“Holly,” Ben whispered in her ear, “Truly, if this is weird for you, tell me. It’s okay.”
“And…” she looked at Kit, then at Justin, then finally turned to face Ben once more. “…if it’s weird, but I’m…interested, anyway?”
Ben smiled, gloriously, his gray eyes lighting up. “Then we shall all do our best to ensure you never regret it.”
“You’ve been pretty good at keeping your promises.”
“So I have. And I promise you an evening you’ll never forget.”
“We promise,” Kit said, coming around behind the sofa and laying a hand on her shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.
Justin knelt with one knee on the sofa next to her. “Just tell us if there’s anything you want. Anything at all.”
“Anything?”
Her body was really heating up. Ben was warm and solid next to her, and the anticipation in the air was electric. She could sense the testosterone, the excitement. And the idea that they might all be getting hard, all at once, at that moment, was one of the biggest thrills of her life.
Even better knowing there was much more to come.
Ben pulled her closer and kissed her cheek. “Tell us, Holly.”
“I don’t know if…any of you have ever been lovers?”
Kit laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. “All of us.”
“All of you together?”
“Sometimes, yes,” Ben told her. “Or Justin and Kit. Or Kit and me. Justin and me. Or two of us, or all of us with a woman. In every possible combination.”
God, her body was on fire simply imagining it. And it was going to happen!
“What is it you want, sweetheart? Tell me. Tell us.”
She nearly groaned aloud. “I want it all,” she said quietly.
“Then you shall have it,” Ben said.
She didn’t know if he sent the others a signal she missed, but Justin peeled his sweater off just as Kit did, and she barely had time to turn and take in Kit’s leanly-muscled frame before Ben and Justin pulled her sweater over her head.
“Do you want them to kiss you, Holly?” Ben asked her.
Was that a trick question?
“Oh, yes. And I really want to see you kiss each other.”
“I have a feeling we’re all going to enjoy this,” Justin said, leaning across her lap and reaching out to pull Ben to him.
Their mouths met, two sets of lush male lips, and it was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. Their kissing was rough, hard, pure male. She ached all over to be touched. And as if in answer to her silent need, Kit brushed her hair to one side, then slid his hands over her bare shoulders and down to cover her breasts. Her nipples came up hard beneath her black silk bra.
“Mmm…”
He bent and kissed the back of her neck, making her shiver. He kissed her over and over, soft, feathering kisses all over her skin: her nape, between her shoulder blades, the tops of her shoulders. He cupped her breasts with his big hands, his thumbs stroking her nipples through the silk. And all the while Justin and Ben were kissing, making out like crazy, everything getting more heated.
Justin yanked Ben’s sweater over his head and ran his hands over Ben’s chest. They stood, Ben’s arm slipping from her waist to Justin’s, while Justin pulled Ben closer with a hand on his ass. Their bodies came together, bare chest to bare chest, and their mouths met once more.
Kit was bending over the back of the sofa, his hands diving under her bra. “Let’s have this off,” he said, tugging down her bra straps.
“Yes. Take it off. Please.”
She heard his small chuckle as he unsnapped the bra, slid it from her shoulders.
His fingertips brushed her bare skin. Her nipples were almost impossibly hard. She grabbed Kit’s forearms, ran her hands over the muscle there. She needed more.
“Kit…Ben?”
Ben pulled back from Justin, and she could see his breath heaving in his chest. “Tell us, beautiful girl.”
“I need my clothes off. And yours. All of you.”
Ben flashed her a grin, his eyes full of smoke and need. “Your wish is our command. And our great pleasure. Strip it down, boys.”
Ben slid his jeans off, and he was fully hard, his gorgeous cock making her mouth water. She wanted to touch him. She wanted Kit or Justin to even more.
To her right Justin tore his jeans off, then his black boxer-briefs. His erect cock was longer than Ben’s, if not as thick, but beautiful in its own way. He watched her, his dark eyes aglow as he gave it one long, slow stroke.
“Is this what you wanted to see, Holly?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” she murmured.
Kit kissed her neck once more, said quietly, “Three is even better than two.”
He released her and came around the front of the sofa to stand before her. He unzipped his jeans and kicked his way out of them. Like Ben, he wore nothing underneath.
She pulled in a sharp breath.
His thick cock was a lovely golden shade, the head a bit darker. He was rock-hard, his cock coming up against his lean abs.
She swallowed, bit her lip. Her mouth was actually watering.
“Come here, beauty,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “We need to undress you now.”
