No Broken Bond Page 8

  Fletcher…healed by my surrender.

  Fletcher…giving to me, even as he used me.

  “I’m going to come, Talia. It’s all for you. For your beautiful throat. Don’t waste a drop. Do you understand?”

  Every phrase was timed to a slide in or out of my mouth. I could only moan now, and I did. My jaw hurt. My throat was raw from his thrusts. But I was beyond aroused…and far past confused. Why did I love this? How could I crave this?

  Questions for later. Much later.

  If I started examining it, I wouldn’t revel in it. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to please Fletcher in the most explosive way possible. To take the very essence of his body, deep inside my own. Then, dear God please, to find my own release.

  With one final thrust, Fletcher roared in ecstasy. A rush of fluid coated my abused throat. So much. He had so much for me. I forced it down as he kept pumping, cupping my chin in a brutal clamp—holding my mouth tight around his shaft.

  “Every drop,” he ordered, his voice a husky mandate.

  At last, our gazes met again. His eyes were ablaze. His nostrils flared with each inhalation. He was unspeakably sexy. Ruthlessly virile.

  I yearned to climb onto his still-raging erection then ride him until I was spent, too. I had never been so turned on and so ashamed at the same time. What the hell was going on?

  Once more, a question for another time. I only wanted to keep focusing on him. To rejoice in how thoroughly I’d pleasured him—and hopefully brought back the man I’d known before this horrible night with his family.

  At last, he slid his grip from my face. He fell back onto the bed, chest heaving, skin gleaming, cock softening.

  As Fletcher’s breath returned, Drake was still speechless. I studied him harder, wondering where he was at. Though I couldn’t reach into him as I did Fletcher, I’d become an expert at the dark angles of his face—and right now, they said danger.

  On the other hand…I’d never felt closer to Fletcher.

  So, where did that leave the three of us?

  Worry and tension still flashed across Drake’s face like a bar room’s neon sign.

  Maybe if I could just give him a smile…

  But my mouth had never been so sore.

  I licked my lips while reaching up, tenderly exploring my abraded skin. I felt bruised and used—a recognition that ran another thrill up my spine.

  I gave in to instinct, crawling back on top of Fletcher. Drake pulled the cover up over my sweaty back.

  When I buried my face into Fletcher’s neck, he wrapped his arms tightly around me. Not tight enough, apparently. He cinched me in even harder, simply letting me breathe in and out, matching our heartbeats against each other.

  After a few long minutes, he finally spoke in my ear. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I turned my head, kissing his neck below his ear.

  “Tolly.” He swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “But—”

  “I loved it, Fletcher. Every single minute of it. Truly.”

  “No,” he growled. “No, God damn it, you didn’t. Don’t say that to make me feel better. I was an ass.”

  “Like I tried to tell you?”

  I lifted my head, shooting a glower at Drake and his snide snip before pressing my forehead to Fletcher’s. “Do I really need to show you how hot that made me?”

  He grunted. Shook his head. “You deserve to be treated like a queen, not a whore.”

  “Apparently, I like to be treated however you want to treat me.” I attempted a laugh to finish it off but the stubborn ass refused to heed me. “Please, Fletcher.” I framed the side of his face with one of my hands. “Please, listen to me. That was hot, okay?” I took a turn to shake my head, though added an awed smile. “So hot, I can’t find words. I don’t regret a single thing. I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

  “Natalia.”

  I flung a new glare at Drake and his Dominant growl. “Don’t with the ‘Natalia’, Mr. Newland. I’m telling you the truth.” As he snorted, I nearly gave myself a wedgie with the big-girl panties. Necessary move. I would not let them ruin this moment or make it into something it wasn’t, and that meant standing up for myself, too. “But…there’s just one small, remaining problem.”

  Fletcher’s face fell. “I fucking knew it. I knew you were holding something back.”

  His self-disgust was a bigger neon display than Drake’s protectiveness, now vanished in favor of a visage of gentle concern. Their Freaky Friday switch-up should have weirded me out more, but I was on a mission now, not to be stopped.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” Drake queried in a voice like silk.

