But I’m afraid to enjoy it. Terrified I’ll crave what I can never have. My mind refuses to change course, however, my thoughts tunnel down a treacherous path that summons fantasies of Cole unzipping, pulling himself out, and ramming inside me while I writhe and buck on top of Trace’s swollen cock.
The ruthless slaps of Cole’s hand blur together in an endless sea of velvet fire. Feverish flames melt through my body, intoxicating my blood and numbing my brain. I sag against Trace’s chest, moaning helplessly and rocking my hips.
He tightens his grip on my neck, bringing my mouth an inch from his, teasing me with the sinful shape of his lips so close, so perfectly kissable. I know exactly how scrumptious he tastes, and the need to lick him rages inside me. I try to press closer, stretching my neck, reaching, needing, but he stops me, denying the kiss I want so badly.
I won’t beg, won’t make demands. I love the freedom in surrendering too much. Under their control, restrained by their will, I’m exactly where I belong.
Eventually, Cole’s strikes transform into languid caresses, his hands roving hypnotically up and down my spine and over my backside.
It’s heaven and hell, divine temptation and wretched torment. I’m naked and exposed between two virile, sexual, wickedly good-looking men—two men I love more than anything in the world, and I have no idea where this will lead.
It won’t end in a tangled trio of panting, sweat-slick bodies. They’ve been very clear about not sharing. Doesn’t stop the avalanche of hunger ripping through me in merciless waves. I’m insanely turned on, pulsing and soaked between my legs. And Cole knows it, feels it, as his fingers glide through my folds.
I gulp down a whimper, locked in the prismatic blue of Trace’s eyes.
“Do you want to come?” His gaze dips to my mouth.
“Not if I’m the only one.”
“That’s not up to you.” He glances at Cole behind me.
I don’t know if they’re having one of those wordless conversations, but the instant Cole’s fingers sink inside me, all rational thought evaporates.
His stroking, curling, diabolical touch spreads sparks of bliss across my skin, wrenching breathless noises from my throat. My arms ache to move from the unnatural position behind me, but Trace keeps them bound, my wrists clenched in his grip. I want to clutch his shoulders and pull him closer, but he gives me something better.
Ducking his head, he captures my mouth in a plundering kiss. His tongue swoops past my lips and slides against mine, licking, owning, and making me crazy with need. The onslaught of pleasure crashes through me, igniting every cell in my body and liquefying my bones. I groan against Trace’s mouth and grind against Cole’s hand, overstimulated, overwhelmed, and overflooded with emotion and desire.
Cole must be kneeling behind me, because I feel the warm brush of his lips on my backside, then his teeth, and holy shit, he’s burying his mouth between my legs.
Trace devours my moans, his chest heaving and hands digging into my arms, holding me immobile. He kisses me until my tongue no longer knows how to move and my lungs only work because they have to. I squeeze my knees around his hips, glorying in the indefinable sensation of being pinned down, pleasured, and dominated by multiple mouths.
The rush toward climax swells through me, spasming along my inner walls and locking up my lungs. I’m right there, rising, cresting, adrift in the passion of their lips, their tongues, and the erotic resonance of their groans.
Cole circles a finger around my clit and plunges his tongue wickedly, deeply inside me, spiraling me headlong into release. Starry bursts of light scatter my vision as I moan and pant and come undone. Cole grunts with me, the guttural sound vibrating against my pussy and prolonging the orgasm.
When my mouth falls slack against Trace’s lips, he trails a path of kisses across my cheek to my ear. “So damn beautiful.”
How can he say that? I don’t know how he can be kind to me at all after I just came on another man’s mouth.
“We need to talk about this.” I pull on my arms, lethargic and deliciously twitchy as my breathing slows to normal.
Trace releases my wrists, letting me slide off his lap to sit beside him.
“You think too much.” Cole grins, still kneeling on the floor.
At some point, he removed his shirt, and his chest glistens with perspiration. He lowers his gaze to the swollen length trapped behind his zipper, and a pained expression kills his smile.
I steal a peek at Trace’s groin—also hard as a rock.
With a jab of guilt, I shift to the edge of the couch, aggravating the burn on my backside. “It’s my turn to—”
“No,” they say in unison.
I glance down at my naked body. Should I push the issue and try to seduce them? Or should I cover myself and forget about it?
“I can…” I lower my voice, nervous. “I want to pleasure you. I can do it separately. In different rooms.”
With an agonized growl, Cole stands and paces away, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
Trace drops his head on the back of the couch and closes his eyes.
“I’m making it worse, aren’t I?” I whisper.
Without opening his eyes, he blindly reaches for my hand. “Your car was delivered while you were taking a nap.”
“I don’t care about the car. You’re changing the subject.”
Cole’s amused huff draws my attention across the room. He faces the windows, bent slightly forward with his hands on the ballet bar, smiling at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Yesterday, you cared about the car.”
“Yesterday, I wasn’t staying.” I stand and grab his shirt off the floor.
“Don’t get dressed. I need to rub ointment into your sore backside.” He glances at the outline of his erection. “In a minute.”
“I’ll just put the shirt on.” I pull it over my head, and the hem falls midway down my thighs.
Trace doesn’t move on the couch, his lashes low, expression sleepy, but I feel those heavy-lidded eyes watching me. Cole stares out at the darkening sky, his posture bent and stiff, his hands clenched around the bar. Each of them is battling desire in his own way, and I feel like a greedy tease, standing here half-dressed and glowing with a post-orgasm flush.
“Do you guys feel weird about what just happened?”
“It’s fine, Danni,” Trace murmurs. “Let it go.”
I make an irritated sound. “All that talk about being open and honest—”
“What do you want to know?” Cole straightens and rests his fingertips in his pockets.
“I feel like we’re playing by rules, but I don’t know what the rules are.”
“We’re not playing,” Trace says.
“Maybe you should.”
“What do you mean?” Cole tips his head, brows furrowed.
I walk to the stereo, scroll through the songs, and cue up one. When the soothing guitar chords lead into Lovesong by Adele, I step aimlessly through the room, gently swaying with the husky vocals.
“Music is the soul of life.” I meet Trace’s gaze and turn to Cole. “You sing to it, cry to it, dance, love, laugh… You play it.”
I approach the dance pole and grip it high above my head, circling, humming, and smiling as they follow me with their eyes, seemingly mesmerized.
“Sixty…seventy years from now…” I tilt my face to the rafters, weighing my words. “I want to look back on my life and know that I played it like a song, that I felt it so deeply it gave me chills, and that I savored every vibrating moment—the tragic moments, the blissful moments. I don’t to want miss a second of it. So I say play it in excess, live it up, surfeit yourself on every drop of pleasure. There can never be too many songs or too much dancing. Life should be playful—enjoyed and appreciated to the fullest.” I suddenly realize I’m rocking my hips, subconsciously seduced by the music. With a laugh, I shake my head. “You must think I’m crazy, rattling on and dancing around with a blistered ass.”
“You’re you.” Cole lowers his head, smiling to himself. “Flawless and addictive in every way.”
Trace leans forward and clasps his hands together between his knees. “You are the soul of life.”