No Simple Sacrifice (Secrets of Stone Book 5) (5 page)

“What? Hmmm?”

I shrugged a little, hoping to lighten how his semi-growly and thoroughly protective tone rippled through every part of me
. Wow.
And
damn.
He wielded such thrall over me. They both did.

“I don’t know,” I finally blurted, trying to ease the pressure from his unblinking scrutiny. “Just hmmm.” My other hand, at the back of his neck, tugged on the soft ends of his Tuscan sun hair. “You need a haircut.”

He grunted. “I know. It’s getting crazy. I’m waiting until we get home. I have a girl in Chicago.”

Drake snorted from behind us. “Again about the girl?” he jibed. “Is this the same one who paints your nails?”

“No, ass.” The rumble in Fletch’s chest reverberated through the one breast mashed against him. “You’re such a barbarian. Angelique does my hair, and Crystal does my nails.”

Drake smacked his own forehead. Their bantering interaction had me giggling at once. Sometimes, like now, everything was so easy and fun and carefree with them, a perfect justification of why the equilateral triangle was conceived. Why couldn’t geometry give us forever, as well?

No more time for pondering that answer—not when I was too busy squealing—as Fletcher unceremoniously plopped me down on the enormous bed. Mischief danced in his brilliant blue eyes. I tried to scramble back but he caught my ankle and quickly climbed on top of me.

“What’s so funny, little miss?”

“You.”

“Really?” He stared down while sidling his hips, crushing my body with his.

“Mmmm hmmm.” Attempting to push up into an escape was pointless. He had me pinned. Not that I was particularly complaining—or actually fighting—but the more I “challenged” him, the more alluring his face became. He was really in the mood to play—and when he dug his fingers into my sides in tickling sweeps, I knew I was in trouble.

I screamed. Like that made any difference to the ruthless rogue. With a sultry snarl, he intensified the attack. Soon, between laughing hard and trying to wiggle away, I could barely breathe. Fletcher laughed too—though his mirth was wicked, taunting…one of the sexiest sounds I’d ever heard.

“Uncle!” I gasped it—barely. Dizziness set in from thrashing around.

“What was that?”

“Uncle!” I panted. “I give up! Stop!”

He dipped in a little closer, stare boring into mine, the chiseled angles of his body seeming to hit all the most perfect parts of mine. Half a smile canted his lips before he dictated gruffly, “Say ‘I submit’.”

“Whaaa—
what
?”

“Say it or I’ll keep tickling you.”

“Okay,
okay
! I submit.”

“Perfect.” Drake, the bastard, had been watching the entire time—a fact
I
hadn’t missed. Also not missed: the steady steps that moved him closer to the bed. But while I detected his general movement, I couldn’t discern other details, thanks to the mountain of down pillows into which my head was half sunken. Details like what, exactly, dangled from his hands. I only knew it was white. That narrowed the possibilities down to, ohhh, about a million things.

Finding out should have been a priority—but wasn’t. I lay there, air sawing in and out of my lungs, giggles still breaking loose here and there.

“God, Tolly…you are stunning.” Fletcher’s tone was reverent. All I could do was smile. Well…beam. To have a man gaze at me like that, even with tracks of teary laughter running down my face—
not
as glamorous as it sounded—had to be one of the most incredible feelings in the world. I adored him just a little bit more, if that was even possible.

“She’s about to look even better. Take her clothes off.”

Drake’s commanding tone spurred Fletch into motion. I looked between the two of them as the man peeled my princess party clothes off, setting fire to every inch of my skin with the kisses he bestowed in the wake of his eager but graceful motions. But even through the haze of arousal, I quickly sensed they were up to something.

“Wh-what are you two doing?”

Fletcher set free a low chuckle against my left breast. Drake picked up where he’d left off, continuing the sound in his seductive baritone. “We’re going to blow your mind. Then later, we’re going to have a little talk.”

“Can we just stick to the mind blowing part?” I tried for cheeky.

“How ’bout just the blowing part?” Fletcher added.

Drake answered that with a pointed glance—turning into something with more meaning as Fletcher rolled from me. Meaning that sent quivers down my completely naked body, and turned my breath into pants of heavy anticipation…laced with trepidation. Apparently, play time was over.

