CHAPTER 12
Marina
The three of them stood in the living room, and no one spoke. Marina could feel Ryan’s uncertainty like something physical in the air between them. How would they figure it out?
Ryan's eyes moved between her and Kat, his face doing that thing where it tried not to show what he was feeling but showed everything anyway.
Marina searched quietly for something to say.
A suggestion. But she had no idea how this would work.
She'd never done anything like it before.
Just minutes earlier, she'd thought the whole idea was insane.
Upstairs, she'd admitted there was a chance Ryan might choose both of them, but she'd never believed the chance was very good.
She still had trouble believing it had actually happened.
Unable to think of anything else to say, her eyes drifted to Ryan's hands instead.
They were good hands. Strong, calloused hands that didn't belong in an office building. She'd noticed them the first time they'd met, long before anything had happened between them. The kind of hands that knew work.
Katrina broke the silence. She always did. “We should start with you two finishing what you started earlier.”
Marina’s stomach dropped. They’d been kissing in the kitchen, just quick and tentative, before Kat had walked in and everything had stopped. The memory of Ryan’s mouth on hers was still there, warm and present.
Ryan nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
Marina shook her head. “I can’t.” The word came out smaller than she wanted it to.
She felt self-conscious in a way that made no sense.
They’d all agreed to this, or at least they were trying to agree.
But standing here with both of them looking at her, it was too much.
She felt exposed, and not in the good way.
“You have to try,” Kat said. She was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that half-smile on her face that meant she wouldn’t let this go. “Come on, Ryan. Do something.”
Ryan looked weird about it too. Marina could tell.
His shoulders were tight, and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
But she could also see the way his eyes darkened when he looked at her, the way his breath caught.
He was turned on. The realization sent a flush through her chest.
He took a deep breath. Stepped closer.
His hands came up to cradle her face. His palms were warm against her cheeks, his thumbs resting just below her jaw. She didn’t object. She couldn’t. But her heart was hammering so hard she was sure he could feel it.
He was leaning in. Just then, her eyes caught sight of Skylla. The dog was sitting by the couch, ears perked, watching them with the focused intensity of a dog who’d decided Ryan was either a threat or a very interesting puzzle.
His lips touched hers, but she pulled back, laughing. “Skylla looks like she’s going to attack you.”
Katrina rolled her eyes. “I’ll take her. You two better figure out how to get in the mood while I’m gone.” She whistled, low and sharp. “Skylla. Come.”
The German Shepherd trotted over, and Kat led her down the hallway toward her bedroom. The door clicked shut behind them.
Marina felt the tension leave her body all at once.
Her shoulders dropped. Her breathing eased.
She hadn’t realized how much Kat’s presence had been affecting her until it was gone.
Not because she didn’t want her sister there – she did, that was the whole point of this – but because having both of them watching had made her feel like she was performing.
And Marina didn’t want to perform. She just wanted to be herself.
She looked at Ryan. His eyes were still fixed on hers. She realized then how much she had wanted that kiss.
Without another word, she slipped both arms around his neck and leaned in.
Their lips touched, and she shivered. So did he.
A full-body thing that she felt through his chest pressed against hers.
His mouth was warm, slightly chapped, and he tasted like the wine he’d been drinking earlier.
She opened for him and his tongue slid against hers, and the sound that came out of her was somewhere between a sigh and a moan.
His hands found her ass, stroking over the cotton of her yoga pants.
The pressure was firm, possessive in a way that made her knees weak.
Then his hand was under her shirt, palm flat against the skin of her lower back, fingers splaying upward along her spine.
The calluses on his fingertips caught against her skin.
She ground against him and felt how hard he was, the length of him pressing against her stomach through his jeans, and the groan that came out of him was deep and hungry.
He guided her backward until her legs hit the couch, and she sat. She unbuttoned her shirt, and Ryan’s eyes dropped to her breasts. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at her was enough.
He knelt on the floor between her legs and helped her shimmy out of her pants. They caught at her ankles and she kicked them off. Now she was just in her underwear, the matching lace panties, and Ryan was on his knees in front of her with his hands on her thighs.
He kissed her again. His mouth was urgent now, less careful. One of his hands slid up her inner thigh, fingers tracing the edge of her panties where they were already damp.
She moaned into his mouth. His finger slipped underneath the fabric, and the touch was so direct, so exactly where she needed it, that her hips jerked forward. She gasped.
He didn’t break the kiss. His finger found her folds, wet and slick, and circled once, twice, gathering her arousal before sliding through her. The sensation was electric. She arched against his hand.
