curving back in some hot yoga posture that let him finish off those two buttons and then peel away her jammies and heavy robe. He laid her back and stuck his fingers down either side of her flannel bottoms, but he held there for a good look before he nudged her hips up.

  She was freak-all gorgeous. Lean muscle that was there but not showing off, with fit, feminine curves. And tits—high and firm, enough so that he’d have had to check if he didn’t already know they were natural. He figured many women that size would have been tempted to augment. But they suited her—and him—just fine. She had that smooth, golden Nordic skin like Sig, and it looked damn good on her. The tips of her breasts were rosy, the areolas petite enough that he’d have them fully in his mouth soon, and the nipples puckered up tight, small like the tip of his pinky.

  His new favorite.

  She’d almost gotten him distracted as he knelt there admiring her beauty. But he caught the movement of a slow breath and was stirred back to awareness of his intent.

  He shot her a look to remind her he was in charge, nudged, and, when she compliantly lifted, slid her pants down and off. He had a lot more to look at then, so he worked her thick socks down past her ankles and off without a lot of attention to what he was doing. Possibly, one was still hanging at her toes when he was done.

  Her long legs were nothing but hot, more of the lean muscle that he knew he was going to love having wrapped around him while he banged her. And that pussy—sweetly bare and open to him as he crouched between her thighs.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, pleased as he’d ever been in his life. He might have kept looking for who knew how long, but he saw the small shiver that ran through her.

  “Cold, huh?” He looked around the room. She had a gas fireplace that was built out from the wall more like a woodstove, so it would actually serve to heat the room. He got up, lifted her with her lithe assist again, dispensed with her bundled robe and pajamas, and slid her under the blankets. He lit the stove with the remote he found on her bedside table. Then he pulled the small drawer open and found matches to light the candles she had scattered around the room.

  He looked down at her before he walked back into the hall to shut off the light there, which was what he’d been using to see her, since the bedroom had been left dark. While he was there, he went downstairs to flick the rest of the lights off and turn the lock on the door. If he got his way, neither of them would be leaving the bed until the sun woke them. He figured on that happening after about the fourth time he made love to her.

  She’d said she wouldn’t sleep with him, and he had to give her that one—she wasn’t going to get a lot of shut-eye.

  When he came back to the bed, she was all tucked in but for her sweet face and that blond hair spread over her pillow. She watched him undress, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t shivering from cold anymore.

  Before he slid out of his jeans, he pulled condoms from his pocket and set them on the table—all five of them. He usually only carried his emergency one, but he’d been planning ahead when he left the suite. J.J. and he had gotten Sig imaged—a bad sprain with some inflammation but no tear, thank fuck—and tucked in back at the Four Seasons. Then he’d pretended to go off to his own room and hoped J.J. wasn’t pretending when he did the same.

  He gave it thirty minutes and then decided he didn’t care if either of them was still awake and aware of him leaving the hotel.

  He’d gotten here first. He was going to have her first. You snooze, you lose.

  When he was naked, he looked over, waiting for those blue eyes to meet his. He didn’t mind that her gaze faltered after that, dropping to watch what he was doing as he tore open a condom and covered himself.

  Then he climbed under the blankets with her, freaking happy that she helped lift them to make room for him.

  He didn’t mess around. A man had his needs. He went right onto her, letting her have all of his weight but for what was on his knees between her legs. Finding her hands, twining fingers with hers, he took them up so they rested alongside her head. He kept a firm grasp, and she returned it, which he liked a lot. Then he took a little more weight off her, putting it on his elbows.

  He lifted a bit, rubbing his chest over her tits, watching her reaction in her eyes. Leaning in then, he kissed her, long and deep. God, he loved her taste, loved her body, loved…

  He fucking needed to fuck her.

  “Put your legs around me, baby. Like you want me inside you.” He said it mostly into her mouth, but she seemed to get the drift and wrapped those spectacular gams around him.

  “I do want you,” she said, God bless her. “Inside me.”

  Tyler lifted
up to look at her, keeping her hands locked with his, their gazes locked, too. Holding there, he flexed a little.

