We Three Kinks Emily Ryan-Davis What Chelsea Marks wants for Christmas is the one thing she can’t have...or can she? Chelsea and her bff-with-benefits parted ways eight months ago when Jeremy left Chicago for a job in Miami. She isn‟t expecting him to show up on Christmas Eve with two of his Miami beach buddies—and the gift of one wild, sexy night in front of the Christmas tree. Despite the appeal of sex with three gorgeous men, Chelsea can‟t help fearing for her heart. She already said goodbye to Jeremy once. She has to hope this Christmas will bring her the gift that keeps on giving.
Ellora‟s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
We Three Kinks ISBN 9781419937309 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED We Three Kinks Copyright © 2011 Emily Ryan-Davis Edited by Briana St. James Cover design by Syneca Photography: Les Byerley Electronic book publication November 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora‟s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora‟s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher‟s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author‟s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author‟s imagination and used fictitiously. The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book. The publisher does not have any control over, and does not assume any responsibility for, author or third-party Web sites or their content.
WE THREE KINKS
Emily Ryan-Davis
Emily Ryan-Davis
Chapter One HEY, LITTLE GIRL, WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS? Chelsea Marks smirked at the text and thumb-typed a response. TWO OR THREE WELL-HUNG ELVES. GOT SOME? YES. She snorted softly. I’D LIKE TO SEE YOU DROP THEM DOWN MY CHIMNEY. YOU GET YOUR CHIMNEY READY AND WE’LL SEE WHAT SANTA BRINGS. KINKY. After a several-month dry spell, her chimney was more than ready. Instead of informing her best friend of the pathetic state of her sex life since he‟d traded windy Chicago for sunny Miami, she pocketed her phone and shoved her wistful longing for Jeremy Lowe to the back of her mind. Four more hours until the end of the holiday shopping season. She felt good about volunteering her time at a mall gift-wrap station, but she was more than ready to begin her date with a battery-operated boyfriend and a pitcher of heavily spiked eggnog. No need for Jeremy. No physical need, anyway. Emotional need…that was a different story. Too bad Jeremy was all talk, no action and had warned her a month earlier he had no plans to travel for Christmas. She could really use a naughty holiday, and despite her snarky responses to his texts, she‟d never known her BFF, formerly with benefits, to not deliver. Once upon a time—up until about eight months ago—her sex life was a lot more active. She and Jeremy had shared a tiny apartment and a big bed since they‟d started college six years earlier. Best friends with benefits. Amazing, mind-blowingly orgasmic benefits.
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The benny train ended when Jeremy received an offer to join a diving team based in Florida. He‟d traded his winter coat and boots for swimming trunks and flip-flops and hadn‟t looked back. She missed him. For more reasons than awesome sex. After the mall closed, Chelsea rounded up the remains of the wrapping paper and secured the donations, which she would deliver to her committee treasurer at the January meeting. Bitter wind stung her cheeks as she crossed the parking lot to her cold car and tried not to dwell upon Christmas the year before. The several years before. With Jeremy in Florida and her friends doing the family or romance thing, loneliness weighed heavy on her shoulders. She should have made plans, but somehow in the rush of her first year of nursing full time, she‟d lost track of the seasons. While waiting for the car to warm up, Chelsea heaved a resigned sigh and texted her sister. MAYBE YOU’RE RIGHT. LAUNCH OPERATION “FIND ME A MAN” ON JAN 1? The response came almost immediately. FINALLY! YES. 2012 = THE YEAR OF A NEW MAN.
***** Jeremy tossed an orange to Matt Delaney, a member of his dive crew. “Slice that and float the pieces on top.” Matt leaned against the galley kitchen‟s spare foot of counter and raised an eyebrow. “Hot sangria?” “Mulled wine. Traditional for those of us who know what snow looks like.” Not to mention Chelsea‟s favorite holiday drink. He figured it might take the entire batch to calm her down after she let herself into an apartment full of strange men. From the other room, Diego Gutierrez called out, “Mistletoe‟s up and fire‟s crackling.” “How long do you think it‟ll take your girlie to call the cops?” Matt asked. Jeremy removed a tray of cookies from the oven. “You backing out, man?”
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“And miss the chance to have Tall, Blonde and Stacked‟s thighs wrapped around my head? Not likely. Gotta be realistic, though. I‟d call the cops.” “You don‟t know Chelsea.” Nobody knew her the way Jeremy did. Diego appeared in the doorframe. “An excellent point, the not knowing. Why don‟t you do her and us a favor and give us a crash course. Do I need to find a blindfold? Should Matt wear a tutu?” “I‟m going to.” Jeremy snorted. “Go watch for her car.” He turned the oven off and stepped into the living room, leaving the cookies to cool and his friends to argue over who would wear the tutu. No, nobody knew Chelsea the way he did. Each ornament on their—her—little tree was a memory, a token they‟d chosen together. Jeremy rearranged the ornaments the way Chelsea would have done and silently cursed himself for his choices. The job in Florida was what he wanted, but not all he wanted. He‟d leapt at the opportunity, but failed to really examine the long-term costs. Eight months without Chelsea had been hell. He missed her in his bed, yeah, but he also missed her over weekday-morning cereal and Friday-night pizza. He missed her all the damn time. “Seriously, what‟s her deal?” Diego asked, intruding on Jeremy‟s misery. “Give me something to work with here. Hair-pulling? Spanking? What‟s her kink?” “Two dicks at once,” Jeremy said reluctantly. He didn‟t want anybody else to know Chelsea as well as he did. Damn it. “And call her „little girl‟.” “I want to be the daddy,” Matt said. Diego rolled his eyes at Matt. To Jeremy, he said, “Anything else?” “No. Now go watch for her car.” Jeremy didn‟t tell them how Chelsea loved being on display, being watched. He‟d cover that base himself. Better for everyone if he kept his hands off her tonight and went home in a few days, satisfied that she was ready to move on.
