The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

the junction of my legs and the man whose rigid cock teased back and forth.

When it began to creep inside, Clay’s gaze rose, gliding over my stomach and my bare breasts until it reached my eyes. I was trapped there, unable to look away as I slid down inch by inch. Even as the enjoyable stretch of Travis made my mouth round into a silent oh, my gaze didn’t waver.

I was barely seated on him before he began to move. The thigh muscles beneath me hardened and flexed with his thrusts—shallow at first, until I could sink deeper on him.

My moan was a starting bell to Clay, who was on his knees on the bed beside us instantly, one hand roughly gripping the hair at the back of my head and the other cupping my breast.

I gasped and panted, but he swallowed it. His mouth slammed over mine, lashing his tongue at me as if I didn’t deserve his cruel kiss but he was going to give it to me anyway. Travis drove into me and had a hand on my ass to encourage me to keep up with his demanding tempo, which meant Clay had to follow the rock of my body to keep kissing me as I rode Travis.

This bed was on fire.

I covered Travis’s hand on my ass with my own and gasped as Clay’s pinch on my nipple went white-hot. It didn’t stay there, though. He broke our kiss and replaced his harsh fingers with even meaner teeth.

“Shit,” I swore in pain and pleasure, threading fingers through his hair. My body was conflicted, not knowing if I wanted to pull him away or hold his head there. Tremors graduated up my legs, making me vibrate. Groans of satisfaction punched from Travis’s lungs, and drew escalating ones from me.

They grew louder when Clay’s fingertips traced a line down over the flat of my shuttering stomach, venturing lower.

As his fingers discovered my clit, he pulled back to watch what he was doing. To study how he was touching me and my response to the way he rubbed tight circles and made me moan. Whenever it started to feel a little too good, his stinging pinch on my sensitive nub cured that right up.

And when the pain faded, I couldn’t help but think about how intimately close he was to touching Travis. What if that accidentally happened? What if either man wanted it to happen?

Clay pinched my clit again, dragging a whimper from me, and his voice was strangled with desire. “Put your hands on his chest and lean back.”

Travis’s skin was like mine, faintly sticky with sweat, and when I reached back to plant my palms on him, he grasped my arms just above the elbows. It was an added level of support, which I needed, but also domination—which I craved.

I was leaned back but tucked my chin to my chest so I could watch Clay. He gently nudged one of Travis’s knees, urging the man to spread them and make room. Travis’s tempo slowed to a stop with him lodged inside me, and the sheets rustled as he eased his outstretched legs apart into a V.

My breath came and went in labored gulps when Clay moved, crossing over Travis’s leg so he could kneel between them. His hands played over my tits, brushing over my skin like he wanted to leave no spot untouched. I shivered with enjoyment, not just from the way his palms smoothed over me, but how Travis had resumed his slow, deep thrusts.

There was a thought running through Clay’s head. I could see it in his eyes. I might not have been able to if he were still wearing his glasses, but they sat on the dresser, out of reach. Whatever he was considering, it made his chest heave with a deep breath.

His hands washed down my body. One stopped at my hip, but the other continued on. It moved down over the top of my thigh, gliding over my knee, and then slid onto Travis’s. It didn’t rest there. His fingers splayed out so as he began the journey back up, the pad of his thumb traced a line along the inside of Travis’s thigh.

The hands gripping my arms tightened, but I got the feeling it was simply surprise and not shock. Travis . . . didn’t hate Clay’s sensual touch. In fact, he probably enjoyed it because his cock flexed inside me.

Clay’s thumb narrowly avoided touching the other man anywhere that would cross a line. It swerved at the last second as his hand moved back up onto my thigh and slid over to touch me just above where Travis and I were joined.

Had Clay been teasing us? Or was he curious and testing the waters with the other man?

He shifted on his knees, maybe to find a more comfortable position, or maybe to give himself a moment to catch his breath, since he was still struggling. Clay’s expression was a mix of uncertainty and need, and I wasn’t sure which was going to trump the other.

It was at that moment I lifted my hips just a little too much while Travis was retreating, causing his cock to fall out of me. His voice rasped with urgency, like he might die without it. “Oh, fuck, put it back in.”

I’d thought he was talking to me, but the hands on my arms didn’t let go. He didn’t release me to carry out his command.

Time suspended, and the image before me shimmered like I was gazing at it through air so hot it distorted everything.

Clay was impervious to the heat and didn’t hesitate.

He wrapped his fingers around the other man’s dick, positioning it where it needed to be, and guided Travis back inside me.

TWENTY-FOUR

Since we’d entered the bedroom, there’d been an undercurrent we all sensed lurking beneath the surface. It was dangerously powerful, and maybe the men had tried to avoid it. But now it had us, sweeping us away and pulling us down