  His cock was hard as stone, resting not exactly innocently between them. The tip of him was just below her navel, and the base and his tight balls nudged against her pussy. As he flexed, his dick drew down slowly, nearly its whole length running over her clit. When he’d given her the last inch of that long stroke, he lifted so he hovered over her, a hard spear in line with her pussy. Then, hands free, like his cock knew exactly what it was doing, he lowered himself and found her.

  Her breath caught, and she flexed a little, the better to receive him. “Tyler,” she said on a gasp.

  “Indy,” he answered. Every muscle in his body tight, he went in for another kiss. But he had to see this. He had to watch her face as he took her. So he lifted up again and said her name once more.

  He’d known she was tight, and she’d been clued in to the fact of how big he was. So she shuddered a little as he started to penetrate her—a war between desire and fear, he figured.

  She let out a moan when he breached her at his widest, at the flare of his cockhead. Like she knew to be afraid. He waited there while her every breath was rough and audible, until she eased a little around him.

  Maybe she was afraid, but she was brave, too, and game. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment but then opened to him again and watched him as he took her the rest of the way, slowly, letting her feel each inch.

  He let out a grunt when he’d filled her completely. “God, that feels good.”

  It did. Better than anything he’d ever felt. He was a physical guy. He used his body for pleasure—on ski slopes, on his motorcycle, on the field. He’d been inside more than his share of women’s bodies.

  Nothing had ever felt like this. She was hot and tight around him. Her hands clasped his, and her legs held him to her. Her eyes were open to him, vulnerable.

  He held back a shiver, on the edge of coming without even giving her a single stroke. “Indy,” he breathed. “Don’t move.”

  Needing to get back in control, he lowered his head. He kissed her, her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. He arched up over her, lifting so he could see her tits and look down to where their bodies joined. Slowly, gritting his teeth and moaning against the orgasm that threatened, he drew out of her and then back in.

  “Jesus,” he breathed. “Indy.”

  Knowing a storm was rising, needing like hell to hold her to him, he let go of her hands. Rocking her side to side, he wrapped his arms around her, one at her shoulders and the other under her back. He shuddered, all tucked into her, gripping her like she was his lifeline. He moaned again in rampant satisfaction when she did the same, sliding her arms around him at his shoulders and waist. Her legs tightened, pressing against his thighs, nearly to his ass.

  They were as wrapped up as they could be together, even breathing the same air. Tyler bit his lip against foolish words that wanted saying, words he’d never spoken to a woman.

  With a growl, he fucked her. Once, hard and deep. But it was too fucking good to hold back, so he did it again, and then again.

  Compelled, wild with it, he drove into her, pistoning rashly, every fuck full and taking, hard and deep. He grunted uncontrollably with each thrust, rising up on his knees and taking her with him. She clung, her agile body staying with him, flexing each time he fucked into her to accept all of him.

  To receive him, to clasp him, to give him…all of her.

  His grunts, his growls turned to a constant roar. He felt like his head would explode with it. Over the sound of his own wild exhalations he tried to listen for her. He thought he heard it—her cries, her own mad storm of excitement. He was sure he felt it—the reflexive grip of her thighs, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, her short nails scoring.

  And her hot cunt clutching around his cock.

  It was going to happen. His head really was going to explode. He went rigid around her, his every muscle clenching her. “Come, baby,” he begged. “Hurry. Hurry, sweetheart.”

  It wouldn’t have mattered, because he couldn’t hold back. He totally lost control, in a way he hadn’t since he was a damn virgin first introduced to the surprising, profound pleasure of a woman’s pussy. Still, he cried out for her to join him, and, by God, she did.

  He felt her cunt spasm, felt her body buck and flex. He heard her, finally, her urgent wails loud enough at last to be heard over his own.

  She was right there with him. In fucking bliss he let go, crawling all over her, humping like a madman.

  The girl had some stamina. She clutched and convulsed, crying out, wild for every bit of it. He went at her mindlessly, his climax clawing at him as she was already going over.

  Then finally, with spastic shudders, like it was wrenched from his soul, he came. Spurts of cum burst from him, almost painfully hard, tearing through his cock. He moaned with it, his whole body spasming in wild bliss.

  Indy stuck with him, still rocking with her prolonged orgasm, fucking herself against him. She let it out in rowdy, hoarse shrieks that gradually settled into helpless, come-undone whimpers. Her body released at last, her arms and legs falling to the bed in utter collapse.