“Lift up your ass.” Fletcher issued it while pulling the covers to the foot of the bed, leaving me naked as the day I was born—in the middle of a mattress the size of Rhode Island—open to the gazes of the two most delicious men I’d ever known. They stood on either side of the bed, twilight and midnight in the form of two powerful stares, once more making me shiver all over.

Until I realized what Drake was holding.

“Oh, hell no.” I scrambled toward Fletcher, but it was no use. He climbed back on the bed with lightning speed, back on top again, holding me in place.

“You’re going to love this.” How the hell did he make it a promise and command in one?

“
No
,” I snapped. “I’m not.”

He cocked his head, seeming genuinely confused. “Why?”

“I just—I don’t—just no.”

“
Tolly.
” The muscles in his shoulders stood out as he tightened his grip. “Do you trust us?”

I could only nod. Dammit.

“Do you think either Drake or I would ever hurt you?”

A little more slowly, I shook my head.

“Then relax and let Drake play a little.”

“Play?
That’s
what you’re calling it?”

“Ssshhh.” He dropped a soft kiss to my forehead—before pushing back up.

“Wait!” I gripped the ends of his long fingers.

“What?”

“Where are you going?” I sounded panicked, even to my own ears.
Let Drake play a little.
What did that mean? I couldn’t bear the thought of Fletcher not being here too.

“I’ll be right here, sweetheart. But this is more his thing. I just get to reap the very awesome rewards.” He gave me the full force of a grin so devilish, it should be trademarked. The eyebrow waggle didn’t hurt. “Okay?” He seemed to need my verbal consent.

“What if…I don’t like it?” I chewed my lip while studying Drake, who now wove the white rope in and out of the cut-outs in the headboard. And I’d thought they were just really cool décor accents. I should have known better. My guys were as resourceful as Eagle Scouts—which, I had to admit, was usually a good thing—but still, someone was mighty confident. And smart. Fletcher was top of the game at negotiations, and we all knew it.

Before I could think of another objection, Fletcher held up a pair of odd scissors. “We’re ready to cut you free. Immediately.”

That had me thinking for a second. “Maybe that’s why you chose scissors?”

They both chuckled. At least the levity went over well with
them
. I wasn’t so ready to feel at ease. Doing that would somehow make this more real—as well as the fact that I was going to let it happen. And that I was actually aroused because of it.
What the hell was wrong with me
?

My stomach danced and twirled while Drake moved in without a word—though the new darkness in his eyes spoke volumes to me already. He wrapped the silky rope around my wrists, just tight enough to keep me secured to the headboard, but not tight enough to leave marks. Instinct dictated all of it might feel better if I closed my eyes, but that
so
wasn’t happening. I searched from Drake to Fletcher then back again, receiving waves of warmth and desire from both. I should have been calmed by that, at least a little. Instead, my heart sped up, and my skin prickled. Rationally, I knew they wouldn’t hurt me.
Ir
rationally, I’d watched plenty of episodes of
48 Hours
. Bad things happened to naïve women.

Drake moved to the foot of the bed.

Tied one of my ankles to the bed frame.

My throat tightened. My muscles clenched.

“Wait!” My outcry was strangled. Drake halted, raising his gaze to mine. “Can’t—can’t you just leave the other one free? It will give me some peace of mind.”

His brows furrowed as he contemplated the request. “Okay. But no kicking or it gets tied. Deal?”

“Deal. No kicking. I’ll be good. Promise.”

A thick, almost predatory look prowled across his dark features. I didn’t want to enjoy it…but who was I kidding? My words gave me power over him, just as his ropes gave him power over me.

The men returned to opposite sides of the bed, then began undressing. My head snapped back and forth as if watching a tennis match, trying to take in their progress.

Drake, with his shirt already off, had a distinct advantage. His hands went right for his jeans, dropping them along with his boxers.
Dear God…yes.
I worked my free thigh against my bound one, battling the new ache at my most intimate core. I’d seen them both naked before, but I swore to heaven, the sight was breathtaking every time. His body was chiseled and primed, carved in perfect detail, a classic statue brought to life.

As he approached the bed, he met my fixated stare. I looked from his bobbing cock to his determined face, unwilling to miss a detail of his perfection.

