BlowingitOff (4 page)

One more night of being fucked by them both. That’s all she
needed.

One more. Just one more and she was over them.

Bullshit.

Before she could tell the scoffing little voice in her head
to shut the hell up, someone knocked on her door.

Her belly flipped-flopped. Twice, in fact.

Hurrying across the room, she curled her fingers around the
handle of the massive sliding panel door, swallowed once, and pulled it to the
right. Opening her home to Damon and William.

Except it wasn’t.

Harvey Kilgour smiled at her, a nervous, sheepish smile, his
firefighter’s uniform replaced with crisp, unfaded blue jeans and a T-shirt
that said “Han Shot First”. He dipped his head a little, looking for all the
world like an oversized, slightly balding eight-year-old. “I’ve been worried
about you, Phoebe.”

She blinked, her heart still thumping with excited nerves
over who she’d anticipating seeing on her threshold. “Err…”

“I wanted to ask if you’d like me to take you to lunch,” he
hurried on, cheeks pink, his gaze once again fighting to stay on her face. “I
know you must be upset about the fire, but you have to keep your energy levels
up when in times of stress and the Cressida’s Riverview Café gives me free
garlic bread for being a firefighter.”

Phoebe blinked again, her fingers still gripping the door
handle. “I—”

“And after lunch, I can come back to your studio and look
around,” Harvey continued, the words almost falling over each other, “to see if
I can find what caused the fire. Maybe help you with the cleanup. Two hands are
better than one, they always say, and if I stay through to dinner we could
order in Chinese and then finish cleaning after we’ve—”

“It’s okay, Harvey,” she blurted, a prickling heat climbing
up the back of her neck. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Besides, we probably
shouldn’t do anything to my studio until Will and Damon…until the arson
officers are finished investigating.”

A scowl flickered over Harvey’s face, there and gone in less
than a heartbeat. He fidgeted, his knuckles white as he shoved his fists into
his jeans pockets. Phoebe bit back a sigh. She felt bad always saying no to
him, she really did. He was sweet and genuinely nervous. It mustn’t have been
easy, plucking up the courage to put himself out there considering all the
times she’d refused him, but she couldn’t say yes. It would be unfair.
Especially when she’d just decided to sleep with—

Damon appeared behind Harvey, Will joining him, both men
dwarfing the Morpeth firefighter, both regarding her with unreadable, ambiguous
expressions.

Phoebe’s pulse tried to thump its way out of her neck. Her
heart tried to beat it by smashing up into her throat. She parted her lips, and
then caught her bottom one with her teeth.

Harvey frowned. “Phoebe?” He took a step toward her, his
fingers brushing her wrist. “Are you okay? Do you want to lie down? Where’s
your bed? Let me walk you to it and—”

“I think Phoebe needs some comfort from an old friend,”
Damon stated. His voice was low and laced with mirth. Or anger. She couldn’t
tell. Either way, it made Harvey jump, his whole body flinching as he jerked
around to stare up at them.

“Or two,” Will finished, giving the shorter man a steady
gaze.

It was Harvey’s turn to “err”. The sound left him like a
rattling buzz saw, his cheeks growing redder by the second.

“Harvey.” Phoebe placed her hand on his arm, feeling his
nervous pain. The way her own nerves were running amuck at the sight of the two
men, she understood completely how Harvey felt. Of course, Harvey’s nerves most
likely had little to do with the constant, impatient longing twitching between
his thighs. At least, she assumed it didn’t. “This is Damon Hunt and William
Bradley, the arson investigators from Newcastle.”

For a split second, Phoebe thought Harvey was going to
launch himself at Damon and Will and tear them limb from limb. His nostrils
flared, his jaw bunched and she could have sworn she heard a low growl rumble
deep in his chest.

And then he was ducking his head and shuffling backward,
eyes jumping around their sockets like agitated insects, looking everywhere but
at her and Damon and Will. “Sorry,” he mumbled, face now almost a brilliant
shade of vermillion. “I have…” His gaze flicked to hers for a beat. “I have
stuff…work to do.”

Without another word, shoulders hunched, face glowing, he
fled. There was no other word to describe the way he moved away from Phoebe’s
door and the two men standing in it.

