“I want to see you with another guy.”
Gabriel’s staring at me from behind the heavy frames of his glasses, his brown puppy-dog eyes full of aching sincerity.
“Yeah,” I say, laughing between mouthfuls of cornflakes, “course you do.” What the hell sort of bloke wants to see his girl going at it with another guy. Only Gabriel doesn’t laugh along with me. His gaze remains fixed, watching me dip my spoon into the milk and lift it up again. He watches me chew and dab my lips clean.
“I’m serious, Em. I want to watch him go down on you, see him lick your pussy and then fill you with his dick. I want to watch everything, your blush, each caress. I want to hear every squeak and each word he makes you hiss. I want to see your eyes light up as you come.”
“Hmm…” I respond. It strikes me that he can do all of those things without involving another man. “What makes you think I want to have sex with another man? I’ve you. One cock is plenty enough.” Embarrassment makes me brusque, and I want to laugh this off, pretend it’s all a joke, but I know it isn’t. Gabriel’s voice is soft, and he’s still. Really still. Gabriel’s always composed when he’s serious, like he has to hold himself in check for fear of being misinterpreted.
He hops up onto one of the high breakfast stools and leans across the countertop toward me. His long fingertips steeple and tap the edge of my cereal bowl. “You’re quite sure about that? You’ve never dreamed about having two guys? I thought that was standard female fantasy these days.”
His cocky nonchalance is an act. He’s invested in this. I can sense it.
“So, we’re talking about threesomes now, are we?” I raise my brows, trying to keep the conversation light but failing. This is hardly our typical seven-in-the-morning subject matter. Normally this early, we converse in guttural grunts and yawns.
Gabriel thinks a moment, tapping the bowl again before pressing his index fingers to his succulent pout. “No,” he answers slowly, voice still steady. “I don’t want to be part of it. I just want to watch.” A smile creeps into the depths of his eyes as he speaks, and dimples appear in his left cheek. “Say you’re game. Please, Em. I really want to watch you.”
“Really?”
“Really, really.”
The thing with Gabriel is that what he wants he nearly always gets. I don’t know if it’s some weird-ass talent he has, or simple good luck, and normally I enjoy watching things unfold, but now that I’m slap bang at the center of that want, I’m not feeling quite so cool.
Breakfast done, I hop down from my perch and drop the bowl into the sink. A wan smile still plays upon his lips and his gaze never leaves me as he follows me into the living room. I’m all for games and a little daring in the bedroom, but this seems particularly transgressive. He’s asking me to fuck someone else, after months of being only with him. I don’t know. Part of me is alarmed; the rest is lining up fantasy candidates like cruising for extra cock is part of my normal routine. I can’t help it. We all have our rainy-day guys, right?
I slip on my coat, ready to head out the door. “Was there someone you had in mind?” I throw at him as a parting remark. I figure there must be someone. He’s obviously been planning this out. Gabriel doesn’t do spontaneity, not that I’ve witnessed anyway.
Gabe waits until after we’ve kissed goodbye and I’ve one foot over the threshold before he replies, “Yes, absolutely. I think you should do it with Nye.”
Holy hell!
The notion hits me like a sucker punch to the groin. I gulp goldfish style and wobble down the steps in my ballerina flats as if they’re three-inch heels, before tottering off toward the car, mouth dry and my heart racing. Nye—that’s just unfair. I squirm on the driver’s seat once I’m inside, giving my girly bits some welcome friction before pulling off. Nye—it’s a ludicrous suggestion, but the thought is now lodged in my head, and my pulse starts to tango.
We can’t make this real. Hell, there’s too much risk. Nye’s already on my “approach with caution, and only while wearing steel panties” list. Actually, he’s the only person on that list. Give me reality over a movie star any day—my A-list fantasies ended along with high school.
Dear God…I love Gabriel, I genuinely do, but if there’s one man out of the thousands that live in this town that I’d ever been tempted by, then Nye’s the one. God help me, he’s the one. And clearly my boyfriend knows it.
