Page 135 of Pucking Sweet

“Babe, look,” Lukas says, pointing at a sign. “This place actually comes with breakfast. They do scones. God, I love a good scone.”

I smile, glancing around this chintzy parlor. A dozen floral patterns clash spectacularly—from the wallpaper to the sofa to the cream lace curtains. All the dark wood furniture looks antique, the china cabinets stuffed with teetering piles of teacups. A silver tray on the table boasts a large, beaded milk glass vase, overflowing with a spray of fall flowers.

Lukas takes a step away from me, inspecting the knickknacks on the shelf. “Aw, babe, look,” he says again. “Little lighthouse salt and pepper shakers.”

I feel like my heart grows two sizes as he holds them out to me, a happy smile on his face. I did that. I put that smile there. This isn’this teasing smile, or his competitive smile, or even the fake one he wears when he’s talking to the press. No, this is just…Lukas. This is a man I could love. This is a man I could build a life with. Why does he always hide himself away?

Crossing the carpet over to him, I wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him. He’s surprised for a moment, the lighthouse salt and pepper shakers still in his hand, but he recovers with a hungry groan, wrapping his arms around me.

“You two,” Colton calls. “Let’s go.”

Lukas and I break apart, smiling. His eyes are bright as he takes me in.

“Now,” Colton barks.

I hurry to follow him out the door, Lukas hot on my heels. We have to weave around the side of the sprawling old Victorian house. Not two blocks away, St. George’s Street is still bustling with Saturday night life. I hear the jazzy notes of someone busking with a saxophone. Somewhere close by, a horse and carriage clip-clops over the cobblestones.

The guys duck under a trellis of vines as we follow a stone foot path to a private set of stairs that lead up to a third-story room. Colton works the key into the door, swinging it open to admit me first.

I step in and click on a lamp, looking around at the pristine white walls and lace curtains. A walnut-stained four-poster bed takes up most of the room, decorated with a white quilt and frilly pillows. There’s an antique-looking washstand in the corner complete with a round marble top, and a chest of drawers with aged gold hardware. Peeking into the bathroom, I spy a large lion-foot soaking tub. A thriving pothos plant hangs from a ceiling hook by the window, trailing bright green vines down to the floor.

“This was all they had available,” Colton says from the door.

I turn around, taking in the way he stands there, keys in hand. Is he nervous? Is he regretting taking this step? Why is he always so difficult to read? “Please tell me what you’re thinking,” I blurt.

He raises a dark brow. Slowly, he sets the keys down on top of the dresser. “I’m thinking I want you naked on that bed,” he replies, his voice low. “And I want to sit in that chair, with my dick in my hand,and watch as Lukas devours your cunt.” He points to the upholstered chair next to the dresser.

Lukas stops his inspection of the minibar, glancing between us. “Well, fuck me, Coley. You’re really leaning all the way into this sharing thing, eh?”

“I do nothing by halves,” he replies, his gaze still hot and heavy on me. “Neither Lukas nor I have ever shared a partner before.”

My eyes go wide. “What? Never?”

“Never,” he replies.

“Not even close,” Lukas adds. “I mean, I think once my roommate and I both had girls in the room at the same time, but he was in his bed, and I was in mine and—why am I talking about this?” He fades into silence, a sheepish look on his face while Colton and I level glares at him.

“I have absolutely no idea,” I say.

Colton steps away from the door, sitting down on the chair. “If the bathroom proved anything to me, it’s that I have an unexplored voyeur kink. I want to watch…if you’ll both let me.”

I raise a brow. “But you’ll join in eventually?”

He holds out his hand.

Stepping forward, I place my hand in his. He reels me in and pulls me down onto his knee. One hand goes to my nape as the other takes my hand and places it over his hardening cock. I bite my bottom lip, fighting the urge to melt into him.

“Feel what you do to me? Can you feel how hard you make me?”

I nod, smoothing my hand down his shaft. “Yes.”

“I don’t even have to touch you. The thought of you alone does this to me, Poppy. Call me a masochist, but I crave the feeling of wanting you almost as much as I’ve come to crave this miserable fucking ache of not having you. Now, I want to sit in this chair and watch him fuck you until the desperate, burning need to claim you makes me get up, shove him aside, and bury myself in you. I won’t stop until my cum is dripping down your legs. Understand?”

I nod again, the heat of lust burning in my chest.

“Perfect,” he croons. “Now, be our good girl and go lie on the bed. Lukas is going to pleasure that sweet little pussy until you scream.”

45

---