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No more. She came to them with a purpose, and he was going to make damn sure she accomplished her goal. Whatever fantasy she had tucked away in that pretty head of hers, he wanted to give to her. If sharing her with Andre was one of them, then so be it. Jace could tamp down the useless jealousy and lock it away. Hell, he’d locked away worse.
And God knows he enjoyed seeing her come apart with pleasure—what did it matter if there was an extra set of hands bringing her there?
In fact, he knew how much more sexually intense things could get with someone as responsive as Evan if Andre were added to the mix. It’s why Jace preferred ménage in the first place. Some levels could only be reached with a third person involved. And man, if that’s where Evan sought to go, he wanted to be the one to take her there. Wanted to watch her give herself over completely to sensation, to submission.
Visions of Evan in the throes of passion assailed him—both he and Andre pushing her further and further, her blue eyes going hazy with bliss, her lips parted in a silent plea . . .
A jolt of desire sliced through his tangle of emotions, dimming everything except the need to see Evan let go again. He wanted to fall to his knees with relief. Thank God. Finally a reaction that made sense! This he could work with. Screw all the rest of it. He’d shove the other stuff down and grab on to the desire.
Jace set the cup down, his palms suddenly hotter than the coffee inside it, and moved a step closer to Evan, making himself focus on what the kiss was doing for her rather than worrying that it wasn’t him on the other end of it.
Andre continued to work her over, the good-morning greeting morphing into a lust so palpable Jace could taste it in the air. His cock stirred to awareness, thickening at the erotic sight. Evan had one hand threaded in Andre’s hair, but the other one was gripping the edge of the island as if it were the only thing holding her back from climbing across the counter to get closer. He half wished she’d just let go and hop up there. He couldn’t think of anything better for breakfast than Evan sprawled out on that island like a hedonistic buffet.
A little mewl of pleasure escaped her, and Jace tamped down the remaining whispers of hesitation. He stepped up behind her, nestling his growing erection against her backside and sliding his hand onto her abdomen. She tensed in surprise, then softened, not breaking the kiss but melting against him. God, she felt good. Pliable. Trusting. Totally fucking into it.
He moved his hand lower, teasing at the band of her underwear, stroking her bare skin. She rocked against him, fitting the cleft of her ass against his cock. He groaned at the friction and kissed the back of her neck, inhaling the scent of both her apple shampoo and Andre’s lingering cologne. “Hmm, seems like you want more than coffee this morning, sunshine.”
She eased away from the kiss and untangled her fingers from Andre’s hair, her movements as languid as a sleepy cat. She peered over her shoulder at him, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I never want anything more than coffee.”
The halt in action had his body protesting, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re a vicious tease, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse.”
He gave her ass a playful swat, enjoying the flash of lust the move incited from her. “Go ahead. You can have your caffeine. We have all day to taint you with our lecherous demands.”
She spun to face him and smiled, her lips tantalizingly swollen from Andre’s kiss. “Guess I better make a fortifying breakfast for all of us then.”
“Now hold on, bella,” Andre said, settling back onto his stool, his movements a little jerky, no doubt from a monster hard-on. “Just because you’re the submissive in this arrangement, doesn’t mean you’re the kitchen bitch, too. We’ve been bachelors a long time. We know how to put a meal on the table.”
She moved around Jace and headed for the fridge. “Oh, hush, I’m not offering because I’m your slave or whatever. I’m offering because I enjoy cooking.” She stuck her head in the refrigerator and her voice became muffled. “Plus, I’ve had bachelor fare. I’ll pass.”
Jace sniffed. “Hey, Andre can make some mean chilaquiles. And I can . . . Well, I kick ass at making toast and coffee.”
She emerged from the fridge and set her treasures next to the stove. “Have a seat, Iron Chef. I got this.”
“Our sub is kind of bossy, Andre,” he said as he slid on the stool next to his friend, trying to ease the earlier tension between them.
Andre smirked. “Yeah, but if it involves me getting to watch her flit around the kitchen half-naked, cooking something better than burnt toast, I’m all for it.”
“Good point.”
Jace watched her as she moved with efficient grace from one task to the other. Breaking eggs, lining up bacon in the pan, stirring a pot of grits, tasting a bit on the tip of her finger before tossing salt into the pot. She was beautiful. And more at ease than he’d ever seen her. Like she felt right at home with them, casually cooking breakfast and teasing them with the easy sway of her hips.
Andre set his elbows on the island, apparently as fascinated by the scene as he was. “So what do you like about cooking?”
She shrugged, keeping her back to them and stirring the grits. “I remember my mom cooking for me. Never anything fancy, but all really good, comforting stuff. Baked macaroni and cheese. Chicken and dumplings. She worked overnight shifts, so she always made sure I had something good to eat before she left for work. I looked forward to that time every day. Watching her prepare everything and having her listen to my chatter.”
She paused as if lost in thought, her spoon still. Jace frowned, knowing the story wouldn’t end well.
“She died right before I turned seven. And pretty much everything in my life, including those home-cooked meals, stopped.” She started stirring again. “So I figured when I got older, I would learn how to do it. Make the people around me feel as well taken care of as I did back then.”
The thought of everything warm and comforting in her life disappearing when she was still so young made Jace’s chest ache, made his own family drama seem ridiculously petty in comparison. He’d never gotten the full story from her, but his parents had told him Evan’s background when she’d come to live with them. Her mother had been killed on her way home from work by a drunk driver, and her father had completely fallen apart after her death. He’d spiraled into depression during the years following, had neglected Evan completely, and had eventually taken his own life, leaving his daughter with no one in the world.
Jace shifted on the stool, searching for what to say. He wanted to pull Evan onto his lap, tell her he was sorry she had to go through that, that no kid should have to experience such tragedy. But he knew she’d resist any attempts at sympathy from them and would see it as pity. He was surprised enough that she’d even shared the story about her mother. When he’d last known her, all discussions about her past had been strictly off limits.
He cleared his throat. “Well, we’re honored that you deem us worthy of taking care of this morning.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him a thank-you-for-not-pushing smile. “No worries. I don’t get to do this too much lately with all the travel we’ve been doing. Plus, Daniel’s more of a restaurant guy than an eat-at-home person, so it’s nice to get back to it.”
