Page 6 of Mr. Sandman
He sat back on his heels and regarded me for a long moment, deciding whether or not to agree.
“I’ll bring them in, but they don’t touch you until I say, understand?”
I nodded, a strand of hair sliding over my shoulder.
I’d never forget that moment—the pause when he reached for that lock of hair and brushed it back over my shoulder. Once more, Vaughn’s big body crowded out the rest of the room—the rest of everything as he cupped my face and brought my mouth right in front of his.
“Your mouth is so perfect, gorgeous,” he murmured. “It’s going to look so good wrapped around Gage’s cock.”
I audibly exhaled, unable to stop the sound of want from escaping on my breath.
“You want that, don’t you, Tara? A big cock down your throat while I eat your cunt until she squirts?”
I swayed forward, involuntarily moving like a magnet attracted to his intense power.
“Say it,” he ordered, running his hands up and down my thighs.
“Yes.” My tongue slipped over my bottom lip. “I want that—I want it all. I want you all.”
His mouth continued to hover over mine, and it was pure torture.
“How do you want all of us?” he coaxed, giving me just the barest brush of his lips on mine. “Say it so they can hear you. Tell them how you want all of our cocks.”
Oh god.
I was wound so tight I felt like I was dying.Suffocating. Ache had filtered all the oxygen from the air and left me gasping. Was it because it had been so long? Was that why I ached so badly for the three of them when two of them I hadn’t even met? Or was I just wired for this—always been wired to be shared because there was too much of me for one?
“I want to be fucked by all of you at once.” The words rushed from my mouth like I was begging for my life.
“Good girl,” Vaughn praised and then kissed me.
His lips were everything I imagined. Firm and unyielding. Hot and expert. I whimpered and opened my mouth instantly, letting the strong velvet of his tongue glide inside and circle mine.
He tasted like masculine mint, and I shuddered. This wasn’t a kiss, it was a dismantling of the last of my armor. Intoxicating me to the very edge of sanity. With everystroke, his hands moved higher on my thighs toward where I desperately craved his touch. Closer and closer to the knot of heat, I wanted him to unravel.
My breath stuttered as his knuckles brushed along my sex, giving me a taste of heat before the cold returned as he drew back.
“Vaughn…”
Somewhere in the kiss, I grabbed the front of his shirt, curling my fingers in the fabric to hold me steady. I panted, about to drag his mouth back to mine for more when he rumbled,“We have to take our time, gorgeous, if you’re going to take all of us.”
His hands slid up my sides, big and warm, over my bare skin until they reached around my back, fingering the clasp of my bra before it popped free. I felt the cool rush of air over the sensitive peaks of my nipples.
“Stand,” he ordered as he sat back on his heels. “Let them see how perfect you are.”
I inhaled sharply, catching the glint in his eyes that dared me to revel in this powerful moment.
Peeling my hands from his shirt, I stood without using him as a crutch, and his eyes flared with desire as I rose in front of him—above him. He knelt in front of me, his dark hair level with my waist. I wondered if he could see how turned on I was—if my wanting had leaked through the thin fabric of my pants.
“Gage. Chord.” His clipped tone had all the authority of a general barking out orders, and my whole body heated in the thought of that tone being used on me.
My nipples pebbled so tight they hurt. I was on display for him—for them. But I didn’t feel demeaned or weak; I felt like the goddess they’d come to worship. Like in all those ancient paintings where the female deities sat with their chests bare, the sexuality part of their power.
The hidden door unlatched and swung into the room. Two men strode through the opening, and I found myself at a loss to understand how three men could look so different… yet all so built and gorgeous.
The one on the left had short black hair and lonely, obsidian eyes. The one on the right, a blond and blue-eyed Adonis. They both had on suit pants and a dress shirt. However, unlike Vaughn’s white shirt, the one on the left wore a gray button-down, and the one on the right, a black one.
“Chord,” Vaughn introduced, watching me as the man in the gray shirt dipped his chin and then began to unfasten his shirt sleeves just like Vaughn had done.
