Locke’s palms skimmed my tits and a moan escaped me. A low, throaty plea that drew Nash closer, his hand slipping between my legs.
What he found there made him groan, eyes falling shut as his fingers found my centre, curling, his thumb playing with my clit.
Kissing me, Locke spread my legs wider, squeezing my breast, rolling my nipple with perfect pressure, his other hand at my throat.
Pleasure scrambled my brain. I chased the friction of Nash’s expert fingers, all the while falling deeper under the spell of Locke’s hypnotic tongue sliding with mine, his kiss alone enough to tip me over the edge.
But Nash knew my body too well, and for an absolute sweetheart, he was mean. He eased off before release could take me and brought his slick fingers to Locke’s mouth.
Locke sucked them down with a groan that seemed to fascinate Nash. Was he picturing his cock in Locke’s mouth, or the other way round?
Choices. We had them.
Nash withdrew his fingers with a wet pop. “You’re still dressed.”
I felt Locke shrug.
“It can stay that way. Nothing wild has to happen.”
Nash gripped Locke’s chin. “That what you want?”
Again, something passed between them that wasn’t for me. A strange beat of angsty understanding.
Then I felt the slow descent of Locke’s hand behind me and his clothes went the same way as ours.
Nash’s gaze swept over him. Widened to the point of comedy before hooded desire weighted his lids. “Fuck. You’re huge.”
Locke chuckled. “So they say. But I’ve had this dick my whole life, and I know how to use it without hurting anyone.”
Curiosity got the better of me. I reached back and found Locke’s length, wrapping my fingers around it, a crazed gasp escaping me as I realised everything about this man was entirely in proportion.
Nash grinned, eyes sparkling with lust-crazed mischief. “You want that? You want him inside you?”
I wanted everything. Nash. Locke. Nash and Locke. But most of all, I wanted whatever happened between us to keep that smile on his face forever. “You choose, baby. Please?”
It descended like a freak rainstorm.
The panic Locke had warned me about hit Nash like a brick, hard and sudden. “Orls, I can’t. I want too much.”
“Nothing you want is too much.” For a split second, I thought the words were mine. But they were Locke’s. He slid his hand along Nash’s jaw, thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “We’ll catch you, remember?”
Nash was still gone.
Locke shifted me and sat up a little. He took Nash’s hands, lay one on me, and drew the other to him, low down around his hip and to a part of Locke’s body I’d yet to see.
His lower back.
His thighs.
Whatever Nash found there brought him back to earth with a sharp gasp.
He tried to pull back, but Locke held him firm. “Inside or out, brother, they’re all the fucking same.”
Nash hid his face in Locke’s shoulder. Releasing Locke’s monster dick, I rubbed his back. The nuances of whatever was passing between them perhaps weren’t for me, but the context wasn’t lost.
Balance. It mattered.
Nash found his composure and claimed Locke’s mouth. His dick was pressed to my belly, and as their kiss intensified, he grew thicker. Harder, until I was sure it would shatter against my overheated skin.
