He surfaced for a minute, and caught Louis, canines extended, hovering over the curve of her neck. Pierre snarled, and their hot little mate whimpered and pressed against his palm. He glared at Louis until his twin retracted his teeth. “Not yet. Not now. Melinda needs to come.”
Yes!She needed to come. With Louis at her back, his hand on her breast, his lips at her throat and the steel bar of his erection pressed against her ass, and Pierre slipping his hand inside her knickers… Melinda gasped and gave a roll of her hips, chasing it. The man was as good with his mouth as he was with his fingers.Circling her clit, stroking his fingers through her slick folds. It was almost embarrassing how wet she was.
They surrounded her. Twin muscular bodies pressed against her, the heady fragrance of their aftershave and something musky and male. Both with their hands on her, both kissing her. It was overwhelming. It was…
Pierre slipped a finger inside her, his thumb pressing against her clit. She threw her head back onto Louis’ shoulder, pushing her breast more firmly into his palm. He took advantage, rolling her already peaked nipple between his fingers. The sounds that spilled from her mouth were obscene, but she couldn’t help it. To be the focus of both twins’ devotion to her body unraveled something within her. Brought out the inner deviant in her she hadn’t known existed.
Louis chuckled. “Hush, my littlepirate informatique. We don’t want the whole apartment to hear.”
Pierre growled again, the sound reverberating in his chest, and she clenched around his finger.
Again the chuckle in her ear. “I think she likes it when you growl, Pierre.”
Pierre slipped another finger inside her, stretching her, a slow delicious slide in and out and back in again. Then he growled again. Heat swirled through her, and she clenched around Pierre’s hand as she hovered on the edge of what she suspected would be the most momentous orgasm she’d ever had in her entire life.
Louis slipped two fingers into her mouth. “Suck,bébé.”
And she did, tasting Louis, riding Pierre. She bit down on Louis’ fingers, convinced she might spontaneously combust.
“Our little Melinda has teeth, Pierre.”
The clack of heels down the corridor, and a door closing, brought sanity back with a kick.
Oh, God. What am I doing? What aretheydoing?There were a bunch of her neighbors out there, probably wondering where their hosts had gone. And here she was, getting down and dirty. With both of them.
Melinda wrenched Louis’ fingers from her mouth and pushed at Pierre, shoving him onto his back, his fingers sliding free. Tugging down her sweater, Melinda scrambled off the bed and zipped up her jeans. “I…I didn’t mean for…”
The toilet flushed. A faucet turned on, turned off again. A door opened and the clack of heels retreated toward the living room.
“I have to go.” Her body was on fire, but she ignored it, searching the floor in the dark, finding her purse and snatching it up.
She felt around for her glasses, kicked her shin on the bed, then found them on the chest of drawers. Ignoring the throbbing of her shin, she smoothed her hair down and set her glasses in place. “Thanks for…” She waved her hand in the air, indicating the drink, the food, the mind-blowing orgasm she’d almost had.
She cracked the door open, a sliver of light landing on the bed. Neither Pierre nor Louis had moved. Pierre put his fingers in his mouth. The two fingers he’d had inside her. He held her gaze as he sucked on them.
A guttural groan from Louis. “I bet she tastes good.”
A rumble of agreement from Pierre.
Hell.
Melinda flung open the door and raced down the corridor before she gave in to the demands of her body and did something stupid. Like throw herself back on their bed and at their mercy.
She said hasty goodbyes to her neighbors, begging an early morning start, ignoring a few raised eyebrows, and fled the twins’ apartment before either of them surfaced from the bedroom. Sucking in deep lungfuls of air not tainted by aftershave and hot male, she let herself into her apartment,punched in her alarm code and shut the door. But she couldn’t close out the memory of what had transpired, nor the unquenched need coursing through her body.
She threw her purse on the sofa and stumbled to her bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and stared at her flushed reflection in the mirror.
What was Ithinking?
She’d accepted their invitation for areason. To find something—a laptop, a phone, or any other evidence—that would clue her in on what the twins were up to. What they were doing here in London. In this building. Instead… She clenched her thighs. There was no doubt in her mind sex with one—or both—twins, would rock her world. And distract her from her concerns. Had that been their intention? Or had they merely taken advantage of finding her alone and in Pierre’s bedroom?
She dried her face and slapped the hand towel down on the vanity. Well, she’d not found a single piece of their tech. She’d not found out anything. That left her no more informed than she had been when she’d left her apartment.
Melinda had two choices. Take care of her current situation with battery operated relief, or channel her pent-up energy into something that might be useful. She grabbed her phone, let herself into her office and booted up her screens. On the security feed, all was quiet. She checked her chat channel. No response from her client.
Her lack of results in the apartment meant she was doing this the cyber way. She should’ve done it in the first place. She was getting sloppy.
Her dark screen mocked her. She should get started on that, too.
