Sean forced his gaze from her curving hips and smooth, taut belly.
“Genny?” he asked gruffly.
She looked like a woman who stood on a very narrow ledge who couldn’t even see the ground it was so far down. Sean had never wanted to hold her more, but he needed her to decide on her own, without his influence.
He felt her small nod in every cell of his body.
He transferred his gaze to Max. “I call the shots.”
Max smiled. His small shrug seemed to say both
but of course
and also carry a hint of noblesse oblige.
That was Max for you. The perfect manners—even when sharing his wife. The thought galled Sean, but he quieted his doubts by looking back at Genny. She trembled slightly as she stood in her high heels.
He placed his glass of champagne on the coffee table and went to her, stopping just a foot away. He held out his arms.
“Come here, girl,” he said quietly.
She stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. He smoothed her hair with both of his hands, using his thumbs to tilt her face up so he could fully see her. The sensation of her hands sliding along his chest enflamed him.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered.
“Sean—”
But he never knew what she was going to say next, because he covered her mouth with his own, slaking his monumental thirst for her. Six months of pent-up desire went into that kiss. He placed one hand on the back of her waist, steadying her as her spine arched. He leaned over her and drank deeply. He probed the sweet cavern of her mouth with his tongue again and again, establishing that sacred domain as his.
His.
The fact that she returned his kiss with wild abandon made it all that much more explosive of an experience. One hand swept along her side, tracing the swell between waist and hip, the feeling of her silky skin and firm flesh making him mindless with lust. He couldn’t get enough of her responsive mouth, but if he didn’t feel her naked skin sliding against his sometime soon, he’d go right over the edge into insanity. He broke their kiss reluctantly.
Max watched them with gleaming, dark eyes.
“Let’s go,” Sean told the other man grimly before he took Genny’s hand and led her to the master bedroom.
Genny stared at a commercial for car insurance, but all of her attention was on Sean as he straightened and shifted in his chair, causing the tautly drawn leather to make a crackling noise. The wind had picked up. It made a low howling sound as it swept across the windows. The snow no longer fell straight but swirled around the glass in a wild, frantic dance.
She pushed the blanket off her when she realized she was sweating. Sean glanced over at her abrupt movement. She held her breath in her lungs when his gaze fixed on her chest.
On that New Year’s Eve night when he’d released the restraints of his passion, Sean’d made no secret of the fact that he loved her breasts. He’d worshiped them with his hands; made a feast of them with his mouth. Even immediately after he’d climaxed, he’d kissed and licked and sucked at her nipples with a hunger that stunned her.
She pictured him looking up at her with fiery eyes, his cheeks hollowed out as he applied a firm suction around the tip of one breast. When she’d started to whimper and writhe in Max’s hold, Sean had kissed her wet, erect nipple with firm lips.
I could eat you alive, girl.
Liquid heat surged into her pussy as the graphic memories flooded Genevieve’s brain, whisking her out of the present and firmly into the carnal embrace of the past.
CHAPTER
SEVEN
THREE YEARS AGO
G
enevieve had never felt this way before. She felt detached and separate from herself, as though she were an observer watching events unfold on a stage. And yet . . . she’d never been more aware of her body: the heart beating madly in her chest, the sensation of the cool air on her tingling, bare skin, the tight achiness that plagued her nipples and sex, the feeling of Sean’s warm hold on her hand as he led her down the hallway to the bedroom.
His touch steadied her. She’d been shocked at what Max had proposed—knocked off balance. The disorienting experience of having her husband say something so unexpected and volatile in such a calm, almost playful manner, too much champagne and most of all her raging desire for Sean—all of it was like a wicked combination of blows.
She knew it was selfish, but one thought kept penetrating her haze. She would have the opportunity to touch Sean—to discover the full meaning of that fierce, possessive gleam in his blue eyes whenever he looked at her.
He turned on a lamp on one of the bedside tables and turned to face her. Max’s body pressed against her from behind. She took comfort from Sean’s heated gaze as Max pushed her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. It fell in a soft heap around her ankles. Max’s fingers slid beneath her bra next, deftly unfastening the clasp. Her bra fell on top of her dress.