I spend a week gnawing my fingernails worrying over what this means. Is Gabriel testing me? Is he offering me the chance to walk away? Does he want me to walk away? Is he simply telling it to me straight—it’s his fantasy and he genuinely wants to see me squirming with sexual fever in another man’s arms? My emotions are in knots by the time the weekend comes.
“I’ve invited Nye over tonight,” Gabriel says as I sigh under the shower spray, washing away the office grime.
“You’ve what?” Soap bubbles sting in my eyes as rivulets cascade over my naked body. “Why did you do that? What have you told him?”
“I want to see you fuck,” Gabriel hollers along the landing.
I come tearing out of the shower, soap suds still clinging to my skin. “No, you can’t do that.”
“Babe, I already did.” He turns his head to look at me, his thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his low-slung jeans. “Don’t go denying you want him. Let’s at least be honest with our fantasies. If all the guys in the world were lined up and you could fuck any of them, I know you’d choose him over me.”
I try to deny this, but Gabriel waves away my protests. “I’m cool with that. It’s no biggy. I get that his presence wets your panties. All I’m asking is that you let me be part of it.”
“You’re going to sit back and watch, while I get hot and sticky with another man.” Doesn’t matter how hard I try, I still can’t get my head around this, and it shows in the incredulous tone of my voice.
Gabe remains patient and smiling. “No, Em. I’m going to wank myself silly while I watch you.” He holds my gaze as he tells me this, making sure I know there’s sincerity within his words. “It’s not a trick, babe. Nye knows the score.”
Okay, somehow that’s the hardest bit for me to comprehend. Harder even than accepting that Gabriel really, honest to God wants to go through with this. Nye, drop-dead gorgeous, fantasy fodder, sexy butt, actually wants to get off with whale blubbery me. Who the hell, besides Gabriel, has ever wanted to get down and dirty with me? Okay, there’s been one or two, but mostly with their beer goggles on, and they’ve been as hairy assed as werewolves. Nye and I aren’t remotely in the same league. We’re not even in the same rowboat.
And there I was thinking Gabe was a quantum anomaly for wanting me. Now it seems he might not actually be alone.
I spend extra time in front of the mirror while drying off, not preening you understand, just staring, and wondering what it is they see that clearly I don’t. It ain’t my boobs which, being overlarge, are inclined to sag a little when they’re not holstered, and I’m pretty sure it’s not my rather extensive butt. Maybe it’s my calves—I always kind of liked those, or my speckled, mismatched, green-and-tawny eyes. No one else has eyes like mine. Everyone else is uniform, green, blue, brown and gray…. This is getting me nowhere.
Nye’s agreement has to be a mistake. He probably though Gabriel was larking around.
That’s it. This is all a big ol’ foolish joke.
Nye isn’t coming round. We’re not going to fuck one another silly, and Gabe absolutely isn’t going to watch. Except, I get such a thrill in my gut at the possibility of it happening, I know this isn’t a fantasy I have a hope in hell of being able to resist.
My conviction holds right up until the doorbell rings.
He’s here—yes! Oh, my God! He’s here; we’re really going through with this. It’s not just a dream.
Gabriel politely yells up the stairs after he lets Nye in, but when I still haven’t come down after the third call he thunders up to our room and the en suite to call me to heel. “You’ve gotta come down, babe.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do.”
“Don’t.”
“Fine, I’ll invite him up.”
He will, and that will make things a whole lot worse. Already the bed has taken on a whole new meaning. Gone is any association with rest, replaced only with erotic potential. I see myself sprawled between them, entwined around Nye, Gabriel positioned to my rear, a little apart from us, his brows tightly furrowed as he watches. One of his hands lies possessively upon my hip.
“I can’t do this. It doesn’t sit right.” Yet even as I say the words, deep down I know them to be a lie. I’m excited and fearful, filled with the same anticipatory butterflies that flap so wildly at the top of my favorite roller coaster right before the plunge. “You know it’s fucked-up. It’s not normal.”
Gabriel lets me ramble.
“Why are you so set on this?”
The corners of his eyes wrinkle and a smile plays upon his lips. “Because,” he replies.