He pulled back from the kiss, his breath coming hard. “Let me see you,” he said in a rough voice.
She nodded.
He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and drew them down her legs. She lifted her hips to help. The air was cool against her exposed skin. Ryan spread her legs wider, his hands firm on her thighs.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. And then he was there, his mouth on her, and the first broad stroke of his tongue made her gasp.
He licked through her folds, slow and deliberate, and then his tongue found her clit and circled it.
The pressure was perfect. She threw her head back against the couch, one hand gripping the cushion beside her, the other finding his hair.
His hair was soft, softer than she’d expected, and she held on as his tongue worked her.
He was good at this. He kept a steady rhythm, alternating between broad, flat strokes and focused circles that made her thighs tremble. She could feel herself getting wetter, could hear the soft sounds his mouth made against her, and the heat building low in her belly was urgent and insistent.
She was gasping and writhing. She couldn’t help it. Her hips moved against his mouth, seeking more pressure, more friction, and he gave it to her. His hands held her thighs open, thumbs pressing into the soft skin, and his tongue didn’t stop.
Behind them, she heard a moan.
Ryan glanced back over his shoulder and she looked up.
Kat was leaning against the wall. She’d changed into a tank top and shorts, and one of her hands was cupping her breast through the fabric, her thumb visible where it rubbed over her nipple. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted.
“This is beautiful,” Kat said. Her voice was rough. “You’re making me very fucking horny.”
The words went straight through Marina. She moaned, louder than before, and her body tensed. “Ryan. Please make me come. Please.”
Ryan pressed his thumb against her clit, firm and steady, and his tongue went back to work. The combination was too much. The orgasm built fast, a tightening coil that unraveled all at once.
She came with a cry that sounded raw even to her own ears, her back arching off the couch, her hand clenching in Ryan’s hair.
Pleasure rolled through her in waves, each one making her shudder, and Ryan didn’t stop, his tongue gentle now, drawing it out until she had to push at his shoulders because it was too sensitive.
She was still breathing hard when Kat sat down next to her on the couch. Their shoulders touched. Kat’s skin was warm.
“My turn,” Kat said.
Ryan stood up. His lips were wet, his chin glistening. He kissed Kat, and Marina watched her sister melt into it, one hand coming up to grip Ryan’s shirt. Kat shimmied out of her shorts while Ryan’s mouth was on hers, and then she was in just her underwear, and Ryan’s hand was between her legs.
He cupped her through the fabric first, his palm pressing, and Kat made a sound that was half laugh, half moan. “Tease,” she said against his mouth.
He stroked her with his fingers, tracing the shape of her through the damp cotton, and then he pulled the fabric aside and his fingers were on her bare skin. Marina could see how wet she was, glistening in the low light, and Ryan’s finger slid through her folds before pushing inside.
“Fuck,” Kat hissed. She started to ride his finger, her hips moving in sharp, deliberate thrusts.
Ryan leaned down and his mouth found her clit, his tongue replacing his thumb, and Kat’s hand shot to his hair and held on tight.
She was loud. She always was. Her moans filled the room, punctuated by curses and pleas, and her body moved with the same fearless energy she brought to everything.
Marina’s hand found its way between her own legs.
She was still sensitive from her orgasm, almost too sensitive, but the sight of Ryan between her sister’s thighs, the sounds Kat was making, the way Ryan’s shoulders moved as he worked – it was doing something to her.
Her fingers circled her clit, gentle at first, then firmer as the heat built again.
“I’m close,” Kat gasped. Her hips were stuttering, losing their rhythm. “I’m so close.”
“Me too,” Marina said. She hadn’t expected to be ready again so soon, but her body had other ideas. Her fingers moved faster.
Ryan kept his pace steady. He was watching Marina, his eyes finding hers over Kat’s trembling thigh, and something passed between them – understanding, maybe, or just pure want – and then he sped up, his tongue flat and firm against Kat’s clit, his finger curling inside her.
Kat came first, her whole body going rigid, a cry tearing out of her that sounded almost pained.
A heartbeat later, Marina followed. Her second orgasm was different from the first – deeper, less sharp, a slow unfurling that made her toes curl and her breath catch.
She held onto it, riding it out, her fingers still moving through the aftershocks.
They collapsed into the couch together, Kat half-sprawled across Marina’s lap, Ryan kneeling on the floor between them with his forehead resting against Kat’s knee. The room was quiet except for their breathing. Marina’s heart was still racing. She could feel the sweat cooling on her skin.
No one spoke. They didn’t need to. The three of them sat there in the aftermath, tangled together in the dim light, and for the first time all night, Marina felt like they might actually figure it out.