“Exquisite, isn’t she?” Max murmured as he captured her breasts with his palms and lightly stroked the sensitive skin along the lower curve.
Sean’s nostrils flared. He stepped forward and shaped her lips to his in a quick, hot kiss.
“Hold them up for me,” he said against her mouth. His head lowered. Genevieve whimpered when she realized he’d been speaking to Max.
Max cradled her breasts in his palms from below, causing the crests to thrust forward. Her fingers delved into Sean’s thick hair when he slipped a nipple into his mouth. Fire tore through her like lightning, following a path from the tip of her breast where Sean suckled and lashed with his sleek tongue all the way to her pussy, where her flesh swelled with pleasure.
Max’s hold tightened as she moaned and writhed.
Nothing . . .
nothing
Max’d ever done to her sexually seemed so forbidden . . . so exciting as when he held her steady for Sean’s hot, tormenting mouth. He kneaded the breast that Sean suckled. Genny could sense him looking over her shoulder, as if he enjoyed the sight of Sean pleasuring her.
Sean drew on her more tightly and she called his name, her fingernails scraping his scalp. Her nipple popped out of his mouth, the crest pebbled and reddened from his ministrations. He pressed his lips to her ribs, exploring the sensitive tissue between the bones. He knelt before her and took a small tender bite from her waist then soothed it with his tongue. She shivered uncontrollably.
“Steady, girl,” he whispered as he glanced up to her face. She wondered what he saw there because his facial muscles tightened. She reached for him, desperate to feel his body next to hers, reassuring and solid. But he caught her wrists and pushed them behind her back.
“Max,” he said. Max seemed to immediately comprehend what he wanted, because her husband caught her wrists and pinned her forearms into the small of her back. Sean ran his hands along the back of her thighs, soothing her, but also seeming to relish the feeling of her stocking-covered legs.
“Your hands on me make me a little crazy,” Sean explained, his tone gruff and warm. Perhaps he’d seen the uncertainty on her face. “I only want to make you feel good, girl. You know that?”
Genevieve nodded, struck mute by desire.
“Good. Now”—he slipped his hands beneath her underwear and drew them down her thighs—“let’s have a look at your little pussy.”
She shut her eyes, his words and the sight of his head in front of her genitals overwhelming her with a blast of sexual anticipation unlike anything she’d ever known. Her vagina clenched painfully. She sensed Sean’s heated gaze at the juncture of her thighs as her panties fell to her ankles. Her trembling amplified when she felt him part her swollen sex lips with his fingers.
“Ain’t that a pretty thing?” he whispered, awe spicing his tone, his breath brushing against her exposed clit. He swiped his tongue once over nerve-packed flesh. She whimpered.
“Gawd, you’re sweet, girl.”
He put his mouth on her, his manner focused, intent, and unapologetically greedy. A growl rumbled his throat, vibrating into her. He ate her like he’d been waiting for the feast forever.
If Max hadn’t been holding her elbows, steadying her, her knees would have buckled at the onslaught of pleasure that swept through her. Sean continued to hold apart her labia, giving him free reign to agitate and torment her most sensitive flesh.
His tongue was a gift sent straight from heaven.
He lapped and suckled with his hot mouth and pressed and stabbed with his stiffened tongue until Genevieve no longer knew up from down, right from left . . .
Right from wrong.
She only knew delicious, dizzying pleasure.
She cried out in stark protest when the amazing sensations ceased for a moment. Her eyelids blinked open. Sean looked up at her, the lower part of his rugged face slick from her juices.
“Hold her steady, now,” he told Max.
Max transferred her wrists to one hand and pressed close behind her. He put his arm around her waist and pushed her back into his body. Genevieve could feel his erection pressing against her bare ass. Her husband kissed her on the ear and spoke to her softly as Sean found her slit with a thick finger and penetrated.
“Did it feel good, love? It looked like he knew what he was doing.”
