Cop’s thrusts are growing disjointed beneath you where he works, works, works your sensitized nub, robbing you of reason and space and time. “It can’t be any hotter than this pussy. She’s got me in a fucking strangle hold.”
“You getting ready to come?” Biker asks in a rush.
“Yes,” you and Cop moan at the same time, but your answer ends in a sob when Biker pulls halfway out and drives back in, shouting a curse that echoes throughout your bedroom. Your head. The pain has turned into a smarting ache, but the more he moves, aided by the ample wetness, the more it lessens.
Biker’s voice cracks, his arms shaking where they prop him up on either side of you and knowing how much pleasure you’re providing to both men is an aphrodisiac. And you think of nothing but that and the lust rocketing through your midsection. They do become dogs, Biker falling on top of you, sandwiching your body between two heaving slabs of muscle that thrust, thrust, thrust into your body, snarls and expletives going off like fireworks in the surrounding air.
“You like that, sweet girl?” Cop says, baring his teeth against your mouth. “You like being a cute little fuck toy for two men?”
“She does. Look at her, spreading her legs so wide for us. She wants it every night…and fuck if I’ll be able to stay away now that I’ve had her.” A guttural groan. “I can’t hang on any more. I’m done, dammit.”
“Thank God,” Cop rasps, his pumps speeding up, his head falling back to expose the strained cords of his throat a second before heat floods you from all sides. From the men, yourself. The climax is so full, so complex in its division of good and bad, you bury your face in Cop’s chest and scream through it, your body shaking out of control, your body bucking mindlessly, trying to capture the outrageous feeling and keep it contained, even though you know its impossible. Impossible.
Almost as impossible as this bright, undeniable connection you feel to both men.
6
You wake up to the smell of coffee and buttermilk pancakes. For a moment, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering if last night was a dream. Then you sit up. Ooh. Not a dream. Pushing aside the covers, you get up slowly, making a stop in the bathroom to shower, brush your teeth and throw on your yoga clothes, before entering the kitchen—and whoa. Now you’re doubly reassured that two big, uber-masculine dudes spent the night in your bed, because they’re moving around your kitchen like they own the place, pouring orange juice and doctoring coffee. For you, apparently, if the way their energy changes when you come into view is any indication. They’ve been waiting. And it’s clear there is a discussion to be had.
Cop sidles up beside Biker, nudging him with an elbow. “That tank top she’s wearing is too tight. Do we want her going out like that?”
“Hell no,” Biker rumbles into his coffee. “Want her covered.”
Your eyebrows lift all by themselves. “Excuse me?”
Without answering, Cop goes to the stove, using the spatula in his hand to serve up two pancakes, smearing butter and pouring syrup on top in such perfect proportions, your stomach growls. Biker comes forward and leads you to be table, parking you on his lap. Cop takes the seat to your left—and he literally starts to feed you bites, all while Biker plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.
You’re trying to decide whether the whole scenario is ridiculous…or if you should just stop thinking and enjoy the ride, when Cop speaks up. “We’ve been talking, sweet girl.”
Are you moaning because of the pancakes or because Biker just found that sensitive spot behind your ear? Noideawhocares. “I kind of picked up on that. What about?”
“You,” Biker breathes. “We want more. We want all. Permanently.” Gravity infiltrates his tone. “And for me, that’s saying a lot.”
Warmth tumbles in your belly…and something else. Relief? It might be insane, but the idea of never seeing these two men again seems unacceptable, but you were afraid to let yourself hope. “What would more entail?”
Cop pushes aside the empty plate, and as if the three of you are moving in a choreographed dance, Biker turns your chair to face Cop, who slides his hands up your thighs while Biker keeps on worshiping your neck. “First, you have to decide. Is this something you want?” His thumbs trace circles inches from your core and you melt back against Biker’s chest. “We’re not going to be easy,” Cop continues. “Or even reasonable.”
“Turns out we’re more alike than we thought,” Biker murmurs, closing his teeth around your ear lobe. “Who knew?”
Your eyelids float down, images from last night playing out in scorching, moving memories. Right now, you can’t imagine never experiencing that kind of physical euphoria again, but it’s more than that. You want to know these men better. The protective, overworked cop. The mysterious biker who can’t commit…until now. “Yes…this is something I want.” Your eyes open to find Cop moving closer, his eyes fixated on your mouth. “How will it work?”