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surrounding her completely, front and back. Thorn’s sweat-slicked chest and five o’clock shadow covered her back. Cam’s hard pecs, lust-dark eyes and urgent hands, kept her right against his body.
Thorn withdrew, then pushed in as Cameron pulled back. Like counterparts of a piston, they fucked her in turn.
Never, ever, when they’d suggested this impromptu ménage a trois had she imagined it would feel this…
Perfect.
Being sandwiched between them, Brenna felt surrounded, cocooned. And…safe. Cared for. Wanted like never before. Endlessly adored.
Inside, she felt herself clamping down on them as they rode her slowly, but thoroughly, wrenching one moan after another out of her.
“Brenna?” Cam sounded like he’d run a marathon. “You’re getting tighter on me.”
“Us,” Thorn clarified. “And it’s fucking killing me.”
“You feel me?” Cam asked.
“Yes.” Brenna’s voice shook.
“I know you do. I’m making sure of that.” To drive his point home, he pushed his way deep inside her in that moment, nudging her cervix with his tip.
Fresh tingles threatened to detonate everywhere. Dizziness tinged the edge of her vision. She could hardly catch a breath. Her skin felt damp, her limbs boneless. Her blood was on fire.
And she loved it.
“I meant you.” Cameron shot Thorn a challenging glance. “Can you feel me?”
Chapter Six
Cameron withdrew then gritted his teeth as Thorn sank deep in her ass. “I sure as hell feel you.”
“Yeah,” Thorn croaked. “Hard to miss you. Jesus, this is insane. Hot!”
“Beyond hot.”
Brenna couldn’t agree more, but it was more than hot. Cameron’s mouth crashed over hers, drawing her closer and closer to him in a way that was more than physical. Thorn reached around her hip and began to toy with her clit again.
“Ever shared before?” Cameron asked Thorn over Brenna’s shoulder.
“No. Fuck!” he cried out. “I’m already addicted. I’m going to need more of this.”
“Definitely.” Cam’s agreement was a sexy purr against her throat.
They wanted her. To stay with her. No, it wasn’t permanent, but she already knew that nothing was. In this moment, in some odd way, she mattered to them. Her pleasure mattered to them. All the grunts, strokes, sweating and straining, the aching, trying to hold back, the reassuring, gentle caresses and sexy banter—that was all for her.
The sensations pinging all through her body began to migrate, to congeal, into a deep pulse of need between her legs. She’d never felt anything like it. Like she had to explode or die. She held her breath. Black spots danced at the edge of her vision. She felt herself clamping down on Cam and Thorn. They clutched at her, gripping, sliding deep, possessing her.
“You’re right there, baby,” Thorn growled as he swiped another thick finger right across the tip of her clit. “Fuck, yeah. When you come, it’s going to blow my mind.”
“Fall,” Cam coached. “We’ll catch you.”
Then, in a rush, all the blood in her body seemed to soar to her sex, heating, burning. The pressure built, the pleasure stacked up. God, it was huge, a tidal wave of ecstasy. She was going to implode from the force if it gave way.
Thorn rubbed at her clit again, his drenched fingers sliding around the sensitive nub, then right over the top again, just as Cam slid balls-deep again. The friction of his entrance, coupled with Thorn’s exit…
Everything inside her went kaboom!
Brenna shook, jolted, spasmed with the force of the monster climax. As pleasure tore through her body and her sex throbbed, she screamed and clutched at Cameron. Orgasm turned her inside out, reformed her opinion about her body and sex. Shocked her. And still, they kept on. Cam’s teeth in her shoulder, Thorn’s shout in her ear, and their frenetic thrusts inside her, as if they had to wring every ounce of sensation out of her body or die, told her they, too, felt the effects of arousal overload.
Oh. My. God. This was what she’d been missing out on all her life? If she’d known, she would have sought these two out sooner. Because she knew that not just any two guys would do—they were special.
But now what? They didn’t want a lifelong partnership or anything. Not that she did. They wanted information about Curtis, first and foremost.
Would they believe her, hate her—or both—once they knew the truth?
* * * * *
A few snatched hours of sleep and a shower later, Thorn sat at the kitchen table, watching the sun rise over the mountains and Brenna fry bacon wearing only a pair of lacy panties and an apron. She hummed absently.
After her orgasm, which seemed to double as an earthquake, she’d conked out and left him with two mutually exclusive desires—to pry information about Curtis out of her and fuck her again.
Her deep, even breathing told him neither was happening.
Instead, he’d taken in the sight of her curled up against him, then looked over her, to Cameron. So now they’d shared a woman. And the way Cameron was caressing her shoulder and looking mighty comfortable, the good detective clearly wasn’t going to relinquish her. Well, tough shit. Neither was he, not after the way she’d rocked his world. Not after the way they’d rocked hers. Knowing they’d been the first to give her real pleasure had been an aphrodisiac all its own. Usually, the women he took to bed were going to get off—it was a given.
Brenna was…different—in a million ways. And he wasn’t budging from her side until he figured out exactly why that mattered to him.
Finally, Cameron had opted for the shower first, giving him a few precious moments alone with Brenna. He hadn’t spoken, hadn’t touched her. Just basked in the weird gut instinct that told him he belonged next to her at that moment.
Which made no fucking sense.
Now, with the desert sun inching over the mountains to beam in the wide kitchen window, Brenna seemed to glow, especially when she glanced at him with a smile.
The domesticity of the scene went straight to his dick. Then again, so did everything else she did.
“You’re frowning,” she observed.
Normally he didn’t give a shit what his lay the night before thought the morning after. Hell, he was never there to care. They were good for a fuck. If he saw them the next day, it usually wasn’t his choice. And if they’d made such a statement, he would have found the most expedient way to tell them to get lost.
Again, Brenna was unique.
“Thinking,” he offered, his voice rusty. “Got anything to drink?”
“Coffee, orange juice…” She opened the refrigerator. “Iced tea, a little bit of milk…”
He’d actually been fishing for vodka. If he was going to face actually giving a shit about someone, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do it sober.
Damn, that apron she’d put on over the scrap of black panties was giving him a hell of a hard-on. He’d never seen a woman wear an apron before. Or had one cook for him. When she set a steaming plate of eggs, bacon and toast in front of him, his first reaction had been to get her flat on the table and nail her. He gripped the arm of the chair to resist the urge, since he and Cam had already given her a workout.
“Something wrong?”
“No. I just…” He glanced between the plate and her expectant face framed by her haphazardly pinned up honey-brown hair. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
