Between Friends (15 page)

Before she’d fully recovered, Eddie took hold of the vibrator she’d used to torment Mick and placed the ball-shaped head of the wand against her still-sensitive clit. He didn’t mess around with the lower setting. He went right for the powerful, pussy-rattling speed of the higher setting.

“Unnnnh! Unnnh! Unnhhhh! Ahhh!” Whitney screamed around the gag as Eddie’s two fingers became three in her dripping passage.

Her slippery cream flowed from her core and lubricated his thick fingers. She’d never been finger-fucked like this. It was insane—and so damn good.

“Oh, look at your wet pussy, baby.” Eddie practically groaned.

“So wet. So hot.” His nostrils flared. “You’re so slick I bet I could slide my other fingers inside your sweet cunt and fist you.”

Whitney’s gut clenched. Even the haze of pleasure wasn’t enough to mask her fear. That was a step too far for Whitney.

And judging by the amused look on Eddie’s face, he knew it. “Oh, don’t worry, sugar. Not tonight.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

“Daddy’s just talking dirty.”

It wasn’t the dirty talk that scared her but the not-tonight bit. Yet Whitney sensed Eddie was just pushing her, feeling her out, and didn’t mean to ever take it that far. Not unless she asked for it, of course.

And, after the way his three big fingers felt sliding in and out of her pussy, Whitney couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have all five inside her. Filling her. Stretching her. Pounding her.

But. No. Not tonight. Definitely not tonight.

Back in the present, the here and now, Eddie’s fingers seemed to know just how to rub her G-spot. The buzzing vibrations of the wand
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set her clit on fire. The strangest sensation took hold as Eddie’s fingers pumped inside her pussy. She tingled down south. Panic took hold. She needed to pee. Like right now.

Whitney tried to tell Eddie to stop, but the damn gag prevented it.

She remembered his instructions to grunt and let two loose in quick succession.

“Whitney, let go.” Eddie ordered in his deep, dominant tone. “I know it feels odd, but just let go. Let it come.”

Eddie’s instruction filled her with a surprising sense of calm. She did exactly as he ordered. She let go.

The orgasm ripped through her body with such force it left her breathless. She convulsed atop the mattress. As pleasure exploded in her lower belly, she gushed around Eddie’s thrusting fingers. He growled excitedly. “Oh, sugar. Yeah. That’s it. Come on my hand.

Come all over it.”

Whitney moaned. Her mind was totally blown by the experience.

She’d read about the phenomenon in her books and even seen it on porn clips, but actually living it?

Oh. My. God.

It was beyond incredible.

She tugged at her bonds as spasms racked her body. The vibrator was merciless against her pulsing clit. Eddie mercilessly pounded her pussy with his big fingers. She came and came and came until she thought for sure she would pass out.

When Eddie switched off and tossed aside the vibrator, Whitney whimpered. He slid down and licked her pussy. His tongue explored her folds as he licked up her juice. She shuddered at the deliciously dirty sensations he evoked.

Chin shining with her lady cum, Eddie rose to his knees and slammed balls-deep in her slick cunt. The labia clamps were swiftly removed. Whitney screeched as blood filled the starved vessels.

Eddie’s thumb glided across her highly sensitized clit. Suddenly
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pleasure was mixed with pain. The potent combination made her head spin.

Eddie gripped her hips and took her hard and fast. Her breasts bounced, the clothespins slapping against her bare skin. Every now and then, Eddie flicked one off. So gone with pleasure, Whitney barely felt the prickly sting of heat as the compressed areas were filled with blood once again.

He leaned down between her bound limbs and sucked her right nipple into his mouth. His teeth scraped the tender nub, and she groaned. He released the peak with a noisy pop and moved to her other breast, the pale flesh marked with red stripes from the pinch of the clothespins.

Rough and raw, Eddie fucked Whitney like a wild man. She craved this kind of domination. She found the idea of giving up control made her deliriously happy.

Eddie nuzzled her face. “Can you come again, sugar?”