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Miami had no shortage of women. Beautiful women, sexually adventurous and ready to go. None of them were Chelsea. And he had no idea what to do about the lack of her. No idea what to do for himself, anyway. He knew what he had to do for her, especially after a pointed email from her sister. Marissa had made it very clear she expected Jeremy to do what he could to sever Chelsea‟s attraction to him, leaving her free and clear to pursue her life in Chicago. Matt and Diego were his best shot at shoving Chelsea away. He‟d revive her sex life with two guys he trusted and hope the experience spurred her to keep moving on. A long, appreciative whistle sounded from the bedroom. “Hello,” Diego said. Matt added, “She‟s here.” Jeremy pushed gift boxes in place beneath the tree and killed the overhead light, leaving only the yellow flames dancing in the fireplace and the colorful bulbs twinkling on the tree to illuminate the room. With Matt and Diego stationed in the dark bedroom, Jeremy positioned himself to greet her at the door.
***** Chelsea stopped at the threshold, sensory details momentarily overriding her brain. Butter and sugar. Cinnamon, cloves and citrus. Pine. The warm glow of colorful lights and a well-fed fire brightening what should have been pitch dark. She blinked rapidly and took a step back into the corridor. “What—” The bemused question ended on a yelp as a tall, masculine figure filled the door. “Merry Christmas, Chelsea.” Dreaming. She must have fallen asleep in the car or something. Jeremy was not standing right in front of her, a sprig of mistletoe dangling overhead. “I still have a key.” He quirked a grin. “Didn‟t need the chimney.”
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“So…you‟re actually standing there.” She squeezed her keys hard enough that she could feel the bite of metal on her palm. A whole vat of mixed feelings churned in her stomach. Joy, because God, she‟d missed him. Dread, because she couldn‟t envision an outcome that didn‟t involve him leaving again. Relief. Resentment. Desire. “And you‟re standing all the way over there. Come on. Wine and cookies in the kitchen. Well-hung elves in the bedroom.” “Right. Elves. I‟ll start with the wine and cookies.” Trying to pretend she hadn‟t noticed the mistletoe, Chelsea inched past him into the apartment. Jeremy caught her before she could get out of mistletoe range. With a fist in the material of her coat, he drew her against his chest. “I missed you.” He frowned. “Hell. That wasn‟t what I meant to—” She cut him off, dread seesawing with joy for dominance. “I missed you too.” His eyes reflected the winking lights from the tree, leaving them unreadable. But his body tensed against hers. So much for the easy relationship they‟d once shared and the smart-ass messages they‟d volleyed back and forth earlier in the night. This…this was very different from playful texting. “You told me you weren‟t traveling.” She moistened her lips. Avoiding his eyes was impossible unless she closed hers, turned her head or hid her face against his neck. Jeremy was taller than her, but only by a few inches. Their nearly equal heights made for very competitive one-on-one basketball games. And intimately eye-to-eye sex— which she wanted, that instant, right there against the door. “I wasn‟t going to. I changed my mind.” He closed the door and unwrapped her scarf with one hand. Chelsea focused on his lips, watched them shape his words. “I guess you did. So…mistletoe. For a reason?” “I shouldn‟t,” he muttered.
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“No, probably not.” Because he‟d be leaving again and she‟d have to get over him yet again. Jeremy cupped the back of her head and she knew he was going to ignore shoulds. Knew she wouldn‟t stop him. The beachy scent of his aftershave was new, but it wasn‟t strong enough to disguise everything else she remembered. He hadn‟t changed his cinnamon toothpaste. Or his kissing style, which began with his teeth at her jaw, daring her to turn her head and meet his lips. She chickened out of the challenge despite her body‟s reaction to him. One thing the last eight months had proven to her was she‟d been careless with her heart. “Did you say something about wine?” She aimed the question at his shoulder to forestall a kiss. Jeremy‟s fingers flexed in her hair before he blew out a ragged breath and released her. “You sit down. I‟ll bring wine and elves.” Three minutes in Jeremy‟s arms had done more damage to her legs than nine hours at the mall. She tossed her bag and coat across the straight-backed chair near the door and collapsed on the futon in front of the tree. The fire blazed to her left, crackling with warmth. “No sleeping together,” she mumbled beneath her breath. Jeremy could sleep on the futon. Or she would. If they weren‟t sleeping together, they couldn‟t be doing anything else together. Her body had other ideas. Chelsea stood and grabbed a sweater to disguise her peaked nipples. With one arm in the sleeve, she froze. Three pairs of men‟s shoes lay in a jumbled heap beside the front door. “Jeremy?” She turned toward the kitchen as he stepped into view carrying her favorite mug. A pile of coats was draped over the arm of the battered easy chair in the corner. Not her coats. She gave up on the sweater and looked from Jeremy to the closed bedroom door, suspicion tingling at the nape of her neck. “Have some wine.” Jeremy positioned himself between her and the bedroom door. 10
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“Wine…right. What did you do?” She had a feeling she‟d need it. Taking the mug from him, she narrowed her eyes and whispered, “Tell me there aren‟t naked men on my bed.” “There aren‟t naked men on your bed.” He closed in and, cupping her elbows, steered her backward toward the futon until she had to sit on her own or fall on her ass. “I figured we‟d start out here. Bed…well.” Chelsea exhaled and pressed the mug to her lips. She allowed the rich, potent scent of mulling spices to warm her senses while she warmed to Jeremy‟s scheme. She had asked for a threesome…er, foursome? He‟d said elves, plural. After another long swallow of wine, she tipped her head back against the futon cushion and raised her eyebrows. “What about the bed?” He shrugged and turned away to rearrange something on the tree. “You and I shared that bed. I‟m not watching you share it with anybody else.” “That‟s one hell of a charged reason.” Wine always made her tongue a little bolder. Jeremy didn‟t answer. Instead, he left her on the futon and circled behind her. The creaking hinges on her bedroom door gave away his next move. Low, masculine voices slid across her skin, leaving behind a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the wine. And to be sure she didn‟t do anything stupid like neglect condoms, she moved her mug out of reach. She could say no, but why go to the trouble? She needed this. Anticipation coiled in her stomach, overriding her earlier flutters of uneasy reaction to Jeremy. She pressed her thighs together and resisted the urge to look over her shoulder for a peek at his so-called elves. Elf Number One entered her field of vision legs first. Really gorgeous, tanned, golden-haired, muscular legs first. “I‟m Matt.” He sat on the sturdy, scratched coffee table in front of her. “Matt.” Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Chelsea smiled at the red Hawaiian floral print of his shorts. “Please tell me you brought pants with you.”