  His body did the same, the wracking tension peaking with his hard come and ever so slowly losing its harsh grip. His breath was panting at her ear, too loud, he knew. But there was nothing he could do about it except to let the insane pleasure settle bit by bit.

  Eventually, he realized he was going to have to move or risk losing his condom inside her. He did the minimal, regretfully sliding out of her and slipping the condom off. It was beyond him to do more than just flick it off over the side of the bed, unable to even care where it landed.

  Then he was back with her, his arms wrapping around her and holding her close.

  Neither spoke. He was pretty sure she was in the same stunned state he was. They’d fucked each other gloriously. And into oblivion.

  His breath still wasn’t quite steady as he tucked his head next to hers and fell asleep.

  * * * *

  “On your knees, babe.”

  Indy woke to Tyler’s words, his warm hands already on her, already moving her, positioning her.

  She could have used a moment. She felt like she hadn’t caught her breath yet, hadn’t had even a minute to think, to process.

  Certain as could be that she’d meant to say no when she saw him standing at her door, she still wasn’t sure how she’d ended up here. In her bed, with him. With him crouching behind her, ever so obviously intending to have her again.

  She hadn’t meant it.

  If she took anyone to her bed, it should have been Sigge. Yeah, she’d flirted with them all. But she’d connected with Sigge. They’d talked and shared something of their lives. He’d held her, clear in his desire for her but settling for just the comfort of a long, mutual embrace on the couch.

  He’d made plain his wish, his intent, to see her again.

  He wouldn’t have pushed his way into her house, wouldn’t have carted her up to her bed with that single-minded determination to take his pleasure from her body. There’d have been…more.

  She couldn’t explain, really, why she’d given herself to Tyler.

  Except there was this—his hands on her so very skilled and knowing. Reaching from behind to cover both her breasts as she came up on her knees, just like he’d instructed. Working her nipples in the way he’d learned sent wicked thrills through her. His hard arousal pressing against her, bluntly signaling his desire, his want of her.

  His strong determination to take what he wanted. He’d been impossible to resist. And giving in was so very pleasurable.

  He had her there again. On his knees behind her, he pulled her up with his grip on her breasts until her back came against his chest. His cock was hard, heavily pressed against the crack of her ass and reaching up to the small of her back. His big hands covered her breasts, thumbs and fingers clasping her nipples, rolling them and making her moan.r />
  Then one hand lowered, letting go of her nipple with a hard twang and sliding down her body. He stopped at her clit and gave her a rub, then went lower. He fingered her, pushing in deeply, letting her know how he owned her.

  A helpless moan of surrender escaped her, and he growled his masculine pleasure.

  Leaning over her, his breath hot on her neck, he burrowed into her hair. Clearing a space with his nose, he found bare skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and kissed her there, wetly. And then he bit.

  Like a wild stallion mounting his mare, he held her with his teeth as he maneuvered behind her, taking his hand from her pussy to direct his cock into her from behind. He grunted in satisfaction when he found her opening, wrapped that arm hard around her, and took her.

  Just as he had the first time, he filled her slowly, relentlessly. For his pleasure, it was clear, given his long, guttural groan. She was sure the other benefit of that slow penetration—easing the way as her body stretched to accommodate his girth—was secondary to him.

  He fucked her that way, his hips pushing hers up with each thrust, her body riding up each time and causing a tug on her nipples against the hold he had on them, both of his hands there again.

  Murmuring out his pleasure, he told her how much he liked it. Like she wouldn’t know, he told her how he fucked her so deep, how he was buried to the hilt inside her tight cunt, and how good it all felt. How he loved her tits, loved using them to make her whimper, pinching hard at her nipples. He kept at it, sliding one hand down to finger her clit until she was panting, close to coming.

  “You want it, baby?”

  He spoke roughly at her ear, and she sobbed once her relief that he’d let go with his teeth.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Tell me to make you come, Indy. Tell me you need it. Beg for it.”

  “Tyler!”

  He held his fingers pressing against her clit, hard but not moving, not like she needed. He pinched even harder at her nipple, a driving, exquisite edge of pain.