Page 81 of The Widow and the Wanted

None of us says a word.

She breathes out slow, threading her fingers back through his, tucking their joined hands against her middle, then reaches for mine, drawing my arm snug around her waist again.

“God, you’re pretty,” Boone says, voice rough and low. “That smile of yours lights up the dark like a damn torch.”

“You flatter me,” she whispers.

“I aim to do a sight more than flatter you, wild. Can’t look at you without wanting to crawl under that skirt and put my mouth on you.”

Lula settles into a piercing stare. “What’s stopping you?”

Boone’s grin is sudden, predatory. He leans forward, carefully slips the blanket down to her hips. “Is that a dare?”

Through her slip, I can see the pebbled points of her nipples. Boone’s eyes are dark with hunger as he watches her face, as if waiting for any sign she might change her mind. She doesn’t. Instead, she lifts her chin a fraction, a bold little challenge in her gaze.

His big hand slides down her side, tracing the dip of her waist. When he reaches the hem, he bunches it up gradually. Lula’s breath hitches, but she parts her legs just enough for him, trusting, wanting.

I stay where I am, my arm still wrapped around her middle, feeling every tiny shift in her body, her breathing. Boone dips his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, then lower, until his breath ghosts over one breast. He mouths at the fabric covering her nipple, teasing it until it tightens even more. Lula arches with a soft whimper, her fingers closing around mine.

When he finally pushes the slip higher, he slides off her drawers and parts her shapely thighs, pale as peach-tinged cream, exposing her fully to the firelight. She’s beautiful. Flushed, already glistening. Boone’s gaze drops there, and he makes a rough sound of appreciation.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So pretty and wet already.”

He settles between her legs, broad shoulders spreading her wider, then parts her with his thumbs. Presenting me her most intimate parts, he breathes an awed, “You ever seen a cunny pretty as this?”

I feel her tremble against me as he kisses the inside of her thigh, working his way up. When his mouth finally reaches her, he licks a long, slow stripe up her center, then kisses her there, once, before opening her wider. I tighten my arm around her waist, anchoring her as her hips start to rock gently against his tongue.

“That’s it,” I whisper, my lips finding the shell of her ear. “That feels nice, doesn’t it?”

She relaxes into me with a long moan, her eyes falling shut.

Boone hums against her in agreement, the vibration pulling another gasp from her lips. He works her with steady strokes, licking, sucking gently, then dipping lower to taste more of her. Every sound she makes travels straight through me, my cock aching where it’s pressed against her hip.

He looks up at us through those half-lowered lids, sensual and dark, as he relishes her taste. His lips shine, wet with her. Her head tilts back, eyes shut. “Open your eyes,” I whisper against her ear. “Look at him when he pleases you.”

Lula’s lashes flutter, but she obeys, her gaze dropping to where Boone’s mouth is sealed over her. I comb my fingers through his hair, petting him affectionately as he feasts on our sweet girl.

I kiss her breast through her nightgown, lips brushing over the stiff peak. Tugging down her slip, her breast slips free, pale as milk. I take her into my mouth, teasing her rosy peak with my tongue.

She cries out. The sound goes straight through me, my already rigid cock turning to steel.

In all our years together, Boone and I have never shared a lover, but with Lula now, something hot passes between us, almost holy, as if her very flesh lets us touch through her.

His tongue lashes steady over the swollen peak of her tender flesh, and I lean in closer, taking the sound she makes into my own mouth when she turns back to me.

“That’s it. That’s our girl,” Boone murmurs against her skin. His gaze is dark, pupils blown wide, and for a heartbeat we stare at each other while we satisfy her.

“I’m…” she starts. It’s the only word she manages before her brow furrows and a surprised wail escapes her.

Boone kisses me hard over Lula’s chest—deep, hungry, tasting of her. My hand slides to the back of his neck to hold him there.

When we break apart, breathing ragged, Boone’s voice is rough as gravel. “Fuck. You taste her on me?”

“Every bit,” I answer, then lean down to kiss Lula, letting her taste herself on both our tongues.

Boone settles between her spread thighs again, his cock flushed dark. I reach down, guiding him against her. A lewd, wet squelch echoes as he presses at her entrance.

I glide his rigidness around to make that sound again and again.