Convict: A Bad Boy Romance (64 page)

Then he nudged his new wedding ring with his thumb one more time, a habit he’d already acquired.

Kirsten was breathing hard, fumbling with Houston’s Cascadia belt buckle, her hair wild and tangled with the bridal veil she still wore.

“How do you undo this thing?” she finally asked, exasperated.

“Here,” said Jack, and he slid over, grabbing the belt buckle. Before he undid it he pulled on Houston’s belt, the familiar sensation of his erection in his pants throbbing against Jack’s fingers, and covered Houston’s mouth with his own, pressing against his mate hard, almost savagely.

Now
was when he let his wolf take over as much as he could without shifting and he growled, biting Houston’s lower lip, feeling Houston’s fingers dig into his side, maybe hard enough to leave bruises. He let the other man go, his fingers deftly undoing the offending belt buckle, then the belt.

Now Kirsten’s hands were on his, unbuttoning and unzipping Houston’s pants and Jack’s hand reached inside for his smooth, rock-hard erection, freeing it with a gasp from Houston.

Kirsten slid forward, and then all that separated the three of them was the thin material of her underwear. One hand on Houston’s shaft, Jack moved his other hand up Kirsten’s thigh and grabbed her panties by the hip pulling as hard as he could.

“Ow!” she said, laughing. The fabric against his hand and against Houston’s cock was damp, and all Jack could think about was how she
smelled
, how he wanted to take her and claim her as his, claim
both
of them.

He tugged again. No dice. The underwear stayed on.

“What are these made of, chainmail?” he grunted.

“I forgot to tell you, I’ve got a chastity belt,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Not funny,” said Jack, pulling her forward and kissing her hard, his tongue snaking into her mouth. She moaned again and moved her hips, rubbing herself along his hand and Houston’s erection. Jack was
throbbing
with desire, like he might burst at any moment.

“Kiss him again,” Kirsten commanded when she pulled back from him.

“Bossy,” said Jack, grinning. “You like watching?”

“Hell yes I do,” said Kirsten.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned into Houston, pumping his hand up and down on his mate’s shaft, making
both
of them moan as his knuckles grazed Kirsten. Then Houston’s hand was on Jack’s jeans, rubbing the bulge beneath them, so Jack lifted his hips toward Houston. The angle of the seat made it a little awkward, but he positioned himself so the other man had better access.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the window, and the three of them jumped in unison. Kirsten hit her head on the ceiling, then yelped, then half-rotated, half-fell onto the back seat, frantically tugging her skirt down as Houston stuffed his cock back into his pants, zipping and buttoning.

Then, after checking that everyone was decent, Jack opened the door.

The driver looked just as bored, and pointed toward the revolving door.

“We’ve arrived,” he said.

“Thanks,” gasped Jack. He tried to get out of the car, failed, regrouped, and then succeeded at last. He nodded once at the driver, trying to act cool, but failing.

Kirsten was a bright, deep shade of red, and couldn’t even make eye contact with the guy as she got out, followed by Houston.

K
irsten didn’t think
she’d ever be able to describe how it felt, watching her husbands kiss. Even thinking that word in the plural — husbands — was strange and new, but watching them together awakened something deep, deep inside. Something she’d never even known was
there
.

And it was
hungry
.

Then the driver knocked on the window, announcing their arrival at the Mandalay Bay, and Kirsten could only pray that the windows were tinted enough.

He probably sees people fuck in there all the time, right?
she thought, but she still couldn’t look him in the eye as she got out, still pulling her skirt down, before someone shouted at them.

Oh god not them please not them I can’t talk to them right now
, she thought. Tomorrow, yes, but right now, she was
busy
.

She turned, her stomach flipping over, but it was just a group of girls, one of them wearing a white sash and a tiara.

“Did you guys just get married?” one of them asked.

Kirsten grinned.

“Yeah!” she shouted.

The group of girls cheered, clapped, and laughed, then Houston grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

One of the girls gasped, and another whistled, and for a moment Kirsten was bursting with pride about her new husbands.

Then she turned and followed them into the hotel to raucous applause, cheering, and whistling.

* * *

K
irsten thought
the elevator might never come. She clasped her hands together in front of her, absolutely certain that she’d do something inappropriate if she didn’t hold them still where she could see them. Behind her, Jack took her by the shoulders and then rested his chin on the top of her head. She could see his wedding ring shining on his hand.

Holy shit
, she thought, looking at her own.
Holy shit holy shit holy shit
.

Then it occurred to her: she still hadn’t told them about the divorce.

Tomorrow
, she promised herself, and the elevator doors opened onto the longest fourteen-floor ride of her life before they walked down a hallway directly behind an elderly couple.

