The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (14 page)

His mouth pulled away from hers, leaving them both panting. He

took three steps back to stand beside Dane. His gaze skimmed across

her skin like a shivery tingle. “So fucking sexy. Love the tats and the

dye job.”

Ah, so he’d noticed the morning glories vining their way around

her hips, growing upward toward the sun on her left breast. Another

stem grew over her pelvis to circle her upper right thigh. A bumblebee

hovered above her multicolored pubic hair. Finding a stylist for the

matching head and tail hadn’t been easy.

Spencer’s eyes seemed to be locked on the bee in her garden.

“God, I can’t wait to taste that beautiful pussy. Dane has preferred tits to twat ever since he discovered their versatility. I don’t think

sharing’s going to be a problem.”

“No, not a problem for me. That is one bodacious rack you have

there, Wren. Has anyone ever fucked it?” Dane looked hopeful to be

the first.

“Not yet. You interested in the job?” Damn, this idea of hers got

better and better.

“Oh, yeah, right after I suck those tight nipples.”

His words sent a happy spasm between her legs. “Your turn to

strip.”

Spencer and Dane immediately kicked off their shoes and pulled

the chef’s jackets over their heads. Muscular pecs and abs nearly

distracted her from watching the rest of their whites land in a pile.

Two impressive erections. Both made her eager to begin this

adventure.

* * * *

If Spencer hadn’t been in love with her before, he was now.
No

pathetic little heart tattoo for Wren.
He focused every bit of willpower on restraining the need to be inside her.

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“Condoms?” At least Dane still had some active brain cells.

Reaching around the corner of the island, Wren opened a drawer

and pulled out a strip of Trojans. She dangled them in front of her.

Bless her presumptuous foresight. “Think six will be enough?”

Her smug grin twisted his heart in knots. His cock twitched. “For

a couple hours.”

Her laughter mixed with Dane’s. “I have more in my apartment

upstairs.”

“That’s good to know. Ready for orgasm number one?”

* * * *

All Wren could manage was a whimper as Spencer kissed her

again, then lifted her back onto the island. His fingers traced the wavy

green line and azure flowers at her lower abdomen, following the

tattoo along her hip bone. Her skin itched in anticipation of his touch

moving over her thigh to her quivering clit.

Dane joined Spence in the tactile exploration of her body, gliding

his palm from her wrist to her shoulder. His hand moved to her back,

and snaking an arm around her neck, he pulled her flush against his

chest. The smattering of coarse hair brushed her sensitive nipples,

triggering contractions in her more-than-ready twat. He scraped his

teeth on her lower lip before taking her mouth for a deep kiss. His

skill equaled Spencer’s, both men adept at showing their desire with a

swipe of forceful tongue.

Lips on her thigh, easing closer to the perfect spot. A hand raising

her leg to rest on a broad shoulder. Warm breath teasing her already

wet pussy. Why didn’t Spencer make use of his tongue already? And

why did Dane take the time to kiss her when he could be licking and

sucking her nipples? She’d die if they didn’t give her some relief.

“Soon, Wren. No rush. Relax and enjoy the ride.” Spencer made a

path around her thigh. The vine. He was tracing her tat.

“Mmm.” She squirmed, hoping his tongue would take a detour.

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Dane chuckled into her mouth. She gave up trying to hold herself

in a sitting position, pulling away from his kiss. He followed her

down and latched on to her nipple. Ripples of pleasure zinged to her

weeping pussy. Her fingers dove into his hair, ensuring he didn’t let

go.

“Damn it, Spencer, I’m not a patient woman.”

“Good things come to those who wait.” More warm breath on her

inner thigh.

“And bad things happen to those who make me wait.” Geez, she

was going to have a fricking orgasm from Dane’s attention any

second. “Now, Spencer. Now!”

Dane lifted his head, ripping away the sensation so fast she

wanted to cry. “Maybe we need to slow things down a notch.”

“Oh, no, you don’t! If you two aren’t going to get the job done,

then give me Richard, and I’ll do it myself.” Her vibrator never failed,

but it was an empty threat. She wanted the real thing.

“Dick has been demoted to back massager.” How could Dane

remain so calm when she was about to die from lack of orgasm? “You

wanted us, you got us. And we want to play.”

Play?
Play?
Making her beg and still not giving her what she

needed was
not
playing. Making her wait until they felt like giving her what she needed was not playing, either. Was this all a joke to

them? Well, she wasn’t laughing. She ached everywhere they

wouldn’t touch her. Why had she thought to proposition them?

Stupid, stupid, stupid
.

Pushing up to her elbows, she tugged her leg out of Spence’s

grasp and scooted to the opposite corner of the island. She swung

around, dropping to the floor. Her muscles almost gave out, but she

clung to the butcher-block countertop. And, damn it, she refused to let

them see how badly their teasing hurt her. Turning away from them,

she started toward her suitcase.

“You guys decide who gets the contract. And...and go shish kebab

yourselves.”

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* * * *

At this moment Spencer didn’t care who got the contract, either.

He watched Wren walk across the kitchen, the sight of her naked ass

affecting him less than the stiffness in her spine. She was upset. One

minute she’d been enjoying the attention they’d been showering on

her, the next she’d pulled away, leaving him to wonder, what the hell?

He couldn’t let her abrupt departure slide.

“Wren, talk to me. Tell me what we did wrong, because obviously

we screwed up somehow. And forget the damn contract. Your

feelings are more important than a job.”

She stopped at her suitcase, but didn’t turn to face them.

“Could’ve fooled me. I begged you to make me come.
Begged.

Instead of pleasing me, you played this control game. ‘Good things

come to those who wait.’ And Dane wanted to slow things down and

play. I was ready, damn it. What? You think I can’t have multiple

orgasms? Or maybe you relish having power over a woman. Well,

find another woman. No man tells me I can’t have an orgasm when I

want one.”

