Dirty Ties (2 page)

Collin yanked his hand away before my groin made contact with his fingers. I laughed, breaking the kiss with a shiver. “Pussy.”

“Skank.” The look he gave me was as deep-rooted as our friendship, one that bore the same private smile and mischievous eyes from our childhood amidst dismal dinner parties and stuffy classrooms.

With a grace bred into every genteel fiber of his body, he rose to his feet. His expression, however, was anything but formal as he devoured the quivering movements of Seth’s torso with his eyes at half-mast. “He’s all yours.”

Silly man. As long as he was in the room, his lover would never be all mine. I lowered to my knees, wrapped anxious fingers around Seth’s engorged cock, and licked the tip.

Just like that, my brain rushed through the images of the man who plagued me. He would have a thicker cock, perhaps uncut with veins pulsing beneath my fingertips. A hard, formidable mystery, a man who fought things that were deadlier, fiercer, and more uncivilized than anything in this room. For years, I’d stood alone, toe-to-toe against powerful men. How I wished to have an invincible man on my side.

As Seth pushed into my mouth, the funky taste of latex assaulted my tastebuds. I breathed through it. Either this or Oral HPV. No deliberation there, given the extensive number of partners we shared.

I fondled and sucked until the tang of rubber faded. Hollowing my cheeks, I worshiped him with hard pulls and a flicking tongue while pumping a fist at the base. Collin ground his own wrapped cock against Seth’s hip, inches from my face. So damned tempting to curl my fingers around it and make him yelp.

His hands swept the other man’s chest, abs, and ass in urgent strokes, their tongues battling together in an open-mouth fusion of masculine arousal.

Their combined musk charged my inhales, spurring me to suck faster, harder, until a visible tremor rippled through Seth’s legs. He spread out his feet, revealing Collin’s fingers thrusting in and out of his ass. Seth wouldn’t last long.

I stood, wobbly on the heels, and unzipped the skirt. It fell to the floor. My blouse and panties followed. As I reached behind and unclasped the bra, Collin released Seth’s lips with a teasing lick and nodded toward the bed.

My nipples peaked against the chill in the air, or perhaps at the sensual sight of Collin stroking Seth’s dick. His strokes stopped with a tight grip, and his gray-blue eyes caught mine.

Christ, Collin was breathtaking. Midnight-black hair, damp from a recent shower, combed back in perfect, short waves. The slender bone structure of his face suited his refined public image, but his blunt, square chin better fit the man I knew privately.

A dimple appeared in his cheek. “You ready for him?”

Not ‘Are you wet?’ Poor guy refused to acknowledge the mechanics of a cunt, which made teasing him oh-so diabolical. “I’m dripping, throbbing, gaping—”

“All right. Enough.” His tone was clipped, but the creases fanning from his bright eyes gentled his regal features. “Get your soft little ass on the bed.”

“Always with the
soft
shit. Maybe I should shoot up testosterone and grow a beard.” We shared a smirk, and he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, shaking his head. Then I glanced at Seth. “What do you think? Is my body too soft?” Was I fishing for compliments? Maybe. But I never had to question our other partners, their ardor distributed equally between Collin and me.

Because the others were
paid
to pleasure
both
of us. I shoved that thought away.

Seth seemed to be struggling to focus on anything beyond Collin’s fingers fondling his dick. He jerked his hips and gasped. “Yeah.”

Yeah?
Bastard wasn’t even paying attention.

Collin let go of him and stepped back with his hands on his narrow hips. Assessment narrowed his eyes. Protectiveness dominated his statue-like posture. Of course,
he’d
teased me my entire life, but one disrespectful twitch from Seth and the night would be over.

Seth snapped his head up, his eyes darting between us. “No. I mean…” He made a show of ogling me from tits to heels. “You’re soft in all the right places, Mrs.
Baskel
.”

I bristled at the inflection he’d put on my maiden name. “Baskel is my identity.” I’d kept my name so I wouldn’t
just
be the wife of the famous Collin Anderson. “Doesn’t make us less married.”

