Bought (Unchained Vice Book 3) (22 page)

The ride back to the farm was quiet, Jerricho was mentally preparing for what came next. He sat in the front of the car next to Killian while the man drove, he seemed just as wrapped up in his own thoughts. Scarlet slept curled up on the back seat. A few hours sleep was a good idea; Jerricho would be on the road again soon.

At least, he’d manage to catch a few hours this morning. Holding Scar in the window seat should’ve been uncomfortable, but there was nowhere he’d rather have been, and war had taught him how to sleep sitting up.

Killian had roused them up around midday. He’d felt a presence and woken to the man sitting at the table across the room watching them. It should have been uncomfortable, but somehow it wasn’t. It wasn’t strange when a housekeeper came in moments later and made them all something to eat. They’d eaten together, discussing mundane logistics of returning to Sydney for the concert, their plans for the rest of the day—the domestic rhythm of an ordinary house on an ordinary day.

Now there was a new tension as the car turned into the drive, creeping up to the farmhouse. Killian got out of the car and gently woke Scarlet. Jerricho followed them inside.

“Why don’t you head up to the room?” Killian kissed Scarlet’s ear as he started to undo his bow tie.

She lifted her hair, and he pulled the zipper to midway down her back—a wordless exchange between a couple who’d done this a hundred times.

This time, Jerricho stood there as the outsider.

Scarlet would be fine without him.

Instead of easing the ache in his chest, it twisted into something sharper.

He watched her climb the rising steps, her swaying in the svelte gold curtain of her dress, the gold lace of the bodice parting for the show as her hand caught and inched the zip lower until the gown slipped from her hips in a cascade of gold lace and satin. The sculpted line of her back implied delicacy and belied her strength. Another memory to collect.

And then it hit him.

This would be the last time he’d see her.

This was their goodbye.

For a moment, all the strength left his body. His chest burned for the inevitable loss.

“We should all go to bed,” Killian said softly.

Jerricho nodded mutely.

Killian stretched out his hand to him.

An invitation?

For a moment, the gesture didn’t make sense.

He wiped one hand over his eyes, but Killian was still waiting. The tension he’d sensed in the car, sat between them in the form of anticipation.

Jerricho’s heart quickened.

He should say no.

He should go to his room and get ready to go.

He should say yes and kiss Scarlet goodbye.

“In a minute.” He kept the tremor out of his voice but couldn’t keep it out of his hand. “I just need some water.”

Killian nodded and turned.

Jerricho raised his trembling hand and squeezed the back of his neck. He needed something stronger than water—a moment to compose himself, to run through the reasons why this would never work.

To find his strength.

Jerricho walked to the bedroom. Memories. He would take memories and then he’d leave. His conviction was reaffirmed with every step. Every step, that took him closer to where his heart wanted to go.

The door pushed open, the walls were covered in moody shadows, a lamp in the far corner that threw off a weak golden light. But it was the vision of the naked couple on the bed that set the tone.

Scarlet lay on her back with knees bent and Killian’s head between her thighs. Her head dangled off the bed, eyes opening as he entered, as if she felt his presence. Her slow, sinful smile was cut short by a gasp as her fingers curled in her husband’s hair.

She drew the fingers of her free hand up her body to circle her breast. Lazy eyelids sank closed as she bit her bottom lip.

Jerricho walked over unseen as she squeezed the plump mound, pushing them up as if in offering. He leaned down and took the erect nipple into his mouth.

Smell. Feel. Taste.

He sank into the sensations, soaked them in. Every detail, every nuance filled him with the richness of Scarlet.

Unable to resist the growing ache in his jaws, he sucked.

“Oh God.” She arched up, pressing against his lips.

He smiled as he held the tight bud between his teeth, scraping them against the flesh and making her shiver.

Her body was so responsive to the smallest things he could tease her with the barest of touches for hours. But he didn’t have the luxury of hours tonight …

He bit down and her shiver became a buck against Killian’s mouth.

Her husband grabbed her hips and clamped them down.