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. “I wanted to make you

hotter. That’s all.”

“I was enjoying every second of touching you.” Dane rubbed his

temples. “I assumed you enjoyed it, too. God, watching and listening

to you are the biggest turn-ons. I wanted to make it last for you.”

“You like tits, and you like twat, but all women like hour-long

sex? Idiots! I begged. Did you not hear that? You’d think between the

two of you, one would understand the meaning of ‘now.’” She shook

her head and tipped up the suitcase on its wheels.

Yes, he’d heard her, even through the disappointment she tried to

hide. “Wren, I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” Dane sounded as depressed as Spencer felt. “We

wanted to make the experience amazing for you, not leave you

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frustrated.”

“You failed.” She rolled the suitcase behind her, heading for the

door that evidently led to her apartment. The door thumped closed

after her.

Clump, clump, clump, clump, clump.
Her luggage on the steps?

“We need to fix this.” Sorting through the pile of clothes, Dane

snagged a pair of white pants and pulled them on. “I like her.”

“Yeah, me, too.”
Maybe more than like.
Spencer followed his

friend’s example and slipped into his chef pants. Did he dare be

completely honest with Dane? “I meant what I said about sharing her.

If she wants both of us, I don’t see why we can’t make her happy.”

“I agree. First, we have to do something about the catering gig.

We can’t let her down with that.” Shrugging into his jacket, Dane

walked to the sink to wash his hands. “I’ve been considering selling

out my partnership with Jay and going out on my own, but now I’m

wondering...Are you interested in taking on a partner? We can work

on the reception together as a test drive.”

And work on their relationship with Wren as well. “Okay. Let’s

take a look at our menus and come up with the best from both. We

can serve Wren an apology dinner. If we’re lucky, we didn’t blow our

chance with her.”

Dane offered his hand. “Partner?”

Spence shook it. “Partner.”

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Chapter 3

Two naked men to go with her naked self, and neither saw fit to

make her scream in ecstasy. Or, at the very least, make her gasp with

the itty-bitty spasms of a baby orgasm. Now she had no one to

fantasize about, either. They had ruined that, too. Richard’s marketing

adjective said it all. A girl could always count on her vibrator. Except

when he was downstairs with the enemy.

Parking her suitcase in the corner, Wren sat on the end of her bed.

She kicked off her spike-heeled D’Orsay pumps, not bothering to line

them up in her closet. Her new lace-topped thigh-highs went next,

landing in a pile on the floor. Without wasting the energy to slip on

her favorite pajamas, she crawled under the covers.

Damn, she was exhausted. Eight o’clock in the morning flights

should be outlawed. Add to that the stress of
not
getting laid. Maybe she’d sleep the rest of the day and all night. Tomorrow was another

day, and it couldn’t be much worse than today.

The cool cotton sheets soothed her oversensitized skin. She closed

her eyes, imagining she lay naked on her own private stretch of

tropical beach. Gulls squawked, the surf rolled onto the sand, a light

breeze ruffled her hair. Warm and sleepy.

* * * *

The tablecloth rippled and fell to the table, one more detail in their

apology-seduction plan. Dane evened the edges of the linen, then

placed the centerpiece. He’d had to call four florists to find the right

flowers and decorative accessories for the bouquet. Spence had

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107

handwritten Wren’s invitation to dinner and completed the salad and

bread courses. He would finish preparing the meat entree while Dane

seared the portabellas and assembled the vegetarian entree.

They made a good team. Going over their menus, they’d agreed

on every selection. As Dane preheated the iron skillet, Spence rang

the delivery door buzzer to gain their guest’s attention.

“I have a delivery here for a Wren McCoskey.”

A Bronx accent? Dane chuckled to himself. Only Spence would

come up with that dialect.

“No, ma’am. You needs to sign for it. Yes, ma’am. I ain’t going

nowhere.”

And bad grammar, too.

Spence returned to his cook station with a grin. “She said she’ll be

down in a minute. Sounded like she just woke up.”

“Everything’s ready except the ports. So you’ll greet and seat her.

I’ll pour the wine, then we’ll discuss our offer over dinner.” Dane

flipped each slice, avoiding the spattering olive oil. “Just a few more

seconds.”

Spence handed him a warm plate, and he transferred the browned

mushroom slices from the skillet. They both turned at the sound of a

door closing. Wren, at the top of the stairs.

Dane waved Spence away. “I can finish here. Go light the

candles.”

* * * *

A delivery? She hadn’t placed an order this week. Rubbing sleep

from her eyes, Wren dragged on a tank top and a pair of shorts. What

time was it, anyway? She glanced at the clock radio beside her bed.

Six o’clock. Her deliveries always came in the early morning. The

guy clearly had the wrong Wren McCoskey. Or maybe he’d said Glen

Nikowski? Hard to tell with that New-Yorker-in-the-Midwest accent.

Shuffling through the living room to the kitchen, she rubbed her

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left arm. Tingles prickled from elbow to fingertips. Her arm knew

enough to stay asleep. Stupid delivery.
This had better be important.

She descended the steps to her test kitchen, closing the door to her

apartment behind her. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs to unbolt

the entrance to her lab. Hm. Did she smell hot cooking oil? Had Dane

or Spencer left a pan on an un-extinguished flame? All she needed

was her lab and her home burning down from their carelessness.

Cautiously placing a palm against the steel door, she heaved a

relieved sigh at the cool metal. She shrugged.
My nose must be

playing tricks on me.
She pushed open the heavy door and was

assailed by...the mouthwatering aroma of chicken and tomato sauce

and the pungent scent of mushrooms? And her earlier visitors had