Genevieve moaned as Sean finger-fucked her, making a wet noise as he moved in the tight, lubricated channel. He pressed the flattened joint of his forefinger against her clit, moving it in a circular motion. The precision of his movements left her reeling—as though he was inside her mind and knew the optimal amount of pressure to send her right over the edge. She gritted her teeth together in an agony of deprivation when Sean twisted his hand, corkscrewing his fucking finger, and then withdrew.
“Genny?” Sean prodded.
She pried open her eyelids and looked down at him.
“Answer him. Did you like it?”
“Yes.”
“Then ask for it, girl,” he whispered gruffly. “Tell me you want it.”
She quivered as Max kissed her ear and pressed his cock against her ass. She couldn’t recall ever feeling Max so rigid and swollen with excitement. She couldn’t take her eyes off Sean.
“Put your mouth on me.
Please
,” she entreated in a whisper.
He smiled tenderly. He placed his hands on her hips and parted her labia with his tongue. She pressed her hips against him, wild with cresting desire.
Climax tore through her, electrifying every nerve in her body. For a few moments, her identity left her. She was transformed into nothing but a live wire, a conduit for pure, pulsating pleasure.
She came back to herself with the sensation of Sean’s hands on her thighs, pressing them apart insistently. She realized that Max had tipped her back farther against his body, taking most of her weight and granting Sean the angle he required to send his tongue deep inside her slit. Her husband had released her wrists while she climaxed and now held her hips as he ground his cock between her buttocks.
Genevieve whimpered while Sean drank thirstily of the fruits of his labor, thrusting his tongue along her post-climactic, tingling nerves again and again. She wondered how long he would have stayed there, eating her, sucking her juices, if he hadn’t become aware of Genevieve’s cries of reawakened arousal and Max’s increasingly excited thrusts against her.
Sean seemed so focused . . . so lost in his need, and yet determined at once.
Sean eventually lifted his head slowly, his gaze remaining on her wet, spread pussy. He stood, still not meeting her eyes. He removed his tuxedo jacket and tossed it over a chair, then tore at his bow tie impatiently. His fingers clawed at the top buttons of his shirt, but before he could make any progress, both of his hands seized Genevieve’s jaw.
He leaned down and ravaged her mouth, pillaged it with his tongue. Their combined flavor struck her brain, and Genevieve understood that no matter how rough Sean’s kiss, it was the sweetest sort of caress, the highest tribute he could pay her. She was so transported by the power of that kiss that she didn’t realize until Sean finally sealed it that she was completely in his arms, and that Max had removed his clothes.
She caught a glimpse of her husband coming toward them before he moved behind her. His eyes looked darker than usual, liquid and hot with arousal. His body had always pleased her. He was as tall as Sean. Max was meticulous about his workouts, and it showed in the lean, long lines of his well-muscled body. He always shaved his testicles. When they’d first started sleeping together, he’d asked Genevieve to shave as well, and she had. Her pubic hair had grown back in the months of their abstinence, however, although she was careful to keep her curls neatly trimmed.
Genevieve had been right. She’d never seen Max quite so aroused. When he pressed against her from behind, his mouth hot on her neck and shoulder, and her breasts crushed against Sean’s hard chest, it was easy to silence her doubts about why sharing her with Sean would arouse him so much. Max shifted his cock, sending it between her thighs and rubbing it against her outer sex.
“What about a condom?”
Genevieve blinked at Sean’s terse question. She glanced up into his face. He looked hard. Angry? Genevieve couldn’t be sure. She could feel that his muscles had stiffened.
In fact, Max usually did wear a condom with her. She never understood why, since she was on birth control. She’d finally just determined that he was a little fastidious when it came to sex. But they hadn’t made love in quite a while, and he was out of practice, she supposed.
When Max didn’t move from behind her for a few seconds, she wondered if Sean had overstepped his bounds. Tension rose in her as Sean continued to stare at Max. She looked over her shoulder to see Max’s face, but then he moved away. He found a condom in the drawer on the bedside table and returned. Genevieve exhaled a sigh of relief when she saw that while his handsome face was glazed with perspiration from arousal, he didn’t seem angry about Sean’s question.