They had her at their mercy. Pinned. Overwhelmed.

Her chest puffed in short, harsh bursts as she lay there panting.

Jerricho flicked his tongue over the nipple as Killian’s thumbs brushed over her hipbones.

The smallest of touches.

Killian pulled his mouth away and blew air over her wet sex.

Scarlet made that sweet, helpless noise. The noise Jerricho loved. The noise that meant she was falling over into surrender. The noise that made him hard.

And hard came with pain.

He bit down even more, pinching the sensitive flesh cruelly between his teeth, crushing her nipple until she cried out in pleasure.

He closed his mouth around the tortured tip, soothing wet heat to balm stinging nerves, and he could feel her sink back into the mattress, into the false security of the tenderness of the moment.

He sucked. Punishingly.

The pull was no longer soft. Jerricho ruthlessly tugged on all her throbbing nerves, a sharp sensation, deliberately drawing all of her attention into that one point, her world existing between his lips, against his tongue.

The power was seductive.

With heavy lids, he watched Killian spread her pussy lips to expose her engorged clit, the ghost of air making her mewl. The sound was drawn from her lungs as the man leaned in and sucked the swollen node into his mouth.

She screamed. The raw ecstasy in her voice.

A warm rush of pleasure flooded Jerricho’s body.

Emotions and nerves were too close to the surface tonight. A tide of love threatened to carry him away.

To block out the love, he tapped into his cruelty.

Sucked to the point of bruising.

She thrashed as she came, even as he and Killian pinned her hands and body to the bed.

He wanted her in sensory overload, her nerves pulled taut between their two mouths, each tug winding her tighter and tighter and tighter.

He wanted her on the edge. He wanted it to hurt as he ripped that edge away.

He wanted her raw.

Just like him.

He jerked back, her flesh popping from his mouth. Grabbing Killian’s hair, he pulled the man up and toward his mouth. Lips smashing, he drove his tongue to chase the mingled taste of the two of them. So fucking sweet.

We fit.

This was what he could have.

This was what he had to leave.

Just as rough, he let Killian go, eyes blazing as he wiped his mouth and listened to the three of them breathing. A ragged panting, all three of them teetering on a ledge.

Unsaid needs and desires sat heavy in the room.

Jerricho dragged his hand over Scarlet’s torso, a loving, lingering touch that ran up her center until his warm hand settled on her throat.

Scarlet reached back and caught the fabric of his pants. Blindly, she tugged and pulled at the zip and crotch as he helped her free his cock.

Her hand curled around his shaft and she raised her head to trace her tongue along the vein up to the head. She tickled and nudged that sensitive spot just under the rim, the spot that made his hips jerk.

He so desperately wanted to sink into her mouth, her throat.

But if he did, he’d be lost.

He needed … distance.

He looked up at Killian stroking his cock as he watched.

He needed Killian.

Distance.

***

Killian watched Black brush Scar’s cheek as she teased him with her mouth.

There was an allure to watching that some people never got—the people who’d never drowned in a lover. He sank into Scarlet. So deeply immersed that edges blurred—him, her, they became one. He didn’t get to
see
her when they were like that, couldn’t separate long enough to simply look. Maybe it was preference or deviance that made him bring other people to their bed; maybe it was simply a chance to witness—a study of her ecstasy.

There had been so few lovers who ever competed for his gaze. His gaze traveled up Black’s body all the way until he met the man’s eyes. Eyes that were now watching him with intent.

Black untangled himself from Scar

The muscles on Killian’s back rippled.

Watching Black was different from the others.

Being watched by Black was different.

He wanted Black.

But this was not about want.

This was about control.

Killian’s cock throbbed as Black’s hand curled around the shaft, pulling him closer. Cheek brushing cheek as the man leaned toward him.

The brush of a wet tongue licked up Killian’s throat.

He closed his eyes and groaned. Despite himself, he offered his neck.

Black’s teeth grazed the skin as he slid behind him.

Killian felt the bed dip under his knees, moving as Scar’s weight inched toward them.

