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“Goddammit. You’re asking for it, wildcat.” Lust laced Jagger’s words.
As I straightened, I flipped my head back, my hair cascading down my shoulders, and then I faced them with a smirk on my lips. “You boys have no idea.”
“I think we have some idea,” Slade said, popping the button of his jeans. Just the thought of getting my hands—and mouth—on what he was packing had me licking my lips.
“But you still haven’t done what I asked.” My eyes flicked to Jagger, who was now on his feet and walking around the coffee table toward me, and as I tracked his progress, I heard movement from my other side—Slade shifting off the chair.
“And what was that again?” I said, trying to calm my racing pulse. “It must’ve slipped my mind.”
The delicious smell of Jagger’s cologne was intoxicating as he got closer, and when I pivoted to face him, I couldn’t help but drink in every mouth-watering inch of his tall frame.
Jesus, he was ridiculously hot. In his tailored shirt and pants, he almost looked like a respectable businessman, but those eyes gave him away. There was an edge to them, a fire that was smoldering just beneath the surface, and God help me, I wanted to be consumed by it.
“If I remember correctly…” he said, and reached out to finger a strand of my hair. I swayed a little closer to him, hypnotized by his voice, his scent, the promise of wickedly carnal delights. Then he took my chin as he whispered above my mouth, “I told you to take off this dress.”
I sighed, and my thighs clenched, as the rough timbre of his voice all but stroked me between my legs.
“But since you can’t seem to follow direction…” I could taste the alcohol lingering on his breath, and as I shifted closer, trying to get my first taste of him, Jagger chuckled and looked over my shoulder. “It looks like we’re going to have to lend you a…couple more hands.”
Two strong hands found my waist then, as Slade shifted in behind me. His palms were huge, his fingers splayed apart as they gently dug into my waist and pulled me back so he could nestle his erection up against the crack of my ass.
Jagger let go of my hair to stroke the back of his hand down the bare skin of my chest, and when his fingers reached the low cut of my cleavage, he flashed a grin at me and said to Slade, “Unzip her dress.”
“Fuckin’ gladly,” Slade murmured. As he drew the zipper down, parting the lace, the cool air hit my bare skin, sending goosebumps across my body. My nipples hardened in anticipation, and I didn’t have to wait long. As soon as Slade had me unzipped, Jagger fingered the thin straps of the dress and then slid them down off my shoulders. Before I could blink, the black lace dropped to the floor, leaving me naked between two hot bodies—that were still, unfortunately, fully clothed.
Jagger took his fill, that intense gaze roaming over me as Slade gripped my waist again. His chin lowered to rest on my shoulder as he looked down at all that had been revealed, and then he let out a string of curses that would’ve made a sailor blush.
“Like what you see?” I couldn’t help my smile then, because damn, I’d thought about both of them individually and what it would be like to have their eyes, hands, and mouths on me, but never in all those wild daydreams had I imagined the three of us together at the same time. We’d barely just begun, and already tonight was surpassing every fantasy I’d ever had.
“You have no fucking idea how much,” Slade murmured against the crook of my neck as he wrapped an arm around me from behind and his other hand snaked up from my waist, traveling higher…higher…
As Slade’s thumb skimmed the underside of my breast, I let out a shaky breath. “So show me.”
Jagger didn’t hesitate. He took a step back, his gaze never leaving us as he began to unbutton his collared shirt. The dark, smooth skin that came into view as he pulled the shirt free from his pants and tossed it onto the couch was unblemished—not a tattoo, not a piercing in sight. He was a total contrast to Slade, and it was that mix of opposites that had my desire for both men sparking.
A throb began between my thighs as Slade cupped my breast, his long fingers expertly working my nipple as I took in the strong, lean muscles of Jagger’s arms and torso. Slade’s lips ghosted up the line of my neck as his fingers continued to play, and when the hand still resting on my waist began to slide south, I raised an arm and hooked it back behind his neck, giving him better access—it also gave Jagger one hell of a view.
