Seduction (25 page)

‘And it scares you,' Blake growled. Megan closed her eyes so tightly that lights sparkled behind her lids.
He
scared her. Always had, in some deep dark place. And that place, that secret place, longed for him.

Her pulse jumped beneath his caress. Blake trailed a fingertip along her jugular vein and her breath shuddered.

‘We have wanted only you,' said Daniel, and brought her other hand to his lips. He kissed the centre of her palm. ‘But you would never have picked just one of us, Meg. Would you?'

She shook her head, still too bewildered to form words.

‘You gave me the idea,' Richard said. He leaned back against the table, gripping the edge.

‘Me?' It was hard to think with Blake's wickedly dexterous hands on either side of her neck, and Daniel's lips pressed to her palm, his warm breath playing on her sensitive skin.

‘It was that night after graduation, down by the lake, remember? You said you wished you had found just one man, one person to love for the rest of your life. I said you were a bit young to have given up on love.'

‘I remember. But I didn't mean . . .'

‘You had not given up on love. I know that. I thought I could persuade you, make you see that I loved you, but I was just a boy, just a fool. I wanted you to myself, didn't I? And you loved them too.'

Yes. She couldn't get the word to come out. Daniel's hand slid up her calf. Testing, teasing. Daniel was always able to make her smile. Now he made her gasp.

‘We would never harm you,' he said. ‘You know that.'

And she did. She had always known that. None of them would ever harm or allow harm to come to her. Her protectors, her guardian angels.

Daniel's fingertips caressed the soft skin of her thigh. He looked up into her face, his eyes asking permission in a way Blake or Richard never would. But Daniel had neither Blake's domineering presence nor Richard's self-assured alpha nature.

So he asked, where the other two would not.

Megan's body answered for her and she nodded, closing her eyes.

Daniel shifted position, though his hand still stroked her thigh. He knelt between her legs and drew her to the edge of the seat. He pushed her knees out to either side and pushed her skirt up to bunch in her lap.

Megan trembled. ‘Wait, I . . .' It was too fast, too much.

Blake's hands covered her eyes. ‘Better?'

She opened her mouth to answer, but Daniel's fingers skirted the edge of her panties, pushing them aside so one could edge
inside her. Wet and more than ready, her body welcomed him. A groan escaped her lips.

Blake lifted his hands and she found herself looking up at him, just for an instant. ‘Let go, Meg,' he told her. ‘Trust me.'

‘I do,' she tried to reply, but when Daniel pressed his tongue to her clit, she wasn't sure what words she formed. Fingers and mouth joined together in a tortuous combination and she rocked her hips forwards.

‘Here,' said Richard. He was holding a scarf, a length of white silk, and Blake took it reverently. Meg gripped the arms of the chair, her nails digging into the leather.

Blake drew the makeshift blindfold over her eyes and the world slid away from the conscious, the rational, to a world of questing hands, of lips and tongues. Blake kissed her, cradling her head in his hands. Daniel grew more insistent, thrusting his fingers deep inside her, curling against the most sensitive spot and caressing her clit until her body began to quake.

‘That's it, Meg,' Blake whispered against her lips.

Richard's hands joined their worship of her body, opening the bodice of the dress. His mouth closed on her right breast, the pressure he exerted on her nipple the final connection she needed before she came, crying out for them, her voice muffled by Blake's mouth.

She shivered as they stroked her body, casting aside clothes. Naked between them, Megan reached out, pulling one after the other to her, revelling in the feel of their hands, their kisses, the trail a tongue left down her spine, the sensation of being held and filled, and loved. Yes, this was what it meant to be loved.

Someone lifted her, Richard, she guessed, although she could not be entirely sure. It felt like Richard. He cradled her in strong arms and brought her to the chaise-longue, stretching her out on its lush velvet upholstery, raising her arms above her head and holding them there while two mouths claimed her breasts, each one determined and expert.

‘Tell me it feels good,' Richard murmured.

‘Yes,' she gasped. ‘Oh yes.'

They rolled her this way and that, into whatever position would give them the access they desired. She lost track of the number of times the white-hot bliss of orgasm spiked through her, of joy in their voices matching hers. Time bled away in ecstasy.

