Text Me (4 page)

Trav looked once more at the brunette, willing her with his
mind to forgive him his thick-headed beginning. “I won’t intrude without
invitation, so no worries.” There, that sounded somewhat intelligent and
non-threatening.

A second went by, then two, and Travis started understanding
what people meant when they said time could stop. Then she moved, just an inch,
and her torso came back into the hallway light. “All right with me.”

Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. He patted his pocket to make
sure he had his wallet with his room key and cell phone, then shut the door
behind him and followed Pete and the redhead into his friend’s room.

Another man. A much taller, sexy, quiet man. A twist in the
plans, for sure.

Not that she and Mary Ellen had never been with two guys.
Plenty of times they’d met best friends, or roommates, who didn’t mind heading
back to one’s house for the evening. Sometimes they kept to their own separate
bedrooms, and at times they congregated into one. It didn’t matter, as long as
the sex was good and the men respected their boundaries.

But for some reason, the man that
followed Mary Ellen and Goodwin—Donovan, they’d said his name was—made her
nervous. Not in the
Weren’t you on America’s Most Wanted?
sort of way.
But the tingling sensation that crawled up her spine was there, and it meant
something. Though their White Knight was nice, attractive…he didn’t make her
breath catch like Donovan did. The first hint of anticipation had her blood
moving.

“Ah, I love a good king-sized bed,” Goodwin said, then fell
on top of a laughing Mary Ellen.

“I didn’t get your name.” His voice was right behind her and
she suddenly felt self-conscious about the joke of slipping into one of
Goodwin’s shirts while he and Mary Ellen had made out in the elevator. She
pulled on the hem, barely covering her butt, and turned.

In the darkness, with only the desk lamp for light, his
features seemed more harsh, more masculine than before. A deep thrum vibrated
low in her belly and she felt the tell-tale slickness at the tops of her
thighs. Whatever the nerves were from, her body seemed to recognize a good time
when it saw one coming.

He arched one eyebrow, and belatedly
she remembered he’d asked her name. “A—” she started to say, then cut off.
Shit
.
Thank God she never had to be an international spy. The United States would
have been blown up with nukes by now. “A name isn’t always necessary, is it?”
she asked, playing off the slip.

One hand came up to play with the edge of her borrowed
shirt, the backs of his fingers brushing her collarbone. “I usually like to
know the name of who I’m crawling into bed with.” He shot an amused glance
toward the bed. “Two out of three isn’t bad, but I’d like to know yours.”

“Mackenzie,” she blurted. Wow, smooth.

“Mackenzie,” he repeated, drawing the word out. He gave her
a quick once-over, dragging his eyes over her entire body. But he didn’t make a
move.

She glanced at the other half of the room’s occupants. Ellen
was naked from the waist up, while their White Knight feasted on her breasts.
Ariel felt her own breasts swell in anticipation and she wondered if Donovan
was stalling or if he wasn’t as into the idea of sex with an audience—albeit a
distracted one—as she was. “If you don’t want to—”

One finger over her lips silenced her. “I want to,” he said,
his voice dropping low, as if not wanting to broadcast the conversation to
Goodwin and Mary Ellen. “I just wanted to make sure you did.”

She nodded once, then touched the tip of her tongue to the
rough pad of his finger. When his eyes narrowed, she opened her lips and grazed
her teeth down to the knuckle, then sucked once before releasing him.

He stared at her a moment, his silence punctuated by Mary
Ellen’s moaning and the rustle of sheets and clothing. Then he took the one
step that separated them, cupped his hands around her face and kissed her.

It wasn’t overpowering. But it was overwhelming. He licked
the seam of her lips and stole in with his tongue. Coffee. He tasted like
coffee and…peanut butter. She would have smiled if her mouth hadn’t been busy.
She wrapped her hands around his waist, pushed the material
of his polo shirt up until she made contact with warm skin. He hissed in a
breath.

“Sorry,” she said, jerking her hands away, though she wasn’t
sure what she did wrong.

He pulled back and smiled. “Cold hands,” he explained, then
picked one up and placed a kiss in the palm, blowing hot air over her skin
before letting it drop.

