![Awakening Her Racy Passion [Racy Nights 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.online/598376/thumbs/152x264/awakening-her-racy-passion-racy-nights-9-siren-publishing-menage-everlasting.jpg)
inevitable. Nothing could stop it, and she didn’t want anything to. She gave herself over to the raging fire of lust that consumed them.
He moved her around until he was lying on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around his muscled thighs and arched her hips, pushing closer to the impressive bulge in his jeans. How long had it been since she’d had sex? She had no clue. She couldn’t think. All she could do was kiss him and hold him, and try to pull him closer still as his mouth moved to her neck.
He planted tiny kisses and bites along her jawline, and then over both breasts through her sweater. “I want to fuck these. I want to suck your nipples and then fuck your tits. I want to fuck every square inch of your body.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She’d let him. She’d let him do anything he wanted. Tears spilled over her lids again as he began to tease her nipples through the cashmere. She wanted him to rip off the damn sweater, and her bra, but he seemed content to torture her instead. “Do it. Fuck me. Fuck me now.”
“Oh God…” Trent moved lower, parting her legs to bury his face in her groin. Even through her jeans she could feel his mouth on her pussy. “You’re so fucking sexy. You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you so badly.” Her orgasm was right there, ready to explode. She was going to come before she even had her clothes off. She was sure of it.
A noise stopped them both. Trent sat back on his heels and glanced toward the stairwell. Ria had to blink a few times before her eyes focused enough to watch a man descend the stairs. Trent took her hand and helped her sit up, but by the time she did, one look at Wyatt’s face told her it hardly mattered. He’d seen enough to know what had just happened.
“Hey,” said Trent. “Ria fell at work tonight. I was there with Maddox and Julie when it happened. I took her to the ER and pushed her through the red tape to get X-rays. Nothing’s broken.”
Wyatt stared at Trent like he’d just told him that Martians had landed on the front lawn. “Okay.”
“And then we talked about Marisol, and what Ria intends to do about that situation.”
Wyatt shifted his gaze toward her for a second, and Ria resisted the urge to reach up and smooth out her hair. She was sure it looked like she’d been rolling around in bed.
“Are we still having dinner later?” His voice was tight, like it had taken effort to ask the question.
“Yes. Of course we are.” Unless you don’t want to .
Wyatt glanced at his twin again. “So now what happens?”
Trent stood up. “Ria is going home to get some sleep, that’s what.”
She took that as her cue. Ria rose, scooped up her coat and put it back on, then grabbed her purse. Both men still eyed each other, Wyatt from the third step down and Trent from the sofa. She wanted to say something—anything—but she had no clue what. Nothing that raced through her mind seemed appropriate or useful.
She didn’t even say goodnight. She merely left. But she sat in her car for several minutes, watching the front of the condo, before she headed home. She wanted to shout her joy from the rooftops, but at the same time she was crying so hard she almost had to pull over.
Could she be any more of a complete fuckup? She’d more than likely just ruined things with Wyatt, and now any chance she might have had with Trent was ruined as well. He and Wyatt would talk, and then both men would decide she was trouble with a capital “T” and they both needed to stay the hell away from her. How could one evening have started out so fucked up, progressed to sheer perfection, and then ended as fucked up as this one had?
By the time she crawled into bed, she’d made three decisions. She was going to fall all over herself apologizing to Wyatt at dinner later, assuming he didn’t cancel their date. She was going to speak to her parents as soon as possible, and she was going to ask Luke and Peppi if she could move in above the bar.
He moved her around until he was lying on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around his muscled thighs and arched her hips, pushing closer to the impressive bulge in his jeans. How long had it been since she’d had sex? She had no clue. She couldn’t think. All she could do was kiss him and hold him, and try to pull him closer still as his mouth moved to her neck.
He planted tiny kisses and bites along her jawline, and then over both breasts through her sweater. “I want to fuck these. I want to suck your nipples and then fuck your tits. I want to fuck every square inch of your body.”
“Yes,” she whispered. She’d let him. She’d let him do anything he wanted. Tears spilled over her lids again as he began to tease her nipples through the cashmere. She wanted him to rip off the damn sweater, and her bra, but he seemed content to torture her instead. “Do it. Fuck me. Fuck me now.”
“Oh God…” Trent moved lower, parting her legs to bury his face in her groin. Even through her jeans she could feel his mouth on her pussy. “You’re so fucking sexy. You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you so badly.” Her orgasm was right there, ready to explode. She was going to come before she even had her clothes off. She was sure of it.
A noise stopped them both. Trent sat back on his heels and glanced toward the stairwell. Ria had to blink a few times before her eyes focused enough to watch a man descend the stairs. Trent took her hand and helped her sit up, but by the time she did, one look at Wyatt’s face told her it hardly mattered. He’d seen enough to know what had just happened.
“Hey,” said Trent. “Ria fell at work tonight. I was there with Maddox and Julie when it happened. I took her to the ER and pushed her through the red tape to get X-rays. Nothing’s broken.”
Wyatt stared at Trent like he’d just told him that Martians had landed on the front lawn. “Okay.”
“And then we talked about Marisol, and what Ria intends to do about that situation.”
Wyatt shifted his gaze toward her for a second, and Ria resisted the urge to reach up and smooth out her hair. She was sure it looked like she’d been rolling around in bed.
“Are we still having dinner later?” His voice was tight, like it had taken effort to ask the question.
“Yes. Of course we are.” Unless you don’t want to .
Wyatt glanced at his twin again. “So now what happens?”
Trent stood up. “Ria is going home to get some sleep, that’s what.”
She took that as her cue. Ria rose, scooped up her coat and put it back on, then grabbed her purse. Both men still eyed each other, Wyatt from the third step down and Trent from the sofa. She wanted to say something—anything—but she had no clue what. Nothing that raced through her mind seemed appropriate or useful.
She didn’t even say goodnight. She merely left. But she sat in her car for several minutes, watching the front of the condo, before she headed home. She wanted to shout her joy from the rooftops, but at the same time she was crying so hard she almost had to pull over.
Could she be any more of a complete fuckup? She’d more than likely just ruined things with Wyatt, and now any chance she might have had with Trent was ruined as well. He and Wyatt would talk, and then both men would decide she was trouble with a capital “T” and they both needed to stay the hell away from her. How could one evening have started out so fucked up, progressed to sheer perfection, and then ended as fucked up as this one had?
By the time she crawled into bed, she’d made three decisions. She was going to fall all over herself apologizing to Wyatt at dinner later, assuming he didn’t cancel their date. She was going to speak to her parents as soon as possible, and she was going to ask Luke and Peppi if she could move in above the bar.
Similar Books