  “Well…” It was as far as I got before the nerves took over again. No. Time for the game face. I could do this. My throbbing pussy demanded it. “I’m—ummm—seriously horny now.”

  The guys paused, glancing at each other in wolfish commiseration. Drake broke the contact first, gazing up at me with a full-on smirk. “And how can we be of service, ma’am?”

  I practically growled back. They were really going to make me say it. “Fine,” I huffed. “Can someone please fuck me?”

  They shared a soft chuckle. Gorgeous bastards.

  At last, Drake drawled, “I think that can be arranged.” But as he pulled me from Fletcher’s arms, he took a moment to cradle me close. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” I answered at once. “But I ache…” Even more with all his mighty muscles and dark sexuality pressed close. “A lot.”

  “I can take care of that.”

  His kiss ripped away the rest of my worries. He was commanding, controlling, consuming. He mastered me with his mouth, thrusting his tongue against mine, before exploring my neck, ears, and chest with incredible nibbles and kisses. The whole time, he ground his erection into my belly. Yes. Yes. This was exhilarating but familiar, passionate but patient—the kind of loving I was used to from him. And tonight, it was perfectly timed. I knew what to expect now…and moisture coated the juncture of my thighs because of it. As soon as Drake settled his cock there, the head was soaked with my cream.

  “My God,” he grated, rolling his hips so he could get every inch covered. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

  I shook my head, all innocence and demureness now. The contrast from ten minutes ago was too comical to ignore, though I craved his cock too much to waste time on a laugh. I needed him. Everywhere. Right now.

  “Spread your legs for me, baby. Let me inside.”

  I couldn’t comply fast enough. As soon as I widened my thighs and lifted my hips, he plunged his erection in, sinking fully into my heat.

  “Oh, my God. Drake!”

  “Feels so good baby…yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I panted and writhed, letting out an approving cry as he shuttled in and out, in and out. “This is going to be the quickest orgasm in history.”

  “Only if I say it is.”

  I looked at him in complete panic. I couldn’t hold back now if he told me to.

  His deep chuckle sent relief through my system. I wrapped my legs around his hips, bracing for his thrusts. Needing every single one of them.

  “Fuck. Talia.” His gaze widened with wonder. “You really did like what Fletch just did. Your pussy is so hot and creamy.”

  I didn’t say anything in response. Just buried my face into his neck, now weirdly embarrassed about my enjoyment of the degradation. I would have to figure out what that was all about when I wasn’t concentrating on so much pleasure. On so much frustration. I needed to come like a star going supernova. I just wanted to focus on Drake’s body. On what his incredible cock could do to my throbbing pussy.

  “Natalia?”

  “I’m—I’m okay.”

  “Don’t be shy now.” His chide was velvety but wicked, a dark and sensual tease. “I watched the whole thing, Tolly. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “You were amazing.”
He angled his hips just right to slide against the inside of my channel, lighting up my nerves with every stroke. “So sexy. So giving. Just like you are right now, only in a different form. You’re a beautiful, sexual creature, Talia. Don’t ever be ashamed of it. Not with us. Not ever with us.”

  His thrusts lengthened. His cock swelled. He was doing it right. So damn right. “Oh, Drake! Please. God!”

  “I love when you beg me. So sweet.”

  “I love you.” The words came freely now, flowing from my lips just as my pussy flowed for his dick.

  “I love you, too.” His voice was guttural, sensual. “You ready to come for me?”

  “Yes!” I nearly screamed it. “Please…yes.”

  He pushed my knees to my chest. “Hold these here.”

  I willingly obliged. Whatever he had in mind, I trusted. The pleasure he delivered was always ridiculous. He thrust deeper and deeper while I gripped my knees, moaning in pleasure. Beautiful sensation gathered in my bloodstream, shimmering at the edge of my consciousness. The release I’d been chasing…it was almost here. It was going to be so good.

