by Anne Calhoun
Okay, so he didn’t know the protocol for this situation, but she was asking…and she was going down on him while she asked, so…she wasn’t mad? He had nothing to be ashamed of here. She’d told him she was over him. “A friend called me and asked me to meet him and his girlfriend at the bar. So I did.”
Abby sat up and put her fingers to the buttons of her blouse. “What else did you do?”
He watched her take off her shirt, then her bra before he answered. “The things you do at No Limits. Drink.” Ass in the air she went down again, and he groaned. “Dance. Jesus, Abby.”
“I heard about the dancing,” she said, a cat’s smile on her face. “Lisette said it was very hot. All three of you at once. And then you left together.”
His cock throbbed, and whether it was from the memory of that night with Ty and Lauren or Abby’s teasing sucks and licks, he didn’t know. When he kept quiet, she pushed. “Did you do something naughty, Sean?”
“No,” he said. Naughty was Abby in her No Limits uniform, teasing him with glimpses of her cheeky panties. What he’d done with Ty and Lauren…fuck, he had to choose the right word during a blow job?
She paused and looked at him, eyebrows cocked expectantly. “No, you didn’t do something naughty?”
“We did something erotic,” he rasped, scrambling for an answer so she’d continue. “Adult. Carnal. That’s the right word. Carnal.” It came from some hot, dark place inside him, a place unlocked by the adrenaline and Abby’s tight, wet mouth, and just thinking about it tightened his balls. Heat pooled at the base of his shaft, began to climb.
She wrapped her hand around his spit-slicked cock and began to jack him, slow but hard enough to retain that erotic edge. “When?”
“The night after I found you at Ben’s.”
“What did you do?”
Tell the truth. All of it. “We drove to her place and had sex with her just about every way you can have sex with a woman.”
A blink, a curious tilt of her head. “Oral,” she said, but it wasn’t a question. “Vaginal?”
He nodded again, not sure how she’d take that, but she didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Anal?”
“Not me. Ty did.”
She took him deep. At the slick pressure of his cock against the back of her throat he tensed, clenched his fists in the sheets to avoid clenching his fists in her hair and bucking up into her mouth until he came.
“Why?”
Why what? He struggled for the trailing end of their conversation, latched onto it. Why did you do it? That was the subtext under the single word, and Abby’s beguiling mouth, wet and tight and purposeful, was stripping his ability to filter his responses. “Because I found you at Ben’s.”
“Did finding me at Ben’s make you mad?’
Finding her at Ben’s broke his heart, but he wasn’t about to tell Abby that. “And,” he said, driven to honesty, “because odds aren’t good I’ll get another offer like that again.”
A smile, knowing and amused, curved her wet, pink lips. “You really have no idea how hot you are,” she said. “You could walk into No Limits and walk out twenty minutes later with any two girls in the bar.”
He was the exception to the rule about the sex appeal of Marines. Women didn’t emerge from the woodwork and hurl themselves at him. Even in uniform. They asked him for directions, trusted him to drive them home without violating them when they were shitfaced, cried on his shoulder when their boyfriends screwed their friends and broke their hearts. “You’re crazy.”
“You’re arguing with me?” she asked coquettishly, and took a firmer grip on his cock. “I must not be doing this right.”
She practiced assiduously for a few moments, and just when release seethed in the tip of his cock, she lifted her mouth again. He groaned.
“Poor baby. Have you done that before? Anal sex?”
The question, combined with a particularly hot moment of lips and teeth and pressure applied to the tip of his cock sent his orgasm climbing his shaft. “No.”
“Do you want to?”
That got his attention. He opened his eyes and focused on her face. “Whatever you want, whenever you want, Abby.”
“I want,” she said.
Sweet Jesus. “Later,” he said. “I’m too turned on to take it slow now.” Slow was key.
Her cat-green eyes flashed a provocative challenge. “That’s not all I want,” she said.
It took him a second to get it, because she’d taken up that torturous siege on the tip of his cock. When her words formed meaning in his brain he slid his hand under her jaw to lift her face.
