The Evolution of Man (The Trust Fund Duet 2)

The most unhealthy, fucked-up kind of obsession.

No, this is only something that can be felt. The way that works with Gold Rush in that corral, both gentle and firm. The way he has to break her to make her trust again.

Christopher comes to me, a little wary. Even when I order him around, he’s still tall enough that I have to look up. He gazes down at me with an impassive expression. Only the faint tremor running through his hard body gives him away. He wants this. Whatever wild thing happens next, even if it involves the bristling man on the bed.

I reach up and lick the corner of Christopher’s lips. He sucks in a breath.

“How are you doing this?” he asks, but I’m not sure what he means. Ordering two men around? By giving them what they secretly want, that’s how. Even if they want each other.

Even if I’ll be left alone in this room after.

My hands go to Christopher’s shirt, pulling it up to reveal his abs with slow precision. I could be performing surgery, that’s how careful I am right now. I could be cutting out my own heart with a goddamn scalpel. His chest looks bronze in the moonlight, like he’s forged and molded. Like he’s hollow inside. Except he’s warm to the touch. I press my palm against his chest and feel the steady beat of his heart.

He’s the one who moves to his pants, his gaze never leaving mine, as if obeying some unspoken command. Undress, I could have said to the most severe man I’ve ever met. He pushes down his sweatpants and kicks them off, revealing the hard length of him.

Only our breathing can be heard after that.

His pants are open, slack. He’s so put together. It’s a privilege to see him like this, coming apart. His hand twitches when I reach for him—maybe to stop me. Maybe to pull me closer. In the end he leaves his arms at his side. I run a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the indent of muscle and flesh. The wiry hair at the base.

My fist closes around him.

“God,” he groans, throwing back his head.

He’s beautiful like this, but I can’t look at him. I need to see what Sutton’s doing. He doesn’t disappoint. He has his jeans undone and shoved down his muscular thighs, his cock in hand. He’s staring at Christopher’s body, lips parted, eyes heavy.

This is a man getting his deepest wish, and it gives me a sense of power to be the one who can fulfill it for him. Even as Christopher bucks against my hand. “That’s right,” I whisper.

Christopher stares at me through slitted eyes, his lips pulled tight. “You want me to embarrass myself, is that it? This some kind of revenge fuck?”

This is the farthest thing from a revenge fuck. The exact opposite. I’m putting together something that I broke. The partnership between the men. Maybe more than a partnership.

“Would you mind?” I ask, a smile flickering at my lips.

“Fuck,” he says, lean hips fucking my fist. “Christ. I wouldn’t.”

Seeing Christopher in command is enough to make me wet, but seeing him this way, surrendering—it’s enough to make me want to weep. It’s like having a star on my palm. I know I won’t be able to keep it, but I’ll stay very still to make this last.

I turn and climb onto the bed. When I glance back Christopher is looking at my ass, almost forlorn now that he’s the only one standing. “Come here,” I murmur.

He follows me, but I move back. He has to chase me on the king bed.

And then I’m pressed up against Sutton’s body, his hard body jerking on impact, his cock like a brand through my dress at the back. Then Christopher is on me, his lips hard on mine, payback for the orders, punishing. His tongue pushes inside my mouth.

I want to be the calm and unaffected seductress, but my body is melting between these two men. It would be impossible not to melt. There’s hardness behind me. Hardness in front. A slickness between my legs like a goddamn river, and Christopher knows it.

“Push your panties out of the way,” he says against my lips.

There’s a tight squeeze in my sex, a clench around nothing. “Why should?”

“Because I’ll kiss your breasts, sweetheart. Sutton will hold up your tits for me, and I’ll suck your nipples. You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d come for me.”

Oh God. I close my eyes. “It’s not about me tonight.”

A soft laugh. This isn’t a man scared of what happens next. “It’s always been about you, Harper. Now push your panties aside. Do it, or I’ll fucking tear them.”

My fingers are somehow between my legs. The placket of my panties is already damp. I hook two fingers against it and push it aside. On the backs of my knuckles I feel the burn and velvet of Christopher’s cock. Then he’s pushing inside, opening me wide, making me moan.

A low masculine sound fills the room, and I have to open my eyes.