Oh, she wanted to sigh like a teenager after her first kiss.
But she wasn’t stupid enough to romanticize a one-nighter.

One large hand slid back to cup her neck, his fingers sliding
through her hair at the base of her skull, and he kissed her again. She rubbed
her palms briskly over the top of his shirt before slipping her hands under
once more to stroke the taut skin and muscle of his abs.

He chuckled in her mouth. “Smartass,” he murmured and worked
his lips down her throat. “Luckily I have a thing for smartass brunettes.”

He undid the buttons to the shirt she was wearing, taking
his time. As he pulled the fabric aside, cool air rushed over her skin and her
nipples tightened almost painfully in response. She shrugged her shoulders and
let the shirt fall to the ground, then pressed her body to his.

His hands glided down her back,
pressing her closer until she was molded to his front from breast to knee. Then
he took her mouth again, slowly, as if they had nothing to do but kiss all
night. She liked that. No sprint to the finish line, it was about the journey.
A quickie was nice every once in a while, a good change of pace. But this, the
exploration of bodies, this was what brought her out of her cave. To make that
physical connection with someone, even for just one night.

She leaned back enough to lift his shirt over his head. A
small sigh of appreciation escaped her lips and she wasn’t embarrassed about
it. A body like this should be acknowledged, like a marble statue of a Greek
god. Biceps that had stretched the sleeves of his polo looked bigger without
their confines. His abs created a ladder effect down his torso, lightly dusted
with a happy trail that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. She ran
her fingers from shoulder to navel, letting her nails lightly scratch. He
shivered a little and she smiled, then placed a kiss in the middle of his
breastbone.

“Looks like there’s a free corner of the bed. Wanna take
this over that way?” he asked, amusement in his voice. Clearly he wasn’t turned
off by an audience. With how little concern he showed for their temporary
roommates and their animalistic mating sounds, this probably wasn’t a first for
him either.

“Sure thing.” She walked over to the bed and she could swear
she felt the heat of him on her back, though he wasn’t touching. But before she
turned around, he pushed her down on her stomach, covering her from behind. His
mouth drew a line of kisses down her spine and she wiggled a little when he
reached the indent above her bottom. “Tickles,” she muttered into the cover.

The only answer was the sound of Mary Ellen gasping for
breath. Ariel knew that sound and it wasn’t faked. She turned her head so she
could watch as Goodwin dragged Mary Ellen’s legs over the side of the bed and
reached onto the night stand. A pile of condoms sat waiting, and Ariel wondered
if they were his or if Mary Ellen had dug them out of her bag while Ariel
wasn’t looking.

As her own bedmate slipped his hand
between her thighs, reaching her slick center, Goodwin grabbed Mary Ellen’s
legs, wrapped them tightly around his hips and eased his cock into her open
pussy. His movements were slow, controlled. Mary Ellen moaned and grabbed his
forearms.

As Goodwin pushed deep inside her friend, Donovan slipped a
finger in her own body. Her walls clenched, trying to hold on as he slipped out
again. At the same time, his friend pulled back from Mary Ellen. As Goodwin
slid home once more, his hips meeting with Mary Ellen’s, Donovan crept in with
two fingers.

When Donovan retreated the same time as his friend, she
realized it wasn’t a coincidence. She propped up on one elbow and twisted until
she could see his face. The half-smile told her she was right. When she raised
an eyebrow, he shrugged, entering her once more.

“What’s the point of having us in one room if you can’t take
advantage of the show?” he asked, then his smile grew into a grin.

She chuckled and dropped down again, this time with her face
in the cover. His free hand pulled her legs wider apart, and the next drive was
harder, deeper than before. She heard Mary Ellen’s gasp and felt the bed rock
in time with Goodwin’s thrusts. God, that was new. The rocking of the bed
wasn’t from her and Donovan…and yet it was in time with her own pleasure.

He worked his fingers faster now, his breath coming in more
shallow pants. His chest was warm over her back and his belt buckle was digging
into her backside in a strangely erotic way, as if reminding her with every
move of their bodies he was still covered while she was naked and at his sexual
mercy.