They rounded a corner into an alcove and Houston stepped forward, room key in hand, and Jack grabbed both her hands in one of his, raising them over her head and pressing her into the wall. He kissed her hard and ran his hand up her thigh, his thumb almost at the juncture of her hip when she heard the bolt slide back and the door to the room opened.

Jack picked her up and carried her in, moving past the first room, filled with chairs and fireplace, and heading straight for the bedroom. Houston flipped a few switches here and there, frowning in the dark, and then a fire suddenly lit in front of the massive California King bed and the curtains parted, revealing an incredible view of the Strip.

“This room must have cost a fortune,” Kirsten said, wonder in her voice.

“Annual splurge,” said Jack, and then Houston came over to him, grabbing him from behind. He kissed his mate’s neck somewhere between roughly and tenderly, his hands working their way down the line of buttons.

Kirsten scooted forward on the bed, pressing her fingers to the long, ugly scar as Houston yanked off Jack’s shirt, then kissing it, starting at the top and tracing the whole thing with her tongue, ending at his hipbone, just above the waist of his pants, where Houston was unbuckling his belt without even looking.

Their mouth worked together, a low groan coming from one of them, and then Houston’s hands were in Jack’s pants, pulling out a thick, long erection and stroking it.

Kirsten couldn’t tear her eyes away and she stood, putting one hand on Jack’s cock above Houston’s.

“Fuck yes,” Jack whispered, taking her in his arms and pressing her against him, then unzipping the back of her dress and pushing it off of her, letting it fall on the floor in a silver pile. Both her nipples were hard against the thin material of her bra, and Houston flicked a thumb over one before Jack got that off, too, and suddenly Kirsten was standing there in a black thong, white veil, and white garter.

Jack growled and stepped forward, but Kirsten held up a hand, and he stopped short.

“Wait,” she said, the alcohol and the dark and the sheer, wild
desire
she felt making her brave. “I don’t want to be the only naked one here.”

Jack had his pants off in half a second flat, then turned to Houston, practically ripping the other man’s shirt off. He put his hands around Houston’s belt and then ground their hips together, Houston’s arm flexing and bulging as he grabbed Jack’s head pressing their faces together, Jack’s long, hard, muscled frame against Houston’s partly-clothed one.

Houston’s jeans came off and before Kirsten knew it, he’d grabbed her knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed, fingers under the white garter.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, grinning.

“From the wedding, of course,” Kirsten said. She licked her lips, her mouth dry.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t ask.”

He snapped it against her, playfully, just enough for it to barely sting, the sensation rocketing through her whole body.

“I like it,” he murmured. “Leave it on.”

Then he grabbed her thong and pulled it off her and pushed her further onto the bed. Jack was getting something from a drawer, then deposited something on the nightstand. He rolled onto the bed behind Kirsten, pressing his length against her lower back and pinching a nipple between two fingers, making her gasp.

Kirsten’s brain felt fuzzy, between the drinks and the overwhelming desire, but she grasped both their cocks at once, one in each hand, and squeezed just hard enough to hear them both grunt, She pressed herself into Jack’s hands, his fingers twisting and pinching her nipples harder, making her pant with need.

Jack’s cock brushed the space between her thighs, and then she let it bump against her slit, biting her lip as she arched her back.

Just put it in
, she thought.

She’d never wanted anything so badly, but then there was Houston’s cock as well, nudging at her from the front.

I wish I could take both at once
, she thought.
Maybe someday
.

She rubbed Jack’s cock against her slit harder, letting the tip spread her lips apart, and she moved her hips back, ready for him, but he rolled away at the last second, reaching for the nightstand, so instead she put one leg over Houston and rubbed his length against herself, letting him kiss her deeply.

Jack was behind her again, and Kirsten looked over her shoulder, questioningly.

“Condom,” he said, and bit the back of her neck gently, and Kirsten arched her back.

Jack entered slowly, almost teasingly, and no matter what Kirsten did, he moved at his own pace, taking her millimeter by millimeter as she kissed his mate, her hand still on Houston’s cock.

“Fuck, this feels good,” she told Houston, feeling Jack sink deeper and deeper, hitting every last pleasure zone inside her channel.

“I know,” Houston said.

Kirsten’s eyes opened again, and she looked into Houston’s steel gray gaze.

“You two fuck, right?” she asked, totally unable to think of another word for it.

Make love?
No, that was cheesy, something out of an 80’s ballad.

“All the time,” Houston said.

Jack thrust in further and further, until she could feel his hips against her ass and he grabbed her hips, then
pushed
, ever so slightly.

“Oh god,” Kirsten moaned, and Houston traced the outline of her lip with his thumb.

“Who fucks who?” she whispered as Jack thrust again, almost as slowly as the first time, his fingers so tight on her hip that she was certain he’d leave bruises.

