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“Strip poker it is, then.”
She intended to keep all her clothes.
Them, not so much.
Chapter Twelve
To say she demolished them was an understatement. There were moments where she wondered if they had let her win—they weren’tnotsmart, that was for certain—but a win was a win, and she needed this.
The rule was that every time they lost, they had to write down an item of clothing they were going to remove. And they thought she was the one who was going to have to strip for them.
Surprise.
She held the slips of paper in her hand, with their names written on each slip and the list of clothes they had to remove.
“Well, you best get to it,” she said. They rose from the round table like gods, all sexy and muscular and too gorgeous for words.
Then they slowly started to take off their hoodies, then their long-sleeved t-shirts. She started to wonder if she had made the right decision to agree to a game of strip poker when it should have been straight-up poker instead.
Their boots came off next. Socks. They unbuckled their jeans. Zips were pulled down. Jeans shrugged off. The cabin became too hot. She should have stuck to the original plan.
What was her original plan?
Oh, she was going to bundle up their clothing, give them their keys, and send them on their way out of her life, completely.
But she couldn’t think straight.
They were completely naked before her. Her gaze slid down their sleek, muscle-riddled bodies, four rows of abs for each of them. Tattoos that crept up their arms and slithered over their magnificent chests.
They were pure male beauty. There were no other words for them.
They took their cocks in their hands and pumped, keeping their gazes fixed on her lips. She, in turn, slid her eyes down to the heads of their shafts and swallowed at the glistening wetness of the pre-cum.
“Come here, pretty lady, and you can do whatever you want to with us.”
She whipped her attention up to their faces.
God help her. She shouldn’t have done that. Looking at the perfect symmetry of their jawlines, their lips, their eyes...
She was entranced. Her body roared with need. Her mouth salivated as if she hadn’t been fed ever. And it was true.
She was forty years old, and her stilted sex life amounted to a few brief encounters that reiterated why sex wasn’t for her. She had never sucked a man’s cock before. She had never been so inclined to do so.
But now, with them, everything changed.
Adrienne rose from her chair slowly. Unsure, but desperate.
Dressed uneventfully in beige track pants and a body-hugging sweater, she lowered herself to her knees in front of them.
Quivering, she reached out with one of her hands and brushed her fingertips across all three of their cocks. She gasped as they thickened and twitched. Not asking for permission, propelled only by the need to know what they would feel like on her tongue, she parted her lips and guided Emerson's cock into her mouth. She laid him on her tongue and watched him growl softly as she sucked on him. He threaded his hand into her hair and said her name as if he knew her from before.
She did the same to Darien, keeping her eye on him, curious to see his reaction as she placed him on her tongue and then suckled on him just once, just for a taste. Cupping both her cheeks, Darien threw his head back. Her name spilled from his lips like a deep, agonized chant as she tasted his pre-cum.
She released him, and taking Austin’s cock into her hand, she slowly slid his thickness onto her tongue and then closed her mouth around his width. She pulled until drops of his pre-cum coated her whole mouth.
Stroking her cheek while his cock thickened even more in her mouth, Austin whispered her name with the same familiarity that Emerson and Darien had used when they said her name.
She had no idea why she kept thinking that. Did they know her? No. She would know if she knew them. It would be impossible not to be aware of any of the three of them. And soon, her greed for more obliterated all her sanity.
