Hotter Than Ever Page 16

  “Christ, I wanna fuck you.” Aidan added a third finger, and Dylan’s body stretched to accommodate it. “I wanna shove my dick in your ass and fuck you hard.”

  “Do it,” he begged. “Please.”

  The desperation in his voice roused another chuckle from the man who was determined to torment him. Aidan continued to push his fingers in and out in a leisurely rhythm that caused sweat to break out on Dylan’s brow.

  He bore down on those long fingers and pleasure jolted through him, but he knew this didn’t feel half as good as the sensation of being filled by this man.

  “I swear to God, man, if you don’t shove your dick inside me right now I’m gonna kick your—”

  Aidan plunged in with one fluid stroke.

  The threat died on Dylan’s lips and his head damn near exploded from that deep, erotic intrusion. Oh sweet Jesus. Aidan’s cock was buried in his ass, and it felt so criminally good he almost blacked out.

  And that was before the other man began to move—once Aidan started ramming into him with hard, fast strokes, Dylan’s surroundings faded away, his entire world reduced to a haze of pleasure and the sound of flesh slapping flesh.

  “Love fucking you,” Aidan mumbled, digging his fingers into Dylan’s hips.

  Dylan buckled back, meeting him thrust for thrust, growling when Aidan drove even deeper and faster. The dresser shook and smacked against the wall. Their ragged breathing heated the air.

  “You wanna come, don’t you?” Aidan reached around and gripped Dylan’s erection in his fist. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

  A groan choked out. “Yes.”

  “Good, because I wanna feel your hot come on my hand when I blow my load inside you. Do it now, man.”

  That was all it took, the harsh command, the rough pump of Aidan’s hand on his dick. The climax boiled in his balls, but just before it could spill over, a flash of movement crossed Dylan’s peripheral vision.

  He turned his head and that’s when he saw her. Standing there watching. Rosy-red lips parted, cheeks flushed, breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath.

  Their eyes locked and Dylan exploded like a Fourth of July fireworks display, the pleasure searing his balls before shooting out in all directions, seizing every muscle in his body. Hot jets sprayed into Aidan’s hand, which instantly made the other man lose control.

  “Oh fuck, coming. Coming inside your ass, man.” Breathing hard, Aidan rested his forehead on Dylan’s shoulder and trembled in release, his cock throbbing in Dylan’s tight channel.

  Dylan’s gaze never left Claire’s. Her brown eyes blazed with molten heat as they stared at each other.

  Maybe he should have felt embarrassed that she’d witnessed him being dominated this way, but he didn’t. He only felt exhilarated and sated.

  He tilted his head slightly, offering her an unspoken invitation.

  Join us.

  A second passed. Two. Three.

  And then she broke the eye contact and stumbled off.

  He didn’t feel an ounce of disappointment as Claire disappeared in the shadows, because even though she’d fled just now, there was no doubt in his mind she’d be back.

  He’d seen the hunger in her eyes. He’d felt it. Claire McKinley was going to be theirs, all right.

  Hell, she already was.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  When Claire entered the kitchen early the next morning, she made a conscious and diligent effort not to meet the eyes of the two men sipping their coffees at the kitchen counter.

  Nope, wasn’t going to look at them. As long as she avoided all visual contact, she would be just fine and fully capable of acting like she hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary last night.

  “Morning,” Aidan said lightly.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning,” Dylan piped up.

  “Morning,” she murmured again.

  There. She’d managed to greet them both without making eye contact.

  She opened the fridge, taking an extra long time rummaging through it even though the carton of milk she wanted was right there on the middle shelf. The frigid air was a relief, blasting her scorching cheeks and cooling her down. God, she didn’t think she’d stopped blushing since the moment she’d crept up to Aidan’s door and seen—

  Nothing. You saw nothing.

  She snatched the milk carton, then walked over to the cabinets above the counter to find a bowl. Except the cupboard was a good five inches out of reach, forcing her to get on her tiptoes and stick her arm up in a strained effort to connect with the handle.

