Complete Bliss (a Her Billionaires novella #3) (3 page)

“Your wish is my command,” she whispered as she bent down before him. She could feel his surprise as she grasped him at the base and stroked lightly upward with a feather touch. She reached up and squeezed his shoulders, her fingertips trailing down his large, muscled chest that was sprinkled with a touch of dark hair in all the right places.

Her palms cupped the long line of ribs that were so cut, muscles built out in layers from his back, the sheer animal power inherent in those muscles making her wet. Looking at Dylan from a sexual place was fun and purely sensual, but it wasn’t just the eye candy that she appreciated. The protectiveness, the power, the promise of being cared for and rescued—of being
safe
—made his body a symbol for so many emotional states.

Her fingers reached down past his waist, unencumbered by clothing. His eyes were on her, burning a hole in her head, and if she tipped her chin up to greet them she knew she’d find his dark eyes burning for her.

She didn’t need to look up, though. What she needed was to listen to his request and fulfill it. Having so much time together—all three of them—was a new luxury.
Some day this would be old hat
, she thought, as her lips grazed his belly button, making Dylan inhale sharply and clench his abs, which rolled like steel balls under silk.  

Knowing she provoked that in him—her, and her alone—made Laura grateful for this time, this cabin, for the fact that all three of them were willing to carve out space for their relationship.

They needed this.

Her mouth slid up from his sac with a warm, wet kiss on his shaft that made him grasp the deck railing and tighten, legs bending slightly at the knees as, she knew, he braced himself for the pleasure she was about to give.

“Five hours,” she murmured. “Plenty of time to recover.” Laura knew
he
knew exactly what she meant, because the groan that vibrated through him, reaching her mouth as she engulfed him in full, was the sound of a man who could unleash and relax, unfold and de-stress. Most of their sex life involved quickies and halfway blow jobs, everyone eager to preserve the climax for intercourse, which meant this simple act of giving from Laura was simply that. A gift.

And now, in the middle of the thickly filled woods, the sound of birds and leaves shaking in the breeze filling her ears, she could give him complete release. Complete bliss.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laura saw Mike watching with a half-smile on his face, wordless and clothing-less, gorgeous and stately. He sipped from his wine and watched patiently, knowing his turn would come, just as Laura knew hers would, too. Being in a long-term relationship like this—the longest ever for her—meant compromising. Calibrating. Knowing that even if things were out of balance sometimes, in the long run everything would even out.

She took her time, tongue enjoying the exploration of skin she normally skimmed over, his shaft hot and silky at the same time, rigid as a steel rod yet delightfully flexible. Inside her, she knew, it could pump life into her, love infusing her body, release coursing through her like the rush of whitewater rapids provoked by a melting spring thaw. Her own blood began to pulse through her, ripe need gathering at her clit, the soft folds of her labia swelling with heat and want, getting ready for Dylan.

And Mike.

Cupping his balls, Laura found that sweet spot where her finger could apply pressure and—

“Oh, God, that feels incredible,” he rasped.

Victory.

Lubing the shaft with her mouth’s slickness, she pumped slowly, tonguing the cap, the tight tip of her tongue slicking the underside of his cock right where the shaft ended and the ridge began. She’d discovered this technique a few weeks ago and learned to use it when he or Mike were
almost
ready to come, the rapid flick of tongue combining with her encasing hand and finger pressure an instant path to—

Dylan’s body tightened with such primal force she nearly fell backwards, the coiled strength in his thighs, back, and shoulders like a nuclear reactor of sexual thrust. His hips began to move in bursts toward her, and within seconds he was fucking her mouth, all inhibitions gone.

He’d become a man seeking ultimate ecstasy, and she was along for the ride, mouth and fingers keeping up the rhythm, his hot seed spurting into her mouth as she eased up on the tongue pressure, slowing her wrist movements on his shaft, bringing him down as gently as possible from his climax.

Dylan rested against the deck railing and buried his fingers in her hair as she finally tipped her face up, then swallowed.

