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Wyatt bit his lip as Fiona rubbed against his cock, wishing his shorts would disappear. Wishing he was already inside her. He watched as Thoreau mimicked his move, Fiona crying out loudly at the dual sensations. She did seem more sensitive than usual. Maybe the waiting had gotten to her, too.
Or maybe it was this. Knowing there were two men touching her. Two men needing her.
“Is this what you’ve been thinking about? At night, when your light stayed on for hours after you pretended to be tired? Was this what you were imagining?”
“Yes,” she confessed shamelessly, her head now back on Thoreau’s shoulder as she writhed in their arms. “Every night.”
“Show us what you did when you thought about us,” he demanded. “Let Thor see how hard you can make yourself come.”
His heart pounded at the vulnerability he saw in her eyes. She needed this. Needed him to take control. He snagged a handful of hair at her nape, his knuckles brushing Thoreau’s shoulder as he tugged lightly. When her hand dropped between her legs, he smiled. “That’s right. Show us what you like, sweet girl.”
Wyatt didn’t know where his restraint was coming from as Thoreau lifted her skirt out of the way so they could see her hand disappear into her already soaked panties. The backs of her fingers barely brushed his cock as she touched herself and he was close to popping.
He wanted to get her on her back, toss that skirt over her head and take her right here on the floor. He wanted to forget about the plan and lose himself inside her, feel her squeeze around him as he made her come.
God, he needed to fuck.
But this needed to be good for her. Thoreau’s plan. Fiona’s fantasy. Teamwork. He was going to make this dream work if it killed him.
Wyatt bit her chin and covered her hand with his own. “As soon as you come for us, Thor’s going to strip you and get a taste of this sweetness. And I’m going to watch, Fiona. No pretending I’m asleep while he fingers you this time. I want to see everything.”
Her eyes opened in surprise and she cried out, her fingers rubbing her clit faster as his words threw her over.
“So fast, but you know what you like, don’t you, baby? So do I. And we’re just getting started.”
“Damn, Wyatt,” Thoreau murmured, taking off his own shirt as he looked between Wyatt and Fiona’s shuddering form. “Not holding back, are you?”
“You know us Finns.” His smile was tight as he watched the last wave of pleasure roll through her body. “We go all in. Got a problem with my plan?”
“No.” Thoreau licked his lips and reached for Fiona. “Hell no.”
Wyatt wanted to groan in pain when her weight left him as Thoreau got her on her feet. He stayed on his knees in front of her while Wyatt got up to pull the table out of the way, knowing they’d need space for what was coming next.
He straightened to find Thoreau in nothing but boxer shorts, grinning wickedly up at Fiona as he dragged her skirt down over her hips to pool at her feet. “This time, I’m peeking,” he teased.
She put her hands on his broad shoulders. “You better be.”
Wyatt couldn’t take his eyes off her. Seeing her like this always took his breath away. Tattoos on her hips, arms and back from books he’d never read, inked onto skin like cream. He knew each and every one of them by heart.
All those piercings in her ears glittered as she turned her head to look at him with eyes gone gray. “Can he taste me now?”
They were waiting for him, he realized. Thoreau was holding back, his muscles almost quivering with restraint.
You take the lead, I follow. He was true to his word.
Wyatt pushed down the front of his shorts to grip the base of his cock, feeling two sets of eyes following his movements. “She’s still wearing clothes, Thor. Why don’t you take her panties off so you can tell me how good she tastes?”
That dominating tone usually only came out with Fiona, but Thoreau didn’t call him out for it. Or for delaying the main event when it was clear from the tent straining his shorts that he was as ready as Wyatt was for more.
The sight of Fiona standing there, holding her breath while Thoreau finally dragged the soaked cotton fabric down her legs to reveal her, bare and glistening, kept Wyatt’s gave riveted to the scene. Part of him felt like he was invading—Thoreau’s feelings for her, his need was clear for Wyatt to see. It was intimate. Palpable. Arousing.
“He wants to touch you while he tongues you, Fiona,” Wyatt told her in a voice gritty with need. “He’s so close to heaven he can smell it. Lavender and—”