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He chuckled. “I was warned not to dress for Chicago the same way I‟d dress for Miami.” “Good. I‟d hate to think Jeremy intended to expose his elves to the elements.” She worked her way slowly up his naked torso, all tawny and cut with a swimmer‟s lean, long muscles, to meet his eyes. Blue, probably, but the room‟s dim lighting kept her from being certain. “Is he calling us elves?” Matt touched his right ear and grinned. “I hope you‟re not disappointed if I don‟t show you anything pointy.” “She‟ll have me to fix any disappointment,” another man—Elf Number Two?— announced behind her. “Fuck you, Diego,” Matt replied, easygoing amusement softening the hard words. “You keep your dick aimed at her, not me.” Diego, Elf Number Two, gathered her shoulder-length curls at her nape and used her hair as a lever, tugging to tip her head back. Her upside-down view of him gave the impression of a more olive tan, wavy black hair, dark stubble along his strong jaw. He bent down and whispered in her ear, “It‟s okay if you decide to tell them to get lost and leave us alone. You can sit on Santa‟s lap and we‟ll discuss whether you‟ve been a good little girl or a bad little girl.” The hair at her nape prickled. Chelsea squirmed in her seat, immediately curious about “Santa‟s” equipment. “Ignore whatever he just said.” Matt clasped her ankle, lifted her foot and tugged off her boot. Diego bit her earlobe. “I can throw him out in the hall.” Chelsea shivered hard despite the low current of excitement building in her abdomen. Between them, Matt and Diego were off to a good start at drawing her out of the emotional and into the physical. “It‟s cold in the hall.” Her other boot hit the floor and strong hands curled around her feet. Matt worked his thumbs into the arches, melting her where she sat. Her moan might have been for
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the impromptu massage. It also might have been for the warmth of Diego‟s lips tracing her jaw. Burying her nose in Diego‟s hair, she inhaled the coconut scent of his shampoo and curled her hands in the loose fabric of the futon cover. Her nipples peaked again, close to painful in her bra. “Ah, man, whatever you‟re doing, she likes it.” Matt‟s voice was closer than it had been. Chelsea opened her eyes to find him astride her thighs. Close enough to touch. And close enough to touch her. “My favorite part of Christmas is the unwrapping.” Matt thumbed the top button of her shirt and met her eyes. “May I?” She swallowed and nodded. Matt flicked four buttons free, exposing the candy cane pattern of her bra. Without warning, Diego slid his free hand over her shoulder and under her shirt. Calloused fingertips found her nipple and squeezed. Her ribs expanded on a deep breath, lifting her breast firmly into Diego‟s palm. He murmured a masculine sound of appreciation. Releasing his hold on her hair, he cupped her other breast, long fingers nestled beneath the cups of her bra. Chelsea exhaled a moan and arched into his touch. “I think I‟ve been very good,” she volunteered. “Guess I won‟t have to spank you.” Diego lifted her breasts high and pushed the pale mounds together. “Matt, reward her for being a good girl.” On command, the other man ducked his head and licked a circle around her nipple. The tip of his tongue left a damp ring in its wake. He treated the other quivering tip to a gentle bite. “You smell like gingerbread.” “Does she taste as good?” Diego asked.
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“Better.” Matt pulled the edges of her shirt apart and shoved her shirt and bra straps off her shoulders, trapping her elbows at her sides. “Ooh. Bellybutton rings are my favorite.” Strong hands clasped her hips and dragged her down until her ass balanced on the edge of the futon. Matt opened his mouth on her stomach, a little bite before he threaded his tongue through the steel hoop and tugged. Electricity shocked from the ring to her clit and Chelsea shrieked. The livewire connection between her navel and her clit was something she‟d discovered in the piercer‟s chair, a sudden and uncontrollable reaction. Her hips shot off the futon, bucking insistently against Matt‟s chest. Chelsea released her hold on the futon cover and twined her arms up and back around Diego‟s neck. As Matt took her ring between his teeth, she sought Diego‟s mouth. “No,” Jeremy said, the hard word slicing across the room. All three of them froze. Chelsea gulped a hard, steadying breath, confused by the edge in Jeremy‟s interruption. Guilty about forgetting him in the rush of meeting Diego and Matt. Excited by the reminder of his presence. “You changed your mind, man?” Diego asked, breaking the sudden silence. “Neither of you get her mouth,” Jeremy replied. “Not anywhere.” Leaning forward, Chelsea looked around Diego‟s biceps and shoulder to find Jeremy sitting in the armchair in the far corner. Coats lay in a tangle on the floor. He sat with his forearms braced on his thighs, his jaw a tense, angry line. Carefully blank eyes met hers. “No kissing,” he said. Tension knotted her stomach. She lowered her arms from Diego‟s neck and covered the hands over her breasts. “You‟re going to stay all the way over there?” Jeremy‟s lips flattened in a thin line.
