Chapter 22
Okee
The cabin gives a long, low creak as a gust strikes it, and somewhere outside a branch snaps, sharp as a rifle shot.
Boone stirs, sitting up with a grunt and reaching for the basin near the hearth, where the water has gone lukewarm despite the fire.
He is bare but for the blanket pooled loose around his hips, his shoulder bound in linen gone soft from wear.
Without a word he wets the rag, wrings it out with one strong hand, and turns to me. His gaze drops straight to my spent cock, still half hard and glistening with the mess we made of each other.
He starts there.
Rough fingers wrap loosely around the base of my shaft, holding me steady while he brings the warm cloth to my skin. He cleans me with slow, deliberate strokes. There is no ceremony to it, only habit and tenderness. The water smells faintly of soap.
Only when I am clean does he turn the cloth on himself, wiping his spend from his middle with a muttered curse for the pull in his wounded shoulder.
Lula shifts in the firelight. It catches a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” she says, wiping her face. “It’s nothing.”
But it’s not nothing. I look at her—at the soft line of her mouth, the loosened curl of her hand near her cheek, and a troubling, tender pull draws me toward her. “Did we upset you?” I ask.
Boone simply leans forward and holds out his hand. No words are exchanged, but after a brief pause she takes it, and he pulls her gently toward us.
She comes uncertainly, as if she expects one of us to change our mind before she settles in, but eventually she rests, nestled against Boone’s chest.
“Don’t get quiet on us,” he says.
She glances from him to me, then toward the fire. “I don’t know what the matter with me is.” Her eyes brim with tears. “I’m sorry. My tears are silly. Please don’t concern yourself with me.”
“Hey,” Boone soothes. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
Lula’s mouth trembles. She looks at me instead of Boone, as if I might be the one to decipher it all.
“I feel—” She breaks off, swallowing hard. “It’s silly.”
“What?”
“I-I don’t know what to do with any of this.”
I draw her closer, inviting her to climb between Boone and I.
Her hand finds my forearm under the blanket, fingers curling there. She peeks underneath for the briefest moment, finding me bare. Her lashes flutter, and a soft, surprised sound escapes her before she settles.
“It’s all right,” Boone offers gently.
On her other side, I feel him shift closer, his knee bumping hers, then mine. He tucks the edge of the blanket tighter around us, his hand resting lightly on her hip for a second before he lets it slide down to the blankets.
Underneath, her fingers tap an idle rhythm on my arm, then slip away, skimming across her middle until they find Boone's hand, their interwoven fingers pressing against my hip.
She doesn’t look at either of us. Doesn’t say a word about it. Just closes her eyes and breathes.
The fire crackles. The wind hums through the trees outside. Boone’s breath comes slow and even.
For a long moment, nobody talks. There’s just the weight of us—my arm around her waist, his hand wrapped in hers, her tucked in snug between us.
Then Boone brushes her hair off her neck and presses a slow, careful kiss there. Watching him do it, catching the affection in it, tugs at my chest. A strange surge of affection for them both.
She relaxes between us, a little shiver running through her. A small sound slips between her lips, half sigh, half laugh, and it goes straight to the root of me.
“You smell good,” he says against her skin, voice husky. A tender voice I recognize. The kind that’s whispered in my ear a moment before we’re on each other.
I feel it in my bones as if it were meant for me, for Lula and me both. We’re close enough now that every little twitch and tremor passes through all three of us.
“She does, doesn’t she?” I add, lowering my head close to his, dragging the tip of my nose against her neck, beneath her ear. I let my breath seep slow, and when she shivers, the charge runs through me too.
“Like flowers,” he says.
“Roses,” I correct, pressing my lips to the last inch of skin where her night dress reveals her shoulder. She goes still in Boone’s arms, not with fear now, but with attention.
I kiss her gently, giving her every chance to pull away. She does not. Her lips are warm and soft, filled with a quiet hunger that makes something deep in me ache. Behind her, Boone lets out the faintest breath, and the sound moves through all three of us like a current.
I kiss her again, slower this time, my hand sliding from her cheek to the side of her neck. She makes that small sound once more, half sigh, half wonder, and I feel Boone’s arm tighten around her middle as though he too can hardly bear the sweetness of it.
She breaks away on a soft gasp, turning her face down into the pillow of blankets, like she’s embarrassed by her own want. Her forehead bumps my jaw. I feel her smile against my throat before she smothers it.