Maybe you should have thought about what she meant to you before you did it.
His conversation with Ty when the ménage with Lauren was over flashed into his brain. Then, he couldn’t understand why he’d share a woman he cared about with another man. Now…it turned him on to think about it. Now…he remembered the look on Lauren’s face, and the look on Ty’s, when they shared that experience together. For a long, charged moment he looked deep into Abby’s eyes. She meant it. Her truth was in her eyes, the flush on her skin, in her pouty, swollen lips. The explanation, a rationale beyond whatever, whenever, wasn’t as forthcoming.
You just made it sound hot as hell, you moron. Abby won’t need a rationale beyond that.
“Come here,” he said, lifting his chin.
Still innocently obedient she let his cock slap against his belly and shifted her weight up to straddle his hips. With his eyes focused on hers, he worked his hand under her skirt and found slick, wet heat. Her eyes went heavy-lidded, and her lips parted on a soft sigh. With his wrist twisted awkwardly he sought and found her clit, swollen at the top of her sex. He stroked both sides gently, and heat flared on her collarbone and in her cheeks.
Time to turn the tables on her. “What turned you on, Abby? Giving me a blow job, the thought of anal sex, or the thought of a ménage?”
“All of the above,” she murmured. “I’m not the girl you left behind, Sean.”
Her hips tilted forward, seeking more contact. “Ah, ah,” he said, heard the edge in his tone. “Do you have someone in mind?”
“Ben,” she said, high-pitched, soft.
No surprise there, and if Abby thought she could drive him away by bringing her lover into their bed, she was wrong. Right now it didn’t matter. He wanted Abby back here, going wild with him, not lost in her mind. “Turn around,” he said.
When she did, moving slowly, awkwardly, he tugged her cheeky panties down and off, then flattened his palm between her shoulder blades. At his not-quite-gentle push she peered over her shoulder at him. “Suck me, Abby.”
Then she got it. She aligned her sex with his mouth. When her hand gripped his cock and her mouth took him deep he delved his tongue into the juicy folds and followed her rhythm, circling her clit in time to her wanton sucking. It didn’t take long. Her thighs stiffened and her hips tilted, then her throaty cries reverberated through his cock as her clit fluttered under his tongue. He shifted his hips back, telling her he was about to come, but she braced her forearm across his pelvis and kept a firm grip on his cock with hands and lips, and he couldn’t stop. His orgasm pulsed from his cock, and a stuttering groan from his chest.
A minute later she shifted her weight across his chest and collapsed on the bed, her head by his feet. He should take off her skirt, the only article of clothing she still wore, get her a glass of water, get her under a sheet. But she was already falling asleep, and it was hot enough that he’d turned on the ceiling fan. It turned lazily overhead, the shadows from the blades flashing in the dim moonlight.
He was half asleep himself when Abby’s voice came into his dream. “Do you want me to ask him, or will you?”
This wasn’t in his plan. None of this was in his plan, but when it came right down to it, the squared up, black lines and white squares of his strategy were disappearing into the complex, difficult, edgy, confident woman Abby had become. Last year she�
��d been fun. Sweet. Uncomplicated. Now…now he could spend a lifetime exploring Abby, and never get to the end of her.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
* * *
Sean took the stairs two at a time. The sounds of a football game came through the door. He knocked twice and waited through a couple of seconds of nearly inaudible breathing behind the peephole. When the door opened he was looking right into Ben’s eyes. His first impression wasn’t far off—the vest added to his bulk, but not by much. His second impression was that Ben had worked the street long enough to learn the art of not reacting. He went physically still even as his gaze flickered over Sean, assessing details. Expression, hands, stance, back to expression.
“You get new stickers for your plates?”
“Yeah. Sean Winthrop,” he said by way of introduction.
“I know.” Ben must have decided Sean wasn’t any more of a threat than Sean thought Ben was, because he stepped back and gestured Sean into his apartment with the hand holding a bottle of beer. Sean stepped onto the tile square doubling as a foyer and looked around. A flat-screen TV on a black stand faced a brown leather sofa. A glass coffee table strewn with paperwork and a bowl of half-eaten macaroni and cheese occupied the space between the TV and the couch.
