Melinda’s Wolves(57)
Trace chuckled. “I haven’t known you to have accidents in the past. Did you get a little distracted?” Trace shifted his gaze to Melinda as if she had been the cause of Keegan’s clumsiness.
“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t there. He’s been a little evasive about what happened.” She cocked her head to take in Trace’s expression.
Keegan rolled his eyes as she glanced at him, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. “Can we discuss this later? I may not have been distracted by this little imp at the time, but I am now.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a pinch to her nipples.
Melinda lifted onto her toes and sucked in a sharp breath. Just that fast, he had her melting.
Her hands settled back on Trace’s neck, his grip returning to just above her armpits.
He kissed her biceps on one side. “Did she smell this fantastic all day?”
“Yes.” Keegan kneeled in front of her now. He lowered her panties, tapping her legs to get her to step out of them. “It was maddening.”
She kicked off her shoes.
Trace’s hands eased down until he cupped her breasts.
The fire in her belly flamed higher, making it difficult to think or stand.
“You got her?” Keegan asked.
Trace wrapped one arm under her breasts and held her firmly. “Yep.”
Keegan lifted her legs and set them over his shoulders.
She screamed when his mouth landed on her pussy, and he immediately sucked her into his warmth. Her orgasm shot through her instantly with no warning. After an entire day on the edge of sanity, it was no surprise.
She convulsed against his face, gripping Trace’s neck so hard it had to hurt.
Keegan didn’t let up. He plunged his tongue into her channel and then sucked her clit between his lips, switching from one to the other over and over until the flames grew higher again. This ability to come on the heels of an orgasm that wasn’t even complete was mind boggling.
Insanity.
Consuming need.
“Come again, baby,” Trace whispered near her ear as he tugged the cup of her bra down, letting one swollen breast pop out. The second the air hit her pebbled nipple, she bucked into Keegan’s face.
The second orgasm was stronger than the first, spreading up her arms and down her legs, the vibrations from her clit taking over her body.
Still, it wasn’t enough. She craved more. She needed the completion only mating with these two would give her.
The relief would only be temporary, but the desperation to achieve it was unstoppable. “I need you both. Now. God. Keegan. Please.” Her voice was louder, urgent. She hoped her demands would be met with cocks instead of reprimands about her trying to control the situation.
Didn’t they need to be inside her as much as she needed them to enter?
Trace lifted her off Keegan’s shoulder and cradled her against his chest. He padded to the bedroom, his gaze holding hers. “You’re so fucking sexy when you come. Sometimes we can’t resist watching.”
“Mmm. I need you to come also. Inside me. And now.”
His expression was serious as he tossed her on the bed and then stepped back to strip off his clothes.
Her gaze shifted back and forth between Trace and Keegan. Both men climbed up on her sides, naked and hard as concrete.
She crab-crawled backward, giving them all more space.
The bed was in complete disarray from that morning. None of them had done a thing to change that. And she couldn’t care less.
Something was different, though. There were a half dozen new pillows tossed haphazardly against the headboard. And then her gaze jerked up when she realized the lighting in the room wasn’t artificial. The dresser and bedside tables were littered with candles. “Trace?” She met his gaze.
He shrugged as he leaned down to kiss her. “We wanted you to feel at home here.”
“Pillows? Candles?” Her heart pounded.
Keegan tipped her chin his way and took a turn kissing her. “You had them in your bedroom.”
She flopped onto her back, stunned. Intense eyes pinned her to the bed.
And then hands were everywhere, caressing her breasts, her cheeks, her lips, her thighs. Everywhere but her pussy.
She tipped her head back, arching into their touch, wishing she could turn the tables on them and explore their bodies instead. They’d hardly given her the opportunity to “know” them yet. And they were so damn observant and perceptive. If she wasn’t so aroused, she would have gotten emotional about their thoughtfulness.
She was a prisoner to their touch. When they handled her like this, she succumbed to their mercy, her mind focusing on nothing except release any way she could get it. As fast as possible. And with great frequency.