Downtown Devil: Book 2 in series (Sins in the City) (14 page)

Mica stilled her with his eyes as much as he did his hands—that stare was arresting, hot, and hungry. He smiled. “Let me catch my breath, honey.”

Again, that name melted some cautious corner of her heart. “If you insist.” She backed off his thighs and stood, shooting Vaughn a smug little look. “Happy?”

He nodded, expression stoic, gaze molten.

“Lady’s up,” Mica said, nodding to Clare. His hand went between his legs, briefly adjusting the erection she’d saddled him with.

“I bet you’ve been with a guy,” she told him. Maybe not his roommate, but some guy, at some point. Beyond simply being fine with having his friend in the room, talking about the guy’s cock and practically touching it when he’d been touching Clare, there was
that stuff from their first night together, when she’d gone down on him. Straight guys could be into getting fingered, sure, but coupled with everything else . . .

Mica smiled. Drank. “What’s my dare?” he asked at length.

Kiss,
she still wanted to say to both of them, but couldn’t. But she could sneak up on the subject, confirm some suspicions.

“I dare you to tell me about it,” she countered, and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and letting him see how much it intrigued her.

“I’m bi,” he said plainly, and took another drink. “I’ve been with guys. I like men—they’re easy,” he added with a smirk.

“Do you date men? Or just . . . you know.”

“Just
you know
.” He was teasing, amused by her shy wording.

She stole a glance at Vaughn. He looked unsurprised by the topic, but cautious. Surely he’d known this about his best friend of more than ten years, whether he himself had ever messed around with Mica or not. And another question nagged, one she wouldn’t ask.
Do you date women?
Did he date
anybody
?

If he weren’t going back to LA in a few months’ time, would he have considered dating Clare? Shit, she was such a goner.

“Doesn’t bother you, does it?” Mica asked, perhaps mistaking her pensive expression for distaste.

“No, not at all. It’s hot.” Incendiary. She tried to picture him with a guy. It wasn’t a tough leap to make, after everything that had gone down on Wednesday. Would Vaughn go there?
Had
the two men already gone there, together? On one of their trips, maybe, or since Mica had come to stay for the summer?

“I think that’s enough foreplay,” Mica announced, gaze burning into Clare’s before jumping to Vaughn for a breath, then back to Clare. “And enough confessions for one night. Don’t you?”

“Plenty.”

“Whose room?” he asked her.

No deliberation needed. “Yours.” His room, full of his smells . . . and perhaps just him and her, ultimately, if Vaughn retired to his own bed after the main event wrapped. Not that she didn’t crave his body—far from it—but she’d be either a liar or delusional if she said she didn’t care for Mica more. She was attracted to Vaughn, but her crush was strictly on his friend. Hot as these adventures were, she wanted him to herself, if only in sleep. And one of these days, she wanted to wake up next to him.

T
hey made their way down the hall, Vaughn stopping in the bathroom and giving Clare a little taste of that one-on-one time with Mica she secretly craved. They lay on his covers and kissed deeply, hands roaming now-familiar territory. He palmed her breast as she stroked his back and arms and butt, their hands growing more restless by the second, itchy for more. For Vaughn’s return and whatever came next.

“What do you want tonight?” Mica asked, as though reading her mind.

“I don’t know. You always seem to lead me someplace unexpected,” she said, rubbing his hard arm. “And I always wind up happy finding myself there.”

He smiled, his face lit up by the light leaking in from the hallway; the Christmas bulbs weren’t lit.

“Plug your lights in,” she said. Funny to be issuing an order to this man, the giver of dirty directives. But he’d said during the drinking game, he liked taking orders. Did he have some secret submissive side? she wondered. Would she like it if she got to see it?

He knelt at the head of the bed and plugged in the strand, silhouetting himself in the bulbs’ warm cast. She took countless snapshots in her mind, wishing like hell she’d brought her camera. Even fully clothed, his body cut a hundred gorgeous lines through denim and cotton.

He turned, lay back, and drew her to him. She thrilled at the feel of him—of that skilled mouth, that filthy tongue stroking deep, the rush of his clothes against hers, the brush of their bare feet. She locked her leg to his hip, seeking the feel of his hard cock through their layers, and wasn’t disappointed. Her breath drew short, nearly a gasp as they kissed.

What she’d give to say this man was hers, for more than one night. Maybe just for the summer, but she’d take it—whatever was on offer. Her fingers dug harder into his shoulders, possessive. Just to know she was the only one who got those dirty whispers, this thrilling body . . .

The only
woman
, anyhow.
She’d share him with Vaughn, as she’d let Mica share her, if that was what the men desired. But doubtless she wanted to be the only woman he took, while he was in town. The only one who got to call this body and voice and mysterious mind hers, and to somehow be the only one who could keep his attention.