“Who’s Harvey?”

Phoebe scowled at Damon. “The guy you just scared the crap
out of.”

Damon’s eyebrows shot up. “What did we do?”

She opened her mouth. And closed it again. What
did
they do to make Harvey bolt? “You didn’t have to…to…” She pulled a face. “Be so
tall.”

Will burst out laughing. “True. How dare you be taller than
Harvey, boss.”

Damon grinned. “It’s what I get for eating all my Wheaties
as a kid, Tiny.”

Phoebe’s heart thumped hard, just to remind her how much she
enjoyed their banter, and how much she missed it. “Oh shut up, you two.”

Both men turned their grins on her, Damon stepping closer to
lean his elbow on the metal doorway. “It’s not our fault, Phoebe. After not
seeing you for six months, do you really think we’re going to stand by and let
another man attempt to take you out?”

Phoebe’s pulse skyrocketed into rabid flight at Damon’s
question. Or maybe it was at the blazing, unquestionable hunger in his eyes. Or
the way he leaned closer to her, his warmth licking at her body, his stare
holding her prisoner. Her pussy constricted.

“When what
we
really want to do is take you,” he
continued.

She licked her lips. “Where?”

Moving with fluid grace, Will slid around her body, his
hands smoothing over her belly and down to cup her hips. “Right here,” he
murmured, his lips brushing her temple.

As if that was the signal, Damon destroyed the minute
distance between them. “Right now,” he finished. His hands reached up to frame
her face, his mouth claiming hers with all the forceful dominance she
remembered oh so well.

He drove her back into Will’s hard body, his hands still
holding her face as his tongue plunged into her mouth. Will’s hands dragged up
her body to capture her breasts, pinching her nipples—rock-hard and straining
against her bra and shirt—with gentle pressure.

She moaned into Damon’s mouth, sliding her palms between
their bodies, pushing him.

There was something she needed to say. Something she needed
to tell them both. Wasn’t there?

Damon didn’t budge, his mouth slanting over hers, his tongue
swiping at her lips, her teeth. Taking possession of her tongue with hungry
demand. He pressed his body closer to hers, the rigid length of his erection
trapped in his jeans impossible to miss against her belly. As was Will’s
equally commanding arousal grinding against the cheeks of her butt.

“Jesus, I’ve never forgotten how good this feels,” Will
murmured in her ear, his lips like hot velvet on her flesh. “How good
you
feel, Pheebs.”

Her head swam. The pulsing in her pussy grew faster, a
constricting throb that stole her breath. She moaned into Damon’s kiss again,
snaking her arms up around his neck. The move lifted her breasts to his chest,
her nipples scraping at its hard plane, and shards of intoxicating pleasure
shot through her.
She’d
never forgotten how good this felt either. Both
men pleasuring her—kissing her, holding her, treating her like she was their
sole reason for existing as they brought her to climax after climax after
climax…

“Remember how good this felt?” Will whispered, his palms
smoothing up her rib cage, between her and Damon’s torsos to capture her
breasts. His fingers splayed over them, framing her nipples through the
material of her shirt in a teasing caress.

She did. She’d relived it over and over again, every time
she lay on her bed. Every time she withdrew her vibrator from its case, she fed
her tormented arousal with the memory of Will and Damon making love to her.

God help her, she’d never forget.

Will pinched her nipples between his fingers, squeezing her
breasts with gentle force, his mouth traveling over the column of her neck as
Damon continued to kiss her senseless. A two-fold attack she was defenseless
against.

She whimpered, wriggling her arse harder against Will’s
denim-trapped cock as she wrapped one leg around Damon’s thigh.

“Fuck me, Masters,” Damon groaned against her mouth, his
hands burying in her hair. “I want to be inside you. We
both
want to be
inside you.”

I want you both inside me too. Now.

The words never left her lips. How could they, when Damon
was kissing her again with such savage need?

Will massaged her breasts, his cock—so long and hard despite
the constriction of his jeans—stroking the crevice of her backside. He caught
her earlobe with his teeth, giving the plump little pad of flesh a nip. “Did I
ever tell you how fucking hot I get watching Damon fuck your mouth with his
tongue?”