Whitney rubbed her cheek against his and grunted yes through the gag. Eddie seemed to understand and shifted his body weight to his right elbow. His left hand slid down between their bodies. He flicked her clit with his thumb until she howled through the gag. Desperate to grip his shoulders, Whitney made do with bucking her hips and nestling her face against his throat. Eddie whispered her name over and over as she chased his climax.

“Whitney!” He drove deep and jerked hard as he shot his cum against her womb. He stayed still for a long time before finally rising up to stare down into her eyes. He gently caressed her face and pulled the gag from her mouth. His thumb slid across the corners of her mouth to wipe away the saliva that had accumulated there.

Eddie claimed her lips in a demanding kiss. Completely satiated, Whitney sighed and snuggled closer. God, could life get any better than this?

Eddie massaged and kissed her limp body as he carefully untied her ankles and wrists. He kneaded her tired muscles and nibbled the
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sensitive places, eliciting giggles and smiles from Whitney. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered lovingly against her ear. “So pink and sweet.” He nibbled her lower lip. “Did you enjoy that?”

“Immensely,” Whitney answered with a grin on her face. A bit of movement off to her left caught Whitney’s attention. She craned her neck to see Mick sitting in the chair and stroking his rock-hard cock.

“I think someone might need a little attention.”

“Yeah?” Eddie kissed her chin.

“Mmm-hmmm,” she hummed. “I think Mick could use a

hand…or a mouth.”

“Or both?” Eddie suggested with a sly smile.

“Ooh.” Whitney nodded. “Definitely both.”

Chuckling, Eddie kissed her one last time and then slid off the bed. Eddie kneeled in front of Mick and pressed his lips to the other man’s stomach. Whitney rolled onto her side and fluffed a pillow as she got comfortable. The show wasn’t over yet—and she had the best seat in the house.

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Chapter Eight

Eddie nervously paced the living room. His stomach churned with anxiety. Whitney was over an hour late and not answering her phone or replying to any texts.

“Will you sit down already?” Mick growled in frustration. “I’m trying to watch this game. Still tied, and we’re at the bottom of the ninth inning.”

Eddie bit back the urge to snap and asked, as calmly as possible,

“How can you watch that when she’s this late?”

Mick shrugged. “She’s probably working.”

“Then why isn’t she answering her phone?”

“Who knows?” Mick sipped his iced tea. No alcohol for him tonight because he was on call. “She’s a grown woman, Eddie. She doesn’t have to report her every move.”

He grumbled under his breath. “She’s our girlfriend. She should keep us in the loop.”

“Do you call her every time you’re running late or heading out for a burger with your team?”

“Hell yes, I do.”

Mick seemed surprised. “You don’t ever send me texts or call me when you’re running late.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Please don’t pout.”

Mick squinted in annoyance. “Ass.”

“Look, it’s just different with Whitney. If you’re home alone, I don’t worry so much. You’re a man. You’re able to defend yourself.

She’s tough, but she’s small and unarmed. I want her to be on her toes
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if she hears weird noises around the house. I’d hate for her to assume it’s me coming in from the garage when I’m still at the station.”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

Eddie dug his phone out of his pocket and checked for a message again. Still nothing. He punched in a quick text and hit send.

The rustling sound of Mick reaching into his bag of pita chips grated on Eddie’s nerves. The subsequent crunching was just worse.

He left the living room for the relative quiet of the kitchen. His gaze landed on the dry-erase calendar Whitney had put up on the wall closest to the refrigerator not long after moving into the house. She seemed to thrive on schedules, calendars, and sticky notes. She’d assigned them all a different color. Red for Mick. Blue for Eddie.

Orange for her. It was a quick way for the three of them to keep track of one another.

His focus settled on the loopy orange writing for today. Her last day of work. Dinner with the girls, whoever the hell they were.

Hopefully she was out with “the girls” and not upside down in a ditch somewhere or worse.

Mick hooted wildly. Eddie’s fists curled at his sides. How the hell could he be so calm at a time like this?

Eddie wondered if it would always be like this. Now that things were getting more serious between the three of them, that is.

