No need for those thoughts any more.
Dylan’s warm palm slipped under her panties, cupping her ass, and then Mike’s nimble fingers made quick work of the wisp of cotton and silken cloth, leaving the three of them completely nude on the huge bed, the room hushed and warm, the candles lending an eerie, contemplative glow as Laura relaxed—really relaxed—for the first time in ages.
“What do you have planned for me?” she asked Mike, eyes flitting from him to the handcuffs he held over her as Dylan teased one nipple, the shock making her shiver.
A crooked half-smile teased his lips, making her wet and, suddenly, very wanting. “We had more than enough planned for you, but we thought we would have to pry whatever’s wrong out of you.” He gently set the handcuffs down on the end table, twisting his torso in that maddening way that made muscles pop out from his waistline, the effect artistic and graceful and hot.
“Pry?” Now Dylan peppered her shoulders with tiny kisses that made it hard to think. Ah, that wet, warm mouth. What he could do elsewhere...
“We know you’ve been so quiet, honey,” Mike said, cupping her chin, as Dylan’s kisses continued. “We just want you to be happy. We both feel so complete when we’re with you. You light us on fire. We want to do the same for you.”
She swallowed, hard, as Dylan stopped the butterfly touch and curled around her, legs pulled up, glorious cock ready for its own set of kisses—from her.
“This is when I feel most connected to the entire world, Laura. Right here. Right now. With you,” Dylan added, brushing the hair off her face with little touches of love.
What should have happened next didn’t. Laura expected to cry, to make a bunch of excuses, to apologize, to cringe—to deflect. But it didn’t happen.
“I could sit here,” she said, fingers lightly stroking Mike’s shaft as he gasped, jaw tightening, struggling to listen to her, “and tell you all about why I’ve been so miserable.” In fairness, she took her other hand as she stretched out on her back, and gave Dylan a set of finger strokes that made him inhale sharply. “Right now, though, I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to tie myself in knots trying to unravel the past six months and ruin what we have right here, right now.”
“So,” she said, letting go of Mike and turning to Dylan, the press of her lips against the tight, warm skin of his pecs so luxurious and so sensual she wished she could do it—and nothing but—forever, “let’s read and talk later. We have six months of catching up to do.”
Strong hands pinned her to the bed with such speed she couldn’t think, her wrists pressed deeply into the mattress. “Six months, huh?” Mike asked, now looming over her, body folded on his knees, the thick thigh muscles bulging along with another very bulging muscle that glistened with need. “Which fantasy is your favorite, Laura? Because Dylan went shopping and we can do anything you want right now.”
Whatever control she thought she had over both of them with her taunting touches dissipated in seconds. Holy shit. They were serious. A deep, shaking sense of profound joy filled her.
“If you’re the one who is dominating, you’re the one who calls all the shots,” she rasped.
“No. Wrong,” Dylan said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You decide everything. We have only one thing we control.”
“What’s that?”
“Your orgasm.”
She groaned involuntarily, already squirming with a white-hot need that she’d assumed could be quelled with a mouth or a cock within a few minutes. They were going to draw this out amidst the splendor of the room, the greatest gift before them handed to the three by their friends: time. Oh, the grand joyful prospect of an entire night stretched out in infinite glory for nothing but this—pleasure and sensual pain and whatever these men did to her as the three of them explored uncharted territory in bed.
Her clit swelled with a craving to be touched and nibbled and licked and loved, the emotion so buried and unfamiliar it claimed her in full. This is what it felt like, to be in a state of wanting all the time. She’d hardly recognized it, having repressed it for so long, and yet here it was, laid bare just as she was, her eyes being covered by that red, silk scarf Mike had just played with minutes ago in his hands.
“You need to pick a safeword,” Dylan whispered.
“Safeword?”
“It’s something you say to stop us if—”
The giggle bubbled up inside her as someone—Mike?—adjusted the scarf. Unable to see them, her senses sharpened as she worked to know where they were in space. Dylan’s voice sounded like brandy.
“I know what a safeword is. Do we really need one? You guys aren’t going to—”
Bzzzzz. Except that wasn’t her phone. What was that? It sounded loud.
And big. She felt the covers shift slightly, and then the bed began to vibrate a bit. Good hell.
“OK, OK, a safeword,” she gasped. How big was that vibrator? Racing through the set of books she had on her eReader, she wondered which sex scenes the guys had read. The possibilities were endless. Stifling a moan of ecstasy at the thought of reliving some of what she’d read, she tried to gather herself.
“Um, Madge is my safeword.”
“Madge?” She almost laughed at the incredulity in Dylan’s voice.
“Yes, Madge.”
“That will halt everything permanently,” he mumbled. “And—yep. There went my erection. Good choice.”
Mike’s laugh erupted to her right as someone—she guessed him—turned the buzzing off.
“I can take care of that for you,” she murmured, fumbling with her hand for him. He was just there a moment ago, and now that he wasn’t talking, she could only go by touch and sound. The shuffle of skin on cloth as someone moved beside her tickled her ears; the muffled sound of lit candle wicks flickering as air moved, and the rasp of muscle against the sheets again all filled her with anticipation. Without vision she was acutely and frustratingly tensed for whatever came next.
Hopefully, it would be her.
Strong hands slid up her calves, to her thighs, and then a gentle push apart as her breath flowed in with an increased rush at the end, clit ready for the expected sensation of a finger, a mouth, of attention lovingly delivered the way she most wanted and needed it.
The warmth of a body—Mike’s, she could tell, from the way his leg brushed against her knee, the pattern of skin and hair somehow ingrained in her, her mind marveling that she could know that, blindfolded—was between her now and a heated ache spread from her belly on down, body awakening. To her surprise, Dylan’s lips were at her ear, teeth nipping her lobe, and he whispered, “I want your mouth.”