“You are so sexy, Mr. Newland.”

His features deepened with pleasure. “And you are fucking beautiful, little girl—especially when you call me that. Shoots right to my cock.” He emphasized the point by stroking himself while I watched.

“Ohhhh…wow,” I finally got out—and before I could help it, licked my lips. “I—I—really like watching you do that.”

“Do you?”

His sultry drawl brought out similar reflexes. I writhed and arched, very aware of the erect points at the top of my tingling breasts. “Mmmm hmmm.”

“Well, then…maybe I should just stand here and beat off and you can watch. No touching.”

I scowled like he’d just told me chocolate had been outlawed. “I hate that idea. That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

He laughed, but didn’t move. Well, except for the hand that kept stroking his cock. Slower. Tighter. From tip to base with movements that twisted a little, so I could see his forearm muscles bunch and coil.

I gasped as white drops appeared on his taut head. Licked my lips again, craving the tart nectar of them. “Come closer.”

He shook his head, continuing to stroke with those languorous pulls. The whole time, Fletcher stood like a statue on his side of the bed. He was midway through taking his shirt off, so it dangled from his neck with his arms free. His eyes were glued on me, as I watched Drake. Raw lust defined their lush blueness.
Wow
.

“Fletcher?” I begged it and didn’t care. “Come lay with me?
Touch me
.” Surely
one
of them could be convinced to ease my ache.

Drake growled, apparently not liking that idea—especially when Fletcher eagerly moved to oblige me. He gave a slight shake of his head as Fletch pushed a knee to the mattress. “No, man. She can do this. And so can we.” Though the clench of his jaw conveyed otherwise, Fletcher straightened and backed away—even when I groaned in protest.

He unfastened his jeans then swiftly stepped out of them. He mostly went commando in casual clothes—heavens be thanked—so the immediate appearance of his flesh wasn’t a surprise. It was much harder to be blasé about the full glory of his erect length, standing at attention the moment it was freed. Like the rest of his body, his cock was a long, graceful work of living art, springing from a patch of dark gold curls that also supported his engorged balls.

I ached to touch every inch of him but with a gloating smile, he did it for me. I was helpless to do anything but lay and watch as these perfect men surrounded me with their beauty, throbbing cocks in their grips, smiles on their lips.

Now
I closed my eyes. I needed relief from the antagonism.

“Watch us, Talia.” Fletcher’s commanding tone was an equal peer to Drake’s.

“Open your eyes and see what you do to us.”

“Dammit,” I moaned.

“
Do it
,” Fletcher gritted.

My eyes sprung open. My gaze was confronted first by Drake. “Do you know what it’s like, sweet girl, when we’re right here in the same city and can’t see you?”

Fletcher wasn’t any less challenging. “Do you know what it’s like, baby, when we call you and you don’t call us back?”

I stared back at Drake. He slid another slow stroke, dragging my eyes straight toward his erection. My mouth watered to taste him. I barely pulled all the drool back in time.

“Do you know what it’s like when we have to go to a motherfucking princess party perfection torture chamber to collect you?” I looked back up to his eyes. They were raging storms, pulling me out to the sea of his fervent emotions. Desperation, frustration, anger, and need were roiling, colliding depths.

“Uhhh…” I squeaked. “N-no?”

“It’s pure hell,” he rasped. His breath was ragged as more moisture dripped from his tip. He let his head fall back on his shoulders. “It’s pure
hell
without you.” He preached to the ceiling. When he leveled his head again, his eyes were black with desire. Clearly, he needed to be eased. Good thing he had a very willing volunteer.

“
Please
. Come to me. Let me make it up to you.”

“No. Not yet. You feel the need, too. You need to feel it badly. Feel it like we do when you aren’t with us, Natalia.”

My eyes shot wide. My full name. No one ever used it except my mother. Emerging from his chiseled lips, the syllables had a whole new effect. His voice dipped back through the ages, bringing to life all the regal sensuality of my ancestors. There was no more shame in our lust…only the sadness of not acknowledging it in full.

My desire grew to a fiery ball in my core. I needed them as badly as they needed me.

Needed.

Them.

“God!” A high whimper punctuated it. “I want to be with you!
Please
.”