Even Better (Stripped 2.50)

Blue makes a low sound in his throat, a rumble through his whole body. He’s the sky, and his assent, it’s the incoming storm. “You and me,” he says to West. “We’re rock solid. Nothing can change that. And as for her…”

I gasp as he squeezes my breast tight, and my hand fists against West’s chest.

“She’s mine,” Blue finishes softly. “No one can take her away from me. Not even you.”

West’s sigh sounds like defeat, and so it feels right when Blue pulls my tank top aside, revealing my breast to the night air. He’s the one directing this, controlling us, using one friend to help another. Though I’m not sure who’s helping who when West swears under his breath, his arousal a jolt to my own.

I got something out of being watched onstage, something that’s missing. And while I don’t really want to go back, I’m not ready to go forward either. Maybe Blue knows that about me.

He’s letting me be seen, be touched, and keeping me safe in the process.

“Tell him you like this,” Blue says, and I shake my head. I can’t. It’s too much.

Then his hand is smoothing down my stomach, slipping into my panties. I squirm as he thrusts his fingers between my folds, crude and possessive. “Tell him,” he warns, fingers dripping through wetness that already proves his point.

Chapter Nine

“Christ,” West mutters, brushing the backs of his fingers against my breast. “I’ve been dreaming of these since I saw them.”

“I get to touch them every day,” Blue says, casually secure in his possession of me. That’s how they’re talking about me, like I’m a possession—a thing.

“I know,” West says on a breath, and it doesn’t sound like envy. It sounds like awe.

He cups my breast and runs his thumb over th

e tip. My nipple is already hard, and he pushes it back and forth, teasing me until I whimper. Blue has his hand in my pussy, sliding in and out with a leisure I find maddening. I rock my hips, demanding, desperate, and Blue huffs a laugh.

“Want to come, beautiful?”

I nod, frantic. He always makes me this hot, this fast, but it’s somehow worse now. As if the sex we’ve had since West got here, as if every moment since that first night in the dining room has been foreplay leading to this.

West doesn’t laugh. He studies me from beneath heavy lids. “She always this needy?”

“Always,” Blue says like a vow.

“Fuck.”

“Let’s get her warmed up.” Blue’s fingers find my clit with skilled ease, immediately hitting a rhythm that has me panting. I’m already warm, already burning up.

West leans down and takes my nipple into his mouth, the suction a sweet ache.

It’s too much, and I squirm away. Blue keeps me in place, his leg holding mine open, his fingers steady on my clit. “You don’t control this,” he whispers in my ear. “You can’t do anything but let it happen.”

“Blue,” I moan. “I need… I need…”

“I know, beautiful. I know exactly what you need.”

And I think he does know. He knows how I need to be touched, how I need to be owned. He even knows how I need to be flaunted, desired by men other than him, bared both body and soul. He knows what I need, and he’s giving it to me—forcing me to take it.

I plead and pray, my body strung tight, held like a live wire between two power sources. Just like that, I snap. My chest thrusts forward, begging for more force, more suction, and my hips grind onto Blue’s hand. They ride me through my climax, a fierce pressure that drives me higher and leaves me collapsed in their arms.

As I lie there, replete, Blue licks my juices from his fingers.

West tracks his movements with narrowed eyes. “Am I gonna have to beg?”

Blue sounds amused. “Why, you hungry for something?”

“You wanted to distract me, you bastard. Consider me distracted.”