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“Christ motherfucker goddammit.” The curses burst from him and Paige turned her cheek against his thigh, watching avidly while her hand pumped rhythmically. She was as entranced as he was by the sight of Drake’s head bobbing. Quick and hard at first, then gentle and easy. Keeping him off balance until that iron-hard grip he had on the chair wasn’t enough to stop him from ripping his hands free and driving them through Drake’s hair.
When he pushed him down, hard, giving in to the urges he’d never fully unleashed with Paige out of fear of hurting her, Drake only growled and gave him what he asked for.
What he needed more than life.
Paige’s other hand slid under his shirt and skimmed up the tensed muscles of his belly. She found one of his nipples and dragged her nail over it, increasing the heat gathering in his groin until he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
She let go of him and eased back. Drake never paused, never slowed. She reached up to tug her dress over her head. Her hands went to her bra and her glorious tits fell free, swaying as she moved back into position in front of him. She held them up in offering, telling him with her eyes what she wanted.
How much she ached to be involved too.
But she already was, so much. He hissed as Drake relaxed and slipped back, his fingers tightening and loosening, tightening and loosening as he held Colt’s throbbing length out toward Paige. Still grasping the undersides of her breasts, she leaned forward for a long lick, her tongue lingering at the tip to catch every stray drop. Then she made her noises again, and fuck if he wasn’t lost.
She swapped with Drake again, letting him take over on sucking duty. He didn’t hesitate. If anything, he was even more frenetic now, drawing on Colt with such force that his cheeks hollowed and Colt’s thighs trembled from the strain of holding back.
Not much longer. He couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t.
Especially with the visual banquet in front of him. Paige played with her tits, squeezing them, bouncing them, flicking those deep pink nipples until they were red.
All he could think about was painting them white.
“I’m going to come,” he groaned, giving them fair warning.
Neither moved.
Drake reached between Colt’s legs, tugging hard on his aching balls. The pleasure was so exquisite, it was pain. Paige whimpered, pulling harder on her nipples, restless where she kneeled.
The wet spot on her panties had grown even larger. His mouth watered with wanting to taste her. He longed to swallow her release at the same moment he finally found his own.
“Colt, please,” she whispered, her uptilted breasts lurching closer as she shifted into position. Making her wait was hurting her. She craved the relief he so badly wanted to give.
God, he wanted to give her everything. Both of them.
His gaze shot to Drake’s, held. His eyes were bluer than he’d ever seen them, his mouth a blur over his length. Hot and wet and endlessly giving, beyond what he’d ever known before.
The frantic pulse inside him turned into a throb. He dragged his cock free of Drake’s strong lips at the last second and sprayed his release over Paige’s waiting tits. She moaned as he jacked out each long string, and Drake caught her mouth to quiet her cries. Their lips crashed together and Colt couldn’t pump hard enough. He just kept coming and coming, crisscrossing her beautiful flesh with what they’d drawn from him.
What they’d offered.
No sooner had the last bit left him, he jerked to his feet a
nd kicked back his dining room chair. Paige watched him, open-mouthed, slack-jawed, not attempting to clean away the mess he’d made. He’d become part of her if only for this moment.
Branded by her as much as he’d been branded. By both of them.
“Colt,” Drake began, rising to his feet. He clearly expected a fight. Hell, he must expect a brawl, judging from the anger and nerves springing to life on the face Colt knew as well as his own.
“Take off your jeans.”
Drake frowned. “What?”
Paige moved forward on her knees to help him. She undid the button and pulled on the zipper, casting Colt a knowing look over her shoulder. Her fingers never faltered.
She thought she knew what he had in mind. She couldn’t, because he had no clue himself. All he knew was there was a debt that had been incurred, and he needed to ensure he helped it get repaid. With interest.
“Shirt too,” he added once they’d shucked Drake’s boots and pants. Colt drew off his own while Drake grabbed his behind his head and did a shimmy striptease over his eight-pack. Oh, it probably wasn’t actually a striptease, just plain old stripping, but Colt’s cock apparently had been primed by the action of a few minutes ago.
Spent? Not freaking hardly.
