Page 45 of Unwrapped

Matt’s pulse kicked up, and his breathing shortened when Tristan’s wide hands meandered over his chest. Tristan toyed with the flat disks of his nipples, brushed his fingertips through the smattering of light brown hair dusting his pecs and arrowing down his torso.

Tristan was touching him differently too. More tenderly. Christ, it was almost as if he was making love to him.

Suddenly uneasy, Matt swallowed and tried to move back. But Tristan vised a hand around his swollen dick and rubbed, just enough to earn an oath. What the heck was his buddy trying to do to him? Tristan’s mouth returned to his throat, his tongue darting over Matt’s skin in sexy serpentine flicks while his fingers molded his length.

It was too much. Not enough. He didn’t get what was happening, why the tempo had changed. But he couldn’t keep from driving his cock into Tristan’s fist or hold back the muffled groan as his best friend sank to his knees and swallowed the head of his cock.

Even with the flurry of orgasms earlier that night, in moments he was on the verge of coming. Tristan knew just how to suck him, lapping at the precum that bubbled up in his slit before deep throating his length. Matt threaded his fingers through Tristan’s silky dark hair, directing his movements, but he didn’t need to. Tristan was an expert. He knew just where to press behind Matt’s balls to make him groan and pump into his throat, helpless against the need quaking through his body. He longed for that helplessness even while he tried to steel himself against it.

But why bother? He could never resist Tristan. Or Tristan’s mouth.

He shuddered and gasped as he drained himself inside Tristan’s throat, the muted vibrations from Tristan’s moans magnifying his pleasure until it became nearly unbearable.

Afterward, he staggered away and gripped the counter, his breathing ragged. He managed to glance at Tristan as he rose and wiped his chin, but he didn't know what to say. For once he was speechless.

Tristan moved into his space, using his broad shoulders and football player’s physique to its full advantage. He leaned in, slanting his mouth over Matt’s. His tongue dipped inside, slid back out. But it was enough for Matt to taste his own release, and he moaned as a residual tremor rocked him.

His heart was actually racing, goddamn it, his skin clammy. His back hurt with the effort it took to breathe.

He’d made love with women before, of course. He usually preferred fast and sweaty to slow and leisurely, but occasionally he’d gone that route. But with Tristan? Never. And when he was spread open with Tristan in his ass, he felt less vulnerable than he did right now.

He tried to make a joke out of it. That was what he did. But the banked emotion in Tristan’s dark green eyes gave Matt permission to relax into the moment and drop his forehead against his best friend’s.

The man he loved, with whom he’d shared the girl they both adored. For the first time, he began to see—really see—beyond the sex to the possibility of something more for all three of them. Before the idea had been fuzzy, and he couldn’t really picture it other than the immediate thrill of the three of them in bed together.

Yeah, so romance wasn’t his forte. But right now? Anything seemed within reach.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment, Tristan’s exhalations sweet on his lips.

Tristan smiled and smacked his ass. “Pleasure was all mine.”

Cait rolled over in bed, sighing a little as she reached out for her lovers. When her roaming hand grabbed nothing but sheets, her eyes flew open. The bedroom was dark, the only illumination coming from the nightlight in the adjoining bathroom.

Icy panic slid through her belly, making her shiver as she shot upright. Had she imagined all of this? Was it a dream?

Then she heard them—not their voices, but soft grunts and groans she immediately recognized as mostly Matt, with some Tristan thrown in for good measure. She smiled and relaxed against the headboard, snatching the pillow beside her as her sleep-fogged brain finally grasped what they were doing.

She bit her lip. God, she loved watching them together. But from the sounds of things, this wasn't like earlier. These moans were softer, almost…intimate. Less about fucking and more about lovemaking.

Kind of amazing, really. She couldn’t see her brutish, tough-guy best friends actually making love. Tenderly. Carefully. With her, maybe, but with each other?

Matt let out a long groan, and she pressed her thighs together, shocked to feel herself dampening again. Damn, had they broken her off switch or what? She’d been in a constant state of arousal for almost twelve hours, minus the few she’d managed to sleep. But they weren’t much better. They were going at it again, weren’t they?

She sank into the pillows, rubbing her cheek against soft flannel. She tried not to pay attention, but they sounded so sexy together. She heard them whisperin

g, and then it was Tristan’s deep sighs drawing forth the heat between her legs. What was Matt doing to him? Imagining it, she cupped her breasts, rolling her already hard nipples under her thumbs before slipping a hand down her body.

Cait grimaced at the soreness as she shifted her thighs apart, but it didn’t stop her from seeking her clit. The soft flesh rose insistently under her touch, and she sawed her teeth across her lip to keep from crying out. She held on, narrowly, until she heard Tristan lose it in a long series of grunts. Her climax hit her in a hard wave, and she gasped, unable to repress the noise.

She turned her face against the pillow, still quivering from the aftershocks. She must’ve started to doze because the next thing she knew, the guys were coming back to bed, and she had to yank her hand away like a kid caught pilfering sweets from the cookie jar.

“Well, well, well,” Matt drawled as he rolled across the mattress. “What do we have here?”

Her face warmed, and she tried to slip her hand discreetly beneath the pillows. “Where’d you go? Missed you,” she said, finding his lips with her own. That might’ve worked as a distraction if she hadn’t tasted the salty muskiness on his tongue and shivered.

“Like that, huh? You’re our naughty little girl, aren’t you?”

“Not a little girl.” She grinned and snuggled closer as Tristan rounded the bed to get in behind her. “Naughty, yes. Little girl, no.”

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