Yeah, because what, you dolt? I come within inches of deliberately clonking him on the head with the toilet brush. My ploy for why I’m not downstairs. I still don’t get it. I’m not sure I ever will. Can’t he spell it out to me? What’s so hot about watching me? I mean, wouldn’t he rather do the deed? Is this the prelude to some kind of admission, or simply a way of saying goodbye? Doesn’t matter how I wing it, I can’t put this down to plain ol’ good luck.
My good luck means finding a coin in the gutter, not a night of hot stuff with Mr. McSexy and Gabe directing.
Maybe it’s a total wind up, and we’ll get downstairs, chatter and down a few bottles of chilled wine and nothing will come of all this hype. Maybe… The possibility makes it even more difficult to put one foot before the other. Deep down I’m reveling in this, I don’t want it to be a rouse. I want it to be every bit as erotic and scandalous as the vision of the three of us sprawled upon the bed.
“Gabe…”
“Sweetheart, it’ll be as sexy as hell.”
“I’m scared. Are you sure we should do this? What if it backfires?”
He holds his hand to me, and when I take it, he clasps me tight. “Shh—trust me. It won’t. It’ll be okay. Relax, live a little.” He runs a hand through my hair before kissing me long and slow. “Think of it as a game.”
“Yes.”
The brush of his hand through my hair is soothing, and I continue to lean into his body, seeking heat and his fantastically familiar touch. “Trust me, babe. You’re really going to enjoy this. I wouldn’t invite just any old fool home to play with us. I trust him to treat you right. And you do want him, don’t you?
I look up at Gabriel, right into the dark hearts of his hazel eyes. I love him and I trust him, but that doesn’t make me blind to his little foibles and faults. “If I say I don’t want him will you send him home?”
Gabriel’s smile falters, and disappointment colors his eyes, but despite the scowl he still nods. “If that’s truly what you want, and this isn’t just nerves talking. I’m not interested in forcing you. This is supposed to be fun.”
The furrows in his high brow spark a giggle, and I strain onto tiptoe to kiss them away. “Can’t deny that I fancy him.” I dig my teeth into my lower lip.
“There’s lots about him to like.”
“Yeah.” I take a deep, deep breath. “Okay. I’ll be down in a minute. Just as soon as I’ve got my sexy undies on.”
“Not the red ones,” he says. “They make you look like a whore. Maybe the blue ones or the dusky-pink.”
“Maybe Nye would like whorish.”
“I like whorish,” Gabriel growls. I grin at the warm fuzzy glow the reaction provokes in my chest. He likes whorish, and he’s claiming that little bit of kink all for himself. Blue or the dusky-pink it is.
“Hey.”
Nye is sitting upon our sofa, knees splayed wide when I enter the lounge. His easy good looks are transformed into something special by his mop of golden hair and the faint shadow of stubble around his jaw.
“Hi,” I squeak back at him, flushing with embarrassment. I try to hide behind Gabriel, but he takes up a position of silent power in the backlit armchair, making it difficult to see him without being dazzled by the lamp. He’s relaxed with this, completely unphased, while I’m as jumpy as hell. I can’t settle enough to sit down, so I dance about, not sure where to position myself or what to say. If I sit in the obvious, logical place next to Nye on the sofa, then I’m forced into physical contact with him. If I perch next to Gabriel, or opt for his knee then Nye might think he’s under interrogation. The floor looks tempting, except it’ll look weird if I hunker down and besides, nimble ain’t my middle name. More importantly, I don’t want to end up stuck down there should I need to make a sharp retreat.
Nye shuffles along the sofa a fraction, relinquishing the space I need to sit without getting overly close.
“What now?” I whisper.
Nye gives a modest shrug that mimics my own confusion. Gabriel, however, comes to life at the question. It’s no surprise to realize he has a plan.
“Have you guys done this before?” Nye asks as I squeeze myself more firmly into the sofa corner.
“No!” I almost hop back out of the seat. “No, we haven’t. Absolutely not.”
“More’s the pity,” Gabriel remarks, and I squirm with embarrassment.