  Out of nowhere, Aidan came up behind her, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “Let me help you with that.”

  His lemon-scented aftershave teased her senses, made her feel lightheaded. Why did he have to smell so good, damn it?

  He opened the cupboard, pulled out a ceramic bowl and held it out.

  She accepted the bowl with a soft “thank you”.

  And without meeting his eyes.

  “So what are your plans for the day?” Dylan asked her as she ducked into the pantry for a box of Corn Flakes.

  “I wanted to hit the mall to do some Christmas shopping.” She prepared a bowl of cereal, then sat at the opposite end of the counter and started to eat. Quickly. Because the faster she ate, the faster she could leave the kitchen and pretend she’d never seen—

  Nothing. You saw nothing.

  “Want us to drop you off before we head to the base?” Aidan offered.

  “It’s six-thirty in the morning, Aidan. The stores don’t open until nine.”

  “Right. My bad. You’ll be okay taking a cab, then?”

  “I’ll be just fine.” Crap, that sounded a tad snippy. She almost lifted her head to shoot him an apologetic look, then thought better of it.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw that Dylan had drained his coffee and was sliding off his stool. He strode toward the dishwasher and opened the door, then bent over to place his empty cup in the tray.

  I want you in my ass.

  Dylan’s desperate plea to Aidan echoed in her mind, and a hot shiver scurried up her spine. Oh God, the way he was bending over like that, his ass hugged by those camo pants… But there’d been nothing covering that ass last night, not unless you counted Aidan’s muscular thighs pressed up against Dylan’s buttocks as Aidan’s cock slammed into—

  “You okay there, sweetheart?” Aidan inquired in a gratingly cheerful voice.

  “I’m fine,” she muttered.

  “If you say so.”

  But she was the furthest thing from fine. Now that she’d allowed that one memory in, the rest were buzzing in her head like a swarm of bees.

  Aidan on his knees, his lips stretched around Dylan’s cock.

  Dylan begging to be taken.

  Aidan taking him.

  Both of them coming.

  The whole scene had replayed in her dreams last night, the filthiest, sexiest, raunchiest dreams she’d ever had in her life. She’d woken up between each one, panting, sweating, quivering from what she suspected had been actual orgasms. And each dream had ended the same way—with Dylan’s green eyes burning with ecstasy as he held her gaze and orgasmed.

  God, he’d seen her. He’d seen her standing there, and yet he hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t sought her out last night, wasn’t mentioning it this morning.

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  “All right, we’re taking off.” Aidan’s voice jolted her back to the present. “Call my cell if you need anything, okay?”

  “Okay.” She kept her gaze firmly on her empty cereal bowl.

  As they shuffled toward the doorway, Claire couldn’t believe she’d made it through the entire exchange without a single look in their direction. She was about to give herself a mental pat on the back when Dylan’s silky voice drifted her way.

  “Hey, Claire?”

  Her head lifted involuntarily, causing the accidental meeting o
f their eyes.

  “Yeah?” she said warily.

  “You were moaning in your sleep last night.” Chuckling, Dylan sauntered out of the kitchen.

  “Who do you think would win in a fight, Costner’s Robin Hood or Crowe’s?” Aidan stretched his legs out and absently glanced at the TV, which was playing the Russell Crowe version of the aforementioned film.

  Dylan was lying on the other couch, his head propped up by a throw pillow. “That’s a trick question,” he said immediately. “The real winner would be Cary Elwes’s Robin Hood from Men in Tights.”

  Aidan burst out laughing. “Why?”

  “Duh. Because he speaks with a British accent.” In an impressive move, Dylan recited the line in a British accent.

  “Shit, that’s actually a badass British accent, bro.”

  “I know, right?”