Warm oil pooled in the small of her back. Blake ran his hands down her, over the globes of her ass, and the oil followed as he parted the cheeks, ran his fingertips over the rose of her anus. He pushed against it, just a fingertip, pressing resolutely until she admitted it, and the oil came too. It drizzled down the gap, over the sensitive skin, and Blake began to work it deep inside her, slow and insistent, patient. Megan arched her body, pressing her aching clit against the chaise-longue, and Daniel's mouth captured hers, his tongue meeting her demands.

Satisfied that she was ready, Blake lifted her hips up, holding her on her knees. She heard the sound of a condom wrapper tearing and Daniel settled himself on the chaise-longue beneath her parted legs, taking her hips and drawing her down. Blake guided them and Daniel's cock slid inside her. So slowly it was torture, he filled her, stretching her. On all fours above him, her hair trailed across his chest and Daniel shivered, deep inside her. Blake climbed up behind her, reaching around to toy with her clit while his cock nudged her slick anus. Daniel thrust gently, then withdrew, holding himself just inside her, poised. Richard's mouth claimed hers at the same moment that Blake's cock pressed inside her, forcing its way past the tight sphincter and deep inside.

Megan sucked in breath after breath, and Blake held himself still. She wished she could see him now and as if in answer to her thought, Richard tossed the blindfold aside. Her arms shook with the effort of holding herself up and in mute response Daniel seized her, taking control. He held himself rigid, still, waiting. Her eyes met Richard's, their blue dark with triumph.

Daniel thrust into her, as deep as Blake. She could feel both of them inside her, filling her beyond endurance. She sank her fingernails into Daniel's skin and he jerked, his eyes fluttering with pleasure and pain combined.

But something was missing. Something vital.

She looked for Richard. He stood at the end of the chaise-longue and smiled.

She marshalled words, the concentrated effort almost proving her undoing. ‘You can't just watch. Much as you seem to enjoy it.'

‘Let me savour the moment.'

‘No, Richard. Now.'

She parted her lips, licking them. Richard stepped obediently closer and Megan claimed his cock, taking him deep in her mouth, her tongue caressing him, swallowing him down. He steadied himself against the chaise-longue as Blake and Daniel began to thrust in earnest.

Megan writhed between them. She felt Blake's tongue on her neck while his hands hugged her hips, buffering her against Daniel's thrusts. Daniel filled his hands with her breasts, teasing the hardened nipples, raising them to peaks. And Richard's hands came up to frame her face, fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of her jaw while she swallowed him down, unable to let him escape her. She would not let any of them escape her again. She had lost them through time, neglect and all those other petty reasons true love slips away. She had lost herself without them. Never again. She seized all they had to offer with relish. Within the confines of their love, lost between their moving bodies, Megan sank into a new world completely fulfilled for the first time in ten years. The one man she'd always wanted didn't exist, because he was three. Three aspects making one perfect whole. And she should have known that ten years ago when she called them her musketeers. All for one, and one for all.

HOW TO SEDUCE
Yourself! Indulge in a Night of Total Fantasy with your Dream Guy!

Yeah, right. Like that would work.

But then again, what else was there to do? Slob on the settee in her sweats, watching reality TV?

Might as well do the self-indulgence thing, and not let the fact that she'd just been dumped bring her down.

Right. First things first. A good old-fashioned long, luxuriating perfumed bath.

Bit of a cliché, but who cared, it was still sexy.

Lucy tipped her best bottle of bath essence under the hot tap and kept it tipped. So what if she used the whole lot? It was her bath essence and her money she'd spent on it.

Dense white bubbles surged up immediately, and the surface of the tub looked as if a washing-up-liquid tanker had been dumped into a cyclone. The pungent scent of roses and exotic spices surged up too, a wall of fragrance that made her feel light-headed.

Tonight was a private festival of indulgence. Excess was everything. No scrimping. No half-measures. No holding back.

In the words of the advertisement, she was worth it.

Shucking off her old dressing gown, she bundled it into the cupboard out of sight, out of mind. No threadbare velour with cocoa stains tonight!

