“Keep them there,” Jethro growled, his honeyed voice firm and resolute. “Don’t move your arms. Stay where he can see you. ”
“Mac. ” His name was a whispered protest.
Mac shook his head slowly, the midnight strands of hair caressing his shoulders as he watched her with lashes half lowered over his steel-gray eyes.
“Just feel, Kei,” he said. “Just let me watch. Let me see your pleasure. Do you know the high I get watching you come undone? Watching the pleasure mount and mount until you’re helpless beneath the rush of ecstasy?”
Keiley was shaking. She could feel the tremors racing through her body, helpless beneath the astounding wash of hunger that his words evoked.
How could anyone deny the look in his eyes? Possessiveness, it was there. Keiley had a feeling that once Jethro walked out of their lives, what they had now would never happen again. Burning hunger blazed in his expression. For whatever reason, he needed this. Like other men needed a kiss, needed the words of love, Mac needed this. It was affirmation of some sort to him. And it raised questions Keiley knew she would eventually have to ask.
And there was love. She could see his love for her glittering more fiercely now than ever before. There was no way she could doubt it. He might be allowing another man to touch her body, but at that moment she could feel Mac touching her soul.
“I want to watch him take you, Kei. ”
A breathless moan slipped past her lips as Jethro’s hands smoothed higher, his palms cupping the undercurves of her too-sensitive, swollen breasts. He lifted them as though in offering before his fingertips rubbed over the tips with heated precision.
Her knees weakened. Fire rocked through her veins. Then, just as quickly, she was being turned, lifted into Jethro’s arms, and laid carefully in the center of the bed.
She watched as Jethro stripped his pants from his body, his erection springing free, tipped with moisture and flushed with lust. Mac’s cock was a bit thicker, Jethro’s was a bit longer. Both men were impressively endowed with the sexual expertise to use it effectively.
Narrowing her eyes and flickering her gaze between both men, Keiley arched on the bed, her hands sliding up her stomach and down again as the heated ache between her thighs began to increase.
“You could join us,” she whispered to her husband.
She wasn’t certain how she felt about this, having him merely watch as another man touched her, kissed her, possessed her. She couldn’t control her responses, couldn’t control the eroticism that rose inside her as she glimpsed the approval in Mac’s gaze.
“I want to watch,” he murmured. “I want to see you taken away by the pleasure. How you look when you hold nothing back. ”
She licked her lips nervously. “I’ve only done that with you, Mac. ”
“And I’m here,” he assured her, moving closer to the bed as Jethro came down beside her.
“It’s not the same. ” She jerked as Jethro’s lips touched her shoulder, his tongue licking over the flesh and sending a spike of electric sensation racing through her.
She had only ever responded to Mac this way. Now, beneath his gaze, her body was responding to another man, the flares of sensation tearing through her, clawing across her nerve endings in violent hunger.
And his touch wasn’t like Mac’s. His lips were a little rougher, his tongue just as adventurous, but the texture of it rasping more than her husband’s.
It didn’t stop her from responding, from moaning with the sensuality racing through her.
“It’s not supposed to be the same,” he whispered as Jethro leaned over her, his fingers touching her jaw, turning her face to him. “It’s supposed to be hotter, more intense. It’s supposed to make you weak with need, Keiley. It’s supposed to make you wet and wild. That’s what I want to see. That’s what I need to see. ”
The truth of it was in his gaze, in his voice so filled with hunger. Her chest clenched with a sudden shaft of pain. What had happened in her husband’s past to have caused this? Surely something darker and more vicious than he had so far told her.
She stared up at Jethro helplessly then.
“Shh,” he whispered, as though he could see into her, could see the sudden fear that grew inside her for her husband. “There’s no pain here. Only pleasure. ”
Only pleasure? A pleasure derived from the need to escape the pain?
Her hands lifted, touched his face, her fingertips skimming over his high cheekbones, the dark brow, then into his overly long hair.
Hair nearly as black as Mac’s, but with dark brown shades threading through it. It wasn’t the silky softness of her husbands, it was coarser, though not as thick.
She watched as his expression tightened with her touch, an almost desperate light filling his gaze before he swiftly closed his eyes for a long second.
When they reopened, it was gone, but the blazing hunger remained. In his gaze and in his kiss.