Mary Ellen’s squeaking gasps for breath mingled with
Goodwin’s grunts and she knew her friend was close. But when she thought Mary
Ellen would beat her to climax, Donovan slid his thumb over her clit, pressing
in rhythm with his fingers. Her body tightened and when she heard Mary Ellen’s
shriek and Goodwin’s groan of release, her own climax took over. Her body
shook, she clenched around Donovan’s fingers and muffled her scream of pleasure
into the bedcover until the most intense waves had passed.

Her body was heavy as wet cement. As
her heart still raced, not quite ready to slow down, Donovan rubbed a palm down
her spine in soothing strokes. The sound of Mary Ellen’s gulps for air and
Goodwin’s deep breathing mingled with the sound of the air conditioner and the
blood thundering in her own ears.

“Can you handle another?” Donovan’s
voice rasped in her ear.

Chapter Four

Could she handle another orgasm? It was like asking a
chocoholic if they wanted another slice of devil’s food cake. “Yeah, another
sounds good,” she muttered. But if she had to move her rubber-filled limbs to
make it happen, “another” would have to wait.

He sat up and the lack of heat had her shivering. The rustle
of denim and the tear of foil made her want to move, to watch the strip show,
but her arms felt like jelly when she tried to push up. She waited for Donovan
to roll her onto her back, but instead he slid over her once more.

“Relax,” he murmured when she made another halfhearted
attempt to flip over. “Just relax. Let me…” Bracing himself on one forearm by
her head, his other hand nudged her legs apart once more and she felt the blunt
head of his cock probing between her thighs. He slid up and down the slick line
of her entrance, her body jerking in response with every brush on her clit. A
few more gliding passes had her wriggling her hips back, her butt brushing his
stomach, silently begging for the teasing to end. But when he sat up once more
and she lost all contact, she growled her frustration.

He chuckled and shushed her. “Our friends seem to have
decided it was time for a nap.”

Sure enough, she glanced over and saw that Goodwin had
shifted off of Mary Ellen, one arm and leg still hanging limply over her naked
body. Both dead to the world. She laughed a little. “She always had no problems
falling asleep. Sex for her is more effective than a tranquilizer dart.” Her
limbs felt stronger, so she pushed up onto her elbows.

Donovan grabbed one of the pillows at the head of the bed
and handed it to her, all smiles. “Here. Under your stomach.”

She looked at the puffy pillow and it clicked. She hid a
smile as she stuffed it under her stomach, raising her hips in an erotic
offering to anyone behind her.

Anyone like Donovan, who wasted no time positioning himself.
He leaned over her back, the hair on his chest tickling her sweat-slicked skin,
and supported his weight on one forearm.

The head of his cock nudged, slipped, then found her
entrance and pushed deep.

She couldn’t contain the sigh as he filled her completely.
The angle of her hips had him deeper, farther than normal, and she wiggled in
satisfaction. This. This was what she craved most of all. That first moment of
complete connection that made the time away from her books, the effort of going
out, all worth it.

“Don’t look now, but we’ve got an audience,” he rasped in
her ear.

Of course, with an announcement like that, how could she not
look? No longer oblivious to the world around them, both Goodwin and Mary Ellen
were watching through heavy-lidded eyes. Goodwin’s hand covered one of Mary
Ellen’s breasts, his fingers idly plucking and massaging. One of her hands
brushed up and down his arm. But their gazes were on her and Donovan. Or, more
specifically, on where their bodies were connected.

Donovan pulled out then thrust back in with controlled
slowness. Her inner muscles clamped down, trying to keep him in. A few more
achingly slow thrusts had her begging him to speed up. But he only chuckled and
held still inside her.

“Give her what she wants, Donovan,” Goodwin said and she
shot him a grateful look.

“What the peanut gallery wants…” Donovan joked, then drew
back and plunged back in so hard she felt the mattress shift. Her teeth rattled
as he pounded into her, abandoning technique in pursuit of release. Mary
Ellen’s groan had her looking over once more to see Goodwin moving between her
legs, his face nuzzling her mound. She could almost feel that sensation, the
long wet rasp of a tongue on her own pussy, the soft suckling on her lips.

And when she felt her abs tighten, felt her thighs tense up,
she reached down around the pillow between her legs and circled her clit with
one finger.