Ben stood on one side of her and Justin on the other as Kit knelt and pulled her boots off while the others steadied her. Then Ben unzipped her jeans and Justin and Kit helped her out of them.
Ben nuzzled her ear. “Such lovely underwear, it’s almost a shame.”
“But she was specific,” Justin said.
Kit winked at her as he reached to pull her silk thong down, leaving them all naked. So much naked flesh…
“I have to say…” Her voice was quavering, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. “I have to say, this is a little overwhelming. I hardly know where to start.”
Ben stroked a hand up her side, under the curve of her breast. “Don’t worry. I’m fairly certain it’ll come naturally to you.”
There were hands all over her then, stroking her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. Ben turned her face to his and kissed her, and she could taste the masculine flavor of Justin on his lips. Desire was burning her up, like fire in her aching breasts, in her clenching sex. She kissed Ben harder, held onto him.
Hands moved over her body, cupped her breasts, teasing and pinching her nipples. More hands parting her thighs, diving in between them, stroking at her tender pussy lips. She spread wider, and as Ben’s tongue swirled over hers it almost felt as if the fingers sliding in the folds of her soaking pussy were his tongue, licking her, pressing on her clit.
She felt Justin moving in closer beside her, the hard muscles of his thigh next to hers, and she reached blindly, found his cock, warm and pulsing in her hand. She began to stroke..

“Ohhhhh, fuck,” he groaned, sliding his hands into her hair as he took deep, shaky breaths.
Thrilled by the way his cock seemed to thicken in her mouth, she swirled her tongue over it, following the ridge all the way around and up into the hollow on the underside. It didn’t feel anything like the fake ones she’d practiced on, and oh, what a difference! Hot, smooth, paper-thin flesh barely concealed the vibrant physiology inside. With her tongue, she could feel his veins along the surface, and underneath, the unyielding columns that seemed to grow even harder as she explored him. It was nothing short of miraculous.
And the scent of him… God, she’d never be able to put one of those silicone toys in her mouth again after experiencing this. She inhaled deeply, savoring the bouquet of warm denim, soap and man, memorizing it for future fantasies.
Curious beyond reason, she pushed her tongue into the opening at the tip and tasted something silky and musky, something that made her heart pound and her mouth water.
He gasped and pushed her head down a little. “Miranda, suck. Please.”
She thought about the honey bear on the table and decided to leave it there. She liked the taste of Peter all by himself.
Taking as much of him into her mouth as she could, she sucked, milking him with her tongue, and watched as the sac holding his balls drew up tighter. Fascinated, she stroked it with a finger. It felt completely different from the flesh in her mouth, a little rough and a little hairy except for a smooth, silken patch underneath.
Peter’s breathing grew rough, every exhale almost a moan. Though his hands tightened in her hair, he said, “You might want to stop.”
She pulled away and shook her head, breathing almost as hard as he was. “I want to taste it.”
“You want me to come?” he asked tightly.
“Yes. Tell me what you like.
“I can do that.” He blew out a breath. “Get me nice and wet with your mouth.”
Giving him a little smile, she said, “I can do that.”
When she leaned down again, he put his hand on her thigh. “Wait. Take off the dress first. I want to see you.”
Miranda flushed but obeyed, reaching behind her neck with both hands to lower the zipper. When it was between her shoulder blades, she reached up behind her with her left hand to bring it down to her hips and then shrugged out of the bodice. The sheer white balconet bra and thong set she’d worn tonight, just to bolster her courage and make her feel ultra-feminine, had been insanely expensive, but the look on Peter’s face as she shimmied out of her dress made it worth every penny.
“Thank you, Frosty,” he murmured, wrapping the fingers of one hand around her neck before dragging them slowly down her sternum and stomach.
“Frosty?”
Peter nodded, sliding his hand around to rub her bare bottom. “Frosty the doorman gave me an angel for Christmas.”
“Oh he did?” she asked with a quizzical smile.
“He did. Now, where were we?”
“Right about here, I think.” She opened her mouth over him once again, working up as much moisture as she could and painting it onto his rigid flesh with her lips and tongue.
“Mmmm, that’s very nice,” he said, rubbing her hip. “Now stroke it, slow and hard. Milk it.”
Miranda bit her lip. God, this was so hot. Were men this turned on when women told them what to do?
Holding his eyes, she licked her hand provocatively.
“Asking for trouble, little girl,” he murmured, his lips curving lazily.
“Yes, I am,” she murmured back, meaning every word of it.