  “God! Drake!”

  Every single one of my muscles contracted at the same time, sending shivers through my system, bits of light through my bloodstream, sparkling out through my toes and fingertips in fantastic tremors of utter pleasure. It was just the start. The paradise of paroxysms went on and on as Drake orgasmed deep inside me, filling my pussy with his seed, fusing our mouths in a searing kiss, binding our souls once again.

  As my climax receded, my thoughts clarified.

  I was so completely in love with these two men. They were the molecules of my atmosphere. The tide and waves of my ocean. I could never take a breath without them both in my world.

  They completed me.

  Which was why, nearly at once, I noticed the stillness that still seemed to define Fletcher.

  He’d been right beside Drake and me during our lovemaking, though had fallen again into noticeable silence. Though he’d never relented any contact with us, his somberness was palpable.

  Soon, we all snuggled into our usual heap of post-orgasmic bliss. I was exhausted and sated, so didn’t notice which one of the guys performed the blanket wrapping duties—for my sake, of course. Both of them were furnaces, but I was always the cold one. Even between their two overheated bodies, I always preferred the covers, too.

  Such a minor detail, but it reminded me once more of all the concessions they’d made for me. So many, I’d lost track now—but because of all he’d done for me, it wasn’t hard for me to be what Fletcher needed tonight—then for Drake to be what I needed, too.

  Concessions were easy, even natural, when people loved each other.

  I’d even gotten lucky with mine tonight. Fletcher’s rougher handling had shown me a new aspect of my sexual self—a part I liked. Both the guys had loved it, too—so why go down the path of embarrassment or regret about it? The logic even sounded ridiculous, now that I started to weave my way through it.

  Giving a part of yourself to the people you loved was one of the best parts of being in a relationship. It meant you trusted them, and that they’d reward the trust by keeping that part of you safe. Nobody had ever kept me safer than these two men. If Fletcher wanted me to do that again for him tomorrow, I would—and happily.

  There was just one massive roadblock to that plan.

  Fletcher himself.

  How did I convince the man he’d done nothing wrong? The tension around him seemed to thicken by the minute.

  My answer to that consisted of two parts.

  One—convincing the man of this one was going to take a monumental effort.

  Two—I wouldn’t be alone.

  Tomorrow morning, first thing, it would be time to enlist Drake in the battle, too.

  Chapter Four

  Drake

  Warm.

  Too warm.

  No. Too damn hot.

  I tried to roll over and escape the sauna, but my legs were instantly entwined with someone else’s. Or were those furnace coils? They were the source of all the heat, for sure.

  “Mmmmph.” It was my half-asleep way of saying ‘let me the fuck out of here’. I followed it up by opening my eyes—then bolting all the way awake. I realized where I was. Still in bed, tangled with Talia and Fletcher, where we’d all passed out after I’d fucked her senseless.

  The memory got me even hotter.

  Damn, how the woman could unravel me. Incite me. Enflame me.

  Now, even more than ever. Shit. For someone who was always cold when conscious, she was a damn radiator once she fell asleep.

  Another minute of this heat and I was going to go Doctor Manhattan on her and Fletch. I needed some space. Now.

  I slowly slid out from the bed, trying my best not to wake Tolly. When I glanced at the farthest side of the bed, it was to realize our third piece was nowhere to be found. No telltale sounds from Fletch using the facilities, either.

  Why didn’t that surprise me?

  After quickly pulling on some joggers, I snuck out of the bedroom, subtly shutting the door behind me. Down the hall, in the kitchen, I found a dim glow from the light over the sink, as well as the digital readout on the oven. Two-eighteen a.m.

  The breakfast nook was dark. So were the dining room and living room.

  Still no Fletcher.

  I turned around, wondering…

  Until spotting the open whiskey bottle on the counter, its contents partially gone.

  I let out a long, rough rumble. “Fucking. Great.”

  Score one for Ford. Another wasted self-beating.

