Brooke, Leah - Panthers' Prey [Black Panthers 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (7 page)

She knew her body well and concentrated the strokes where she knew it would give her the most pleasure. Using slow, light strokes didn’t give her the pleasure it normally did, so she pressed harder, touching herself the way she imagined Marc would.

Frustrated that it didn’t feel as good as when Marc used his tongue there, she groaned and redoubled her efforts, fantasizing about the low, throaty groans that seemed to pour out of him whenever he touched her. Lifting her legs higher against the edge of the tub, she rubbed harder, but she couldn’t get what she needed to come.

Her slick fingers moved over her clit easily, the combination of soap and her juices allowing her fingers to slide in a way that in the past had always enabled her to get the relief she needed.

This time, though, her efforts took her closer and closer to the edge, but left her hanging there, unable to go over. She accomplished nothing more than making herself even more aroused.

Biting her lip to hold back her cries of frustration, she brought her other hand to her breast, pinching the nipple hard and tugging it away from her body in the rough touch she liked best. The sharp tug sent a jolt of pleasure to her clit, but it wasn’t enough.

Remembering how Marc’s much gentler touch felt, she eased back and tried to duplicate it, rubbing her fingers in a circular motion over her nipple.

The arousal kept growing, the tension inside her making her toes curl against the slick tub and tightened the muscles in her abdomen until it hurt. Her thighs tightened, and she pushed against the tub, easing back when it hurt her ankle.

Swallowing her cries of frustration, she threw her head back and rubbed her clit harder, so close to coming she could practically taste it. Rubbing so hard that the water in the tub swished back and forth, she opened her eyes and groaned in anguish.

Need still hummed through her, but the orgasm that had been only strokes away had disappeared, and no matter what she did or how hard she caressed her clit, she couldn’t get it back.

“Damn it. Fuck. Come on, Bailey.”

Giving up with her fingers, she used the cloth, hopeful when the sharp tingling started again, but less than a minute later, she found herself in the same boat as before.

So aroused she couldn’t stand it, but unable to come.

It was all Marc’s fault.

He’d gotten her wound up, and it appeared her body demanded that
he
satisfy it.

Like hell.

Furious at herself, him, James, the man from last night, and life in general, Bailey sat up. A leaf in the water caught her attention. She ran a hand through her hair and found another, along with bits of dried mud.

With another glance at the bathroom door, she found herself torn between relief that neither man bothered her while she bathed and outrage that they’d left her like this and hadn’t bothered to come back while she was sitting here naked.

Bastards.

She washed her hair, scrubbing it harder than necessary, and with a bit of effort, rinsed it clean. By the time she’d finished, she’d finally run out of names to call them.

Getting out of the tub required a bit of maneuvering, but she found that by using her good leg, she could lift herself onto the edge of the tub and turn herself around.

Drying herself, she studied her foot, pleased that it didn’t look as bad as she’d feared. She moved it experimentally, relieved to find that she could do so with less pain than before. As long as she babied it for a day or two, she figured it would be okay.

It still hurt to put weight on it, however, which made dressing a little challenging, but she managed it. Staring at herself in the mirror, she froze, her attention going to the rip at the hem of her sweatshirt.

Memories of the night before came rushing back, memories she’d rather forget. She had to call the police and report the man who’d attacked her before he had the chance to do it to someone else.

That bastard. If she’d had her baseball bat when he’d attacked her, he’d be lying in the woods with two broken legs.

Wiping a sweaty palm over her jeans, she hobbled out to the bedroom in search of her sneakers, moving as quietly as she could and listening for any signs of movement coming from the rest of the house.

With lust still humming through her veins and the alarming knowledge of how close she’d come to giving herself to complete strangers, she figured her best course of action would be getting out of here before either one of them came back.

Glancing frequently toward the bedroom door Marc had left open, she made her way around the room, her gaze going often to the bed. Trying not to imagine Marc in there with her, she fought back irrational jealousy at all the women who’d spent the night there in his arms.

What she wouldn’t give to spend one night in the arms of such a strong, self-confident man. She’d bet her new bar he would know his way around a woman’s body, and that he would satisfy her every erotic need.

Five minutes with him had given her more pleasure than any man ever had, but amazingly still left her wanting more.

Damn, men like him didn’t come along very often, confident men who didn’t need to raise their voices or swagger. He had the kind of quiet demeanor that only the strongest men had, men who got all the attention simply by walking into a room.

The kind of man she could fall for, something she sure as hell didn’t need in her life.

Annoyed with herself and her fantasizing, she looked away from the tangled bedcovers and focused on escaping.

Spotting her sneakers in the corner, she hurried over, dropping to the floor beside them to put them on.

She had trouble with the right one, having to loosen the laces quite a bit to get her foot inside. She tied it as tight as she could, hoping the added pressure would give her the support she needed.

