Page 64 of Inked Daddies

My pulse thumps, the closeness drawing me in. I let myself lean forward, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. He returns it, letting out a low murmur that rumbles in his chest.

Heat flutters in my belly. The kiss deepens, my hands sliding to his shoulders. He stands, guiding me with him, and we end up pressed against the large window that overlooks the river. Moonlight shimmers on rushing water like a private audience. My breath quickens. Even after everything we did with the other two, my body still craves contact.

Hugo seems to sense this. His hands cradle my waist, gathering the blanket in one fist until it slips away entirely, leaving me in just Sam’s T-shirt. But then he gently tugs at that too, and I slip it off.

“Mon Dieu,” he breathes, scanning my curves. “You’re exquisite.”

Aflush heats my cheeks. “We just—weren’t we done?”

“We might have more left to give to the night. If you’re willing.”

My heart leaps. I nod, hooking an arm around his neck. We kiss again, deeper, my hips arching toward him. The glass behind me is cool, contrasting the warmth of his body. He braces on the window, caging me with his body.

But I’ve never felt more free in my life.

He lets me explore him, every flat plane, every angle. Those delicious lines above his hips that become a V that points where I want to go. I take him in my mouth, and a stream of French curses pours out of his. His skin tastes different than Sam or Trick, and I crave each of their tastes.

“I must have you, love,” he utters as he pulls me to my feet. Hugo takes my hand and leads me to the couch. He kisses me and leans forward until I lie back with him on top of me. When he takes one of my legs over his forearm, he plants a kiss on the inside of my knee before he slides inside of me.

“So full,” I whimper. I’m sore from the other times, and now, with him stretching me with every stroke, it’s almost too much.

“So tight,” he counters. “And wet. And hot.” Hugo plunges deep, then pauses, coming near enough to kiss. “And perfect.”

I don’t know why, but that word makes me uncomfortable right now. It’s not that I think sex is sinful or whatever. I don’t. But at the moment, I don’t feel perfect.

I’m holding back two truths that threaten to ruin everything. How can I be perfect?

“What truths?”

I blink at him. “What?”

“You say you hold two truths?—”

“I said that out loud?” Shit.

His lips curl into a smirk. “Oui. But now is not the time for talking, if you do not wish it to be.”

“No, please don’t stop.”

With that, he reaches beneath to change our angle and starts up again. Relief washes through me, followed by something big and wicked. I might not deserve what’s coming, but I don’t care. Not right now when it’s so close I can taste it.

“Couldn’t wait for us, huh?” Trick rasps, voice threaded with a playful complaint.

I let out a flustered laugh, pressing my forehead to Hugo’s chest. “You guys needed your rest.”

“We heard you talking,” Sam says as he comes closer. “And…well, we got lonely and couldn’t let you two have all the fun.”

Hugo glances at me, question in his eyes.Is this okay?

I read it loud and clear. My heart flutters as I nod.

He slides out of me, takes my hand, and we rejoin them in the bedroom. It’s easier than doing anything with the four of us on the couch. But this time, Hugo doesn’t just stand on the sidelines, waiting and watching. He guides me not to the bed, but to the leather chair in the corner where he sits and pulls me onto his lap, facing him.

Mischievously, he taunts them, “Now you two can be the watchers.” And with that, he thrusts up into me.

Delirious, delicious pain. The kind that sets you on the edge of climax and keeps you there until you can’t breathe.

I grip his shoulders for balance and stare into his eyes, searching for answers. He knows I’m keeping secrets, and yet he doesn’t demand them from me. Instead, he seems to understand the need to keep them. If I knew he was keeping something from me, I’d go insane. But he takes it in stride, just like everything else.

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