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“Let him watch if that‟s all he wants to do.” Matt swiped his tongue around her bellybutton. “He doesn‟t know what he‟s missing.” As if Matt‟s words were a cue, Diego released her breasts and tugged at her shirt. Chelsea didn‟t look away from Jeremy while Diego stripped her of her shirt and bra. Matt was wrong. Jeremy did know what he was missing. She wished she knew why he‟d chosen to deny himself. His beloved face, jaw set and eyes expressionless even though he watched closely, offered no explanation.
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Chapter Two “Is watching all you want to do?” Chelsea didn‟t break eye contact with Jeremy, not even when Matt freed the button of her jeans. “Yeah,” he said. But she knew the sound of a lie. And the look of a lie too. Diego palmed her breasts and Jeremy still didn‟t drop his stare. Before she could challenge his dishonesty, Diego pinched her nipples and Matt peeled her jeans over her hips. His tongue immediately dove into her heat. No warning. Chelsea gasped at the dual sensations, and a hot slick of cream washed her pussy. Jeremy‟s flinch did unexpected things to her. While her inner muscles tightened on Matt‟s tongue, her pulse quickened. Matt expressed his appreciation with a low curse and hauled her jeans down to her knees. Chelsea kicked one leg free of her jeans and raised her knee. She planted her foot on the edge of the futon for leverage and ground her wetness against Matt‟s face. Jeremy‟s eyes weren‟t blank at all. Something hungry hid in his dilated pupils. “Open her up, man,” Diego said. “Share the view.” “Condoms.” The sharp reminder came from Jeremy. Diego released her breasts. A moment later, he dropped a long tail of foil packets onto the futon. “More where those came from,” he said as he climbed over the back of the futon and settled behind her. Matt disposed of her jeans, leaving her winter-pale legs bare between Diego‟s sundark knees. His cock rode hard against the small of her back. As if she were a doll to be posed, Matt rearranged her limbs until her knees hooked over Diego‟s thighs. The position spread her wide and tipped her backward. Diego‟s heat blazed along her body from shoulder to hip. 16
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“This is what I call a Christmas feast.” Matt rocked back on his heels and looked up, meeting Chelsea‟s eyes. “Mind if I skip the blessing?” “Should warn you,” Diego said at her ear. “He‟s eating all the damned time. You‟ll have to tell him to stop if you want any cock out of the deal.” Chelsea turned her head—deliberately toward Jeremy—to ask Diego, “What about you? Are you just here to observe too?” Diego‟s cock flexed and he ground up against her tailbone. “I‟m hoping for an invitation to enjoy your sweet ass.” From the corner of her eye, she noted a further tightening of Jeremy‟s jaw. Understanding crashed over her. Jeremy didn‟t want this. He didn‟t want to join in. He didn‟t want to watch. He didn‟t want to share. But Matt‟s lips were coasting up the inner slope of her thigh and her pussy fluttered for the stab of his tongue. For more than that. The prospect of tormenting Jeremy, of pushing him with a weapon of his own making, turned her on. Way on. And as much as Jeremy might hate what he saw, his straining cock told the truth of his physical response. Gauging by the hard line of his erection behind his fly, he was turned way on too. Her chest tightened. Jeremy wanted her. He didn‟t want to share. And she had to make sure he didn‟t change his mind. To Diego, she finally replied, “Open invitation.” “My favorite kind.” He nuzzled her neck and hooked his finger through her belly ring, tugging at the same moment Matt‟s tongue slid around her entrance. Chelsea gasped, surprised by the combination of sensations and the zing of pleasure along her thighs, up to her nipples. She flattened the soles of her feet against Diego‟s calves and lifted her hips, reaching for the penetration Matt offered with his teasing, dipping tongue. Diego added another layer of stimulation by flicking his fingertips over her clit.
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As if he‟d read her mind moments earlier, he whispered in her ear, “Let‟s give Jeremy a show.” A show. Yes. And she wouldn‟t even have to fake it. Matt wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked hard, wrenching a genuine shriek from her throat. She shoved her fingers into his thick, surfer-blond hair and anchored his mouth to her pussy. Behind her, Diego groaned. “Damn. I can‟t decide whether I want her riding your face or your dick while I fuck her ass.” Matt said something, a monosyllabic response muffled by her slit. He flattened his tongue against her and pushed the tip inside and she didn‟t care what he preferred. Her inner muscles clenched hard, coming up empty despite the presence of his tongue. “Need something bigger,” she gasped. Diego thumbed her nipples. “You ever had two cocks at once, sweetheart? One in your pussy and one in your ass?” “No.” She dug her fingernails into Matt‟s scalp, barely swallowing a yelp when he closed his teeth over a sensitive bit of flesh. “Most men prefer pussy and mouth.” “Shit, Jeremy. You‟ve deprived her.” Diego grasped her hips and shuffled her forward. “Have you even had her ass before or am I going to have to start from scratch?” Jeremy‟s response vibrated across the room, a low, tense growl. “Shut the fuck up.” The sudden change in position forced Chelsea to release Matt‟s hair and cling to his shoulders. Her instincts screamed a command to look at Jeremy, to soothe his…whatever he was feeling. Jealousy? Possessiveness? Something else—intuition, maybe—pushed her further along her course, warning her that Jeremy needed to reach a breaking point. Something important depended upon him shattering. Thick fingers slid into her pussy, short-circuiting her brain. Her back arched and the lights on the tree blurred momentarily as Diego stretched and filled her. The backs of his fingers cruised over her G-spot, eliciting a low moan. Chelsea tucked her chin close
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to her chest and clamped down, clinging to the fullness. Jeremy muttered something unintelligible and Diego twisted his fingers until he could focus on that deep, sensitive button. “Lick her clit, man,” Diego directed. His thumb pressed her anus and Chelsea‟s moan turned into a high whimper. She rocked forward, weight on her feet, and lifted her ass for Diego‟s attention. Between her legs, Matt proved his ability to follow instructions. He stiffened the tip of his tongue and assaulted her clit with hard, fast lashes. “I‟m going to come,” she moaned, embarrassed by the rushing speed of climax. “I don‟t think so, honey.” Diego banded his free arm around her waist and anchored her tight to his thighs. He withdrew his fingers and Chelsea sucked a shuddering breath. Relief was short lived. He let up on her G-spot, but increased the pressure at her ass. New fullness invaded her, eased by her cream. “Only good little girls get to come. We still haven‟t figured out whether you‟ve been good or not. Have you?” Before she could reply, he said, “God damn, you‟re tight. Matt, we‟re seriously going to have to loosen her up.”