Naked, she padded over to the mirror to check out her bod.

Not perfect, but not bad either. Much better than that slag Linda. Simon had no taste. The man was a moron and Lucy didn't know why she'd ever even bothered with him.

That ‘summer tan' body lotion was really working for her now, and – joy of joys – she'd lost a few pounds. None of which had gone from her breasts, thank God. There was still a couple of nice handfuls there, and she was going to fantasise about a worthwhile guy fondling them tonight. Some delicious hunk cupping and squeezing and caressing her, his hands tanned and strong, not pasty and slightly hairy like Simon's.

Mm . . . who to choose?

Not too much of a debate, really. She had a huge crush on the big, gorgeous detective guy from her favourite cop show.

Right, Mr Tall and Yummy Detective . . . it's your lucky night, you're my Dream Guy of Total Perfect Fantasy!

And he did have lovely hands. Large, elegant, and prone to evocative gestures. She could well imagine fingertips like that being accurate and sensitive. Perfect for her needs. Hugging herself, she imagined them gliding all over her body, floating over her belly, into the creases of her groin, and up the insides of her thighs.

Oh yeah . . .

Not yet, idiot. It'll be much better if you save it for later.

Bunching her hands to keep from touching herself, she blew her imaginary suitor a kiss, then looked around, ticking items off her erotic nirvana checklist.

Bath, full of hot, silky water, topped with a thick mat of perfumed suds. Tick.

Tea lights arranged around the room in little porcelain holders, each imparting a sexy flickering radiance. Tick.

Wine in the glass cooler on the shelf, within easy reach of the bath. Champagne, the best she could afford, with more in
the fridge for later if she wanted to get really wasted but in a classier way than usual. Tick.

A big bottle of her fragrance, silk and buttermilk body lotion, and a very posh moisturiser full of exotic rejuvenators for her face. Tick.

And instead of her hidden dressing gown, a set of La Perla lingerie and a sexy silk wrap. Ivory satin, very tasteful, not red or black like that slapper Linda would wear. Tick.

Soft music played in the background from her little hi-fi. A bit of Mozart. She was partial to Wolfgang Amadeus. She'd dismissed Barry White and Marvin Gaye in favour of the piano, light and floating, also very tasteful.

Time to begin the first stage. Lucy poured herself a glass of champers to get things started, and it fizzed and fluffed in the narrow crystal flute. Her best glassware, of course, not her everyday stuff from Tesco.

Gingerly, because the bath was over-filled, she slid into the water. There was just an inch of clearance between the foam top and the bath rim, so luckily it didn't whoosh over and slop onto the floor. But as she pushed her toes down to the bottom end of the bath, Lucy frowned.

The taps. Bugger. They reminded her . . .

An extraneous, non-perfect, non-romantic, non-erotic, non-self-indulgent thought plopped into her head and sat there like a dollop of mud.

When the hell are you coming to fix the pipe under the sink, you git?

Her landlord had been promising to mend a dripping leak under the kitchen sink for weeks. And weeks. She'd endured several cajoling assurances on the phone that he'd be here ‘tomorrow', but so far he and his tools were a no-show.

Bastard! Fuck! Plonker!

And now her mind was filled with that scruffy creep when she should be focusing on her gorgeous detective. Her landlord
was a clod, and the most ill-kempt creature she'd ever met. She'd never seen him yet in jeans or T-shirts that weren't streaked with paint or full of holes in dodgy places. He always seemed to be in the midst of some protracted DIY or renovation project or other. And yet he couldn't get his arse up to the flat of a prompt-paying tenant and do a simple plumbing job!

Dickhead!

Reaching for her wine, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the act of drinking. Anything to banish her grungy landlord from her mind and get back to her fantasies.

The wine was superb. Creamy, biscuity, redolent with fruit yet fine and sophisticated.

I should drink this all the time.

Rolling the fabulous fluid over her tongue, Lucy promised herself that even when she wasn't planning a fantasy self-seduction evening, she'd drink more champagne, and other good stuff, and less of the sweet, cheap Italian plonk she tended to swig down in front of the telly.