Manipulate (Deliver 6)

“Ha.” She laughed nervously. “Such a charmer. Men and women everywhere must fall at your feet.”

“Not the ones who matter.” His hands slipped down around her waist, pulling her hips against his.

She leaned back, and her mouth drew into a straight line.

Her reluctance made Martin tense, but he understood it. He wrestled with himself every second he spent with Ricky. Desire battling fear, the present always at war with the past. It was easier to shut down and pull away. It was safer.

Ricky caught his gaze, and in that moment, they shared the same thought.

She didn’t need seduction. She needed compassion, connection, and security—everything he had with Ricky.

Martin rose to his knees and moved in behind her, straddling Ricky’s legs and loosely sandwiching her between them.

“I will never disregard what you’ve been through.” He swept the heavy length of her hair to one shoulder and rested his lips against her graceful neck. “Nor will I abuse the trust you gave me when you told me about the electrocution and Garra’s assault. You haven’t been touched by a man in two years?”

“No.”

“Any lasting damage from the torture? Anything I need to be concerned about?”

“No, I’m healed.”

She eased a shivery sigh as he kissed a winding path to her upper arm and back again, lingering beneath her ear.

“Tonight, your clothes stay on.” He ran his nose through her hair, breathing in the soft scent that was uniquely her. “No pressure. No expectations. No venturing into places you’re not ready to go.”

“Okay.” She rested her hands on his thighs, where they bracketed her hips.

“Are you ready to experience the best kiss of your life?”

“Good God.” Her fingers dug into the denim on his legs. “How can you top the kiss I just experienced between you two?”

He locked eyes with Ricky over her head. Their gazes hung, tangling and fusing, neither of them moving.

This was just the beginning. Once she got a taste of Ricky, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

It would be a long night of clothes-on torment, but he could handle the kissing. In fact, he couldn’t wait to feel her soft mouth against his.

He didn’t want to fuck this up. If he stayed right here in their space, reaching for Ricky’s gaze, breathing the feminine fragrance of Tula’s hair, their bodies aligned and mouths sealed together, he could do this without losing his shit.

“Tula.” He reached around her and gripped the back of Ricky’s neck. “Give him your mouth.”Ricky’s body thrummed to life as Tula leaned in and offered her mouth. She did it slowly, with nervous starts and stops, which only made him want her more.

As the sweetness of her breath quivered across his lips, everything inside him went taut with need. But Martin’s hand on his nape reminded him to go slow and keep himself in check.

Dear God, desire looked sinful on her, heating her cheeks and stretching her pupils until her brown eyes turned black.

Her lust-soaked expression was exactly what he wanted to see on a woman before he took her mouth.

With Tula, he started with light teasing sips. Then he sucked faster, more assertively, licking and drinking the hesitation off her soft lips.

“Ricky.” Her hands found his hair, tugging him closer as greedy little noises escaped her throat. “More.”

That was all the invitation he needed. He trapped her in his arms and kissed her harder, opening her hot mouth with his tongue and delving deep.

Martin tightened his grip on Ricky’s neck and lowered his lips to her shoulder. The potency of his presence, the weight of his gaze, the collective sounds of their breaths—all of it coursed blood to Ricky’s groin.

Christ, he loved being watched. Never in a million years did he think Martin would participate in something like this. And the woman in his arms? They couldn’t have found a better match.

She was submissive and fierce, honest yet cautious, and because he was a man, he had the biggest fucking hard-on for her perfect body.

Holding this sexy, exotic creature on his lap, he knew he would never get enough of her.

He savored her with deep-reaching strokes, ravishing her more aggressively, his pulse singing in his veins as flavors exploded in his mouth. Her clean minty taste, the wet warmth of her breaths, and the honeyed essence of her innocence… He gorged himself on everything soft and feminine and sensual about her.

His hands roved over her shirt, memorizing every elusive dip and beautifully toned curve underneath. He wanted to rip away the cotton and bask in the feel of her satiny skin. But she wasn’t ready.

Neither was Martin.

He retreated from the wet heaven of her mouth to steal a glance at his friend.

The emerald facets of Martin’s eyes flickered amid the shadows of their small cell. There was a war going on inside that head, an inferno of want raging against a torrent of pain. Whatever happened to Martin years ago had severely messed him up.