Fury scalded the base of Jeremy‟s spine and locked him in place. He wanted to look away. Didn’t want to watch Chelsea writhe for his friends. Her lips should be parting to gasp for him. Matt raised his head from between Chelsea‟s thighs and elbowed the low coffee table out of the way. Jeremy clenched his hands on the arms of his chair so hard wood groaned beneath the upholstery. Better he damage the chair than plant his fist in Matt‟s face, which was currently wet from his feast of Chelsea.
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Chelsea was… Christ. Enjoying herself. The three of them moved together as Diego dragged the futon mattress to lie flat in front of the fire and shoved the frame out of the way. Matt sprawled on his back and pulled Chelsea down. Jeremy willed her to give him something, some indication she wanted to put a stop to the ill-conceived festivities, but she crawled over Matt with her unique brand of adventurousness. The sway of her breasts fascinated him and provided momentary distraction from the ache behind his ribs. He couldn‟t see her face past her tangled curtain of blonde curls, but he could see the hard points of her nipples, flushed as red as the holly berries clustered in the greenery pinned to the mantel over the fireplace. Jeremy glowered at the crinkle of foil wrappers. He started from the chair, but froze as Chelsea lifted her head and met his eyes. “Come over here,” she said, her voice husky with want. Diego knelt behind her, his hands on her hips. Matt raised his head to lick a nipple. Chelsea shuddered, but didn‟t break eye contact. “Jeremy.” Holding her gaze, he finished standing. “You want me too?” “I want you.” Raw honesty resonated in the three short words. Jeremy flinched and looked away, dialing back the zoom on the puzzle of limbs tangled together on the futon mattress. Neither Diego nor Matt spared him a glance. Matt held Chelsea‟s thighs and surged up into her with a grunt and a curse while Diego dug his fingers into her hips and rubbed the length of his cock between her cheeks. Chelsea gasped and arched her back, grinding down on Matt‟s cock. Pleasure flushed her upper chest. But she groaned his name. “Jeremy.” Eyes narrowed, he prowled closer. Diego dragged a single finger down her spine and over the curve of her ass. Jeremy couldn‟t tear his attention away from the latex-
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sheathed length rising up against her. Part of him wanted to put a stop to everything that instant. A more insistent part of him wanted in her mouth. Fuck it. He‟d been fooling himself by thinking he could stay away from her. Across a room or across a continent, he wouldn‟t stop wanting her. Jeremy tore at the snap of his jeans. Chelsea stretched toward him, her wet mouth waiting to catch his cock as soon as he set himself free. Threading his fingers through her hair, he held her as she swirled her tongue around the tip. Pleasure darted straight to the base of his spine. “Don‟t play with me,” he muttered, bumping against her soft cheek. Chelsea licked the underside of his shaft and drew his balls into her mouth and, hell, he didn‟t have it in him to stop her. While she tickled the base of his sac with the tip of her tongue, Jeremy glanced up to find Diego watching her mouth work. “You‟re one selfish bastard,” Diego said mildly. Jeremy sat on the coffee table and spread his knees wide, leaving room for Chelsea between his thighs. She eased into the vee, one hand braced on his knee and the other at his hip. Cradling the back of her head, he knew the truth of Diego‟s observation. “She‟s mine,” he said clearly. “And I‟m sharing as much as I‟m going to. Fuck her or let her go.” “Whatever you want, man,” Diego replied over the slippery, rhythmic sound of Matt driving up into Chelsea‟s pussy. Diego‟s stomach flexed and Chelsea stiffened. Her mouth opened against Jeremy‟s thigh, teeth against his skin, and breathed a low, drawn-out moan. Jeremy stroked the curves of her ears and watched Diego‟s slow, careful push. “She‟s strangling me,” Matt said. “Shut up and play with her clit.” Jeremy guided her lips back to his cock, but kept up his petting. Diego wouldn‟t get into her ass without hurting her unless she had a distraction.