“She’s not here,” Ben said. “Hasn’t been since that night. And for the record, she said she wasn’t seeing anyone.”
Set the tone up front. “She wasn’t. And she’s been with me since then,” Sean said.
Ben shot him a glance, then tipped the bottle to his mouth. “If you’re here to gloat, don’t bother. We were never exclusive.”
“I’m not here to gloat,” Sean said.
The crowd noise rose to a roar, and they both glanced at the television. The opposing team’s corner sprinted down the sidelines, ball tucked securely between his arm and side, offensive linemen lumbering after him. The beaten wide receiver fought off the corner’s stiff-arm and shoved him into the sidelines, preventing the pick-six. Jeers rained down on them both.
“I don’t know who we have to fuck in this league to get a decent offensive coordinator, but whoever it is is playing hard to get,” Ben observed without heat.
Sean huffed in agreement. “This is last week’s game,” he said.
“I know. I miss the games most weeks because I’m working. Too many cop, ME, and lawyer shows on these days. I DVR games for background noise when I’m prepping for trial.” He swallowed the last of his beer, looked at the empty bottle, then at Sean. “If you’re not here looking for Abby, why are you here?”
“Got another one of those?” Sean asked with a nod at the bottle.
To Sean’s amusement, Ben actually looked abashed at the lapse in manners. “Yeah. Sure.” He went into the kitchen and returned with two bottles. Sean perched on the arm of a matching leather chair, followed Ben’s lead and tossed the bottle top on the coffee table, then swallowed some liquid courage.
Ben just looked at him. “What’s this all about?”
“Abby wants to have a threesome,” Sean said bluntly. “With you,” he added, in case Ben thought he was gloating again.
Ben’s dark eyebrows rose. “Abby does, or you do?”
“Abby,” Sean said patiently. “If this were my deal I wouldn’t be asking you.”
The eyebrows took on a faintly amused air. “One ménage wasn’t enough for you?”
Clearly Ben knew about him, Ty, and Lauren. “You saw me leave No Limits with another couple,” Sean said.
“I did. Heard about it, too.”
“You didn’t tell Abby.”
“None of my business,” Ben said with a shrug. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
He didn’t need Ty’s radar to get the I don’t give a fuck vibe loud and clear. “This is her deal. Ask her yourself,” Sean said.
“Oh, I will. Be sure of that,” Ben replied. A faint smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Why me?”
“Ladies’ choice,” Sean said ironically.
“You’re local,” Ben said, but again, he wasn’t asking. Sean’s vanity plates were easy to remember, and Ben probably hadn’t been in his car five minutes before he knew all about Sean Winthrop. “You don’t have a friend to ask?”
The goal was to win Abby back. If they were going to do this, the other guy needed to be someone she knew, trusted, and could avoid for the rest of her life if she had any regrets.
Except Abby wouldn’t have regrets. The new Abby was living life balls to the wall.
“Abby wanted you.”
“And what Abby wants, Abby gets?”
“In this situation, yes.”
Ben looked at the television, then back at Sean. “When?”
“You working Sunday night?” When Ben shook his head, Sean picked up a pen and a notepad from the pile of paperwork on the coffee table and said, “DVR the game and come over to my place.”
Ben waited until Sean wrote out the address, then said, “Why?”
“Because Abby still lives with her father, and we’re not doing this here,” he said brusquely. His girl, his turf, no exceptions.
“Interesting,” Ben said lightly, and Sean kicked himself, “but not what I was asking. Why does Abby want a ménage?”
Because I told her I had one. Because I’m in love with her, and God help me, I want her to have what she wants.
“Abby’s feeling adventurous these days.”
Ben’s gaze returned to the TV. “I don’t get her adventurous,” he said evenly. “I get her frantic. Once a month or so. She’s so tightly wound when she comes over here she goes off like a rocket. And then she’s asleep in seconds. That girl’s under enough stress to snap steel. You fuck her up, and I’ll find you and fuck you up.”
