The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood 3)

Travis’s eyes lidded with pleasure, and air escaped him in a quiet moan.

“So . . . fucking tight,” Clay groaned.

As Travis held still, Clay continued to fit himself inside me. I had my hands on Travis’s shoulders, and when I dug my fingers in, concern streaked through his face. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. My head was cloudy, and I was a passenger in my own body, but the sensation was amazing.

He’d been tense and anxious, but when I issued a soft sound of enjoyment, he relaxed enough to start moving. And then both men were moving inside me with gentle, shallow strokes, each breathing tight breaths between groans of pleasure.

“Do you like it?” I asked Travis.

He caressed my back and satisfaction burned in his eyes. “It’s good,” he said. “It’s so fucking good.”

Hearing that caused Clay to thrust deeper, and it wrung a deep moan from me. Travis’s fingertips traced down the line of my spine, and when he discovered Clay’s hand on my hip, he grasped on to it. Both used their hold to urge me to move on them.

It was exactly as it’d been designed. With Clay driving behind me and Travis’s slower thrusts from below, Clay was the one in control. He was fucking us both.

God, it was insane. I wanted it to last forever.

The three of us became one body, one unit. Our short gasps alternated with moans, and were punctuated with whispered words of pleasure. It played as a beautiful melody, filling the room.

“Fuck,” we uttered.

“Yes,” we answered back.

Tension built in my core. The position meant I could grind my clit against Travis’s pelvis and maximize my enjoyment. I reached back to grab on to one of Clay’s hands while Travis’s mouth latched onto mine. I wanted to be connected to them in every way possible. I’d never felt this tight, or full or . . .

Complete.

My orgasm tore me apart, but the men held me together with both their hands and encouraging words. They gasped as my body contracted and tried to milk every last drop of satisfaction it could squeeze from them. My vision hazed to black and my heart stopped, but when I finally found air to draw into my lungs, it restarted.

Beneath me, the body solidified into stone. Travis feared if he moved while I was coming, he might not be able to hold himself back, and he wanted to focus on me. Our foreheads were pressed together, and I panted for breath, all while Clay continued to maintain his steady pace.

“It’s such a tight fit, Travis.” Clay’s tone was seductive. “I feel every goddamn inch of you, and you feel so . . . fucking . . . good.”

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say.

Or maybe it was exactly the right thing to say because Clay wanted to be the one to make Travis lose control. To send the other man over the edge.

Travis’s body jerked and stuttered as he came, and loud, desperate moans poured from his mouth between ragged gasps for breath. It was the strongest response I’d ever seen out of him and it created aftershocks of pleasure deep between my legs.

“That’s it.” I couldn’t see Clay, but I pictured the commanding look he’d have as he demanded it. “Come all over me and fill her up.”

This prolonged his orgasm, judging by his loud exhale and the pulsing throb inside me, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Clay had slowed to an unhurried pace, enjoying the slippery slide in and out of me, and it was hard to focus on anything but that.

As Travis recovered, he pulled me down into a kiss, and when his tongue filled my mouth, Clay picked up speed. I wasn’t likely to orgasm another time, but it still felt incredibly good, even when Travis’s cock slipped out of me and Clay was on his own.

He seemed eager to find his end as the rest of us had, and his hard, punishing thrusts that racked my body were perfectly balanced by the gentle, passionate kiss Travis delivered.

And when he came with a guttural groan, he collapsed forward, sandwiching me between the two of them. Our skin was glossy with sweat and everyone’s heart seemed to be pumping at a thousand beats a second. Clay began to lean to one side and the three of us fell in a heap of arms and legs and hands and mouths. I lay on my side with my head on Travis’s arm and Clay spooning me, and when his palm came to rest on the flat plane of the other man’s chest, it made me smile.

It felt natural.

And I was thrilled with how comfortable these men were. Maybe I was in love with them together. So I was grateful they at least seemed to like one another. I put my hand on top of Clay’s, which covered Travis’s heart.