“It was a selfish idea,” Devlin said. “I never would have acted on it. Not really. And now I know for sure that you’d never be happy here with just me.”
Jake’s mouth moved to Michelle’s clit and she rocked her hips to grind herself onto Devlin’s cock and against Jake’s mouth.
“I can’t stay here, period,” she said. “I have to work.”
“I could support you,” Devlin said.
A flash of Dee bragging about her husband being a good provider interrupted her enjoyment of the moment. “I wouldn’t want you to,” she said.
“I figured as much,” he said, “but we can meet here. The three of us. Whenever we’re able. What do you think?”
“You’re good at math, aren’t you?” she asked, riding Devlin’s cock now. Jake matched her pace by moving his head with her motion.
“Usually.”
“How many different sexual positions are there between a man and a woman?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “A lot.”
“How about between a man and a man?”
“Also a lot.”
“So when you combine a man and a woman with a man and a man and combine that same woman with the other man, what do you get?”
“A very happy Michelle,” Jake said.
“So I guess Jake is the one who’s good at math,” she said with a laugh.
“No, not math,” Jake said. “I’m just good at sex.”
“That’s why we’re going to keep you around,” Devlin said.
“Hey,” Jake complained rising up onto his knees to look at him. “What about my feelings?”
“I thought you didn’t want to involve your feelings,” Devlin said.
Michelle cupped Jake’s face between her hands and kissed his resistant lips. “His feelings are already involved.”
“Shut up,” he said and kissed her back.
“It’s okay. No one knows but me,” she said.
“And me,” Devlin added.
“Fuck you both.”
“We’re both willing. You know that,” Michelle said.
Jake looked from one to the other of them, appraising them closely. “You know what I think?” he said finally.
“What?”
“I think we have to find a way to make this work,” he said.
Michelle smiled. “I completely agree.”
Jake cocked an eyebrow at her. “Good. Now give me some room, Dev. I’m going to join you in there and fuck you both.”
“In where?” Devlin asked.
Jake slid a finger up Devlin’s cock and into Michelle’s pussy. “In here. You won’t even have to move, Dev. My piercings will rub you while I thrust into her. I’m sure I can make you both come that way.”
“Only one way to find out.” Devlin grabbed her thighs and spread her wider.
“Wait!” she said. “This isn’t what I meant when I agreed that we needed to find a way to make this work. I meant that we need to find a way to be together long term.”
“I know that,” Jake said, “and I agree. Is that what you want too, Devlin?”
“More than anything,” Devlin said behind her.
Jake grinned. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now hold on, sweetheart, I’m about to bring us all closer together.”
And he did. She should have trusted that Jake Tremaine knew what he was doing. Beneath the stars or with the morning sun touching upon his tattooed skin, the man always had her best interests at heart. No matter how unconventional.
About the Author
Combining her love for romantic fiction and rock 'n roll, NYTimes best seller Olivia Cunning writes erotic romance centered on rock musicians. Raised on hard rock music from the cradle, she attended her first Styx concert at age six and fell instantly in love with live music. She's been known to travel over a thousand miles just to see a favorite band in concert. As a teen, she discovered her second love, romantic fiction—first, voraciously reading steamy romance novels and then penning her own. She’s going to have to buy a new snow shovel because soon she’s moving from the warm beaches of Galveston, Texas to her hometown in western Illinois. Sometimes family trumps geography. But no matter where her itchy feet take her, she’ll continue to write about the rock stars that exist in her head. And her heart.
Jake Tremaine—the wonderfully pierced, dirty-mouthed, bad boy in One Starry Night—is a minor character in the Sinners on Tour series, which about the sinfully sexy metal band Sinners. Find out more about Sinners and Olivia’s other erotic rock-band-series—One Night with Sole Regret—at her website: www.oliviacunning.com.
Boots Optional
A Dead Heat Ranch Novella
Book 0.5
Nicole Edwards
Copyright © Nicole Edwards, 2014
All rights reserved.
Prologue
“What the hell?” Grant slurred as he stuck his head in the refrigerator, his plan for finding another beer not looking good. Either they’d already sucked them all down, or he was drunker than he thought. He doubted it was the latter, but the cool refrigerated air sweeping across his overheated skin told him he was feeling something.
Although “drunk” was a fantastic excuse, it wasn’t likely the culprit.
“What’s the problem?” Lane asked, poking his head damn near in the refrigerator beside Grant’s, his powerful shoulder pressing up against his arm.
Grant jumped back, stumbled a couple of steps before he righted himself by grabbing the edge of the Formica countertop. He stared back at his friend, noticing the way Lane moved ever so slowly as he turned around to face Grant.
Yeah, that hadn’t been at all subtle.
“Well, damn, Grant. I showered before I came over.” Lane ducked his head near his armpit and sniffed. “Nope, I smell like an ocean breeze. Did you know that’s what a fucking ocean breeze smells like?”
Grant fought the urge to smile. Lane did that to him. The man was always attempting to make him laugh but at the moment, he couldn’t find much humor in the incredibly awkward situation he found himself in. “What’re you talkin’ about?” Grant asked, the room spinning just a little, but it had nothing to do with the alcohol swimming in his system.
Although he did need another beer. That or he needed for Lane to go home. Either option would work for him.
Shit.
Lane closed the refrigerator door just a little too hard, a couple of glass bottles clanking together as the door shut tight. Grant kept his eyes on the taller man, wishing like hell he hadn’t opened the front door to let his friend in a couple of hours ago. Then again, everything had been fine as they sat in their respective recliners watching television up until about three minutes ago, but no, Grant had to go and need another beer.
Well, truthfully, everything hadn’t been fine but at least Lane hadn’t realized that. Grant was tense, but he seemed to always be that way around Lane. A reaction that had become increasingly more frustrating in recent months. Mostly due to the attraction he felt for the handsome wrangler who’d become one of his closest friends over the past couple of years.
“You got a problem with me, Kingsley?” Lane asked, his eyes dancing with amusement, his deep voice reverberating through Grant’s entire body as the man moved closer. Incredibly close.
“Just need a beer,” Grant said, his mouth suddenly dry.
“There’s another six pack on the table.” Lane motioned his head toward the kitchen table, his eyes never leaving Grant’s face.
Grant made the mistake of looking over and sure enough, there was a six-pack of long neck bottles right there.
How the hell had he missed that?
When he looked back at Lane, the man was even closer. Close enough that yes, Grant was well aware that he had showered – and shaved – before he stopped by. He smelled good. Too good.
“You’re actin’ weird,” Lane told him bluntly, tilting his head slightly as he studied Grant’s face.
“Weird?” Grant asked stupidly, swall
owing hard.
He wasn’t acting weird. He was trying to drink himself into a stupor since that seemed to be the only way he could make it through any length of time around Lane without wanting to jump the man.
Snapping back to the present, Grant put his hands on Lane’s chest, ready to shove his friend back because he was too damn close. Before he could do as much, Lane covered Grant’s hands with his own, holding them to his chest and preventing Grant from putting any space between them.
Lane’s heartbeat thudded rhythmically beneath Grant’s palms.
Double shit.