“Sometimes I fuck him, sometimes he fucks me,” Houston said, and Kirsten sucked his thumb into her mouth. She had no idea whether it was sexy or not, but she wanted him in her too, even in some small way — and the look in those gray eyes said he was enjoying it.

“Like this, sometimes,” Houston went on, his voice rumbling through the bed. “Real slow, sometimes right up to the edge.”

“He likes to make me beg him to cum,” Jack said.

Houston grinned.

“You wouldn’t believe how sexy it is,” Houston said. He took his thumb out of her mouth and rubbed it over her hard, pebbled nipple.

“Yes I would,” Kirsten said, feeling Jack slide all the way in again, her eyes drifting shut. “
Fuck,
” she whispered.

“Houston likes it best kind of rough,” Jack said, panting behind her.

Kirsten was utterly filled with him, right on the brink, and thought that she might cum from his voice alone.

“He wants me to hold him down, one arm behind his back. On the floor, the kitchen counter. Outdoors. Anywhere we might get caught.”

He slid in again, and this time Kirsten could only moan, white sparkles in front of her eyes. Before she knew what was happening, she could feel Houston’s lips on her chest, then her belly, her bellybutton, and then her leg was over his shoulder, his head between her thighs, his tongue circling her clit.

Kirsten grabbed at the bedspread, clenching it so hard that she thought she might rip it.

“Keep going,” she told Jack.

With a grunt, he thrust harder, sending a shower of sparks through her body just as Houston’s tongue flicked across her.

Kirsten nearly screamed, a long animal noise leaving her, a noise she’d never, ever made before.

“God, that was sexy,” he growled. “Do you know how sexy you are?”

She just moaned again, feeling him fill her, her mind nearly shutting down with pleasure.

“The second I saw you, I thought,
that’s her
,” Jack whispered. “It was over. I was done.”

He thrust again, harder and harder, and Houston’s tongue flattened against her, and Kirsten moaned, the noise coming out as a long stream of nonsense syllables.

“I want to feel you cum around me,” he whispered into her ear, and that was all it took.

Kirsten felt like something inside her burst, shattered, and this time she
did
scream, an utterly primal noise as her sense of self, of reality, all washed away as she came so hard she thought she might black out.

When it was over, Houston sat up on one elbow, coming back to face level with Kirsten, but watching both of them.

“That felt so good,” Jack whispered to both of them. Kristen could feel his lips on the back of her neck, and then he pressed his face against her, Houston’s eyes going wide.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jack murmured. “Jesus, Kirsten, you feel so good I—”

His words cut off, and he growled against her neck. Inside her, Kirsten could feel his cock spasm for a long, long time, and she could see the fascinated look on Houston’s face, only inches from her own as Jack slowed gradually, his torso heaving against her back, until he finally slid out, still holding tight to her.

“You like watching us,” Kirsten said to Houston, still on her side. She glanced down at his long, thick cock, still proud and upright.

“How could I not?” he asked, grinning, pressing himself against her. “Have you seen how hot it is when you two fuck?”

Kirsten took his cock in her hand, getting a low rumble from Houston’s chest in response.

“Next time get a room with a mirror,” she said. “That way you can watch the whole thing.”

Next time
, she thought to herself.

Jack grabbed her shoulder and pushed Kirsten onto her back, making her yelp with surprise, and Houston quickly rolled on top of her, bringing her legs onto either side of his thick, muscled torso. She still had one hand around Houston’s cock, and now she squeezed, just hard enough.

He chuckled, then grabbed her wrist, moving it away from him and pinning it down with his hand, and then he lifted her knee over his shoulder, extending her leg out.

“You flexible?” he asked, tracing his fingers down the back of her leg.

“Hardly,” said Kirsten. Now his cock was against the crease where her thigh met her hip, and she was panting again.

“I told you, he likes it when you beg,” said Jack, on his side next to her, as Houston got to his knees, Kirsten’s legs over his shoulders. “Want to hear a story?”

Jack put his mouth over one of her nipples and ran his tongue along it, biting gently, making her gasp.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“We met at a bar,” he started. “I’d just gotten off my shift, walked in, and there’s this man I’d never seen before, drinking a beer.”

Kirsten’s eyes were wide, and one of her hands drifted to her own nipple, pinching it slowly, biting her lip. She looked down at Houston, at his perfect body and handsome face, right there between her legs.

“Then what?” she whispered.

“I got myself a beer and walked over and said hello,” Jack said. He moved his hand to Kirsten’s slit, rubbing her until she groaned softly, raising her hips. “We were younger and a little less patient.”

“It took ten minutes,” Houston said. “There was some small talk, about jobs or something. I don’t think we exchanged names, and then Jack whispers in my ear the men’s room has a door that locks, bites my earlobe, and walks off.”