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Jeremy‟s scent drew her in. The other two men stimulated her body, but her pulse quickened for the sound of Jeremy‟s pleasure. Gripping his thighs, she opened her lips over the head of his cock and sucked him deep. His breath hitched and his fingers tightened across the back of her scalp. He angled her head and flexed up, sliding deeper into her mouth. Another wet mouth latched on to her nipple and pulled hard. Chelsea bore down in response, grinding her clit against Matt‟s pubic bone while Diego breached her from behind. Sparks of pleasure flared across her skin and she shared it all with Jeremy, communicating her appreciation with her tongue. Between the three of them, they filled her to overflowing. Chelsea slid her hands up to clutch Jeremy‟s hips. He hissed when her fingernails made contact with his flesh, but she made it up to him by licking at his slit. He muttered soft curses above her, unintelligible words, as she plunged down again to wrap her lips around the base of his cock. Matt and Diego held her pinned, her body too confused to know how to move. She had some measure of control over Jeremy, though, despite the pull of his hands in her hair. Control. And the advantage of never-been-done-before. Sex with Jeremy had never crossed the line into intimacy of this nature. They confined themselves to lips above the waist. Too bad. She loved the salty flavor of his arousal on her tongue. Determined to take advantage of the opportunity, Chelsea fought his hold on her hair until his cock popped out of her mouth. “Chelsea—” “I want to play with you,” she said, cutting him off. A glance up at his face revealed passion-dark eyes, narrowed to glittering focus. “I want—ahhh!” Sharp, unexpected pleasure bolted along her spine. Not enough to push her over, but enough to steal her words. Chelsea‟s head fell forward on a repeat of the sensation, which stemmed from rough fingers at her clit. The physical stimulation jerked her away
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from the confession on her tongue and dragged her back to the reality of the two men plundering her body. She couldn‟t see Diego but she could feel him, thick and slippery. His thighs tensed hard against hers as he maintained control of his pace. The slow plunge and drag of Diego‟s cock contrasted with Matt‟s rapid, shallow thrusts. Below her, Matt‟s eyes were closed tight and the tendons in his neck strained as he twisted his hips, grinding hard against her. Sensory overload threatened to overwhelm her. Needing relief, and fast, she bent to bite Matt‟s nipple. The sharp pain seemed to shove him over an edge. He cursed and stiffened. Chelsea deliberately clamped down on his cock, prompting a groan from Diego. “Hell,” Diego moaned, his fingertips digging hard at her hips as his orgasm quickly followed Matt‟s.
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Chapter Three “Move.” Jeremy growled the word, drawing Chelsea‟s attention. He wasn‟t looking at her. Instead, he addressed Diego over her shoulder. Matt patted her left thigh. “I think he‟s had enough, babe. Let me up before I lose a leg or something.” She glanced down into Matt‟s amused eyes and shifted her weight carefully, aware of Diego still at her back, still pulsing inside her. Textures, scents and sounds crashed around her, starting with the weave of the futon cover under her hands and knees. Matt rolled aside and peeled off his condom. Diego withdrew with more care. “I‟m going to take a shower,” she mumbled, crawling away from all three men once her body was her own again. The different notes of their perspiration and semen slid together, confusing her senses. A piece of wood popped in the fireplace right before Diego said, “I don‟t think we‟ve reached the shower part of the night.” “What—” Her question ended on a gasp of surprise as a strong hand caught her ankle and flipped her onto her back. Jeremy crouched above her, his erection still jutting from his open fly. Firelight cast his features in shadow and tipped the ends of his hair gold. “You didn‟t come,” he said. Her face heated. Chelsea covered her breasts with both hands, hiding the new tightness of her nipples. “I was distracted.” “Are you distracted now?” He shifted and pushed his knee between her thighs, forcing her to spread her legs. “No,” she whispered, focused entirely on him. Her pussy fluttered, eager for the familiar shape of his cock despite her moments-earlier desire for escape and personal
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space. Chelsea raised her knees to either side of his hips and curled her toes against the hearth-warmed fabric of the futon mattress. “Jeremy.” “Hold her hands,” he instructed, not breaking eye contact with her. Diego‟s tanned fingers covered hers and pried them away from her breasts. Chelsea tensed and pulled against his hold, but he overpowered her and pinned her wrists to the mattress above her head. “Jeremy,” she repeated, low and urgent, appealing to him for freedom. Twisting her wrists in Diego‟s hold got her nowhere. He shook his head and grasped her knees. Pushing both aside and spreading her wide, he said, “This was supposed to be for you, not for us.” “Not that we aren‟t thoroughly grateful for the opportunity,” Matt added, a lighter note in what seemed to be veering toward the dark and intense. Chelsea clenched her hands and Diego adjusted his hold, not hurting her, but not giving any slack either. Arousal edged with a trace of fear hummed through her veins as Jeremy showed her a different side of himself. Everything about him that night was different. She inhaled a deep breath, blew it out and lifted her hips in a tentative invitation. Maybe she was a little freaked out by being held down, but… “I trust you,” she mouthed silently, giving him the shape of the words while keeping them from her observers. “You shouldn‟t. I don‟t.” Jeremy leaned down and opened his mouth on her stomach, inches above her bellybutton ring. His stubble tickled the tender skin as he dragged his kiss lower to that bit of steel. She closed her eyes on the shadows dancing along the ceiling and swallowed a whimper. Matt had taken the same path earlier, but the sensations were different coming from Jeremy. Different. Deeper. She felt his touch deeper than she‟d felt either Matt‟s or Diego‟s. When Jeremy slid his tongue through the hoop and tugged, the arc of pleasure twisted around her spine. She gave up fighting Diego‟s hold and channeled
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her efforts into breaking Jeremy‟s grip on her thighs, desperate to wrap her legs around his back and trap him close. He released her thighs, but evaded her efforts by diving lower, shocking her with a wet lick across her clit. Chelsea jerked her head up and stared down the line of her body at the unfamiliar sight of Jeremy‟s head buried between her legs. Jeremy hooked his arms behind her knees and tilted her hips off the mattress. She lost sight of his intent features as he thrust his tongue inside, withdrew and did something else that made her lungs seize. Spine liquid, she sagged in Diego‟s hold and gave up her bid for silence. A whimper caught in her chest until hot bursts of pleasure kick-started her lungs. The mewl exploded in a shriek. Finally she broke free of Diego‟s hold—or he released her, Chelsea couldn‟t tell and didn‟t care—and shoved her fingers into Jeremy‟s hair, locking his mouth against her slippery flesh until the waves of sensation subsided.
