Chapter Twenty
Chantel
Disoriented, I woke to a large hand between my clenched thighs, heat spreading through me, liquid and undeniable.
At first, I’d thought it was a dream. The most explicit, pulse-pounding wet dream of my life. But this was so much better. And I didn’t want it to stop.
Eyes closed, brain barely online, I rolled my hips into the touch, chasing more.
“Open.” Dylan’s voice was a low command against my ear, his hand a devastating force between my legs.
His solid chest molded to my back, his breath warm against the nape of my neck, and his massive erection ground against the crease of my ass.
No, this was definitely not a dream. Thank God.
Maybe I should have been less impulsive. More concerned about waking Sean, who I could hear breathing deep and evenly on the other side of the mattress. But I’d stopped caring about consequences the first time this man laid hands on me. And right now, I was nothing but raw, uninhibited need.
On a heavy sigh, I parted my thighs.
Dylan hummed his approval, gliding his fingers over my clit before plunging two of them deep into my core, rough and without warning.
I whimpered. It was a desperate, hedonistic sound that I had no hope of holding back.
Sean made a soft snoring sound and moved, the whole bed seeming to rock with just a tiny shift of his big body. But then his breath evened out again as he settled.
The thought of him just inches away, asleep, while Dylan touched me like this…
Crisse d’ostie. I’d never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, and still didn’t, but something about having him here to catch us in the act—to have him watching and wanting—made me even wetter.
“Fuck, enchanté…” Dylan moved his fingers back to my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, circling in a way that made me dizzy with need. “Your pussy’s fucking soaked.”
I was panting now, my breath like the rest of my body, completely out of my control. Every part of me was at his mercy.
His other hand snaked around from underneath me, finding my breast and squeezing, rough callouses digging into my skin. Then his fingers found my nipple and he pinched. Hard.
A sharp gasp tore out of me before I could swallow it. The pain shot straight down to my clit. His fingers that were already there, already working me, caught the wave and pushed me higher.
“Fuck, yes.” His voice was a low rasp at my ear. “You’re ready to come just from a little pain and the thought of being caught, aren’t you?”
How did he know? How could he read not just my body but my mind?
God, I was in so much trouble. This man was going to steal something from me I wasn’t ready to give.
I’d built a life on discipline, fourteen-hour hospital shifts, caffeine, and all-night study sessions.
I knew what I wanted, where my life was going, and I’d never once let anyone pull me off track or push me further than I was willing to go.
Never once had I given myself over to pure desire like this.
Who would’ve guessed that Dylan McCoy—the hot cop with a kid, an ex he couldn’t quit, and a penchant for being mean—would be the man to break me. Even worse, that I’d want him to.
“Soak my hand,” he murmured like he was reading me poetry. “Soak the whole fucking bed when you come.”
His fingers slid lower, two of them pushing inside me at once, a third joining them right after, and I had to bite down on the pillow to keep from crying out. But he didn’t let up.
He pumped them harder, faster, while his other hand twisted my nipple in a way that was just shy of cruel.
Sean’s voice cut through the moment. “Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I was going to come. Fuck d’ostie, I was going to come so fucking hard.
The wet sound of my arousal drowned out my muffled sobs. And when Dylan’s teeth found the back of my neck and bit down, I let go. I was like a dam breaking. All the pain, all the indescribable pressure, released in a violent rush.
Dylan groaned as I coated his hand in wetness, my entire body shaking from the force of the orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me, and everything that wasn’t sensation, wasn’t this pure bliss, dissolved into nothingness.
“I can’t believe the two of you started without me again.” Sean’s voice was closer now, and I could feel the pressure of his hand over Dylan’s, between my thighs.
But my brain was still lost in a fog of lust, my body still pulsing with aftershocks.
“Quit complaining,” Dylan said, his mouth running over my neck and shoulder, making me shiver.
“Are you kidding?” Sean’s laugh was half its normal volume, something tight and strained behind it. “I’ll happily play dead over here if I get to watch you make her squirt again.”
Something about his crass words brought me back to the room. Back to my body. Back to the slickness coating my thighs. Mon dieu.
Dylan shifted then, his hand moving from the mess he’d made of me, and I turned to watch him bring those same fingers to Sean’s mouth.
Sean’s lips parted without hesitation, and he took all three of them, knuckle-deep, his tongue working around them like he’d been waiting his whole life for the taste.
His eyes never left Dylan’s. And when Dylan pulled his fingers free, Sean’s mouth followed for a second before falling slack, like he’d forgotten how to put on his usual show.
“Good boy.” Dylan’s voice was rough velvet in the dark.
Then Dylan’s hand shot out and closed around Sean’s throat.
It wasn’t cruel. Or hard enough to hurt. It was just enough to hold him in place as Dylan rolled toward him and claimed his mouth in a punishing kiss.
Sean surrendered instantly, his mouth opening for Dylan without resistance, one of his hands clutching at Dylan’s arm.
The kiss was hard and deep and dirty, the kind that was about ownership as much as hunger.
I could hear Sean breathing raggedly. Could feel the heat of both of them pressing in beside me.
I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.
Finally, Dylan pulled back to look him in the eyes. Sean stared, looking a little awestruck and a lot turned-on. When Dylan released his hold on his neck, Sean sank back onto his side of the bed, breathing hard.
Then Dylan turned to me.
He kissed me slow, his tongue still carrying traces of Sean’s mouth and my release. It was obscene. It was perfect. His hand came up to cup the side of my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a way that had nothing to do with sex, and suddenly, I understood that look on Sean’s face.
It was too tender for this man, who held all the control. And I could feel myself slipping, fucking drowning under his attention. It was more than intoxicating. It was my ending already written.
He continued holding me in the dark and kissing me like I was something precious. I continued trying not to fall too far. And despite still trembling from the last orgasm, heat began building in me again.
Our kiss deepened, Dylan’s hands growing restless, and his erection grinding against my thigh.
He broke away in a rush of breath, turning back toward Sean. “On your knees. Now.”
Sean’s breath caught audibly. “Yes, sir.”
He was already moving—the big, arrogant hockey player folding himself down onto all fours in the middle of the hotel bed like it was the most natural thing he’d ever done. His red hair was a wild mess. His shoulders were tight with anticipation. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, already hard.
He lowered his head and waited.
“Look at you.” Dylan reached down and ran his palm over the curve of Sean’s ass, watching him shudder. “So fucking pretty when you’re not running your mouth.”
Sean’s answering groan was quiet. Broken. Nothing like the cocky bastard who’d walked into the hotel room.
I was watching a man come undone in slow motion and I couldn’t have looked away if the room had caught fire.
Dylan’s gaze cut to mine, searching. For what, I didn’t know—not permission, surely. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it. And the smile that split his lips was pure sin.
He didn’t look away from me as he moved in behind Sean, his hand running over his back. “Chantel wants to watch me fuck you.”