He laughed. Mike began a polite clap. “That was quite a performance,” Dylan said as he scooped her up, pressing her into a full-body, vertical hug that—oddly enough—felt more foreign than giving him a blow job outside in the woods. The feel of so much skin against so much skin, outside in the fresh air, and in the daylight—it was a series of incongruities that added up to a shift in her consciousness.

She felt more alive than ever. The taste of Dylan still filled her tongue. She loved it. Loved him. Loved
this
. 

Eyes on Mike even as she hugged Dylan, who slumped against her and whispered a string of dirty thank-yous, she mouthed,
Your turn next
.

Mike winked.
I know. I can wait
, he mouthed back.

“I can hear you two,” Dylan announced. “Quit talking behind my back.”

“How can you hear us? We’re mouthing the words!” Laura exclaimed. 

“I just can. Call it my superpower.”

Laura gave him a jaunty grin as she pulled back and drank in his beautiful face. “That is
not
your super power.”

“Oh yeah? Then what is?”

She reached for Mike’s hand, then Dylan’s, pulling them into the cabin. “You’re about to show it to me,” she said.

Mike swept her up into his arms and carried her across the sliding door threshold like a newlywed, making her giggle and squeal.

“Superpowers abound,” he said, setting her gently on the bed.

“Not there,” Dylan said from the kitchen, where he was drinking a glass of water now.
Fortifying himself
, Laura thought with a grin.

“Where?” Mike asked.

“There,” Laura and Dylan said in unison.

Both were pointing at the Sybian.

“Great minds think alike,” Mike said drolly. 

“But first, you!” Laura insisted, at Mike’s side with three steps, hands wrapping around his waist. He eyed the Sybian, then Laura, then shared a look with Dylan she couldn’t quite pinpoint, but which generally meant some mischief was about to unfold.

Good mischief. Sensual mischief.

Orgasmic mischief.

“How about we both get our first orgasm out of the way?” Mike suggested.

“‘Out of the way’? You say that like it’s a root canal,” Laura teased.

“How about we try being direct,” Dylan interrupted. “Laura sits on the Sybian while giving Mike head.”

Stunned silence was Laura’s only answer. Mind-blowingly stunned silence. “You want me to do that?” 

Her answer was Dylan’s hungry hands on her, sliding around from behind, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples to full attention with one little brushstroke. “We do.”

Mike’s only response was a raised eyebrow, a gesture that echoed inside her and made her bloom with heat.

The tidy little ottoman in the middle of the living room was so unassuming that the average person would never—
ever
—guess the kink hidden within. And that was precisely the point. 

Hide the fun in plain sight.

Hide the source of judgment from those who did not—or willfully
chose
not to—understand.

Mike pulled the lid off and exposed the wonder underneath, making Laura’s breath slow down just as her heart sped up. Time always changed here in the cabin, unlike anywhere else—even their bedroom at home. Sex was different here. Completely planned and yet utterly spontaneous. Dylan’s hands continued their slow tease from behind, his cock rubbing up against the cleft of her ass, the hair on his chest tickling her back. Mike embraced her from the front, and the heat of his skin, all six-plus feet of him, made her feel complete.

She had them both.

Well—more technically,
they
had
her
.

Hands began their well-worn path down the curves of her body, those dry and supple and those wet and wanting.

The Sybian was a simple device, with a dildo attached to a rocking seat. She was more than wet enough as she eased her way down, muscles clamping tight at the slick entrance of something much smaller than either of her men, and yet tantalizing as she felt Mike’s hot flesh in her hand, Dylan’s own hands on her back and breasts now, connecting and adding to the loop the three shared. Like electricity, something flowed between them when they were in touch together, though Mike and Dylan drew a strong boundary at touching one another. Laura had wondered about it but never asked. Sometimes privacy within relationships had a place, and this was one of those times. 

No complaints came from anyone, though, for what they
did
have—so she stopped thinking about what wasn’t there.

A shudder of shock and heat ran through her as she lowered herself and clasped her thighs and knees along the device, Dylan straddling her from behind, on his knees and encircling her. His hand traveled down to find her hot, throbbing nub.