She broke their kiss to pant the truth. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

A warm, tiny laugh. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She kissed him deeply, bit his lip before she let him go. “Very.”

“So are you. And never more so than when I get to see his hands on you.”

She shivered against his warm body. “Kinky,” she teased, yet she wanted to say more. More, like,
Tell me what’s up between you two. Tell me everything.

Vaughn arrived at the threshold, pausing there, the sound of his steps going silent. Clare stole a glance from the corner of her eye, finding his gaze locked to the two of them, on Mica’s bed. As their eyes met, he moved, approaching and sitting on the mattress’s edge.

“Turn over,” Mica whispered, his breath hot on her lips and smelling of wine.

She did as she was told, a bolt streaking through her belly to feel his hands on her waist as she settled her back and butt against his front.

Mica’s wishes were clear. Vaughn joined them, lying down and facing Clare. She stilled her mind and body as their mouths met, seeking the differences between this man and the one at her back. More hesitance in this kiss, softer lips, shallow breath. But just as on Wednesday evening, his caution melted as the kiss deepened, and all at once this felt so familiar. Mica’s kissing was dirty, like a reckless affair. Vaughn’s was romantic somehow. Sweeter, making promises, not threats.

Clare drew his leg between hers with her calf, and with a selfish flash of heat, she remembered his cock—the thrill of his size and the memory of his hand wrapped around it, the rush of it claiming her body with those deep, smooth thrusts. Unbidden, her hand was drifting—down the hard planes of his chest and abdomen to settle over the erection straining at his sweats. He bucked at the contact, and his mouth faltered as a gasp hissed through his nose. Clare savored a taste of what Mica must revel in, each and every time he caught her off guard, in bed.

Mica’s hand on her side slid lower, grazing its way down her arm to her wrist, then those long fingers were splayed along the backs of hers. Fire flashed in her belly to feel his hand mimicking what hers was doing for real—stroking his best friend’s cock. She
wanted to slip her fingers free and let his take their place, quit with all the guessing and find out precisely how close her two lovers were. And how close they were willing to get.

“I know you like that,” Mica breathed, and his hand squeezed hers, and Vaughn’s erection in turn. His voice was different—as shallow as she’d ever heard it, his excitement so plain she could taste it as surely as she did Vaughn’s mouth.

She paused their kiss to tell Mica, “You know I do.” He’d seen and felt and heard her come on this cock. Feeling high, she heard herself say, “And I think you do, too.”

The hungry exhalations at the back of her neck stopped—shock of shocks, she’d left him breathless. His body had tensed at her words, but softened again just as quickly.

“I’ve decided the dares aren’t over yet,” Mica announced, businesslike, and pulled away to sit up. She shivered from more than the loss of his body heat—from anticipation.

Clare let Vaughn go to turn onto her back and address Mica. “Oh?”

“Take your clothes off,” he said. “Slowly.”

She smiled, hoping a sudden wash of nerves didn’t show, and did as he’d ordered, standing and shedding her belt, shoes, sweater, dress, underwear, and taking in each man’s attention in turn. When she was utterly naked, she looked to Mica. “What now?”

“Come here.”

She got on the bed and settled in the only free space, right between them.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” Mica said.

She shivered again, feeling even more naked. “I will if you’ll do the same.”

“You first.”

“Okay. Sure.” Sure, no problem. No problem at all that she’d
never done this in front of any boyfriend, let alone two new lovers. All the same, she let her hand drift down between her legs and showed Mica what he wanted to see. What he wanted Vaughn to see.

She shut her eyes and touched herself just as she had last night, when she’d fantasized that her fingers were bigger, rougher, that it had been Mica doing this to her, all the while making nasty Valentines of all the things he wanted to do once she came. To take her from behind. To have her ride him, with orders of
faster, harder, don’t stop, fuck me.
For her to suck his cock as she had their first night together, her hands pushing those boundaries he’d so relished having blurred. Her touch quickened, and she felt something she hadn’t expected—mounting arousal. That thick, taut sensation gathering low in her belly. She’d not expected to get this hot from two men’s eyes on such an intimate act.

Give him half a chance, and he’ll teach you a hundred things you never knew about yourself.

Mica’s voice broke through her haze, the next command aimed at Vaughn. “Now you. You show her.”

Her hand stilled as her eyes opened. She didn’t want to miss a moment of this, and she sat up, cross-legged, as Vaughn got to kneeling, facing the two of them.

“Here,” Mica said. He looked to Clare, patting the space between his legs as though inviting her to cuddle up on a blanket and take in the fireworks with him.

He wants to watch as much as I do,
she thought as she settled in. The feel of his warm body through his clothes gave her bare skin a shiver, the subtlest strain of domination coloring the scene—her naked, him still fully dressed.