***** “My ego needs pancakes,” Matt said, his voice distant. Jeremy ignored the other men and raised his head to check on Chelsea. Ragged breaths expanded her ribs and pushed her hard nipples high. Her throat worked over small, hoarse whimpers. He‟d brought her through enough orgasms that he easily recognized the tail end of lingering pleasure. If he slid his fingers into her pussy, he‟d be able to feel her inner muscles contract. He‟d be able to shove her over the edge again with a few deep thrusts. Knowing his cock would never forgive him if he used his fingers, he carefully rolled her onto her stomach. She readily folded back toward him and lifted her ass into the air. Images of Diego behind her burned at the backs of his eyes. Jeremy gave up his fight and notched his cock against her entrance. He surged deep and hard, surrendering to his need to claim her.
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Chelsea moaned into the mattress beneath them as he withdrew. She pushed back to meet his second pounding thrust. Slick muscles clutched at his cock and he stopped caring about too hard or too fast. The slap of his balls against her clit, of his stomach against her ass, almost hid the sounds of Matt and Diego across the room. Almost. But he still knew they were there. Their presence sparked a new need to claim Chelsea, to prove his possession. He wanted to hear her acknowledge his ownership. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to slow and slid one hand across her stomach. Spread wide as she was, he had no trouble finding the hard little knot of her clit. “I need you to come for me. Just for me.” He rolled the bud between his fingers. “I will,” she gasped. “I am. I—Jeremy!” He flattened the pad of his thumb against her clit and pressed hard, wrenching a shudder from her entire body. Behind him, the apartment door opened and closed. Matt and Diego were gone. Not far enough. Jeremy reluctantly eased free of Chelsea‟s pulsing grip and fisted his cock until his balls tingled. Release surged toward the base of his spine and exploded. He watched with grim satisfaction as white ribbons of semen marked her, glistening from the small of her back to a point between her shoulder blades. Chelsea started, but didn‟t jerk away from him. She didn‟t move a single muscle until he‟d emptied himself all over her skin. It wasn‟t enough. Chelsea blew out a loud breath and started to roll onto her side. Jeremy stopped her. “I need you to shower,” he said, looking up to find her studying him over her shoulder. Her eyes gleamed shiny and dazed in the firelight. Jeremy dropped his gaze. “I‟m sorry. I just need you to not smell like anybody but me.” After a long minute, she stood with the aid of the futon frame. Jeremy sat back on his heels, watching her long, slender form pad across the hardwood floor and vanish
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into the bedroom. When she turned on the shower, he scrubbed his hands through his hair and released his breath on a groan. Fuck. He‟d made a mess of everything.
***** Chelsea moved gingerly beneath the shower‟s warm spray. Her legs bordered on boneless, prompting her to support herself with one hand against the shower wall. Every time her thoughts turned to the night‟s events, she balked. Easier to focus on the shampoo-soap-face-wash ritual and pretend the shower was for her benefit, not Jeremy‟s. Blinking water from her eyes, she turned to reach for a long-handled sponge and froze. Jeremy‟s shape moved on the other side of the frosted glass door. Seconds later, he slid the door open and stepped into the tub, bringing with him a finger of cool air. Her nipples spiked instantly. “I‟m almost finished if you want to wait a minute,” she said despite the clear evidence of his impatience. She folded her arms across her breasts. “I don‟t want to wait.” Jeremy closed the door, sealing them inside the narrow, steamy rectangle. He stood staring at her for the span of several breaths before he moved, reaching for her still-sudsy pouf. “Turn around and I‟ll wash your back.” Chelsea swallowed hard, but did as instructed because staring at the rose-speckled tiles was easier than looking at him. Needles of water beat down on her stomach. “This is…different,” she managed after the first stroke of the pouf. The “with benefits” portion of their relationship had unspoken limits. She and Jeremy never set out with the intention of making love. Neither of them played at seduction. If they got naked, they did so out of need. And even then, oral sex was an agreed-upon limit, something for lovers instead of friends. The same applied to showers together, to tender kisses, to possessive claims. Yet there they stood, Jeremy‟s lips gentle at her shoulder as he sponged her back, doing his part to clean her of other men‟s scents. And the oral sex rule…yeah, they‟d both blown past that barrier. She didn‟t regret the change, but wasn‟t sure what it meant, either.
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“Why did you bring them here?” She half turned to look at him. “You like threesomes.” “I liked threesomes in college. Okay, and I liked it tonight too. But guys don‟t fly cross-country for group sex. Why?” Something like pain darkened his features. He didn‟t bother to hide it. “I…Marissa wanted me to make sure you and I had nothing left between us. She‟s been worried about you.” Chelsea turned fully, incredulous. “My sister?” “She‟s been worried about you,” he repeated. “And furious with me.” Jeremy tossed her pouf into the basket mounted on the wall. “I thought some fun with the guys would help if you were having any…problems. And you seemed into the idea, based on your texts earlier.” “Problems,” she repeated, ignoring the rest. “Problems like getting laid? Or not, I guess. Great.” Before Jeremy could answer, she shook her head hard and reached for the door. “I‟m going to kill her. And you.” “Wait.” He caught her elbow and drew her back. “This was—hell. Matt and Diego were supposed to make you want someone else. But I completely fucked myself, Chelsea. Watching you with them—I don‟t want you to want anybody else.” She stared at a point over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. “So you had a plan to fly up here and hook me up with your diving buddies, figuring I could use a good screw more than I could use another sweater. And then you were all going to ride away again. Yeah, thanks. Next time send me a damned sweater.” Breaking free of his hold, she scrambled from the shower and slammed the sliding door behind her. On the other side of the glass, Jeremy swore viciously. Desperate for distance, she snatched her robe off its hook and stalked from the bathroom.
