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M
oans sounded on the deck below me, the low murmur of voices like a siren’s call. It was temptation. Sin and supplication too. I wanted. Fuck me, did I want.
But I wanted too much.
Pacing the deck, I tried to get the picture of the gang bang happening out of my head. I looked out over the water at the yachts bobbing in the calm of the marina and beyond. Barely a ripple, it was perfect for boating. I spun on the balls of my feet and faced the dock, seeing only the lights of the restaurants nearby. We were out of sight from the main part of the marina, another yacht shielding us from the main walkways.
But if I knew Zali, she’d be getting off from knowing that they were in the open and she could be seen. She loved that shit, and it revved my engine right the fuck up, watching her.
Zali.
Once upon a time, she was my best friend’s annoying little sister. Then I lost my dad and soon after, Asher. I’d been unmoored, lost at sea. She’d become a safe harbour, shelter in the storm. She’d given me purpose, which let my heart begin the slow process of healing. She and Flynn had saved me. Ezra too. They’d given me something to focus on—a job doing what I loved.
An obsession.
I was jealous. I’d wanted to rip into Ezra when he’d kissed her. But there was a niggle in the back of my mind. A question. Who was I jealous of? I wanted to kiss Zali. There was no doubt about that. But what about Ezra? Did I want to kiss him too? I was beginning to think I did even though I hated his guts for what he’d done after he’d kissed Zali.
It wasn’t just that he’d cuffed Zali. It was what he’d done to Flynn too.
I’d seen red, watching Flynn fight the officers. He’d writhed and bucked, trying to push them off him, but they were bigger and stronger. I wanted to raze them from existence. I’d wanted to pound them into the ground, leave them a bleeding pile of flesh for laying a finger on him.
But then sitting in that interview room alone, my thoughts had changed. The other officers had disappeared. My visions had morphed into one of Zali watching from on her throne, naked and sated from so many orgasms that she couldn’t even hold her head up. Flynn was on the floor, his smooth alabaster skin sweat slicked and flushed a pretty pink. He was being pinned by Ezra and Tristan, held open for me as he begged for me to give him my cock. His lips were greedy, his tongue eager as he sucked me into his throat. But it was his hole clenching around my fingertip, daring me to sink into him and fill him up that drove me wild.
When I moved, Ezra was there, spreading his legs and jacking himself as he played with his hole. It was a blatant invitation for me to get inside him.
I couldn’t decide between them. I hadn’t wanted to.
But that wasn’t me.
Not the real me, anyway. I’d caught the bug, been tempted by the sexual tension between the three men on the deck below and the woman who’d started it all.
It was just pretend. It wasn’t real attraction. That wasn’t possible. Not for me, not with them. It was empathy, not desire when I pictured Tristan sinking his dick into me. I didn’t want it, but I could imagine that Flynn and Ezra did.
I wasn’t turned on by the idea that he’d manhandle me, that he’d pin me down, his hand around my throat like I’d held Ezra, until I did the same things imaginary Flynn and Ezra had done.
My cock wasn’t hard.
My curiosity hadn’t piqued.
I didn’t want to steal into Zali’s room and borrow one of those thick dildos I’d seen before on her side table just to try it for myself.
Except that my curiositywaspiqued. I did want to try it.
And my cock was achingly hard.
Without conscious thought, my feet carried me to the railing overlooking the couches on the deck below. Ezra was laid out flat on his back, his golden skin shining in the glow of the ambient lighting. Zali was straddling him, riding his dick, her breasts bouncing as she moved. Flynn was between Ezra’s legs, his face buried where they joined. I shivered, my cock leaking in my boxer briefs.
I’d never tried that before—a tongue at the same time as a pussy—and fuck me, I wanted to experience it.
Ezra was loving life, his expression filled with bliss as the centre of Flynn’s and Zali’s attention. But Zali was loving it too—impaled on Ezra, being licked by Flynn, and Tristan nuzzling her throat.
My dick was trapped, my cargo pants strangling it. I needed relief. I needed to come. Beyond thought and reason, I was acting purely on instinct. The need to fuck reigned supreme, overruling any common sense telling me to walk away.
They deserved privacy, but I couldn’t look away. My body was locked and primed to come, my cock throbbing and balls drawn up tight. The way they were in sync, all working toward each other’s ecstasy while feeding their own, was breathtaking.
It was sexier than any porn I’d ever watched, taking me to the edge within moments. If I didn’t get my hand around my cock in the next three seconds, I was going to blow in my underwear like a randy fucking teenager.
I shoved my cargos and boxer briefs down to my thighs, biting down on my lip to stifle my shout of relief when I closed my fist around my cock. Precum slicked my way—I was leaking like a tap.
