Beyond Jealousy (30 page)

"Like--" The word died as a pulse of pleasure rocked her, and Rachel shuddered, breaking her stillness. "Sorry, I'm sorry--"

"Cruz." Ace's voice held a warning, and the buzzing stopped. "I don't do wobbly lines, so if you can't keep your fingers out of her pussy--"

"She can do it." Cruz slid his free hand beneath her head, pressing his forehead to hers. His finger pushed deeper, broad and stretching all on its own, and even more overwhelming when he eased back and worked a second in alongside it. "Just this," he whispered against her lips. "You'll do it for me, won't you? Stay so very still, so I can feel how your pussy clenches when he hurts you."

There was no fucking way. The penetration alone was enough to tip her down a slippery slope of sensation, and if he kept talking, she'd never be able to stop.

But for Cruz, she'd try. She'd do anything.

Rachel balled her hands into fists and nodded, her lips brushing his. "I can."

"I know." He settled his arm more heavily across her body, pinning her in place. Ace started again, working his way down her side inch by dizzying inch.

The pain hit her in waves that left her pussy clamping around Cruz's fingers with each harsh crest. She hadn't been aware of it before, not exactly, but there was no escaping the sensation now. Every ripple drew him deeper, until it felt like he was fucking her, even though he hadn't moved his hand at all.

He moved his mouth, though, along her cheek, straight to her ear, where he groaned. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Staying so still. If you can hold it a little longer, we'll let you come. Do you want that?"

For a heartbeat, she was scared to open her mouth, scared that letting go just enough to answer would open the floodgates and she'd lose all control--

Except she didn't have control. Cruz did, and he always would. So she sucked in a shaky breath and released it on a sigh. "Yes. I want it."

"Look at me, Rachel."

He had his hand in her hair, and it pulled as she turned her head to obey. Every line of his face was hard, as sharp as the needles piercing her skin, and his gaze trapped hers. Held it. "Tell me the truth. Am I still being too gentle with you?"

"I don't want gentle." The words came in a dreamy rush, truth bypassing any part of her brain that might have constructed a lie. "I want you to
need
me like I need you."

His fingers flexed inside her. "I always do."

"It's more than that," Ace said, the rasping edge of his voice a tangible caress. "Need's a given, brother. She wants you to take."

Take.
Her inner muscles gripped Cruz's fingers, so tight that he didn't even have to move for the contact to blaze through her.

He sucked in a breath, his hand tensing at the back of her head. "Then we'll take you. Just like this. Tied down, trembling and wet, already close to coming." She whimpered as he slipped his fingers free, and again when he brought them to her lips. "This is one of his fantasies, you know. Fucking your mouth while you're bound. I wonder how hard you'd squeeze me then."

The way he said it kindled the fantasy in her, too, and she opened her mouth to lick his fingers. Bound and used. It could have felt dirty, shameful, but all she could think about was whether Ace would tremble at the touch of her tongue. What kinds of glorious things he'd say as he fucked deep into her throat.

With the machine still humming along, she didn't realize the pain had stopped. Not until Cruz gripped her chin, his fingers still pressing down on her tongue, and turned her head.

Ace was looking at her. Staring, really, his hand hovering six inches over her skin, the tattoo forgotten as his gaze fixed on her mouth, her lips.

When Cruz pumped his fingers deeper, Ace choked on a strangled noise.

She had to have him. Now.

Rachel twisted, straining against the leather cuffs with a pleading hum, and she knew she'd won when he cut off the machine and rose so fast the wheeled stool went skittering into a nearby shelf and toppled with a clatter.

Ace didn't seem to notice. His hands shook as he ripped open his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. His cock was already hard, lovingly outlined by the faded denim, and she licked her lips as the quick rasp of his zipper shivered up her spine.

She couldn't look away from his hands. Cruz had moved, but she didn't know where until his fingers hooked under her panties, dragging them down her legs, leaving her naked. Bare, but not vulnerable, not until he stepped between the leg-rests on Ace's clever tattoo chair and pushed them wide, spreading her legs with them.

It was instinct to try to draw her legs back together, but Cruz's grip was implacable, holding her in place as his breath tickled over her. "I never asked why you did this," he murmured, brushing his fingers over her bare pussy. "For the shows?"

She struggled not to arch her hips to his touch. "At first. But I like it."

"I bet you do." Ace drew her attention back to him with a hand on her cheek, and his cock was so close, the head almost,
almost
resting on her lips. "You like to feel exposed, don't you, Rae? More than the pain, more than the rough fucking...you want to be just like this. Spread open and naked where everyone can see."

How could she not get off on the power of being desired like this? "I'm not untouchable anymore," she whispered, stretching out in an attempt to close the distance between them. "So touch me."

His hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back with delicious roughness. "No, not until Cruz gets his fingers inside you again. Tell him you want them. Tell him you want him to feel how tight and wet your pussy gets when I'm giving it to you fast and hot."

She'd wanted it ten minutes ago. A lifetime. "He knows how hungry I am. How much I ache."

Ace rubbed his cock against her lower lip. "Then tell him for me, angel. So I can hear those filthy words from the mouth I'm about to fuck."

Holy shit.
"Cruz," she managed to rasp, though she couldn't quite tear her gaze from Ace's set, determined features. "I want you to fuck me with your hand. Not so you'll know how turned on I am--you already do--but so you can tell Ace. Because I won't be able to."

Cruz didn't answer with words, filthy or otherwise. He answered with action, pumping two fingers into her, giving her a scant moment to savor the pleasure before his tongue found her clit.

It hit her with a shock, like the time she'd tried to replace the solenoid in Dallas's favorite car without unhooking the battery first. She jerked against the cuffs with a cry, and Ace took advantage of her parted lips, fucking deep as Cruz lashed his tongue over her a second time.