  They turned their attention back to the screen, but Aidan wasn’t particularly interested in the movie. He was too busy wondering what Claire was doing in Dylan’s bedroom. She’d been hiding away all night, same way she’d done last night, and the night before, and the night before that.

  He had to give her credit—the woman had successfully managed to avoid them for three days now, a damn near impossible feat considering they were living in the same condo.

  Aidan knew all about Claire’s initiation into the wonderful world of voyeurism, and damn, he wished he’d gotten to see her face that night. Dylan insisted she’d liked everything she’d seen, and judging by the blush that had graced her cheeks ever since, Aidan suspected his roommate was right.

  “She’s only got a week and a half of vacation time left,” he murmured.

  “I know.” Dylan sounded as glum as Aidan felt.

  “I don’t want her to go.” The confession slipped out before he could stop it.

  “Me neither.”

  They fell silent again, watching the movie with mutual disinterest.

  When he heard soft footsteps a few minutes later, Aidan’s heart did an involuntary flip. He eagerly sat up just as Claire stepped into the living room, but his rising excitement plummeted the moment he saw her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he said instantly.

  Looking pale, she focused her gaze not on Aidan, but Dylan. “If I ask you something, do you promise to give me an honest answer?”

  Concern filled Dylan’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

  “Just promise.”

  “I promise. Now what is it, honey?”

  “Did you know Chris was having an affair?”

  Aidan had not been expecting that. Neither had Dylan, because the man’s jaw dropped in shock.

  “What?”

  Claire walked over to the armchair and sat down with a miserable expression. “Did you know?”

  “Of course not.” Dylan shook his head, looking flabbergasted. “What do you mean, Chris was having an affair?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but that’s what the evidence suggests.”

  “What evidence?” Dylan asked sharply.

  She sighed. “I was on Facebook messaging a few friends from college, you know, just passing the time, and I was looking at some of their pictures. This one friend—well, more of an acquaintance, really—she’s a lawyer and she posted some pics of this charity event that took place a few months ago. Chris attended, but I couldn’t go, so he went alone. He’s in one of the pictures, looking pretty cozy with this skinny blonde who has her arm around his waist.”

  “That doesn’t mean they were having an affair,” Aidan pointed out.

  “I’m not done,” she said tersely. “So the blonde in the picture was tagged—her name’s Stephanie Lowenstein, and she’s a mutual Facebook friend of mine and Lisa’s, my lawyer friend. So I clicked on Stephanie’s profile.”

  Aidan’s stomach clenched. Shit, he didn’t like where this was going.

  “Her privacy settings are nonexistent, which means I was able to look at everything on her timeline. Including her pictures.”

  “Aw, fuck,” Dylan swore. “My brother was in some of them?”

  “In a lot of them, at least the most recent ones.” Claire’s mouth set in a tight line. “She’s in London with him right now. And she was in Aruba with him last week.”

  Dead silence crashed over the room.

  On the other couch, Dylan’s face went from shocked, to stricken, to downright furious.

  “Are you serious?” he demanded.

  “As a heart attack. And these pictures were a lot more cozy than the one from the party.”

  “That fucking bastard. What the hell is my brother thinking?”

  “Probably that he’s hit the jackpot. This woman is obviously related to Frank Lowenstein, the senior partner at Chris’s firm. She’s probably his daughter, which means she’s not only loaded, but has crazy connections and a membership to that stupid country club, and she probably comes with a million other perks Chris would appreciate.”

  Claire shoved a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I can’t believe him. I mean, I have to assume he was involved with her before the wedding, right? You don’t go away with someone unless the two of you have some sort of previous involvement, or at least a flirtation, right?”

  Dylan let out a breath. “Yeah, I’d say they were most likely involved.”

  Biting her lip, she looked down at the hands she’d clasped in her lap. “I don’t even know why I’m so upset. It’s just…fuck, call me a loser, but it’s an ego thing, I guess. I’ve never been cheated on before, and I hate the idea that someone found another woman more desirable than me. Even if that someone is Chris.” Her head lifted abruptly, her brown eyes seeking out Aidan’s, then Dylan’s. “You think I’m desirable, right?”