He looked down into her beautiful face, watched as Black reached from behind and sank his fingers into her mouth. Slow thrusts as she laved them with her tongue until his skin was shiny and slick.

Slick enough to glide.

Black stroked those wet fingers over the sensitive nerves on Killian’s perineum, the air chilling the painted wet skin.

Killian drew a sharp breath between his teeth. The hiss swallowed by a moan as Scar’s hot mouth engulfed his cock.

Fuck.

Black’s finger trailed up between Killian’s cheeks, pushed passed his resistance and entered him.

His body locked as muscle tensed, small hairs rising at the presence behind his back. Vulnerable.

He tried to shake it off. Had Black noticed? Of course he had.

Black’s arm hugged Killian against him, his hand resting on tight stomach muscles. He would have felt Killian’s flinch.

They’d never finished the conversation after Black had given him head. Killian bottomed but not with someone on his back. Not with someone on top of him. Not without keeping absolute control.

In his vocabulary, bottom was an act, not a position.

Penetration was so different to a hand job.

Black would make it feel like surrender. Killian didn’t know if he could do that without a fight.

The weight of Black’s forehead leaned against the back of Killian’s head, as if both of them were held there by the same awareness.

The short, puffs of breath curled against the back of his neck. A cool breeze over hot skin.

Killian didn’t know if the shiver was pleasure.

He couldn’t do this.

Black’s lips touched the top of his spine. The shock of it stung, but Black’s kiss was tender, sensuality without force.

Another kiss.

And another.

An entreaty of soft kisses as if begging him not to move, as if branding a need into his skin.

He closed his eyes, wrestling with desire and vulnerability.

He’d invited Black, what had he expected?

That Scar would always be between them?

That hand jobs and blowjobs would be all there was?

Scar’s hand slipped under his balls, cupping them. He was still hard in her mouth. Still full of desire.

Still stretched by Black’s finger.

Still beguiled by Black’s soft lips and Scar’s softer tongue.

Electricity danced over his skin, tingling sparks that promised to short the thinking in his brain.

Black’s finger moved inside him, friction with a sweet stinging burn. Killian sank his fingers into the red mess of Scar’s curls, something to hold onto.

She took his cue, swallowed his cock so deep she nuzzled up against his groin.

His cock twitched deep in her throat as Black pushed another finger in him.

Black’s fingers thrust as Scar’s throat convulsed.

He’d expected to take it slowly—there was nobody in this room who fit that bill.

Killian blew out a tortured breath, his muscles easing as he shut down his brain.

Black’s arm around his waist tightened; the man seemed to curl himself around Killian as his fingers fucked, his mouth seduced.

Killian let himself be guided forward as Scar lay back on the bed. Let Black’s hand on his waist keep him from thrusting into Scar as he covered her with his body. Let Black put a condom on before he felt the pressure of the man’s cock.

It was better this way. Not thinking. Letting the waves of pleasure lap at him.

Scar smiled up at him as he held himself over her body. She ran her hands up his body between them and over his chest.

The tip of his cock nudged her entrance, not even in her and so aware of her wet inviting heat.

Killian dipped his head, his tongue plunging into Scar’s mouth determined to thrust a part of him inside her.

And then Black was pushing inside him, stretching him wide as filled him. The force of the thrust pushed his own cock into Scar. Her pussy stretched around him, a tight erotic glove.

Penetrating and penetrated.

This was drowning.

Heaven above and below him.

Caged in ecstasy.

He broke the kiss, breathless and panting.

Black pulled back and thrust again, the angle of his cock hitting Killian’s prostate.

It was impossible not to move with Black’s hips, not to follow the rhythm, not to let Black fuck them both.

Scarlet gasped as Black snapped his hips again, rocking the bed with him. Her pussy squeezed Killian’s cock as her eyes closed and her neck arched.

Black thrust again, rocking them. There was no coaxing left, just hard, determined fucking—a resolute statement of strength as if the earlier softness had been a weakness.

As if Black resented it. As if he rejected it.

And at that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the bliss.