Page 63 of Wrangled Up

Then in one short jerk of his hips, Tucker pressed on the ring of Christian’s anus, parting him to the thick head. He hissed as Tucker pressed more insistently, burrowing his way into his body as he’d long ago done to his heart.

The pleasure pain of the new link stole Christian’s control. He dropped his head forward and huffed raggedly. Claire squeezedhim with her walls. When he met her gaze, she wore a soft expression that completed him.

Tucker eased his head inside inch by inch, somehow twisting it. The burn of being stretched echoed that of his heart. Two people, filling him up so damn much. He’d never be the same and didn’t want to be.

“Move.” Tucker’s warm whisper drifted past Christian’s ear.

Christian slowly slid his cock within Claire’s damp heat. A long groan was pulled from her, dragged into him and fed to Tucker as the three of them gained pleasure from one slight movement.

Tucker pressed his mouth against Christian’s neck. “Okay?”

Jesus God, yeah. He didn’t know if he was about to rut like a bull, sandwiched between the woman and man he loved or if just being still would bring him more pleasure.

Claire gripped his hips at the same time Tucker tightened his arm. A wave of ecstasy threatened to make Christian black out. He swayed between them. Rocking forward into Claire. Back into Tucker. They let him set the pace, and within seconds, he was out of control.

The bed creaked under their assault. If Aunt Letty woke up, she would hear the strains of their ménage a symphony—opus hell-bent for release, movement number one.

Dark coils of lust rose sharply in Christian as he sank again and again into Claire’s wet pussy and Tucker filled him from behind. He focused on their mingled scents—pine, citrus and passion. Tucker had come home, and he wanted them. Maybe his sabbatical from life had finally exorcised him of Heather.

A cry broke from Claire. Tucker reached around Christian and twined his fingers with hers. The sight of their hands joined around his body made his control slip even more.

With perfect rhythm, Tucker’s cock slid over Christian’s sweet spot. Shooting him higher. His balls tightened.

Christian reached between his body and Claire’s and ground his thumb against her clit. The stiff bud softened, gave way at the same moment she shattered around him.

The wild pulsations of her pussy tipped him off the deep end. A primal roar burst from him as jets of come emptied into her. Tucker went utterly still. Then in a fury, he poundedinto Christian, over the gland that suddenly gave him more pleasure than he’d ever known.

His orgasm went on forever.

He came back to himself slowly. The first thing that filled his thoughts was a song Tommy Newlin had played earlier on the guitar during their sauce-making party. An old country song about love and hope that revolved through his memory.

Hell, it was perfect.

Claire’s face shone beneath him, glowing with her release and a light sheen of perspiration. Her hair rioted against the blue cotton sheets. A smile spread across her face, stealing Christian’s breath.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he grated out.

Tucker bit into Christian’s shoulder, causing him to jolt. He skimmed his palm down Christian’s abs. Very slowly, he pulled free of his body.

Christian leaned over Claire and gave her a tender, open-mouthed kiss. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized she’d ever held back. As he tangled his tongue with hers and knew no restraint or tension, an ache of happiness blossomed in his chest.

Yes, this was right. She was like him in so many ways that they were extensions of each other. But they were like a three-legged cat without Tucker—mobile but phantom-limbed.

“There room for me in this kiss?” Tucker’s voice came low, unsure. Christian’s skin prickled in gooseflesh.

They pulled apart as Tucker sank to the bed, having disposed of his condom. Christian shot him a look—wanting to devour him yet punch his perfect, handsome face too. Damn him for stealing these moments from them. They might have been complete long before now.

“Keep her warm for me.” Christian regretfully left Claire’s body to dispose of his own condom. When he returned, Claire was wound tightly in Tucker’s arms. Christian paused beside the bed, chest tight, watching their mouths move in sweet abandon.

If asked, he couldn’t explain their twisted trio. He could only relate what it felt like—a warm ache in his heart, a syrupy knife he hoped no one ever pulled free for fear that he’d bleed out.

* * * **

Claire rubbed her cheek against Christian’s coarse, unshaven cheek then Tucker’s stubble. The sweet hum of her release rolled out through her veins, loosening her by degrees. Big muscles cradled her body from every angle—Tucker’s lightly furred calves, Christian’s strong thighs. Hips trapping her into a confined space she never wanted to escape.

And God, their hands. Exploring, roving over her bare flesh until she couldn’t think of anything but making both men hard and ready again, to stare at them in the morning light.

From the yard, a shout. Then louder words—clearer words. “What the hell do you mean she’s in there with both of them? That’s my little girl!”

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