We’d returned to Montana and Raines, the town we’d grown up in, for Duke to heal, and to settle. I’d bought the bar from a man who’d wanted to move to California to be closer to his grandkids. Duke had started a construction business. We had jobs to keep us from going insane with boredom, plenty of prize money from years on the circuit, a big family—well, Duke’s family—but we didn’t have our woman. Kids of our own. The whole fucking picket fence.
Until now. Now, this was our last fucking first kiss. Our last first time. And it would be Kaitlyn’s, too. She just didn’t know it yet.
We’d told her how it was with us. That we shared. Up front. If she wasn’t into it, then we’d slow down until she could get to know us, see what it would be like as part of a threesome.
But she melted into Duke’s kiss after having her mouth on mine, her hands curling into his shirt and holding on, which meant she was right there with us. Wanted us.
Fuck, yes.
I took the opportunity to run my hands over her, learn her curves, how soft her skin was, especially on her thighs as I worked that skirt right back up over her ass.
KAITLYN
This was insane.
Completely, totally insane.
Mr. Big lifted his mouth from mine long enough to say, “I want to know what makes you hot.”
“What makes me hot? It’s not a guy in a pair of neon nut huggers,” I murmured.
He stepped closer. Really close. I backed into Bartender, and I felt not only his hand cupping my bottom, but a very big bulge against my hip.
Mr. Big’s heated gaze ran over every inch of me, and all I could do was swallow and hope I didn’t self-combust. I’d never done anything like this before with one guy, let alone two.
“Nut huggers?”
“If the underwear fits,” I replied, not really following the conversation because his hand came up slowly, I assumed so I wouldn’t bolt, and stroked over my hair, then his fingers slid down my neck to the collar of my blouse, setting off chills on the way.
“I want to know what would happen if I undid one of these buttons.”
I held my breath and remained still. Clearly the whole nut conversation was at an end. He took my lack of response as a yes—which it was—and flicked one button from the little hole. Yup, I was going to let him. A simple button on my blouse was nothing when he’d had his hands on the insides of my thighs… his mouth almost on my pussy.
They hadn’t stormed the stage for any woman, they’d done so for me. God, how hot was that?
While he’d hastily tossed me over his shoulder and carried me off, they were going slow now, starting back at first base with kisses. I didn’t feel threatened or scared. The opposite, actually. The fact that they were taking their time made me want them more, as if they were building it up. The foreplay alone was going to make me come.
If I wanted to say no, I had no doubt he’d step back and Bartender would open the office door. Let me go.
But I didn’t want that. I wanted to feel. Feel pretty. Feel attractive. Special. Desired. The way Mr. Big’s fingertips had barely touched the edge of my panties, but now slid almost innocently over my collarbone was ridiculously erotic.
I didn’t like being flashy, and I didn’t like people looking at me. I was… average. Five-five. Brown hair. Brown eyes. I thought my mouth was too big for my face. While I had plenty in the cleavage department, I also had a big ass. An ass that, no matter how many diets or exercise programs, wouldn’t get any smaller, much to the dismay of the guy I’d last dated—Roger. I also couldn’t fix the fact that I wore glasses. Yet I would have let the two of them do anything they wanted out on that stage. It was like they’d done something to me. Flipped a slut switch or something.
“I want to know what color your nipples are,” Mr. Big murmured. “If they’re sensitive. If I can make you come from just playing with them alone. Sucking on them.”
I whimpered as he undid another button. He leaned down, spoke softly into my ear. His breath fanned my neck. I breathed in his male scent. Dark, male. Real.
“I want to know what your hair looks like down, spread out over my pillow.”
A hand slid down my back, cupped my butt. I gasped because it wasn’t Mr. Big’s hand, but Bartender’s.
“And this ass,” Bartender said. “Fuck, it’s perfect.”
I gave a funny little laugh then because I thought he was lying. But when he pressed into me, I felt how hard he was against my side. I hadn’t realized my eyes had fallen closed, but I opened them, looked up at him... both of them. He was watching me with a small smile on his lips and desire written all over his face. “I want to know what you sound like when you come. Make those glasses fog up.”
“Yes.” What else could I say? It wasn’t going to be no.
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