“I just wondered,” says Nye. “I thought maybe if you had you’d have a way of starting this all worked out. I mean, how do we begin? Do we need to set boundaries?”
Boundaries, like as in kinks and how far we’re prepared to go? I was all set to suggest beers and a board game, hoping to wipe away the current anticipatory tension with laughter and alcohol, but Gabriel’s not about to risk losing me to a drunken haze. Oh, no, he has this all mapped out. I can tell just by the way his eyebrows dip and a V-shaped furrow forms in his brow. He’s left off his glasses tonight, opting for contact lenses instead.
“I don’t think alcohol and sex mix, do you?” he says, smiling at me.
So true, Mr. Practical. Drat the man.
“How about we agree that anything goes until one of us says otherwise?”
Nye nods. He’s fine with that, which just leaves me, grinning and nodding like a bobbly headed toy dog. I can’t speak properly now. I’ve no chance later.
“Why don’t you touch him, Em? Peel away a layer or two, get to know him a bit?”
Oh, yeah…absolutely, because diving on someone and stripping them naked is the obvious way to get to know someone. I must remember that one for our next interpersonal relationships training at work. Of course, it doesn’t change the fact that mentally, I do exactly that. I fantasize climbing astride Nye’s lap and undoing the tiny buttons of his powdery gray shirt, slowly, one by one, stopping between every one to appreciate each sliver of skin that’s revealed. Knots tighten in my stomach as I anticipate the exposure of his nipples. I mentally tug the tails of his shirt from the waist of his jeans, while in fact I sit on my tingling fingers and gape at Gabriel in alarm. He can’t expect me to lead. I never lead. What’s more, he absolutely knows that.
Give Nye instructions instead, I yell at him as though we have a telepathic link.
“Babe,” he cajoles, giving me an almost grouchy get-on-with-it nod toward Nye. “You’ve got to stop living in your head. We can’t all peep in there to see what’s what.”
I swear he knows my every bloody thought.
“You know if you’re not sure about this…” Nye says directly to me. “Gabe gave me the impression you were keen.”
“Keen.” Gabriel rises to his feet. Dear God, he means business now. “Mate, she’s been gagging for you since the first time you met. The thing about Em is she likes to pretend that she’s all sweet, when really she’s kinky as sin. That’s right, isn’t it?” he says to me. “There are all sorts of dirty fantasies raging in that head of yours.”
I shake my head, but the motion is barely perceptible, probably just as well since it’s an outrageous lie, and I can’t maintain it the moment I make eye contact with Nye.
Desire zips through my innards. Any sort of connection with him is a bad, bad, bad, downright evil, impossible, I really should stop myself and break away from it thing. That is to say, he’s Nye. The most beautiful—with the possible exception of Gabriel—man I know.
By which I mean Nye is classical handsome, square jawed and dusky eyed with a wide easy smile prone to laughter, whereas Gabriel is chiseled, and interesting, with features that are too large for his narrow face. His thick brows cast his eyes into shadow although, when you get up close enough to see their depths, the blue of them haunts you like the azure of a tropical lagoon.
Niall looks back and forth between us, clearly bemused. “If you guys aren’t sure about this…”
“We’re sure,” reassures Gabe, but Nye’s gaze remains fixed upon me.
I can’t quite look at him. Forget my tingling fingers; my whole body is alight, waiting for the first touch of his hand. I picture him tracing a caress around my nipple.
Nye rises to his feet. “I think maybe I should, you know?” He raises a thumb in the direction of the door.
“Take off his shirt, Em. You’re going to have to convince him you want him now, because he doubts it, which is downright silly considering how many fantasies you have about him.”
I can’t deny that, but none of my fantasies have ever included Gabriel standing over us watching. Still, it does seem a waste to throw away the opportunity to put my dirty little hands exactly where I want them for a change.
Okay, deep breath. That’s better. Why make it so difficult to reach out and take what I want?