“Okee, you keep kissin’ all over our girl,” Boone murmurs, “I’m gonna start feelin’ left out.”
Lula makes a helpless little sound that might be a laugh. Boone huffs against her neck like he’s smiling too, then lifts his face to find my mouth over her shoulder.
I kiss him back, soft, my nose bumping his. Lula’s hair is caught between us, smelling like smoke and soap and roses. I taste her there as much as him, the three of us all tangled up in one breath.
When we part, he’s close enough I can see every fleck in his eyes, catch the curve of his mouth trying not to smile.
None of us says a word.
She breathes out slow, threading her fingers back through his, tucking their joined hands against her middle, then reaches for mine, drawing my arm snug around her waist again.
“God, you’re pretty,” Boone says, voice rough and low. “That smile of yours lights up the dark like a damn torch.”
“You flatter me,” she whispers.
“I aim to do a sight more than flatter you, wild. Can’t look at you without wanting to crawl under that skirt and put my mouth on you.”
Lula settles into a piercing stare. “What’s stopping you?”
Boone’s grin is sudden, predatory. He leans forward, carefully slips the blanket down to her hips. “Is that a dare?”
Through her slip, I can see the pebbled points of her nipples. Boone’s eyes are dark with hunger as he watches her face, as if waiting for any sign she might change her mind. She doesn’t. Instead, she lifts her chin a fraction, a bold little challenge in her gaze.
His big hand slides down her side, tracing the dip of her waist. When he reaches the hem, he bunches it up gradually. Lula’s breath hitches, but she parts her legs just enough for him, trusting, wanting.
I stay where I am, my arm still wrapped around her middle, feeling every tiny shift in her body, her breathing.
Boone dips his head, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, then lower, until his breath ghosts over one breast. He mouths at the fabric covering her nipple, teasing it until it tightens even more.
Lula arches with a soft whimper, her fingers closing around mine.
When he finally pushes the slip higher, he slides off her drawers and parts her shapely thighs, pale as peach-tinged cream, exposing her fully to the firelight. She’s beautiful. Flushed, already glistening. Boone’s gaze drops there, and he makes a rough sound of appreciation.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So pretty and wet already.”
He settles between her legs, broad shoulders spreading her wider, then parts her with his thumbs. Presenting me her most intimate parts, he breathes an awed, “You ever seen a cunny pretty as this?”
I feel her tremble against me as he kisses the inside of her thigh, working his way up.
When his mouth finally reaches her, he licks a long, slow stripe up her center, then kisses her there, once, before opening her wider.
I tighten my arm around her waist, anchoring her as her hips start to rock gently against his tongue.
“That’s it,” I whisper, my lips finding the shell of her ear. “That feels nice, doesn’t it?”
She relaxes into me with a long moan, her eyes falling shut.
Boone hums against her in agreement, the vibration pulling another gasp from her lips. He works her with steady strokes, licking, sucking gently, then dipping lower to taste more of her. Every sound she makes travels straight through me, my cock aching where it’s pressed against her hip.
He looks up at us through those half-lowered lids, sensual and dark, as he relishes her taste. His lips shine, wet with her. Her head tilts back, eyes shut. “Open your eyes,” I whisper against her ear. “Look at him when he pleases you.”
Lula’s lashes flutter, but she obeys, her gaze dropping to where Boone’s mouth is sealed over her. I comb my fingers through his hair, petting him affectionately as he feasts on our sweet girl.
I kiss her breast through her nightgown, lips brushing over the stiff peak. Tugging down her slip, her breast slips free, pale as milk. I take her into my mouth, teasing her rosy peak with my tongue.
She cries out. The sound goes straight through me, my already rigid cock turning to steel.
In all our years together, Boone and I have never shared a lover, but with Lula now, something hot passes between us, almost holy, as if her very flesh lets us touch through her.
His tongue lashes steady over the swollen peak of her tender flesh, and I lean in closer, taking the sound she makes into my own mouth when she turns back to me.
“That’s it. That’s our girl,” Boone murmurs against her skin. His gaze is dark, pupils blown wide, and for a heartbeat we stare at each other while we satisfy her.
“I’m…” she starts. It’s the only word she manages before her brow furrows and a surprised wail escapes her.
Boone kisses me hard over Lula’s chest—deep, hungry, tasting of her. My hand slides to the back of his neck to hold him there.