His question sent a shudder of tension through Phoebe. She
moaned, clinging to Damon as Will dragged one hand down her belly to the
waistline of her jeans. His fingers played with the button there, and she
couldn’t stop her jolting buck when he popped it undone.

Her convulsive move tore Damon’s lips from hers and she
sucked in a breath, and another as his mouth moved to her throat, sucking with
painful force just below her jawline.

Concentrated pleasure speared through her. Sinking into the
junction of her thighs. “Oh…”

Whatever else she was going to say—
yes, yes, please
—was
lost to her as Will pressed a hand to the side of her face, turned her head to
his and took her mouth in a greedy kiss.

His tongue delved past her lips, its action echoed by his
fingers dipping beneath her now open fly—
God, when did that happen?
—to
delve between her pussy’s folds.

Damon’s hands worked their way to her arse, cupping and
squeezing each cheek through her jeans for a punishing moment before snaring
the back of her raised leg and yanking it higher. Her sex spread wider and
Will’s fingers plunged deeper, wriggling inside her with a mastery that made
her whimper into his mouth.

“Tell me how wet she is, Will.”

Phoebe’s heart thumped faster at Damon’s groaned order. And
faster still when Will broke their kiss and raised his face to his friends.

“Wet and tight and hot, Stretch. So wet a man would drown in
her pleasure.”

“I want to be that man.” Damon’s lips roamed her throat. “I
want to sink to my knees and bury my face in her cunt and let her cream flow
down my throat.”

“Do it.” The command left Phoebe on a ragged breath. She
arched her body, driving her pussy harder against Will’s wriggling fingers,
toward Damon’s insistent erection. “Do it now. I can’t wait.”

Damon’s low chuckle vibrated against the side of her neck.
“Perhaps we should close the door first?”

The question made Phoebe start and, for the first time since
Damon’s lips crushed hers, she remembered where they were—standing in the open
doorway of her converted garage for anyone who walked past to see.

And in a village the size of Morpeth, “anyone”
could
quite literally walk past at any second. Walk past and see her leg wrapped
around one man’s hips with another man’s hand buried between her thighs. Walk
past and see her lips wet from their kisses. Walk past and hear her moans of
desperate need.

“Perhaps,” Will answered, his fingers slipping from her
sodden slit just enough to stroke the swollen nub of her clit before plunging
back inside her. “Unless Pheebs wants to leave it open?”

An exquisite thrill shot through Phoebe at the very notion.
Her sex pulsed, her nipples pinching tight.

“Jesus, Stretch,” Will groaned, “the way her cunt just
squeezed my fingers, I think she does.”

“N-no…” She shook her head, her lips parting. She did. A
part of her did. So much. A wanton part of her wanted just that. The idea of
being caught as Damon and William pleasured her was so freaking arousing she
felt giddy and weak from it. But this was Morpeth, population eight hundred and
ninety-one. Her home and place of employment. When Damon and Will went back to
Newcastle—as they would—she would still be here.

When they go back? But you don’t want them to go back.

The thought squirmed in her chest, cold and unsettling.

“No,” she said again, more firm this time. “Not in the doorway.”
She pushed at Damon’s chest, really pushed at it, detangling herself from their
arms. Will’s fingers slipped from her pussy, dragging over her clit as she
pulled away from them. The contact sent a shudder through her and she bit back
a cry—of dismay and pleasure.

“Listen,” she began, taking a step backward from the door,
away from them both. “There’s something we need to get clear.”

Damon threw Will a quick look, both men standing motionless
in the gaping entry. “What’s that, Masters?”

She swallowed at the tone of his voice. She’d heard it
before. If a tiger about to go for the kill could form human speech, that’s
what Damon would sound like. Menacing arrogance and confident determination.

Phoebe licked her lips, staring first at him and then Will.
Goddamn it, why did they have to look at her with such smoldering intensity?
Why did they have to be so bloody gorgeous? So freaking…sexy?

Will cocked an eyebrow, crossing his arms, the fingers oh so
recently deep within her pussy glistening with her juices. “Pheebs?”

She straightened her shoulders. Licked her lips again. “Just
sex. Just once. And after that, you’re both out of my life. Understood?”