I make contact with my fingertips first, splaying my palm across Nye’s abs and pushing him back down onto the sofa. He sits with a thump, and looks up at me all doe-eyed and dumbfounded. My God, he didn’t think this was actually going to happen. He’s been playing along with Gabriel, considering it all a lark. But then, he’s smiling, and I don’t care if we’re both confused over the wheres and whatnots of Gabriel’s plan, because this is no longer about him. It’s about us. Nye and I.
I straddle his lap, keeping my palm pressed tight to his washboard abs, and then I bend my head. His lips part, inviting my kiss, and I’m so glad I’m sitting when his breath finally mingles with mine, because I’m left weak and jittery. This is fantasy lover territory; a wish I never dreamed would be fulfilled.
We don’t race. This initial exploration is slow and gentle. It’s all about grounding ourselves, relaying trust, but the excitement is still there, and it builds, until I can’t help but move my hands. My fingers push through the back of his hair; hips move of their own volition, pressing closer, craving more contact.
Nye’s big solid hands find my arse, and he cups my cheeks and pulls me closer. “I can’t believe this is real,” he whispers to me. “I’ve always thought Gabriel a lucky guy. I figured he was pulling my leg. He knows I’ve had my eye on you.” He gives an odd little shrug. “But I moved too late. He beat me to you.”
Seems there’s a whole other element to this I’ve had no idea about. I wasn’t aware of Nye even remembering my name, let alone having any intentions on me.
“Shall I take this off?” He tugs at the collar of his shirt, and I glance down and realize I’ve pulled off one of the tiny buttons and I’m turning it obliviously between finger and thumb.
“Let me.”
I have to do this myself. Unwrapping the parcel is half the fun of any gift, and that’s exactly what Nye has become. He is Gabriel’s gift to me, which I guess makes me Gabriel’s gift to Nye.
I cast my lover an appreciative glance. For several minutes now he’s been almost forgotten sitting there quietly among the shadows. It’s hard to make out his expression. Is he still happy with this? Does he find our petting as arousing as he previously thought? I know I could never sit so still and watch him cavort with another woman on his knee.
I relieve Nye of his shirt in one swift motion. Beneath he is all smooth, taut muscle with only the tiniest cross of hair over his breastbone, in sharp contrast to Gabriel, who is blessed with a manly thatch that covers his chest and trails down past his naval all the way to his groin and, God help me, seriously wets my knickers. First time I saw him naked, I had major flutters on discovering that beneath his polished exterior Gabriel is a feral beast of a man.
That’s not to say I’m not enchanted with Nye too. Life’s all about contrasts.
I rub my cheek against Nye’s chest and breathe in the scent of his skin, hooking a finger under Nye’s belt buckle and giving it a gentle tug. Gabriel might be interested in watching me, but I’m interested in seeing Nye. A little glimpse of his chest is not enough. I want to see the full monty. Hell, I want to compare their cocks, sit these two men side by side and appraise them with a connoisseur’s eye.
“If you’re planning that much unwrapping, I’m going to want a reward,” Nye says.
I’d never pegged him as a tormentor, but there’s certainly something flirtatious about the way he looks at me.
Obligingly, I lean forward and kiss the skin just above his navel.
“Tease,” he accuses. The whiskey-brown of his irises darkens when I repeat the action, although this time it’s more of a nibble than a kiss.
“If you want any more from her, you’ll have to spell it out,” Gabriel prompts.
“Ask me,” I say with a grin.
I hope he asks me to touch him, or asks permission to fuck me.
“Suck me?” His voice is raspy and hoarse.
Oh yes. Please. I can’t wait to take him in my mouth, feel the shape and heat of him, and savor his own unique taste. The knowledge that Gabriel will be watching me is suddenly a powerful turn-on. Although the image I see of him is not a static one, more a sequence of events. One thing leading to another… Gabriel leaving that damned leather chair and filling me, while I continue to pleasure Nye with my mouth. The three of us going about this together is what I want. Not Nye and I being spied on like we’re doing something seedy.
Why do I find it so difficult to shake off the notion that I’m doing something so taboo? Hell knows what the neighbors, my family, will think if they ever find out. Worry traps another boatload of butterflies in my stomach, but it doesn’t stop me for a moment.