So
different
like this, everyone and everything moving after staying so still. Rachel focused on gliding her tongue over Ace's shaft, quivering when he growled his approval and thrust deeper, his gaze never leaving hers.

And his words...

"Every time," he hissed, rocking back and forth, taking her with all the greedy need they'd both been holding back. "Every time I get your beautiful fucking skin under my needles and watch you get all wet and soft, this is what I imagine. Fucking you until you come all over this chair so hard, I can never give another tattoo without getting turned on."

She'd been so distracted she hadn't noticed the rush creeping up. It was on her now, full force, the cascade of endorphins that left the world fuzzy and gray around the edges. It had happened to her during tattoos before...but never like this.

It freed her from the last of her inhibitions. She sucked harder and rocked her hips against Cruz's fingers, his tongue.

She was dizzy by the time Cruz lifted his head, his beard scraping her inner thigh as he slicked his thumb over her clit. "This is your fantasy, Ace. What happens next?"

Ace eased free of her mouth, shifting his grip from her hair to her throat. His palm covered her collar, pressing it into her skin as he tightened his hand, not cutting off her breath--not quite--but still a dominating weight. "After she comes on your face, I mark her again by coming on hers."

The words did what the hand around her throat couldn't, and she panted for breath. "Please. Please,
fuck
--"

Cruz stole what was left of her oxygen with a third finger, and they weren't just inside her this time, stretching and still. He played with her, worked them deep, and Ace's face filled her vision, his hot smile, his free hand sliding up and down his cock as he held her tight. "You're so damn wet, aren't you? I love the sound of him fucking your pussy with those big fingers. Does it hurt a little?"

"No." Nothing hurt anymore. Everything was red-hot, glowing with a pleasure she'd only flirted with in the past. "I want more."

"Dirty, perfect girl," Ace whispered, leaning close, his eyes lost to darkness. "You'd let him do it, wouldn't you? You'd let us work you over for hours, until you could take his whole damn hand."

The sheer animal urge to bite him overwhelmed her, and she gave in to it with a moan, locking her teeth at the corner of his mouth. He groaned and pressed closer, grinding into her teeth until she tasted blood--

Cruz sealed his lips around her clit and sucked hard.

She came even harder. The back of her head hit the chair as she tried to chase the orgasm, drawing out every blinding moment. But she didn't have to, because every clench of her inner muscles around Cruz's fingers sent new pulses of pleasure rocketing through her.

She vaguely heard words, sounds--their voices, full of pleasure and approval. She might have screamed, loud and long, because the vibration was what followed her down into the darkness. Her whole body was alive, singing, and she never wanted it to stop.

Ace put his dick away.

Not the most comfortable choice, but a big part of his fantasy included having Rachel aware enough to appreciate the big finish. He took her fuzzy-headed floating as the compliment it was, and decided the rest of the outline could wait. Another round with the needles would just send her flying again, and that wouldn't work.

He had a whole different big finish in mind now.

They got Rachel untied, and Cruz settled into the chair with Rachel curled against his chest while Ace smoothed med-gel over her tattoo. The unfinished outline was lopsided, one wing missing, the angel's dress fading into nothingness. His streak of artistic perfectionism wanted to kick his ass, but then Rachel moaned and shifted languidly, and his brain shut down with a single half-hearted promise.

Later.

She stirred again, rubbing her cheek against Cruz's skin. "We moved."

Ace kissed the back of her shoulder. "You said you wanted more. That wasn't the position to give it to you."

She smiled lazily. "You two would find a way."

"Not for this." Cruz slid his hands down to cup her ass. "Not the first time we're both inside you."

The smile melted into a soft, pleading noise, and she dug her fingernails into his arms. Ace met Cruz's gaze and found shared purpose there, a second of communion hotter than having his hand around the other man's dick.

No conflict, no complications. They knew what Rachel wanted, and they wanted to give it to her. "Ace first," Cruz said, taking control of the moment with an ease that would have made Ace smug in any other instance. Any time he wasn't thirty seconds from working his way into Rachel's virgin ass.

She turned her head and looked back at him, her hazel eyes gone dark with arousal. "Is this part of your fantasy?" The words held a teasing lilt, and she arched her back, lifting her ass to his view. And because God hated him--or loved him--Cruz shifted his grip, digging his fingers into her ass and spreading her cheeks.

Rachel was on display in the lewdest, most gorgeous way possible, and Ace's hand shook as he tried to get the damn lube open. Not because of the fantasy, but because of the sure, certain fucking knowledge that Rachel and Cruz could be bundled up in snowsuits, snoring and maybe drooling, and they'd still be the hottest damn thing he'd ever seen.

Not exactly poetry, but maybe it would be enough. They would never turn to him for protection or support, never expect him to say the right thing when they were hurting. But they trusted him with the most naked parts of themselves, with their base, unfettered
need
--

No, it wasn't poetry. But Rachel whimpered when he pressed the slick head of his cock against her ass, rubbing and taunting with just enough force to let her feel it before easing back, and it didn't need to be poetry, because it was
art
. Fucking into her a little at a time, knowing which words to growl, which to whisper. He gave her encouragement as he worked her open, stretching her bit by bit, an act that could have been as shallow as lust and getting balls-deep in a tight, hot ass--

But it never was. It was living raw and to the edge of who you were, stripping away all the layers of bullshit that kept you alive in the unsafe parts of the world. It was the sound she made as he finally took his first shallow thrust--sharp and relieved, as if he'd broken open her world.

Rachel wanted to be herself, strong and powerful, making all of her own choices. Cruz understood that. But he still didn't understand this, the moment when Rachel's choice was to have no choices, to be taken, tenderly used, lovingly violated.