Vaughn was dressed as well, but there, on his knees, taking his friend’s command, he was as much of a toy in Mica’s game as Clare
was. His gaze was on her breasts as he eased the front of his sweats down low and exposed himself. His dark skin looked burnished in the low light, the crown of his cock smooth and taut, the hair at his base as black as night. Strong fingers enclosed that ready flesh, at first merely holding.

“Your shirt,” Clare said. She wanted to watch his muscles twitch and tighten as he showed her what Mica had commanded.

His eyes rose to meet hers, and he tugged the tee up and off. Good God, that body. And something about his pants being shoved down, not stripped completely . . . That only made it dirtier.

Mica’s hands had been on her waist, but now one snaked low, tickling her belly en route to her sex. Her breath came up short as his fingers glanced her clit, then stroked her slick seam. Her eyes shut for a moment, and when they opened again she found Vaughn’s attention on what Mica was doing, and his own hand now pumping, slow.

Had Mica seen this before? she wondered. If the men had gotten sexual, was this how it had happened, to start? Watching each other this way? And if that was how it had started . . . She felt her deepest muscles clench, imagining all the places it may have taken them.

She turned her head and whispered, too quiet for Vaughn to hear, “Have you two . . .”

“Have we what?” he whispered back.

“You know.” She bucked as two fingers slid deep. “Anything,” she finished, breathless.

“What do you think?”

“I think you have.”

“What do you think we’ve done?” he countered.

“I don’t kn—”

“What do you
hope
we’ve done?”

She swallowed. He slept with men; he’d said so. And he was shameless in bed. Surely nothing in Clare’s fantasies would offend him.

“Touch each other,” she murmured. “Maybe oral.”

“Maybe.”

Who? On whom?
Both to each other? Or was one of them the recipient, which she knew was the deal with some male couples? “Maybe more,” she whispered.

A tiny laugh warmed the space behind her ear as his fingertips began to circle her clit in tight, quick strokes. He’d watched her own technique; he was telling her now,
I know exactly what you like. Exactly what you do to yourself when you’re alone. And I bet you think about me the entire time.

He wouldn’t be wrong.

“Tell me,” she said.
Or show me.

His fingers slowed. “That’s between me and him.” His tone was warm, teasing.

“And I’ve
been
between you and him,” she teased back, though the words came out weak. “Tell me.”

“Don’t waste the show.”

Fine.

Before them, Vaughn had found his stride, slow and steady. His eyes were shut, and Clare bet he was working hard not to get too excited, not to lose control so early on in the night’s activities. Mica’s fingers resumed their motions, stroking her in time with Vaughn’s pumping fist. She let her curiosities go, let herself melt into the pleasure and clear her mind of everything apart from these sensations, this view.

And what must it feel like to be in Mica’s position now? To have brought your lovers here, made lovers of them in turn? Being part of the spectacle was erotic enough; she couldn’t guess how hot his body must be burning, being both the audience and the ringmaster.

Then she imagined it was Mica’s fist on Vaughn’s cock.

The excitement shot from a spark to a blaze, a shallow heat growing deeper, deeper, until her entire being was hot and humming. She was just beginning to think she might come from this—from her fingers, and two men’s eyes—when Mica gave the next order.

To Vaughn he said, “Taste her.”

The hand on that thick cock stilled. Vaughn’s expression was lust glazed, and she couldn’t guess how bad it must ache to suddenly abandon the act. But he obeyed. And she mourned the loss of Mica’s hand as it left her sex to rest along the crease at the top of her thigh.

Clare welcomed Vaughn when he stretched out, his face between her legs and his hands snaking under her thighs to cup her hips. After the relatively dry friction of Mica’s fingers, his lips were velvet, his tongue slick and explicit—heaven. She stroked his head with one hand, squeezed his shoulder with the other. Mica shifted behind her, slipping away, and she lay back against the pillows. Vaughn sampled her in deep, sensuous laps, making her legs tense and her toes curl.

In her periphery, Mica was at the edge of the bed, and moving. Undressing, she saw when she stole a glance. The soft light fell across the lean, taut muscles of his torso, the swell of his sculpted hips in his low-slung jeans. He left the bed to strip fully naked, his dick hard and ready, and he stood up straight. He surveyed the scene for a long moment, then his eyes snapped to Clare’s. They told her a hundred things in a breath, none of which she could translate. Whatever came next, there was no guessing.

“You ready for more?” he asked her, and his hand slid across and down his abs to fist his cock.

More?
Fuck, that could mean anything, when promised by this man. But she knew her answer. “Yeah.”

Against her sex, Vaughn’s mouth had slowed, distracted by Mica’s promise, but now he started up again, his laps feeling hungrier than ever. She rewarded him with the soft rake of her nails across his scalp. In reply, his own hands squeezed the flesh of her uppermost thighs, just below her butt.