Whitney’s particular occupation required lots of very late nights and traveling. She could be in LA one week, Paris another, and New York City the next. Eddie couldn’t possibly keep up with her every minute of the day. He wasn’t quite that crazy, of course. He had to take care not to come across as overbearing or controlling. That wasn’t his intention. Far from it, he wanted Whitney to enjoy life and see her friends and do her work.

It’s just that he knew what kind of horrible, loathsome people existed out there. He’d seen the very worst the city had to offer and shuddered at the idea of Whitney becoming the prey of some evil bastard. His need to protect her ran deep.

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“Headlights,” Mick called from his perch on the sofa.

A few seconds later, Eddie heard the telltale whine and clank of the garage door opening. His tension ratcheted down a few notches.

At least she was alive.

But when she came swanning through the laundry room without a care in the world, Eddie lost it.

“Where have you been?”

Whitney’s eyes widened. She stood still in the doorway. “Out with friends.”

“And your phone doesn’t work?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the fridge. “I sent you a ton of texts and called twice and nothing.”

Whitney frowned as she entered the kitchen and put her huge purse on the counter. He didn’t know how she managed to carry that massive thing around without herniating a disc. She rummaged around in it and produced her cell phone. Her finger moved over the screen. “Oops!”

“Oops?” he repeated incredulously. “Oops? That’s all you have to say?”

She shrugged, the movement sending the spaghetti strap of her cocktail dress sliding down her shoulder. “I guess I didn’t hear it in the restaurant or club. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Eddie tried to control his exasperation. “Whitney, I’ve been worried sick about you. For all I knew, you’d been whacked over the head, thrown into a van, and carted off to some empty warehouse for a gangbang.”

She visibly paled. “Boy, your mind sure goes to some dark places.” Whitney shook her head. “I was out with friends, Eddie. I was careful. I’m always careful.” Huffing, she slammed down her phone. “You’re always harping on me to watch this and that. Don’t drink that. Don’t go there. God!” She threw up her hands. “Stop trying to control me!”

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He stepped back in shock. “Whitney, I’m not trying to control you. I worry about you. I want you to be safe.”

“Yeah, well,” she grumbled, “I worry about you, too. And Mick. I don’t request a minute-to-minute update of your day, though.”

Eddie sucked in measured breaths. Her points were valid. He was coming on strong. Maybe he needed to take a page out of Mick’s book and mellow out some. “You’re right, Whitney. I’m sorry if I came across as overbearing. I didn’t mean to.”

Whitney sighed. “Well, you’re right, too. I should have checked my phone. It wasn’t very considerate of me.”

“Come here.” Eddie took hold of her wrist and gently dragged her close. Her soft body molded perfectly to his. His lips ghosted over her temple. The smell of her perfume and shampoo engulfed him. His lips moved lower, and he tasted her sweet mouth.

And alcohol.

His jaw clenched. Gritting his teeth, he silently counted to three.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Whitney!” Mick’s voice came from behind. Eddie hadn’t even heard him get up off the couch. The man sure knew how to move with stealth. “I thought we talked about this last week.”

Her lower lip wobbled. Guilt strained her features. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” She waved her hand. “You know how it is. Today was busy and bittersweet. I was a jumble of emotions. It was hard to say good-bye. Then we hit the restaurant, and I had a glass of wine. I didn’t even think about it when I got behind the wheel and hit up The Blue Door. I had another drink at the club,” she admitted. “And then I drove home.”

“That’s no excuse, Whitney.” Mick’s strained tone gave away his exasperation. “I have hard shifts all the time. If I want to have a drink with friends, I lock my car, leave it in the hospital lot, and call a cab.”

“I know,” she said wringing her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie let out a noisy breath. There was nothing else to be done.

He’d given her a warning last time. He had to follow through with the
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consequences he’d promised. “Lift up your skirt and put your hands on the counter.”

Whitney squeaked and took a step back. “What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He pointed to the counter. “Skirt.

Hands.”

“No. Please.” She appealed to Mick with her best puppy-dog eyes.

“Don’t make me do this.”

Eddie wondered if Mick would fold under such intense pleading.