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So far, Conor had let Luca take the lead in their bedroom games, seemingly content to go along for the ride. Tonight was no different. Conor reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head before reaching out for her again, his hands shifting from her knees to her inner thighs, his touch softer, almost tickling.
Not to be outdone, he also decided to even the playing field. “Take off your shirt,” he said to Luca, even though his eyes were glued to her legs.
Luca grinned, then did that ridiculously hot move guys have where they reach back, grip the neck of their T-shirt, and pull it off with one hand. Once he was shirtless, Luca moved to her side, closer to Conor. Bending forward, he placed a kiss on Conor’s shoulder, and they exchanged a look—a hungry look—as Harper lay still.
The sexual tension between the men sparked so hot, they didn’t need the fire anymore. Even though they’d slept together seven more times since prom, their sexual routines followed a predictable pattern. One where the guys kissed and touched each other, but only fucked her.
She’d been a witness to Luca’s first male-on-male kiss, so obviously he was new to everything as far as sex with a man. She understood their desire to take things slow.
But there was slow…
And then there was slooooow.
Luca grasped the back of Conor’s neck, pulling him forward for a wet kiss, one so rough, Harper suspected one or both might have bruised lips come morning. It went on for ages, but she didn’t mind.
Watching them only drove her own needs higher.
“Ohhhh,” she breathed, reaching down to touch her throbbing clit, to fill her too-empty pussy. She was desperate for more. Wanted dinner with her show, and she didn’t mind taking care of her own needs if it meant Luca and Conor would keep kissing, keep touching, and maybe…more.
That plan failed spectacularly because even though they were still kissing, her actions didn’t go unnoticed. She was just about to hit the jackpot when Luca’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist to halt her.
Conor chuckled, a darker, dirtier sound than she’d ever heard from him. “Bad girl.”
Holy.
Fuck.
She might have expected Luca to say something like that; her tatted, blue-collar lover had proven himself to be a master when it came to dirty talk.
But hearing those two words from Conor?
It took every ounce of her self-restraint not to fan herself.
“No touching.” Luca lifted her hands and placed them on the rug by her head. “That’s ours. Only ours. You gave it to us, and you can’t take it back.”
“Luca,” she said—okay, whined.
He hit her with a stern look that told her she wasn’t going to win this argument. “Leave your hands there, or we’ll find something to tie them up with. And if you make us do that, I promise you won’t come for hours, not until we’ve taught you exactly who this pretty pussy belongs to.”
He backed up that promise—he probably meant is as a threat, but damn, come on—by firmly cupping her pussy, giving her slit only the barest of strokes before releasing her again.
She groaned, half tempted to disobey him. But she knew he wasn’t lying, and while the idea of Conor and Luca edging her for hours sounded wicked and wonderful, it also sounded fucking painful because her little kitty needed to come.
Now.
So she’d play by the rules and get her orgasm sooner rather than later. One day in the future, when she’d had her fill of orgasms from them—maybe thirty or forty years from now—they could revisit the edging idea.
Luca ran his hand over her head, brushing a strand of hair from her face, before turning back to Conor. She expected them to start kissing again, but Conor clearly had other ideas.
“Take off your pants, Luca,” he demanded, his tone laced with a hint of imperiousness she’d never heard from Conor before.
Luca narrowed his eyes, and she wondered—hoped—that she was about to witness an alpha male battle, because how hot would that be? She sensed only the slightest tug-of-war between them as Conor had thus far acceded to Luca’s commands without issuing too many of his own.
The idea that that might change…
She likened Conor and Luca to two male lions fighting over the pride. Maybe she should suggest they wrestle it out. Naked, of course.
She was disappointed when Luca, who hesitated only a moment, rose to his knees, unhooking his belt and unfastening his jeans. Rising, he slid them off completely.