I lean forward to take his cock only for Nye to stop me. Instead he pulls me up into his arms and again we kiss.
There’s nothing soft about his second kiss. It is rough and eager. It’s messy and crude and deep. Our tongues clash and teeth graze one another. It takes all my willpower to pull away from it and slide from his lap onto the floor between his knees, where I waste no time with finesse, but jerk open his belt. With the zip I take more care, but I’m soon dragging his jeans down along with the boxers he wears beneath.
Naked he’s perfect. Perfectly male, that is, and hopelessly willing. He really does want me, I realize, and the knowledge comes as a shock. There’s no plausible deniability when he’s before me like this either, his pride begging beautifully with bowing jerks for a single touch. I touch him first with my palm, wrapping my fingers around the thick rigid stem before bestowing a kiss, that turns into a few, and a few more, until I’ve taken all of the head and I’m sucking him, tasting him, swallowing him down. His groans and sighs fill my ears, and on the periphery of my senses there’s the tiniest awareness of motion, of a hand clasped tightly around another cock. I don’t waste time turning my head to look— I simply smile in the knowledge that I have them both under my spell.
Two men turned on by my antics! What an ego boost.
Precome soon beads upon my tongue. Nye pushes forward to the sofa edge so he can piston his hips more readily, raising them up to meet my greedy sucks.
Somewhere in all this frantic motion, he wrestles my top off over my head and snaps open the back fastening of my bra. As my breasts spill free, he finally pushes me off his cock. And I know what he wants from the way that he looks at me. There’s eye contact and there’s bust contact. I know all about bust contact. I haven’t had a boyfriend yet that wasn’t enamored of sliding his cock into the valley of my cleavage. Nye cups each breast, drags his thumbs upward over the full pointed nipples. Rolls them, pinches them into steepled peaks, until I writhe in desperation, eager to have his fingers explore somewhere a little warmer and equally, if not more, in need of his caress. But his attention is momentarily on his gratification, surrounding his upright cock with the soft mounds of my breasts and sliding back and forth in the deep valley of their embrace.
“Have you still got your panties on?”
I nod, hoping he’ll ask me to take them off.
“What sort?” he asks instead.
“Midnight-blue satin.”
“With a lace trim around the leg,” he adds, as his fingers slide up my thigh and under my skirt. He follows the lace until his hand lies right between my thighs, and I can’t resist pushing down against his touch. I want it. I want it bare, and fast, so that I’m forced to clench my teeth and dance up onto my toes.
“Has Gabriel ever fucked you with your panties on?” he asks me.
My eyes snap open—hell, I didn’t even realize I had them closed. Gabriel likes to strip me naked. He likes to roll me on the floor, the bed, or on the tiles, dangle me over the kitchen table, take me upright and upside down, but always, always naked.
“Can’t say that he has.” A nervous laugh erupts alongside the words.
Nye’s fingers creep under the lace. His thumb splits the lips of my pussy, stroking, teasing, but not yet touching my clit.
“How about you come back up here, and we give it a try.” He pats the sofa beside him.
I’m right there immediately, but he’s not ready for me to slide down upon his cock. No, he beckons me upward to where his head lies reclined against the sofa back, so that I’m standing straddling his face, and he sucks me through the cotton, giving me the frustrated simulation I crave.
I wonder what Gabriel thinks of all this. Is it more or less than he bargained for? I’m suddenly running on an adrenaline burst, convinced that any moment he’s going to call the whole arrangement off. Is pandering to Nye’s kinks enough to satisfy, or is it killing his urge to watch?
Then Nye’s tongue creeps beneath the satin, and rational thoughts are lost as his rough, velvety caress touches my overeager bud and sends a tremor of arousal right through me, so that I mewl and sob. Hell, I want more. I never want him to stop.
“Don’t let her come.” Gabriel’s voice breaks though the spell that’s entrapped me, and I’m forced back down the arousal ladder a rung or two.
I remember who I am, and where and what we’re doing.
