Manipulate (Deliver 6)

After the shower, she’d hurriedly yanked on her clothes over soggy underwear and had been itchy and wet ever since.

“Take off your clothes and get into bed.” Martin’s head lolled toward her.

Despite the injuries that crisscrossed his face, his eyes glinted with unbending authority.

She sucked in a breath.

Normally, when she needed to dress or use the toilet, they stepped into the hall and gave her privacy. Asking them to do that now would be ridiculous, and honestly, she should’ve dropped the timid act days ago.

How many prisoners shared a bed with a woman for seven nights without molesting or attacking her while she slept?

She’d bet her life that Martin and Ricky were the only two in Jaulaso. They respected her modesty and had been nothing but patient with her.

Maybe she didn’t trust their accusations against Hector, but she one-hundred-percent trusted them with her body.

“If I lie down with you…” She crawled off Ricky’s lap and knelt beside Martin, inspecting his eyes. Still dilated. “You can’t fall asleep.”

“You’ll keep me awake.” He lifted the blanket beside him in invitation.

What an invitation. Beneath the covers, he wore only a tight pair of black briefs. The sight of his chiseled body and all its divinity drove her insane.

When her gaze returned to his, he used his tongue to trail an unspoken command across his lips.

Come here and taste.

Her body reacted.

Heated.

Throbbed.

Liquefied.

Movement sounded behind her. Then the light bulb went dark, leaving only the dancing flame of the candle.

She turned, and holy shit, if there was ever a time to swoon, this was it.

Her eyes feasted on Ricky’s masculinity, indulging in every inch of his sharply honed anatomy.

He’d stripped to his boxers, revealing a body that was sculpted so flawlessly not even Michelangelo could recreate it.

Her brain stopped working as she drank in the shadowscape of his square-cut jawline, the thick column of his neck, and every beckoning ridge and valley that shaped his torso.

Six feet of ripped muscle towered over her. Not a pinch of fat or a single imperfection. She knew those bulging biceps delivered bone-crushing strikes. His powerful legs carried two-hundred pounds of strength.

And the hard outline in his underwear told her how badly he wanted her.

Little tight pulses gathered between her legs. Her thighs quivered, and her inner muscles clenched with empty spasms, aching for penetration, needing him and Martin, both at the same time.

Good God, she had to physically shake herself out of a building orgasm.

“You can close your mouth,” Ricky rasped.

She snapped her jaw shut and dropped from her knees to her hip on the bed. “Not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” He sat beside her and played with the ends of her hair.

“You. Him.” She peered at Martin. “You look like models, fight like Gladiators, kiss like porn stars—”

“Porn stars?” Ricky arched a dark eyebrow.

“I don’t know. That’s what I see when I replay it in my head.”

He trapped a smile between his teeth. “Continue. Please.”

Why not? She was on a roll.

“You have all the confidence, none of the fat, and you smell like the best sex I’ve never had.” She flopped back on the mattress beside Martin and stared at a patch of mildew in the ceiling. “I feel like a whimpering virgin around you guys because I… I’ve never…”

Ricky stretched out beside her, sandwiching her in between him and Martin. “You’ve never…?”

“I’ve never been with someone like you. Either of you. I’ve certainly never dated more than one man at a time, and the ones I’ve been with… They were nice, normal, average. Average bodies. Average jobs. Average conversations.”

“They sound horribly boring,” Ricky said. “Bet they were average in bed, too.”

“I was okay with that.” She closed her eyes. “I wanted normal and quiet. I loved my average life.”

“And now?”

She wanted a life. With them in it. She wanted them so badly it scared her. “You’re way out of my league.”

Their silence vibrated against her, prompting her to open her eyes.

“Bullshit.” Ricky glowered down at her, his dark, beautiful expression twisting in outrage. “Have you looked in the fucking mirror?”

She didn’t have a complex about the way she looked. She had a small chest, but it never bothered her. Two years of poor nutrition had eaten away her figure and dulled the shine from her hair, but she was still pretty.

“Look, I’m not insecure. I know I look fine. I’m just not…” She waved a hand over him and Martin. “I’m not insanely, heart-stoppingly, drop-dead gorgeous like you two.”

Martin leaned across her and touched Ricky’s lips. Then he trailed his fingers down Ricky’s neck, defined pecs and abs, and lingered on the strip of dark hair that vanished beneath Ricky’s waistband.

“All of this is for you, Tula.” He closed his hand over the swollen outline of Ricky’s cock.

Ricky made a strangled sound in his throat, rivaling the loud gasps pushing past her lips.