“Then you’ve found your man.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his slick shaft. Covering it with his own, he squeezed hard and dragged her palm up the thick length, twisting it over the head before dragging it back down to the base. He did it again, and then again. Then he folded one arm under his head and stroked her hip with the other while she flew solo.
As she performed, she watched Peter watch her hand. His mouth was slightly open, his eyelids at half-mast, and as he began to pant, color rose in his cheeks.
“Speed up a little,” he told her roughly. When she did, he pulled his arm out from under his head with a groan, gripped the top edge of the ottoman with both hands and began thrusting into her strokes. God, he looked magnificent, almost animalistic as he arched upward with his jeans around his thighs.
“Fuck, yes, that’s good.”
“You are so incredibly beautiful,” she breathed.
His eyes flashed open. “Miranda, suck,” he ground out. “Now.”
She leaned over without hesitating and sucked hard while he fucked her mouth. The way he held her head firmly in place made her nipples draw up tight and stirred the embers of desire between her legs into a blazing inferno. Within a minute, his legs began to shake and his thrusts grew shallow, and then he growled low and long.
“Get ready, angel,” he warned. “I’m going to come just…about…oh fuck…now.”
Miranda trembled with excitement when he pulled her head back until just the tip of him was still in her mouth. His whole body jerked as streams of hot, wet musk landed on her tongue in time with contractions she could feel with her lips. Her first instinct was to swallow, but she waited. When his hands relaxed on her head, she released him and sat up, rubbing his semen between her tongue and the roof of her mouth while she watched his cock, which didn’t go down as fast as she thought it would.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked between deep breaths.
She swallowed. “Not what I expected. It reminds me of oysters.”
He started laughing. “Dear Diary, performed BJ today. It tasted like oysters. Love, Miranda.” When she laughed too, he said, “You can chase it with some honey if you like. I won’t be offended.”
She shook her head, licking her lips and savoring the taste. “I’m good.”
“You are.” He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her silly, swiping his tongue all over the inside of her mouth as if he found the taste of his semen as enthralling as she did. Then he rolled them to their sides.
“So what else haven’t you tried? Have you ever been on the receiving end?” he asked, deftly unfastening her bra and drawing the strap down her arm.
She stiffened. “Um, I don’t think that’s—”
“Okay, so that would be no.” He rolled over on top of her and sat up, tossing her bra onto the couch behind him as he straddled her hips. Miranda couldn’t take her eyes off his cock, which still spilled out of his open jeans, its wet head resting on her abdomen. The casual intimacy of that sticky contact between them made her heart race and body heat.
“Beautiful little tits,” he murmured, cupping them with his hands and rubbing his thumbs gently over the hard points of her nipples.
Miranda moaned, unable to stop the slow roll of her hips in response.
“How daring are you, Miranda Girard?” Peter asked, with a challenging look.
Her breath caught in her throat. “How daring do you want me to be?”

“What’s your wife bringing?”
Michael shut the door and furrowed his brow. “Excuse me?”
She wasn’t going to ask again. She walked over to the desk and touched the paperweight shaped like a boxing glove. She’d gotten that for Michael’s father when she was thirteen. It was still here.
“Marley,” he huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “My wife won’t be bringing anything. I’m not married.”
She shrugged, not turning to look at him, though she felt a rush of relief she knew she had no right to. “I was sure Jessica Ryan would have had you cornered before you hit twenty-one.”
“Jessica Ryan was already hooked up by the time I turned twenty-one.” Michael’s wry tone forced her to turn to face him. “She and Anna Poole are still together, as a matter of fact. They co-coach the cheerleading squad for our old high school.”
Jessica and Anna? Marley felt her eyes go wide. They’d been two of the most promiscuous girls in school. Who saw that coming? “I guess I’ve missed a lot.” She swallowed as she stared at the ridges of his stomach, the dark color of his nipples and the droplets of sweat cooling on his skin. She wanted to lick it off his body. Wanted to feel it on her skin. “Everything is so…um…different. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Not everything, princess,” he growled, moving closer slowly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. “Some things appear to be exactly the same.”
Did he mean the way she reacted to him whenever they were alone? The way her throat closed and her thighs heated whenever he looked at her the way he was looking at her now?
She’d imagined this office so many times. The cot in the corner where she and Michael had once lain in silence, listening to the grunts of the men working out downstairs while she allowed him to touch her. Just touch her. Over her clothes. On her newly budding breasts. Between her thighs. It had been exciting and forbidden. The possibility of being caught. The innocent eroticism of the moment.