Collin rubbed his chin, his thumb moving over the deep cleft there, his disapproval clear in the juts of his sharp cheekbones. He lowered his hand. “Do you have a problem with this arrangement, Seth?”

A flinch lifted Seth’s shoulders. “No. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.” His arms hung at his sides, and his head descended toward his chest.

Way to go, Kaci.
I climbed onto the bed and rolled to my back, propping up on my elbows. “It’s fine.” I raised a leg and rested the spike of the heel on Seth’s thigh, nudging him. “I didn’t kill the mood, did I?”

A moment of hesitation stifled the air. I met Collin’s eyes and waited for him to ask for a night alone with his lover. But he wanted me there in his fucked up way. I could count on one hand the number of times he’d had sex without my participation. He sought my presence as a tangible form of approval, his own acceptance of his sexuality hanging on the intolerant opinions of his political party.

He glanced at Seth’s hard-on, which jerked under his heated gaze. “Do you want to fuck my wife?”

“Yes.” A thick inhale sharpened his answer. He gripped my ankle and used it to widen my legs, his other hand cupping the back of my opposite knee.

When his lips touched my inner thigh, I melted into the mattress and cupped my breasts, rolling the sensitive nipples between my fingers. His mouth trailed a warm path to the apex of my legs.
Keep going.
My thighs trembled, and the steel ring piercing my clit added pressure to the needy pulsations.

At the last inch, he swerved to the side, over my hipbone, and along my ribs.

I ground my teeth, but I refused to lower myself to demanding things he wasn’t inclined to do.

His mouth moved up my body, and he brushed my hand from my tit to bite down on the nipple. Sharp, chilling pain shot through me, sparking a spasm along my inner muscles.

“Ahhh.” My gasps cut off when Seth captured my mouth.

The quick, assertive kiss slid away as his lips tickled over my cheek and his cock pressed against my opening. The back of Collin’s hand brushed my inner thigh, his fingers sliding up and down Seth’s length.

God, I was so wet, so damned ready. He could slip right in, and in the span of a shuddering breath, he did. His thickness filled me with a burst of body-tingling pleasure. I searched his flushed face, and he seemed to be as aroused as I was, given the parted lips, stuttering breaths, and shiny eyes holding mine.

His intensity heated when a bottle of lube landed on the mattress. He thrust frantically at the sight of it, his gaze falling away to catch a glimpse of the man behind him.

I stretched to meet Collin’s eyes, slipping my hands over his to help him spread the hard muscles of Seth’s ass.

Collin watched me until the moment he thrust, his dark lashes lowering as his hips slammed against Seth’s backside. I hated when he did that, when he broke eye contact to focus on the body between us. At the same time, it would’ve been weird as fuck to stare into his eyes as we got off. That just wasn’t the nature of our relationship, and dwelling on it left me cold inside.

With Seth’s entire focus on Collin now, my thoughts fled to a comforting place, forming images of Evader’s sculpted body moving over me, his kiss-swollen lips, and the vicious stretch of his arousal. I imagined him making love to my body with fire and ferocity, his concentration on me, on my pleasure, and nothing else.

Collin’s head fell back. The tendons in his neck rose against his flushed skin, and his body jerked into another ruthless plunge. Then he fucked me the only way he could…with another man’s cock.

The weight of both men ground against my pierced clit. I flexed my hips, working toward that glorious edge. All I could think about was satisfying the urgent need for release with a man I’d never met. Greedy as I was, maybe I could reach it more than once before they finished.

Seth rose up, his back pressing against Collin’s front. Their mouths collided in a frantic clash of tongues, and the sudden intensity of Seth’s strokes propelled me to the cusp of orgasm. Collin pounded harder, each hard drive pushing Seth deeper inside me.

Collin’s eyes squeezed shut. His body trembled. The pace of his pumping staggered, losing rhythm. He was close. So was I. We lunged together, pulled apart, ramming over and over. Three bodies rocked in sync, coaxing a blissful heat through my core.