“Is this where I tell you I’m only going to Virginia, not deploying again, so if I hear word one that you’ve fucked her up, I’ll be back to teach you how a Marine fucks someone up?” He bared his teeth in something that might pass for a smile. “Or can we end the pissing contest now?”
Ben eyed him judiciously. “Yeah, we’re good. See you Sunday.”
Sean let himself out and went home, his brain turning over this new information. She was in Ben’s bed once a month? She’d been with him fourteen nights out of the last twenty. What did that mean?
She showed up on his doorstep five hours later, at one in the morning. Half-asleep and wearing only his boxers, customary condom in hand, he unlocked the door and let her in, but before he could ask her about her arrangement with Ben, she dropped her purse and stepped into his body, rocking him off-balance. In her No Limits heels she was tall enough to rub against him, hip to hip, breasts pressed to his bare chest, mouth tipped open and wet to his. To regain balance he shifted his weight forward, fisted his hands in her hair, and drove her into the wall. Air rushed from her lungs, and she inhaled sharply when he ground his hardening shaft against her belly. She pushed him back just enough to yank his boxers down and free his erection. Skirt up, sexy cheeky panties down to the floor, lift her knee, and find wet heat.
He groaned. Her nails stung his shoulders as she gripped for balance on her heels. “Jesus, Abby.”
“Been thinking about you,” she gasped. “All. Night.”
The soft exhalation deepened into a moan as he pushed inside. He’d never been so hard, because he’d been thinking about her all night, too. His heart rate shot into the stratosphere, and his balls tightened almost unbearably. Hot sparks streamed down his spine as she whimpered and shimmied. He couldn’t take the movement. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head back hard enough to rap against the wall, then shoved his hips forward. Pinning her. Holding her helpless against him, mouth open to his, breasts flattened against his chest, legs spread for his hips, his cock. He began to move, short, hard thrusts that rammed her tailbone to the wall, his pelvis against hers, and drove sharp cry after sharp cry from her arched throat.
It wasn’t pain. Her closed eyes, the nails in his shoulders, the way her thigh tremb
led against his forearm sent all the right subconscious signals to keep going don’t stop more more more. In response he ravaged her mouth, then dragged lips and teeth and tongue along her jaw to her ear.
“You like it?” he growled. “You like taking it?”
A sharp, helpless cry was his answer. A blood flush swept up her throat, heating the cheek pressed to his, and she came. He slowed, the better to feel the tight, slick contractions around his cock, then pulled out.
“What?” she gasped.
He gripped her arm and dragged her down the hallway to the bedroom, then shoved her face forward on the bed. He covered her before she could do more than get to hands and knees, and her desperate cry of surrender shot straight to his balls. She dropped forward, braced on her forearms and spread knees while he flipped her skirt up over her ass and plunged roughly inside. Then he hooked an arm around her torso and hauled her upright against his chest.
“What were you thinking about?” he growled as he made swift work of her shirt buttons. Two quick jerks and he tossed it toward the floor, then unfastened her bra and pulled it off. His movements were rough, demanding, careless. His purpose was anything but.
“This,” she gasped as he flattened one palm between her shoulder blades and pushed her forward again. The sheets, still warm from his body, muffled her next words. “You. You make me so hot. You make me want you so much.”
She didn’t sound happy about it. He pulled out slowly, pushed back into the clinging, slick walls even more slowly. “Good,” he said. A pause, totally inside her, every inch of her tight pussy gripping his cock, then he pulled out again. “Were you thinking about Ben?”
A pause. He thought she’d lie to him, but she didn’t. “Yes.”
Glide in. “That’s what got you hot?”
She looked over her shoulder, up at him, her eyes glazed with awakening lust. “You, me, and Ben,” she admitted. “Him watching you and me…you watching him and me…”
Looking into Abby’s eyes while he was balls deep inside her electrified every cell in his body. “Want to know what he said?”
“Later,” she gasped. “Now…fuck me.”