With a last glance toward the bed, she stood, fighting back the regret that she wouldn’t have the chance to know what it felt like to be taken by such an intriguing man. Holding her breath, she made her way carefully across the wood floor, praying that none of the boards creaked and gave her away. Careful not to put too much weight on her ankle, she made it to the French doors and reached for the knob.

“Going somewhere?”

Bailey gasped, lifting a hand to her throat as she whirled to face James. Her ankle buckled at the sudden movement, and she would have fallen if she hadn’t caught herself in time.

She snapped at him in a desperate attempt to hide her reaction to the cool strength in his tone. “Is there any reason to sneak up on me like that?”

Meeting two such forceful and self-assured men at any other time would have delighted her. She hadn’t had sex in years, finding it not worth the effort, but something told her men like Marc and James would make a night with them a memorable experience.

Of course she couldn’t have sex with both of them, but damn! She’d bet either one of them would give her a night she’d never forget.

Standing just inside the doorway with his hands on his hips, he narrowed his eyes, giving him a menacing look. His calm, controlled tone, one that she’d love to hear while lying beside him in the middle of the night, sent a shiver through her.

“Well?”

Wondering if she’d had a knock to the head the previous night, she surreptitiously rubbed her thighs together against the ache that grew even stronger. Shrugging, she gave him her most innocent look, one she’d mastered years ago to get out of trouble.

“I was just—”

He started toward her, coming to a stop, his entire body going tense. “Don’t give me that innocent look. Christ, don’t be afraid. I’m having enough trouble dealing with your scent, and that of your arousal, without having fear thrown into the mix.”

Bailey blinked. They both had to be crazy. Nothing else explained why both men seemed obsessed with the way she smelled. She wasn’t afraid—exactly. She just had a healthy respect for both James and Marc and sure as hell had no plans to underestimate them.

Forcing herself not to panic at the leap of desire his presence caused, she started to edge toward the French doors, intent on escaping before things got even more out of hand. Keeping a close eye on him, she backed up against them, reaching behind her for the handle.

“Look, I appreciate everything you and your friend did for me, but I really have to go.”

James shocked her by holding up a hand. “Save it. Shit. Look, I know I’m not making any sense, but I’m not crazy. It’s just that…your scent. We’ll explain everything to you. I promise. You have nothing to fear from us. Let’s just go out to the kitchen. We can eat and talk about this.”

Straightening to her full height, several inches short of his, she lifted her chin.

“I’m not afraid of you, but you and your friend don’t listen when I say I’ve got to go. I need to get my car and call the police.”

A dark brow went up, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, you’re afraid. You don’t want to admit it, but you are. Not a lot, just enough to make the next several minutes very interesting. By the way, do you even know where you are or how to get to town?”

Bailey shrugged, not about to admit that she had no idea. Weighing her chances of making her way through the woods she could see behind the house, her heart raced. She started to slowly turn the knob, inwardly wincing when her hand slipped.

Keeping her movements hidden, she wiped her hand on the back of her jeans and tried again.

“Of course.”

He surprised her by closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, his entire body going tense.

“Amazing. I can even smell when you lie.”

Taking advantage of his inattention, she spun, turned the handle and yanked the door open. At a noise from behind her, one that sounded very much like a growl she shrieked and raced out—falling straight into Marc’s arms.

To her amazement, James somehow moved fast enough to reach her at the same time. Wrapping an arm around her from behind, he pulled her back against him.

“Damn, you’re even softer than I remember.”

Sandwiched between them, Bailey sucked in a breath as the most incredible sensation of comforting warmth washed over her.

Between one breath and the next, she went from panic and anger to the most delicious feeling of being safe and…cherished.

Irresistible.

She had no idea how being in their arms could make her feel so exquisitely feminine and secure, as though nothing in the world could ever hurt her, but it did. Momentarily shaken, she felt herself calm inch by inch as that comforting sensation washed over her again.

She didn’t know them. She didn’t trust them.

She couldn’t deny, though, that at that moment she felt safer than she ever had in her life.

Four hands moved over her, their touch firm yet caressing as they explored her curves, their touch hungry and exploring as though they couldn’t get enough of her.

Lust slammed into her harder than ever. Her head spun, a kaleidoscope of colors swirling behind her eyes. In defense, she held on tighter to Marc’s shoulders, a moan escaping when he cursed softly and his hands clenched on her waist.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he took a deep breath and pulled her closer.

“That scent. The feel of you. Soft and firm. Delicate. You fit so perfectly against me, it’s like you were made for me.”

His low growl seemed to rumble from deep within his chest, the sound vibrating against her nipples and making her slit burn even hotter.

Closing her eyes against the comforting, almost purring sound and the sizzle of heat that danced from her nipples to her slit and back again, she moaned, slumping against him. The feel of James touching his lips to her hair sent another wave of heat through her. She tilted her head, letting it fall to the side, exposing her neck in an attempt to coax him to nuzzle her there.