“I didn’t realize orgasms were on ration,” Nye replies.
“I want to see her come while she’s riding your cock. Em’s not a multiple orgasm kind of girl. She takes a lot of coaxing once she’s reached one. A lot of coaxing,” he repeats, and I know his eyebrows are lifted in emphasis.
Bastardly bugger! I could wring his neck for making that interruption, because Nye stops washing his tongue over all my most sensitive parts, leaving me bereft on the brink of the sweetest pleasure I know. Still, my cursing is all very well, but what he says is true. If I come now, I won’t come through sex. My body just isn’t wired that way. One big one that wrings me dry, and then I’m overloaded for hours. God knows, Gabriel’s made it his mission to pry a second out of me, and it never does work without a good long come down in between.
“Go ahead and fuck her. I can see you’re dying to.”
“Go on, Em. Shimmy down over his cock. That’s right, nice and slow. But turn around now. Let me see you.”
I do turn and lower myself, although I pause, one hand on the sofa arm for balance, the tip of Nye’s cock just shy of my pussy. He tugs my panties to one side and I tease him lightly, coating him in my dew, before I stop and roll on a condom. Only then do I take him inside of me, sinking down low until our bodies meet.
We take it real slow at first, so that our bodies nuzzle together and the sensations build steadily to fever pitch.
It feels…it feels so damn crazy, as I pull him close and we messily kiss and writhe and groan.
“Tell him how it feels,” Nye whispers to me, his torso pressed tight against my back. Gabriel is still watching us both. His gaze never leaves us. His hand lies over his cock, and he strokes himself, although so far he hasn’t released his fly.
I don’t know if I ought to speak. Maybe there’ll be things I’ll say and then regret once the moment of passion is over. When tonight is through, I still want to be able to cuddle up safe and warm beside Gabriel and dream of a life together. I don’t want to drive a wedge between us with ill-considered words.
“Tell him,” Nye coaxes me again, and I look at Gabriel.
“Tell me,” Gabriel agrees. “Does he feel good, Em? Does the reality live up to the fantasy you’ve been living in your head?”
“Better,” I gasp, barely mustering enough sense to utter a word, as breathless and ecstatic as I am. “Oh, Gabe, you’ve no idea. He’s right inside me, and…” I wriggle my hips, but there just aren’t words that sum it all up. I can reduce it to a sum of physiological responses, but that’s not it at all. It’s the wholeness, the oneness, the fact that Gabriel is watching and approving all of this. It stuns me just how powerful an aphrodisiac being watched by him has become.
Nye fucks by putting everything into each motion. His actions are simple and uncomplicated. There’s nothing held back, no part of him that isn’t involved. My only wish is that I want to be able to see him, to look down in his topaz-colored eyes while we’re connected and smear hungry kisses over his mouth and chin. Instead, I’m facing Gabriel, who while straightforward is also complicated. People think he’s abrupt and to the point, and to an extent that’s true, but there are layers to Gabriel. Everything he does is considered, analyzed. He’s probably been planning tonight for months, right down to the last detail.
I realize that he’s probably studied Nye as religiously as he’s studied me. How many beers have they shared? And what else?
Am I wrong to feel curious—jealous?
“You look incredible,” Gabe says. He sits forward so that he emerges from the shadows and the lamplight paints his skin with a warm buttery glow. It almost breaks my heart the way he looks at me then. All the love in the world written into his expression, and every bit of it focused on me—on us?
“Come and sit next to us.” Fuck watching. “I want you,” I beg, and stretch an arm out toward him.
Gabriel smiles and takes my hand. “I can’t watch you properly if I’m sitting alongside.” He kisses my knuckles when I try to drag him closer. “Don’t make me part of this. Tonight is just for you.”
“But I want you to be part of it.” We’re meant to be together, and while I love every moment of being with Nye, I know exactly how deeply my feelings for Gabriel run. He’s there for me. He’s my anchor, the storm in the depth of my soul. But he shakes his head and gives a little sigh.
I beseech him. “Does it really turn you on?”