  Aidan barked out an incredulous laugh. “Are you kidding me? You’re the most desirable woman on the goddamn planet.”

  “Hands down,” Dylan confirmed.

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  Aidan patted the couch cushion next to him. “C’mere.”

  She hesitated.

  “Claire. Don’t make me pick you up and carry you here,” he warned.

  She must have known he’d totally follow through on that threat, because she got off the armchair and joined him on the couch.

  Aidan took her hand and dragged his thumb over her knuckles. “We’re not saying what you want to hear in order to make you feel better. And you know what? Forget feeling better—you have absolutely no reason to be upset in the first place. Chris is an ass—” He glanced at Dylan “No offense, man.”

  “None taken.”

  “—And he doesn’t get the right to put that sad look in your eyes,” Aidan finished. “Let him have his Stephanie Lowenstein. I’m sure they deserve each other. You, on the other hand, deserve way better.”

  Hopping off the couch, Dylan marched over and settled on the other side of her. He reached for her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You deserve the best,” he declared. “You, Claire McKinley, deserve to be worshipped.”

  She smiled. “You guys are too sweet.”

  They both shrugged modestly.

  “I’m serious,” she insisted. “You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing men I have ever met.”

  “You don’t have to shower us with compliments,” Dylan said with a grin. “We’re already putty in your hands, honey. Case in point—that god-awful tree over there.”

  “He’s right,” Aidan agreed ruefully. “I mean, for us to even allow such a monstrosity into our home says a lot about—”

  She cut him off with a kiss.

  Claire’s lips were soft, warm, sweeter than honey. She kissed him tenderly, with only the fleeting brush of tongue, and before he could even react, she was gone. Shifting around and bestowing that same loving kiss on Dylan’s lips.

  “What was that for?” Dylan murmured.

  “Just felt like it.” Smiling, she got to her feet, her hands toying with the bottom of her bright yellow T-shirt. “So I was think
ing…”

  Hope erupted in Aidan’s chest, but he refused to acknowledge it. Not until Claire made her intentions clear.

  And she made those intentions crystal clear by pulling her shirt over her head and then wiggling out of her leggings.

  Aidan’s breath lodged in his throat. Her skimpy white bra barely covered her full breasts, and the matching panties were nothing but a little triangle with two thin straps. She was beautiful. Stunning. Extraordinary. There weren’t enough adjectives in the English language to describe the vision of female perfection standing in front of them.

  Lord, her bare skin looked so soft to the touch. He wanted to run his fingers all over that silky feminine flesh, but he resisted the urge, awaiting her next move.

  “Claire, you don’t have to…” Dylan trailed off, his green eyes glued to the curves she’d put on display.

  Aidan picked up where the other man left off. “You don’t have to prove anything,” he said gruffly. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. If this is about wanting to feel desirable, then you’ve already got your answer.”

  A little smile tugged on the corners of her mouth. “Actually, this is about me wanting to be worshipped.”

  Aidan exchanged a look with Dylan, who seemed equally apprehensive. Neither of them wanted her to do something she truly didn’t feel comfortable doing.

  “You said that’s what I deserved, right?” Raising a brow, she glanced at each of them in challenge.

  “Yes,” Dylan said.

  “Then prove it, because if I ever needed to be worshipped, it’s right now.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she began walking away, drawing both their gazes to her perfect ass. She halted when she was halfway to the corridor, reached around to unhook her bra, then tossed the lacy garment in their direction.

  Keeping her back to them, she peeked over her shoulder with a coy smile. “You boys coming, or what?”

  They exchanged another look.

  And then they dove off the couch and raced after her.

  Claire’s heart was beating perilously fast as she entered Aidan’s bedroom. Her hands shook with both excitement and nervousness, but she tried not to focus on the latter. Because she wanted this.