  I had half a mind to just go back to bed and let him mentally flog himself into tomorrow, in whatever the fuck corner he’d crawled into. Maybe a royal-level hangover would do the man some good. If it were just the two of us here, and my own bed waited for me, the option would’ve won by a landslide.

  But we weren’t the only ones here.

  The woman of my soul was here. Slumbering just down the hall…through dreams in which she was happy with Fletch and me.

  And sometimes, happy took some work. From everyone involved.

  Even after two o’clock in the god damn morning.

  As I ruminated on that theory, I spotted the open slider to the patio. It was one of Fletch’s favorite spaces in the condo. He liked how he could see a lot of Michigan Avenue. Said the bustle of the street calmed him, helped him reflect on things. I’d always responded that he had probably been one of those kids who had fallen asleep to the vacuum cleaner, too—though asking Francine Ford to verify that was impossible. The woman literally had no memories of Fletcher when he had still been in diapers. I’d often wondered if the woman had popped him out then pretended he didn’t exist until he no longer smelled like Pampers and poop.

  So, maybe it wasn’t so shocking that he did this crap from time to time.

  I grabbed a jacket from the back of a chair before pushing the door a little wider then stepping onto the landing.

  Sure enough, his dark form was sitting in the corner, curled up on a chaise lounge, bundled in a throw from the living room sofa. A dark hoodie was pulled over his head, white wires from his ear buds glowing in contrast to the shadows in which he was shrouded.

  He raised his head as I slid the glass door shut behind me. I quickly zipped up my own jacket. The night air was brisk. Unbelievably, I longed to be back in the furnace-bed with our woman.

  I pushed his feet off the lounger then replaced them with my ass, coming down with a decisive thud. He grunted, lifting one of his feet back up. Damn thing jabbed into my hip. I resisted the urge to whack at him. Wouldn’t do any good. This was a pity party for one and I was an unwelcome guest to the soiree.

  Too bad, motherfucker.

  After sending out that uplifting mental message, I waited. Eventually, he’d say something. There was one upshot of having a best friend who’d logged more time on professional therapists’ couches than most docs spent in med sc
hool. Fletch simply could not not talk when given the opportunity. It just required waiting him out…letting him find the right way to get rolling.

  He played that ball quicker than usual.

  “She’ll never forgive me.”

  His voice was husky and jittery against the relative silence of the night. Hell. Had he been crying?

  “Fletch,” I volleyed back instantly. “She fucking loved it. What about that don’t you get?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He took a huge gulp of the amber liquid in his glass. Yeah, the glass. Bastard had poured himself a glass of whiskey like most people served orange juice. “She shouldn’t forgive me.”

  “It doesn’t matter if she loved it?” I growled. “Do you even hear yourself?”

  “She’s our queen. She deserves to be treated like one.” He gulped and looked away. Another swig of the whiskey—like that was helping—before he confessed, nearly whispering, “I called her a whore.”

  “Did you mean it?”

  “Of course I didn’t mean it! I-I just got swept up in the moment.”

  The violent defensive bite in his answer was exactly what I’d hoped for. He wasn’t completely lost on this. Not yet. “Then why are you beating yourself up?”

  “It’s what I do,” he groused. “It’s my superpower.”

  He chuckled sloppily. I didn’t join in.

  “I think being an ass may be your superpower.”

  “Fuck you,” he snarled. “Just…go back inside. She’s going to wake up if we’re both gone.”

  “Good. That means you can explain all this shit to her—because believe me, man, I’ll bet she’s already dreaming about ways to make you explain it to her.”

  He kicked me, disguising it as a restless readjustment. In the name of our friendship and of the woman inside, who’d probably clock me for breaking Fletch’s ankle, I let it pass.

  “Why are you being such a dick?” he finally snarled.

  “Oh. Now, that’s funny.” I paused for a moment. “You, giving me the dick statement.”

  With a moody huff, he slammed back against the headrest of the chair. With an equally weighted breath, I rose. This whole night had been one fuck-up after another. It was time to get to the real problem.