Two baby daddies, she thought, Darla’s words echoing through her mind. The phone call earlier had been odd. Halting. A bit much, but a relief to have it done. Josie might be right. Maybe talking to another woman who had two men in her life—permanently—was a good idea.
Right now, though, she didn’t want to think about the future. Or worry about implications. Her present mind was right here, right now, and she wanted to lick and touch and stroke some flesh. To get back what she gave. And to have an orgasm...or twenty...so powerful she would scare small woodland creatures.
She might very well accomplish that feat right now by stripping naked, but by God, as she removed her underwear and hung them on a deck railing, she was going to obey Dylan’s request.
“Two out of three of us are—oh!” Dylan said as he corrected himself, Mike strolling out of the cabin completely buck naked, holding two glasses of wine by the stems. “I guess all three of us are in uniform.”
“Uniform?” Laura asked, laughing as she peeled off her socks. “The sex cabin has a uniform?”
The cold air stung at her ankles, the not-quite-summer sky a pale, hazy blue through the treetops. If they stayed outside for much longer she’d begin to shiver, but the warm rays of the sun homed in on her shoulder, her forehead, her belly, her calves, and she enjoyed the good with the cold.
The cold had no effect on Dylan and Mike, who had very distinct parts of them standing at attention. If they had the ability to point with them, she’d be the target.
“Sex cabin?” Dylan sputtered, laughter making his ab muscles roll in mesmerizing patterns. “You call this a sex cabin?”
“Isn’t that what it is?” she asked with faux innocence, biting her lip suggestively.
“You coming inside? Because the sex cabin is most certainly ready to be used as its name suggests,” Mike said with a suggestive leer. His eyes ate her up, and she let him, feeling the genuine love and lust in him.
“Inside, outside, on the deck, bent over the kitchen counter, on the couch,” Dylan mused, finishing his beer. “She’s coming, all right.”
Talk like this used to make her blush.
Now she upped the ante.
“That a wager? How many times can you make Laura come in five hours?”
Mike choked a bit on his red wine. “You want to place bets on sex?”
Dylan’s shoulders straightened, arms curling out a bit, forearms curved like they were carved by a woodworker with a lathe and fine artisanal tools. “Why not? Sounds friendly and fun.”
“What about you two? How many times do I have to make you come?” she teased.
Mike looked skyward, his face twisted into a very thoughtful expression. “I think my refractory period is…”
“Math?” Dylan gawked. “You’re doing sex math?” He marched into the cabin and returned with another beer, his ass so fine Laura felt hypnotized by it.
“What’s wrong with sex math?” Laura asked. Mike acted like they weren’t even there, now touching the tips of his fingers and shaking his head, muttering to himself.
“It’s…math! Who brings math into the bedroom?”
“Math can be sexy,” she protested. “One breast,” she said, holding hers toward him. “Two br**sts,” she added, cupping both and pushing them together to make cle**age worthy of the best Regency dame.
Dylan stared at her ni**les. “Okay. You convinced me.”
“Five!” Mike uttered.
“Five orgasms? You want me to give you how many in five hours?” Laura gasped.
“At your age?” Dylan added, laughing his (fine) ass off.
“What do you mean my age? We’re the same age!” Mike protested.
Dylan paused. His turn to do math. Laura opened her mouth to make a comment about it when Dylan said, “You’re older than me by a few months. And I can’t come five times in five hours.”
Mike and Laura asked in unison: “How would you know that?”
He turned bright red and muttered, “Just trust me.”
“YouPorn,” Mike and Laura said, in unison again.
“Quit ganging up on me!” Dylan grabbed Laura’s phone, which she’d set on the deck railing, and held up the display. “We’ve wasted seventeen minutes talking about refractory periods and making bets. When are we going to have sex?”
“After we enjoy a nice glass of wine,” Laura said. She was enjoying the view, too. And not just the trees swaying in the wind. Her nice view was decidedly of the human male animal variety.
“The clock is ticking, there’s a bet I might lose if we don’t get busy, and you want to drink wine?” Dylan said in a tone of outrage. Indignation, even.
“You want me to drop everything—”
“No. Just to your knees,” he said in a charged voice with such a commanding tone that she sashayed over to him, pulled a cushion from one of the redwood chaise lounges on the deck, and threw it on the ground in front of him. Handing her wine glass to him, she put her hands on his shoulders and bent down to lick one tight nipple, his body tensing with her touch. His erection bobbed up with a tight, craning motion that made her feel like it was tracing a line on her leg.
“Your wish is my command,” she whispered as she bent down before him. She could feel his surprise as she grasped him at the base and stroked lightly upward with a feather touch. She reached up and squeezed his shoulders, her fingertips trailing down his large, muscled chest that was sprinkled with a touch of dark hair in all the right places.
Her palms cupped the long line of ribs that were so cut, muscles built out in layers from his back, the sheer animal power inherent in those muscles making her wet. Looking at Dylan from a sexual place was fun and purely sensual, but it wasn’t just the eye candy that she appreciated. The protectiveness, the power, the promise of being cared for and rescued—of being safe—made his body a symbol for so many emotional states.
Her fingers reached down past his waist, unencumbered by clothing. His eyes were on her, burning a hole in her head, and if she tipped her chin up to greet them she knew she’d find his dark eyes burning for her.
She didn’t need to look up, though. What she needed was to listen to his request and fulfill it. Having so much time together—all three of them—was a new luxury. Some day this would be old hat, she thought, as her lips grazed his belly button, making Dylan inhale sharply and clench his abs, which rolled like steel balls under silk.