Sweat beaded over my skin. My pulse thundered past my ears, and my muscles tensed for the rush.

On the next thrust, Seth fell out. Shit. I wriggled my hips, tried to nudge him back in, but he wasn’t hitting my opening. I reached down to guide him, and my fingers met a sagging condom. What the hell?

I arched up and looked down my body. Seth’s cock lay against his leg, the condom clinging halfway off. Motherfuck.

When I caught his eyes, he glanced away and worked the condom back in place.

And they thought I was soft? Might’ve been humorous if I weren’t seconds away from kneeing him in the gay nuts. The fucking liar had banged me before without incident. But thinking on it, in the past I’d arrived after the foreplay. Perhaps the blow job had pushed him past his tolerance level?

Collin stilled, his hand wrapping around Seth’s fingers, attempting to stroke him back to hardness. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. Just give me a minute.” Seth looked everywhere but at me, his eyebrows lowering as he jerked on his deflated dick.

I drew a deep breath, the awkwardness palpable, the mood soured. No need to ruin the night for Collin. I climbed to my knees and moved to their sides. With a palm on Collin’s cheek, I turned his head and kissed the cleft on his whiskered chin. “I’m gonna go.”

His pale eyes turned to glass, and his hands gripped Seth’s hips as if to push him away.

I grabbed his forearm. “Finish.” I softened my expression. “Please?”

A tic jumped in his rigid jaw, and he glanced down where he was still seated in Seth’s ass. If I lingered, my presence would only crowd his heart with more remorse. His guilt over our pressured marriage was so heavy in moments like this it pulled on my soul.

I grabbed my clothes from the floor and darted from the room without looking back, hoping like hell he listened for once.

As I walked the length of the seven-thousand square-foot condo, my bare feet echoed in hollow slaps along the two-story ceilings. Collin and I designed the interior of our five-million-dollar home, and we’d earned every damned penny that went into it. But sometimes the high-quality fixtures, the lush furnishings, and the full-service amenities were unwanted reminders that we were on a power-hungry path to becoming just like our parents.

Born three months apart with no siblings, we’d spent thirty-seven years bending to our parents’ political agendas. The Andersons and the Baskels not only blackmailed us into marriage, they reigned over our careers from their high-backed chairs on the board of Trenchant Media.

I stopped in the kitchen for a glass of water and headed to my bedroom. We didn’t give a shit about wealth. Collin hosted his political television program
The Anderson Angle
because he believed in his ideas. His fresh, forward-thinking commentary swayed fiscal policies and expertly guided decision makers on the nation’s economy.

At the top of his company, I led the
Trenchant Times
division, overseeing the digital and print operations. For ten years, I’d stubbornly fought the board to deliver neutral, hard-hitting facts to the people, battling the self-fulfilling conglomerate because, dammit, someone needed to do it. Yeah, it was an arrogant undertaking, but not completely benevolent. My pursuit was personal; my vendetta fermented in hatred.

I threw the bundle of clothes into the bedroom closet, and one of the heels dented the wall with a satisfying thunk. When our parents discovered Collin’s sexual orientation during the rise of his popularity, we were forced to sign a contract that kept his secret buried beneath Trenchant’s conservative image. The contract stipulated everything from our marriage and careers to who we voted for and how we dressed.

If our parents knew what Collin was up to at that very moment—my fingernails dug into my palms—they would end our careers and wrongfully send Collin to prison with purchased evidence.

I would do what was needed to protect him, despite the painful shortcoming in our marriage. A marriage that left me yearning, night after night, for an intimate connection that couldn’t be sated by a shared partner. God, I longed for a connection that was
given,
not bought, despite the risks. The kind of breathless intoxication I fantasized about with a faceless man on a sportbike and had no hope of obtaining at the end of Seth's limp dick.

Which was why I wouldn’t miss the underground race that began in—I glanced at the clock on the nightstand—two hours, for a glimpse of something more. To glory in those almost-maybe tilts of that mysterious helmet in my direction.