Grown-up Marley wanted more. She imagined him bending her over the desk and taking her. Now, when everyone knew she was here. When they’d all be able to hear her cries of pleasure.
She really needed to get a hold of herself.
“I know about Carlos,” she said, shifting and feeling the denim of her jeans graze her sensitive sex. “I want to help. I just…I’m not sure what you want from me. Or why you think I could do anything at all.”
Michael smiled. “You’ve always been good at changing the subject, princess. But I’ll let it slide for now since you actually showed up. The answer is on the bookshelf. The envelope beneath the little tree.”
A small, potted evergreen. He was still doing that? They’d gotten one every year, decorated it carefully, then made sure to plant it somewhere the day after Christmas. So the memories would live on as long as the trees were growing. It was Carlos who’d started that tradition, but Marley had always loved the sentiment.
She walked over to the bookshelf near the window and lifted the pot. A crumpled, stained envelope, right where he said it would be. She opened it and began to read, feeling heat warm her cheeks and pain squeeze her heart. This was too intimate. Too personal. She didn’t have the right anymore. Not to have this kind of window into the tender soul of a man she hadn’t seen in so long. Oh, Carlos, she silently sighed. She hadn’t even seen him and he was already breaking her heart.
When she finished reading her sigh was shaky. “You think that’s what he wants? I don’t know if I can… Michael? What are you doing?”
He’d come up behind her, gripping her hips with his strong hands as he pressed his erection against the curve of her ass. “I can’t fucking help it, Marley. I’ll stop if you tell me to but, seeing you in here, like this—do you remember?”
He knew she did. He rocked his hips against her and she gasped, her fingers tightening on the pages of the letter as he slid his hands up to caress the sides of her breasts. Lightly. Teasingly.
His voice was rich with need. “I’m not talking about the touching, though I remember that too. I’m talking about that time you and Carlos caught me in here before the gym was open. When I’d slept here again because the family had descended and we had no more room in the house. That morning I woke up dreaming about you, still smelling your shampoo on the pillow. I was only seventeen. I didn’t have as much practice at control. Didn’t think I needed to.”
How could she have forgotten that? Her eyes closed and she could see it so clearly. She’d come in right before Carlos, both of them smiling in secret delight at the idea of waking him with their frozen hands and a bag of his favorite kolaches from the corner bakery.
She’d never seen an erection before. Certainly she’d never seen Michael’s. Never imagined she’d be so instantly titillated by the way he gripped it in his fist, his naked hips pumping upward as he gritted his teeth and made a sound that was almost one of pain.
Carlos had taken her hand in his and squeezed, trying to drag her backward without disturbing him. She’d resisted. She wasn’t sure why. She only knew she wanted to see more. Needed to see everything.
Michael’s voice in her ear told her he was remembering it too. “I opened my eyes just in time to see you lick your lips. Did you know you’d done that? Licked the same lips I was imagining wrapped around my cock?” He growled. “Knowing you were watching had me coming harder than I ever had. Watching those pretty green eyes go wide when you saw it happen—fuck—I knew in that moment that you wanted to know. What it tasted like. What I tasted like. Was I right?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Lost in the moment. The memories.
One hand slipped down again, unbuttoning the button of her jeans. “Tell me to stop, Marley.” When she didn’t, he slid his hand inside her panties until his fingers were pressed against her clit.
“There it is,” he sighed. “That’s what hasn’t changed. I still make you wet. Still make you want. After all this time, you still want to know, don’t you? Still want to know what could have happened. You must, because you haven’t pushed me away. Haven’t told me to stop or slapped my face.”
She shook her head, but they both knew she was a horrible liar. Even as she tried to deny it, she set the letter down and covered his hand with both of hers, forcing his fingers to press harder against her, to move lower.
Michael hummed. “Yeah, you still love this. The princess can hide in her tower all she wants, but we know the truth, you and I.” He lowered his voice to a whisper that skimmed across her cheek like a caress. “We know what a bad girl you are.”
She was bad. Jesus, she needed to stop him before she came. It had been so long—how could his touch still do this to her? It took away all her defenses. Made her ache for more. His middle finger slipped inside her with shallow thrusts and she gasped, her nails digging into the back of his hand until he growled.
The sound of the office door creaking open made her tense an instant before she heard the irritated male voice. “Jesus, Michael. In the middle of the day? If you have company you should at least lock the damn door.”