Hurt.
Pain.
Confusion.
Attraction.
Lust.
All a lethal but beautiful cocktail that’s about to combust, exploding each of us into a state of numbness, a state of healing through what we need.
Each other . . .
Almost in awe, Ryder stares at me, his damaging blue eyes piercing through every intention I’d had to keep myself balanced between what’s right and wrong and my desire for him. I ache to tear off the clothing covering his sun-kissed body, to feel him inside me.
His disheveled jet-black hair teases me into knotting my fingers through it as he snags my nape, guiding me to his luscious mouth. He groans, stealing a greedy kiss from me, this one taken with my permission as my longing to feel him fucking me raw burns across my skin. I moan, matching his eagerness as he kisses me harder, deeper, his heavy breathing working in tandem with mine as Brock slowly unzips my dress. It hits the ground and pools around my heels, my lace corset following as he unhooks each clasp. Brock latches his mouth onto my neck, his tongue laving the sensitive flesh where my shoulder and neck meet as he palms my tits, his fingers pinching my nipples into hardened buds. I furiously work Ryder’s belt and fly, my need to feel his lips tracing the swell of my breasts, the swirl of my stomach, and the devilish pull of my pussy igniting into near pandemonium, my fingers not moving fast enough for my growing ache.
“Want us to taste this beautiful cunt?” Brock’s question is spoken hot against my ear as he slips his fingers inside my warmth. Continuing to tweak my nipples with his free hand, he grinds his cock against my ass. “Take turns tongue-fucking it until you can’t take anymore?”
“God, yes,” I breathe, devouring the familiar yet unfamiliar taste of Ryder. “Yes, baby, please.”
The second I’ve got Ryder down to his boxers, shirt, and tie, he lifts me from the ground, fastens his lips to mine, and carries my naked body to the couch, kissing me one last time before setting me down on shaky legs. Gaze locked on mine, he kicks off his shoes, his socks following in their wake as he looks me up and down with scalding reverence.
“Christ, you’re beyond goddamn gorgeous,” Ryder says, unexpected nervousness cutting across his features as he slants a trembling hand through his hair. “A fucking angel.” The isolated dimple I’ve claimed as my own appears on his cheek, hidden under the stubble shadowing his face. “You’re . . . I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “You’ve rendered my mind blank. I haven’t got a single fucking thing.” Another shake of his head, his voice cracking as he captures my face between his hands, gliding his thumbs along the seam of my lips. “Thank you for everything. For the last couple of months, for tonight, tomorrow, for . . . you, peach. Even if this is the only time we do this—hell, even if we all freeze up and stop halfway through—thank you. This very second alone is something I’ll never let go of. Ever.”
God. This beautiful creature’s nervous—I feel it, sense it through and through. He lays his lips on my forehead, his movements carried out with that of a man who’s unsure if the territory he’s about to explore should be walked at all as his palms slither up my shoulders, barely smoothing over my skin. Instantly, every objection I had to doing this falls away.
“It’s okay, Ryder,” I whisper, nervousness grabbing me tight. “I want this. I want . . . you.”
Silently, I grab his tie, sliding it from his neck. Somewhere deep in the crevices of my soul—the unseen compartments of my heart that he and Brock have already dissected—I know Ryder never intended to refuse Brock’s request for this to happen. I also know I didn’t either.
Time—a thief of decisions—kept me from acknowledging that this moment was always meant to be. Despite the mixture of fear and excitement in my chest, as Brock and Ryder stare at me with hungry eyes, every wound I ache to have healed splits open, allowing them to medicate me, their touch a numbing agent to the demons of my past. Everything I want this night to be, no matter how right it feels or how wrong it is in others’ opinions, is my way of letting go of my control—the control I’m willing to hand over to them. I want them to own me, both men breaking down my defenses. My body pulls and strains, longing to be filled with everything Ryder and Brock want to give me, with everything I need to give them in return.
Gaze prowling the length of my body, Brock steps behind me, his voice an untamed whisper as he slides Ryder’s tie from my hold. “Close your eyes.”
My pulse takes off as he slips the silk tie over my eyes, knotting it across the back of my head. With my sight gone, silence sweeps through the room, nothing but their heavy breathing in my ears.
A soft kiss graces my cheek, followed by another along the opposite curve of my shoulder. I stretch my neck, pushing my chin toward the ceiling, my senses rocketing awake as a hand skirts across my breasts, down the dip of my stomach, and settles between my legs. A finger, then a second, breaches the barrier of my warmth, my body bucking of its own accord as they slide in and out, each pass dragging moisture up along my clit.
“Jesus, you’re already wet for us.” Brock’s husky whisper moves across my cheek, my pulse hammering through my chest as my G-spot’s found and hooked with skilled precision.
“So goddamn sweet,” Ryder says, the heat of his mouth blazing a line of urgency down my spine. My back bows, my pussy clenching around a third finger as it works its way inside me. “Do you know which one of us is finger-fucking you?”
“No,” I pant, my head dizzy with curiosity. My hips rock with my pleasure-inducer’s steady rhythm as I grind against his talented fingers. “I . . . I don’t.”