Page 82 of Better When Shared
The question hung between us like a loaded gun.
I slid inside her in one smooth thrust, both of us crying out at the sensation. She was so wet, so ready, that I had to slow down to keep from coming. "Fuck, you feel incredible."
"Marco." Her nails dug into my shoulders. "Answer me. What do you want to do to Tristan?"
I began to move, slow, deep strokes that made her moan beneath me. "I want to touch him," I admitted, the words torn from my chest. "To run my hands over those broad shoulders. When you hugged him, could you feel all that muscle under his expensive suit?" "Yes. His body is delicious." Her pussy clenched around me as I spoke, her excitement obvious. "Tell me more."
"I want to kiss him. See if that perfect mouth tastes as good as it looks." I picked up the pace, driving into her harder. "And to wrap my hand around his dick, see how big he is."
"Oh god," she gasped, her hips rising to meet mine. "Yes. That's so hot to imagine."
The image crashed through my mind: Tristan beneath me, those sharp green eyes wide with surprise and need as I worked him with my mouth. I could picture the moment his careful composure shattered, reduced to helpless gasps and desperate thrusts.
"I want to suck his cock." The admission ripped free without permission. "To share him with you, take turns seeing how deep we can take him, then kiss around his shaft until he begs to be allowed to come."
I leaned forward, capturing her lips, and as we slammed together, I was imagining his cock between our tongues, his moans of pleasure a soundtrack for our rough sex. I lost control, slamming into her so hard that the bed shook, banging against the wall in a steady rhythm.
Juniper's response was immediate and overwhelming. Her back arched off the bed, her inner walls clamping down around me like a vise as she came with a cry that probably echoed through the entire floor. Her orgasm pushed me over the edge, and I buried myself deep inside her as my own climax tore through me.
"Holy shit," I gasped, carefully pulling out of her and collapsing beside her, breathing hard.
She turned to face me, her wild curls spread across the pillow as she tucked her arm under her head, reaching out with her free hand to trace her fingers over my chest. "That was so hot. Imagining sharing him between us."
"But it's just fantasy, right?" I asked, tracing lazy patterns on her hip. "We can't really try to seduce Caleb's uptight brother."
Her smile was pure sin. "Oh, we're going to try. The question is whether we can crack his perfect control without taking things too far."
"We have a history of taking things too far," I said with a laugh.
She shook her head and poked my chest. "We need his consent to pursue him further than flirtation. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am. Well, I'm not sure this will work, but at least our trip to Bath is going to be interesting," I murmured.
Her laugh was low and wicked. "At the very least." She rolled onto her stomach, propped her chin on her hand, and stared down at me. "Now, what should we do while we wait to find out if he's going to drive us to the countryside?"
"The guidebooks say there's a splendid view from the thermal spa upstairs. Especially at night."
Chapter 7
Tristan
It was far too late to still be at work, but it wasn't unusual for me to finish for the day after nine. I closed my laptop with the same precision I applied to everything else in my life, the soft click echoing through my office. My desk was already cleared for tomorrow, with not a single paper out of place. The ritual of ending each workday had become as automatic as breathing: laptop closed, jacket straightened, cufflinks adjusted, door locked.
Crochet hook and yarn stashed in the bottom drawer of my desk, out of sight.
I was reaching for my coat when the intercom crackled to life.
"Mr. Bancroft?" The voice belonged to Davies, head of security for the evening shift. "Sorry to bother you, sir, but we have a situation on the rooftop spa level."
My hand froze on the coat hanger. The spa had been closed for two hours, all guests cleared out, staff finished with their cleaning routines. "What kind of situation?"
"A couple of guests are up there after hours, sir. They somehow acquired a keycard that gave them late-night access. My team can handle it, but I thought you should know."
Irritation flared hot in my chest, as well as a sneaking suspicion. Somehow, I knew exactly which guests would be involved in hijinks like this.
"I'll handle it myself," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
"Sir, that's not necessary—"