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“The fucking sweater‟s under the tree,” Jeremy called after her. I don’t want you to want anybody else. “Too bad,” she muttered. But she sat down hard on the foot of her bed and covered her face with both hands. Droplets of water rolled down the back of her neck, dripping from her hair. Tears stung her eyes. The shower shut off. Chelsea lowered her hands and stared at the closed door until Jeremy appeared, a towel slung around his hips. “So what am I supposed to do now?” she asked. “Sit here waiting for you forever? You left.” “Did you want me to stay?” he asked after a moment. “No. You had an opportunity to do what you wanted to do. I wanted you to take it.” Her chest constricted. “But I wanted you to come back.” He crossed to stand in front of her and cupped her chin, urging her to meet his eyes. “What about now?” “You shouldn‟t have come back,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Not like this. It isn‟t fair.” Jeremy stroked a fingertip down her throat. “Was Marissa wrong? Is there someone else?” “No. There‟s nobody. That‟s why it‟s going to hurt all over again when you go this time.” “I don‟t have to, Chelsea. I could be finished with Miami.” “But you love Florida,” she said. “It‟s where you want to be.” “I love you. Where you are is where I want to be.” His raw confession unleashed her tears. Chelsea‟s breath broke on a sob. Jeremy swore softly and cradled the back of her head, holding her as she hid her face against his bare stomach. Guilt and relief pulled her in different directions. By the time her tears dried, she still wasn‟t sure which emotion she should follow.
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“You shouldn‟t let me do this,” she said, rubbing her cheek in the salty damp she‟d left on his skin. “I don‟t want you to give up a dream for me. I don‟t want to be the reason. I can find a position in Florida.” “No logistics right now, Chelsea. Let me be with you for Christmas and later we‟ll figure out who‟s going where or staying where.” He stepped back and grabbed her hands, pulling her from the bed. “Come on. We‟re wasting the lights on the tree.” “Pillows and a blanket?” she suggested, sniffing hard. Traditionally, they camped out in front of the tree on Christmas Eve. “Leave them to me. You find fewer clothes to wear.” “I guess we won‟t be sleeping head to foot tonight,” she said with a smile. “God, I hope not.” He stripped her comforter from the bed and snatched up two pillows. Chelsea preceded him back to the living room, which bore no trace of Jeremy‟s elves. He‟d wrestled the futon mattress back onto the frame while she showered. And he‟d doused the fire. A chill hung in the air, no longer held at bay by the warm glow from the hearth. “I don‟t think group sex is really for me,” she said, watching him pad the futon with blankets. “Not anymore, anyway.” Jeremy stilled. “I should have asked you.” “Yeah, probably. Given a choice, I would‟ve chosen just me and you.” He settled on the futon and tugged at the belt of her robe. “Was it horrible?” “I wouldn‟t say horrible.” Shrugging free of the terrycloth, she crawled beneath the blanket and spooned against him, her back to his chest. “I suppose Matt and Diego are feeling pretty used right about now, though.” “Fuck them.” He draped one arm over her waist and pillowed her head with his other arm. “No, actually, don‟t. I don‟t want to have to kill one of them. Or both.”
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Chelsea smiled at the lights twinkling on the tree and kissed his forearm. “I think your friends are safe. Um, wherever they are.” “Matt said something about pancakes. They‟ve got hotel rooms downtown.” He stroked her hip and the length of her thigh, urging her to bend her knee. “Stop talking about them.” Shifting to suit him, she bumped her bottom against his growing erection. “Already forgotten.” Jeremy retraced his path, tickling her inner thigh from her knee to her pussy. Chelsea adjusted for him again, opening to his fingers. He slid easily in the new wave of honey-thick arousal and surprised her by dragging the slick cream back along the seam of her ass. “I think I need to make sure for myself,” he rumbled, shifting until his broad head burrowed against her entrance. “Forgive me for not taking your word for it?” He pressed forward and she clutched his forearm, careless with her fingernails as he worked his way past her body‟s defenses. “I love you,” she whispered. And she‟d forgive him anything. Except maybe an ugly sweater.
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About the Author Emily Ryan-Davis lives in Maryland with her loving husband and hateful guinea pig. On any given day, you can find her shopping (online or in stores), chatting/writing (the pair go hand in hand, can‟t have one without the other), knitting (or buying yarn) or mocking her husband‟s comic collection (while parenthetically wondering why comics haven‟t upgraded to the ebook age; imagine all the extra space she‟d have). Occasionally she picks up her mandolin, but mostly she just ignores it. You won‟t find her paying attention to current events or the latest celebrity gossip because writing stories is her way of pretending it doesn‟t matter that she doesn‟t know how to use the television remote. Emily‟s favorite authors are Megan Hart, Terry Pratchett, JR Ward and Orson Scott Card. She loves sexy, magical, funny and intense stories, but especially enjoys immersing herself in the breathless intensity of a “with feeling” love scene. She can‟t pick a genre (decision-making issues!) so writes in whatever setting calls to her at any given time: contemporary paranormal, historical western, medieval Europe, Gothic France—if she can imagine a strong emotional attraction existing in a particular place or time, chances are she‟ll write the story. Emily welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Emily Ryan-Davis All He Wants All the Secrets in Pearl All the Trees in Pearl All the Women in Pearl Hot for Pepper Interlude in Pearl Tied & Twisted
Print books by Emily Ryan-Davis All in Pearls anthology
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