Page 7 of Mr. Sandman
As he undid them, I realized he was covered in tattoos. Full sleeves on his arms, and when his head turned, I saw the edges of a design peek out from the buttoned collar at his neck.
“Gage.”
I didn’t need the introduction as my stare shifted to the only man left. The one wearing the black shirt with the “come-hither” gleam in his playful stare.
I shivered, watching their attention drop to my bare breasts. I didn’t have a large chest by any means, but I was confident enough to say I had nice tits. Big enough, rosy rednipples.
The two men growled in appreciation, but it was Gage who caught my attention when he brought his hand to the front of his pants, stroking his thumb along the growing ridge of his cock. My eyes widened and swung to Chord. The bulge in his pants was just as distinct.
Sweet heaven.
A rough shiver went through me.
“Cold?” Vaughn asked, but before I could answer, ordered over his shoulder. “Gage, come keep her warm.”
The one with the “come-hither” stare strode forward with a tipped grin, his gait slightly altered by his fat cock trapped against his thigh.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Gage murmured low, and I thought I picked up on a faint southern drawl and the end of his words.
Somehow, he managed to invade my space but not touch me.
Our eyes tangled, learning each other in looks rather than words. He lifted his hand and gently trailed a finger down my cheek until his thumb was able to pass over my lips, still tingling from Vaughn’s kiss.
“My greatest fear is being alone,” he confessed tenderly, the playfulness in his smile dimming for a moment.
“You’re not alone,” I replied. “Not tonight.”
I gasped audibly when the waist of my pants loosened and the fabric wafted down to my feet. I hadn’t even felt Vaughn working to undo them, but now I was in only my lace thong.
I caught a quick glimpse of Vaughn’s hungry stare before Gage turned my head back to his, his mouth inchingtoward mine. “No, I’m not, baby. Not with them. Not with you.”
And then his mouth crashed onto mine like straight kerosene on an open flame.
Chapter Three
Gage’s kissis nothing like Vaughn’s. It’s brutal and demanding and consuming, and within moments, I’m tangled in the tornado of heat spun up by the thrashing of our tongues.
Want consumed me. Licking and stroking, there was no teasing in this kiss, only conquering. Gage’s hand framed my throat, holding me like my mouth was only made for him.
When he finally let up, my head was spinning, but the soft mewl that escaped my lips begged for more.
“Chord,” Vaughn called to the other man, who waited and… enthusiastically watched. “Come take care of her tits.”
My passion-drunken stare slid to the last man. A quiet smile spread over his face, and as he came over to us, his hands rubbed together in anticipation. The movement made his tattoos dance along his forearms.
Gage nibbled at my ear, allowing me to familiarize myself with the last of their group.
“You have perfect tits, baby,” Chord rasped and stood by my left side.
I shivered, the tightness of my nipples increasingly painful.
“Tell her what you’re most afraid of, Chord,” Vaugh instructed, his hands still running in that soft holding pattern along the outsides of my thighs.
Chord grunted low, his eyes swirling with unbridled want. “Of being forgotten.”
He extended his arm, and in my stupor, I managed to make out some of his tattoos. Names. Face. Dates. Scenes. These weren’t just designs, they were memories. Of him. Of his life.
“I won’t forget you.”
