Page 85 of Wrangled Up

A voice drifted to them. “Guys?”

Christian cocked his head but Tucker knew instantly who it was. He dropped his gun and headed down the hill in a lope.

A few hundred yards below he spotted the dark shadow of Claire moving toward them. That jaw-creaking grin from earlier with Christian stretched across his face for her.

She sped up, but he caught her halfway down the slope.

“What are you doing here?” Didn’t she realize she shouldn’t be roaming the ranch alone in the dark?

“I’m…sorry. But I wanted to be with you and Chris tonight.” She sounded uncertain.

He grabbed her and laid a kiss on her, bending her over his arm and plundering her mouth until she made squeaking noises.

“We want you too.” Christian’s voice echoed from the darkness.

He clutched both Tucker and Claire. Their heads bent together, and three tongues tangled until Claire was shaking and Tucker thought his balls would explode.

With one quick glance of the area to ensure they were alone and safe in the fields, Tucker towed them both to the ground. A flurry of activity ensued while they stripped each other—laughing and carrying on. Until they both reached under Claire’s cotton dress and found she wasn’t wearing panties.

Tucker sobered and Christian’s expression grew intense.

“Hold her. I get first taste.” Christian stretched out between her thighs and buried his mouth in her apex.

Claire’s back arched off the ground as Tucker stripped away her dress. Then he did as he was bidden and held her down with long,tongue-fucking kisses. Fire spread through his limbs. The cooler air kissed her damp skin and raised gooseflesh in its wake. He trailed his fingers down her shoulders to the tight buds of her breasts.

She gasped as he closed his fingers around them. Pulled. Pinched.

The scents of her arousal drifted on the air currents, and his cock stiffened another fraction. Damn, he couldn’t wait to hear her come unglued. Then he was damn well going to thrust his tongue into Christian’s mouth and taste her.

Sending a glance down her body, silvery in the moonlight, he riveted his gaze to the place where Christian’s wet tongue flashed. Claire’s body tensed, and Tucker realized Christian had sent two fingers into her channel.

She hissed. Grabbing at Tucker, she yanked him down for a string of wild kisses. When he felt her loosen, he knew she was close. Right before she came, she always grew boneless. Then her orgasm would rush up on her and she’d be a straining kitten once more.

Her skin was silk beneath his palm. He cupped her breast, molded it to his hand. A flick of the tip and she was humming. Heattuned himself to her, to Christian’s movements.

A cry burst from her. Tucker swallowed it and groaned at the knowledge that her sweet cream was flooding Christian’s mouth.

His lover licked her with long, smooth strokes, cleaning every drop of her come.

Claire’s body pebbled with goose bumps, and her warm pants fogged the air.

Christian raised his head and eased back onto his haunches. “Cover her before she gets cold.”

His cock throbbing, Tucker abandoned her mouth and breasts and knee-walked through the grass. The ticklish strands swayed against his thighs. He positioned himself at her center, staring at her lust-filled expression.

There was a tearing sound and then Christian slid a hand over Tucker’s cock, stretching and fitting it with a condom in one stroke. Tucker threw his head back at the feel of the masculine hand on his length. For a moment, he was transported to the living room and their sessions. Now that he had given himself, it was so much more intense.

Because his emotions were engaged with every physical inch of him.

Christian knelt to brush his lips over Claire’s. She clung to him, fingertips digging into thick shoulder muscles.

Tucker closed a hand around Christian’s biceps. “My turn.”

They broke away. With a grin, Christian moved a foot toward Tucker. Their mouths connected gently. Claire’s sweet flavors passed to his lips, making his cock bob in the air.

Simultaneously, she and Christian touched him. Two hands, ten fingers, all playing over his shaft. She worked low, scooping his balls against his body, while a rough finger rode the underside in the way only Christian could touch him.

A roar built in his throat. If they were in the house, he’d scream the walls down. But to release a cry into the night might shake loose a star or two, and he couldn’t have that.

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