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Suddenly, Brenna gasped. “Oh my…wow.”
“Are you watching me touch Thorn?” Cam asked, stroking back up Thorn’s dick.
The sensations were heaping one on the other, overwhelming, earth moving. If he couldn’t get a grip, he was going to lose it.
“Yes,” Brenna answered breathlessly.
“Like it?” Cam challenged.
“Yes.”
Brenna’s whisper slid across Thorn’s skin. This was pleasing her. Arousing her. Thank the gods. If it had repulsed her, Thorn wasn’t sure he really could find the will to tell Cam to stop. The detective held him in the palm of his hand—literally.
Thorn had had hand jobs by the hundreds. Usually, getting him to come like this was a long, slow—and frankly boring—process. But he’d never had one so unexpected, never had one from a man. He wasn’t sure what the difference was, maybe a more thorough knowledge of male anatomy and a firmer grip, but less than a half-dozen strokes into this and Thorn was so on the verge of losing it.
“Want to undo him together?” Cam asked.
“Can we?” Brenna breathed.
With his free hand, Cam petted Brenna’s hair, caressed her shoulder, cupped her breast. “I have no doubt, sweet girl. On your knees. You suck, I’ll stroke.”
Thorn looked down to see Brenna lowering herself to the carpet and wearing a huge smile.
Why the hell were they trying to unwind him like this, when they had all the control and he had none? What did they want to prove? Crap, he should stop them, should tell them to fuck off.
Instead, Brenna’s mouth closed over the tip of his erection and lowered down to Cam’s fingers, which still gripped his base tightly. Together, they worked their way back up his shaft.
Oh fucking hell.
That quick, his heart began to pump in his chest, roar in his ears. Their hands elsewhere on him—a brush of Cameron’s fingers across his nipples, or Brenna’s grip on his ass—was pounding his self-control. The sensations were like a fiery free fall, a jump from ten thousand feet. He plummeted into desire, falling, falling…
As one, Cam and Brenna worked back down his dick, until he felt the head bump the back of her throat and Cam’s thumb and finger ring the base in a grip that nearly had him whimpering.
Damn, if they kept this up, he was going to blow everything, all down her sweet little throat. And while he loved a good blowjob—and this would rank as one of the best ever—he wanted to fuck her more. While Cam fucked her too. Where he could exert some control over the situation and make someone else come with him.
“Stop,” he croaked.
In response, Brenna eased back and swirled her tongue over the head of his cock. Cam’s hand followed, that lethal thumb slicking over the sensitive flesh left wet by her mouth.
“No,” Cam whispered.
Fucking bastard! Pressure gripped his balls, soaked in acid pleasure. Damn! Falling into orgasm all by himself while they held all the control scared the shit out of him. Thorn gritted his teeth, trying to stave off the need to come. He might make it another minute or two if he focused on things like the formaldehyde smell of the morgue or the torture of geometry proofs.
“I don’t want this,” he growled.
Brenna took him deep in her mouth again, her tongue all around him as Cam kept a tight grip on his cock.
Every muscle in his body tensed. This couldn’t happen, not him coming alone under their hands while they watched. It was too…intimate. Brenna was down on her knees, and he couldn’t reach her pussy in order to make her come. But Cam… He was the instigator of this shit anyway. Saint Cam should suffer as well.
Pushing aside the voice in his head telling him the idea was insane, Thorn grabbed the waistband of Cam’s jeans, tore open the buttons, yanked down the zipper, pushed down his underwear and grabbed the guy’s cock.
Familiar, yes—the hardness, the silken skin, the heat—but different. Cam was longer, and Thorn’s stroke felt like it went on forever before he reached the head of the detective’s cock. Yet Cam’s was less thick. In some ways, this dick was easier to stroke than his own. Cataloguing the differences was certainly distracting, and as Thorn massaged the head of Cam’s erection with a hard press of thumb, the detective groaned long and loud.
His own need eased off now that his attention was wrapped up not in his own ramp up to orgasm, but Cam’s. It helped that Cam was too sidetracked to keep stroking his dick. Now if he could convince Brenna to ease off with her sweet mouth. But she just dragged up and down his length like a wet fist sucking the self-control out of him.
Suddenly Cam’s hand joined the action again as if he refocused. Thorn doubled his effort, establishing a lightning-fire stroke up and down the detective’s cock. But Cam stayed in control.
And the feel of Cam’s hard flesh in his hand only aroused Thorn more.
Brenna and Cam worked together again in perfect synch to cover every inch of his erection. She fondled his balls, and the feel of her fingers in uncharted territory set him tipping toward the edge of pleasure.
Cam’s grip tightened, his thumb rubbing a sensitive spot just south of the head. Thorn’s blood pounded and his body flashed with heat. Brenna’s teeth scraped the head. He closed his eyes, fought to hang on…one breath, another, but they just kept coming at him with strokes designed to destroy resistance and sanity.
Brenna moaned around his cock, and Cam cradled his balls in his palm, press-rubbing one finger on a very sensitive spot just beyond.
“Nice try,” Cam whispered in his ear.
When had the bastard gotten that close?
“But distracting me won’t work. I won’t come before you do. Or even with you. I want to feel you come while we touch you.”
Brenna’s mouth slid down his cock again, her fingernails digging half-moons into his thighs. The stick of pain, along with the erotic confusion, pushed him to heights he’d never been.
But he refused to go before he understood what was going on, damn it.
“Why?” His voice cracked with restraint.
“You need us. If you’re not ready to admit that out loud, I want to see your body admit it for you.”
The thought that he might need anyone made him sick. When you needed people, they shit on you, took advantage of you, used you.
“No,” he ground out long and low and loud.
Brenna eased off his cock and bit the inside of his thigh. “Cam’s right. You say I’m more than a lay. Prove it. Give yourself over to me and Cam.”
Hell, this was some sort of power play. Some emotional bullshit. With Cam, when wasn’t it? And they were asking for his surrender, his soul. Giving in scared the shit out of him.
Yet…he pictured himself at their mercy, not just being stroked by them, but Brenna’s lips lovingly brushing his, Cam’s hands reverently gliding over his body, and him just standing here and taking it.
He shouldn’t like it, couldn’t need it—but the vision slammed him and ripped the control from him. Blood raced to his dick, and his heart chugged. Every breath he took, he smelled a mixture of Brenna’s floral sweetness and that mysterious something that made Cam unique.
Though he’d squeezed his eyes closed, Thorn could feel the detective exhale, the guy’s breathing every bit as harsh as his own. The end was here, fighting it was getting so damn hard. If he couldn’t find a way to get his shit together, he was going to come for them, show his vulnerability. Fucking hell.
