Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(128)

Well? Do I?

“What are you asking me?” I said quietly. I wasn’t really sure he was saying what I thought he was saying.

He knuckled his chin in concentration and looked away. When his eyes met mine again, the intensity was just as startling. It never wore off.

“I’m asking you if I can come back here. To be with you.”

I looked at my plate. That omelette was a thing of beauty. I forked a small bite and put it in my mouth, expecting to awkwardly choke it down like the conversation we were having. But the herbs and rich butter exploded on my tongue as soon as my lips closed around it. I found myself unable to stop. It was so delicious. Every bite was a different flavor combination: the tartness of the feta, the bursting ripe tomatoes, the perfectly tender-crisp zucchini rounds. Before I knew it I had torn through most of it.

It warmed my heart to hear him laughing quietly instead of sulking about the unanswered question that must have hung over my head in a cartoon thought bubble.

“Damn, woman,” he muttered, and speared a tomato from his plate. In a few seconds he was eating as ravenously as I.

Well at least he doesn’t pout like his brother, I thought with relief. Oh there I go, comparing them again.

“You didn’t save any for me?” Declan teased as he walked through the poolside door.

Jackson shrugged. “Snooze you lose. Make your own,” he said. Was it my imagination or was there a bitterness in his tone?

“Nah,” he drawled. “At least you saved some of this for me.” He came up behind me and pushed his hand into the back of my hair, grabbing it gently and pulling my head back. Then he dove and bit at my neck and shoulders. He smelled like salt and oil and the sun.

I submitted, letting him push me off-balance in my chair, knowing he would catch me if I started to fall. His other hand slipped under my cotton tank top and cupped my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers until it was as hard as a pebble.

I sighed luxuriously as he bit my neck, cautiously avoiding leaving another mark. Still, I wanted him to, probably because it was impossible. I wanted him to ravage me, leave bruises and teeth marks, tear my clothes.

Maybe Bridget had a point, after all?

Soon I felt something else, and realized hands were on my knees, squeezing, pushing them open. Though I knew it was Jackson, it felt strange to not be able to see what was happening. Hands roved over my skin, detached from their owners. Declan’s kisses had pushed my head so far back I could only see the beamed ceiling. Soon I felt tiny bites along the inside of my thigh.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” I heard Declan murmur, and he pulled my right leg up, opening my thighs for Jackson. He supported me with his left arm under my shoulders and kept nuzzling the upper swells of my breasts so I couldn’t see.

Fingers pushed against the crotch of my cotton panties, lightly tracing up and down. I suspected that was Jackson because he knows that winds me up so quickly. To feel him so close, yet so far away… It was maddening. A moan escaped my throat and I pressed against the sensation.

At the same time there was a hand stroking my belly, crossways. All the hairs stood up on my hips as the fingers trailed lightly back and forth. Jackson’s hot breath warmed my nether lips through the fabric and I wriggle plaintively. I didn’t want to beg because I knew Declan would take that dare and torture me until I was near-screaming with frustration. That’s the Naughty way. But Jackson would want to please me and be Nice. I was very much hoping for Nice.

The velvety lap of a curious tongue slid smoothly along the leg opening of my panties and I waited patiently, knowing more was coming. The inability to watch heightened my other senses. I could feel fingers upon fingers, all over me. Pressing, kneading, teasing. Declan bit lightly at my nipples one at a time, flicking them with his tongue, then sucking harder.

Jackson’s hands trailed from my calves to my thighs, over the leg that Declan still held open. I was helpless, exposed, and loving it. Every inch of me expected and demanded pleasure, and every inch of me received it.

Fingers slipped over the bows at the sides of my panties and I felt the ribbons being tugged.

“Yeah,” Declan said. “Get those off her.”

Jackson said nothing, but I felt the cool air on my open, exposed lips as the panties were pulled away. His sigh floated up to me, a sweet sound of pleasure and affection, and I felt his warm breath caressing my swollen, dripping lips.

“Taste her,” Declan muttered as he pinched my nipples. A second later there was a hot, tentative tongue lightly licking all along my furrow from the top to the bottom. He was going very, very slow. I reminded myself to be patient as my clit throbbed in bright vermilion electrical arcs of need.