Oh, this would be over fast.

Mike’s cock was thick and ready, and as her mouth enveloped it his thighs tensed. Primed to know his signals as well as she knew Dylan’s or even her own body’s triggers, she figured she had a minute, Maybe less.

Better make it good.

Dylan gently rocked her forward, the Sybian slipping and moving with such grace that she felt a moment of feral self-consciousness, as if the device were too prim and proper for what her ragingly wild arousal was about to make her flesh release. An orgasm swept over her and only sheer force of will kept it back, her brain firing wildly to make sure she remembered Mike’s pleasure, the fullness of him in her warm, wet mouth now too much. The combination of so many sensations on her body and the need to meet his sexual release made her circuits overheat.

Desperate to give him pleasure, she slid her fisted hand along the fine, soft skin of his shaft, Dylan’s fingers on her, her tongue traveling well-worn paths until Mike uttered her name and released into her just as her own tidal wave of climax made her groan deep in her throat, the sound making Mike jolt with more ecstasy.

And just like that, they had knocked out Climax #1 for all three of them.

Strangely energized, Laura swallowed and smiled up at Mike. He looked down from quite a distance, given his height, and smiled broadly.

“Four hours and six minutes to go. You up for more?”

She most certainly was.

Both of them were on her as if she’d sent them some telekinetic signal, as if she’d summoned their bodies by pure desire to come to her, the length of so much flesh pressing into her curves with such impulsive need that they shocked her.

“You’re ready…
already
?” she asked Mike as Dylan stole her words away with a breathtaking kiss, tongue sweeping across her mouth like wind and fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and Mike’s answer was two hands that took her breasts like he was staking a claim on them.

Ah. Well. So.

She guessed he was.

A burst of wet heat turned her legs to jelly, and the thrumming sense of pounding as her blood rushed to and fro, building to something so much greater, took her rational thought and shattered it to shards. Reaching for Dylan, she found his thick, strong shaft, and he groaned against her teeth as she stroked him, a simple reuniting that made the fire inside them all flame higher and higher. 

Sex wasn’t just sex anymore. Not after two years together. It wasn’t just intimacy or connection or some necessary act that they indulged in for pleasure. It was, instead, a constant, consistent re-commitment to be each other’s heat, to make each other tremble in awe, to use fingertips and tongues and smiles and groans in order to be the most important soul for each other.

Acceptance is the greater part of intimacy.

How much more accepting could three people be when exploring the bounty of flesh, tendon, bone, muscle—and the pure frenzy of driving someone to a release that catapulted them out of their mind?

Trusting both, she sighed deeply, Mike’s touch between her legs making her gasps turn to his name, cried out in sighs and moans, a language of arousal and more.

Trust
.

Mike was in her first, hard as rock, his lips on her face and neck like a hungry man who was touching a woman for the first time in decades. His hands were rough against her back, her ass, the globes of her breasts, the sensation just on the edge of her comfort zone but so raw and real she couldn’t stop wanting more.

Heightened senses and the sound of their breath in the room, background noise coming from the woods in the form of the rush of leaves pushed by wind, the calls of birds she could not name, and it all turned into a tunnel-vision pinpoint of nothing as Dylan entered her with aching slowness, patient gentleness, from behind, stretching her to the point of oblivion, a kind of disintegration of the self that came only after so, so much pleasure.

When the moment of climax came for all three, the combined explosion sent them all whirling into space, so separate from the very slick skin that twisted and flexed, adjusted and morphed, their spirits in another realm that could only be accessed by the very primal acts of flesh and want that their bodies committed. 

It felt like a sacrament and a sin.

Like blasphemy and atonement.

Most of all, though, it felt so fucking
good
.

* * *

If she and the guys smoked, Laura could imagine this scene quite differently. Sandwiched beautifully between both men, their bodies twisted together in a pile of limbs and torsos that resembled a human pile of stretched taffy (
and was just about as sticky…
), she reclined in pure harmony with long, lean, blond Mike and compact, musclebound, swarthy Dylan.