A smile plays around his lips and crinkles up the corners of his eyes. “I see you. In a way that I can’t if I’m down there doing the deed with you. Fuck yes, it turns me on. Don’t doubt it.” His hand strays unconsciously toward his fly again as he speaks, and as he stretches his fingertips over the denim, I can see the line of his erection trapped beneath the fabric.
“Show me. Prove it.”
He laughs. “And you say I’m kinky. Maybe you should ask Nye if he wants to watch me get off.”
The warm burr of Nye’s mirth buffets the back of my neck. “Duce, I ain’t looking at you, my eyes are all for your lady, you can be damn sure about that. And believe me, if our positions were reversed, you’d never get me asking for this kind of display. She’d be mine and I’d make damn sure no one else ever touched her.”
Gabriel drags his chair forward a fraction more. “Why should I be jealous? She maybe be fucking you but she still wants me. Don’t you, babe?”
There’s no need for me to answer. I think Nye realizes it too, because his gaze stays locked on Gabriel.
“You know we can make this a threesome if you like.” He nods, I think, in affirmation of his words. “I’m cool with that. It’s no big deal.”
“What makes you think I want to fuck you?” Gabriel remarks. I think he means it to be in jest, but there’s an almost nasty barb to it, an edge, an undercurrent that pricks my senses, and sparks no end of questions and yet delivers not a single answer. All I know is that there’s more to this than just a bit of rampant voyeurism.
“Bring her off while she’s watching me,” Gabriel demands.
My heart gives an excited flutter. Too eager, I push back against Nye, waggling my bottom to and fro. He steadies me, and wraps an arm around my waist. While his fingers spear through the curls covering my mons, his lips tease the pulse point in my neck. It’s the most sensitive spot on my body. Gabriel knows it. I wonder if he’s told Nye. I can’t move when someone concentrates all their attention there. I can only feel and respond. My body goes limp and I drift in and out of the pleasure zone. All I need now is a little extra stimulation to my clit to take me right over the edge.
I get it. Well—visual stimulation, that is. Gabriel shimmies out of his jeans. Or rather he roughly shoves them down to his knees, underwear too, and he reclines in the armchair, big hand wrapped around his hard cock.
Oh, hell. I’m close, my temperature’s suddenly running high, but before me Gabriel makes one hell of a feast for the senses. He’s relaxed, eyes focused on me, while with his hand he roughly stimulates his cock.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him touch himself like this. Never so frantic, or so urgent.
Heat peppers my skin. The rush of approaching orgasm pounds in my ears. I watch his hand, committing to memory every subtle and not so subtle move. The way his thumb curls over the glans and the way he twists his wrist. And all the while, I’m still putty in Nye’s arms. His focused attention to my throat is enough to overcome me completely.
My climax is hard, but slow and impossibly sweet. It stretches into infinity, squeezes me tight and throws me onto the rocks. I’m left limp and flapping, like a mermaid baking in the sun with a gun battle going on around her.
When my eyes open, I sit and watch both men come. They trade drops of ejaculate, like it’s some sort of trophy or expensive engine oil.
And I still don’t get it. I still don’t know what any of this is about.
Only that it was fun, and I’m ready to do it all over again.
Once Nye has gone, I return to Gabriel and we lie together cocooned upon the sofa in each other’s embrace. “Was this really all about you watching?” I ask. Deep down I’m convinced there’s something more to this.
“Absolutely,” Gabriel insists as he settles my head in the crook of his shoulder. “I liked watching his cock slide slowly into you, and hearing the noises you made every time he withdrew. I loved seeing the way your breasts jiggle about, seeing the sheen of his ejaculate on your skin. I loved all of it, babe, and I still love you.”
The declaration sinks deep under my skin and forms a little shell of pleasure around my heart. Gabriel still wants me. He’s turned-on by my body, but I know there’s more to this than simple voyeurism, because there’s a niggle inside my brain. That knowledge eats away at me. It’s like a maggot in an apple core, bidding its time, waiting for someone to take that first deliciously crunchy bite.
What game are you playing, Gabriel? I have to wonder.