Page 24 of Room Nine: Masters of Control

We both take a couple steps towards each other, meeting in the middle. I cup her face in my hands, staring into her stormy blue eyes sparkling with sexual energy. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Am I sure I want to kiss you? Yes.”

“Yeah, but after you kiss me, you have to kiss Kerr.” I wrinkle my nose, acting as if I am disgusted by the idea, which makes her giggle.

Behind us, Kerr grumbles, “You should be so lucky, fucker.”

I lower my head and kiss her gently, her bottom lip soft and plump and begging to be nibbled. Kyra runs her hands up my arms until she’s sliding her fingers into my short hair, her lips parting to let me get my first taste of her. She brushed her teeth while in the bathroom—probably spending that time debating the pros and cons of getting involved with three men—peppermint mixing with the horchata on my breath. On instinct, I take several steps back until my calves hit the couch cushion, slowly sitting down and coaxing her onto my lap. She kneels on the cushion beside me, her weight shifted so she’s partially sitting on my thigh.

I sense more than see Kerr shift on the opposite end of the couch, both feet planted firmly on the floor as he reaches out and touches her leg.

Pulling back, I kiss and then suck her lip into my mouth, our eyes locked on each other. “Everything I wanted, Angel.”

She smiles at me drunkenly, our kiss mutually intoxicating.

Kerr’s hand comes into my field of view to caress her cheek and gently turn her face toward him. Suddenly, I’m thankful for her small couch, perfectly built for the three of us with her nestled in the middle. As he kisses her, her leg is pressed against mine with my hand resting on her upper thigh, and she’s still got her hand on my chest, which drops lower as he dazzles her with his talented tongue, one that I know makes all the women moan.

It’s when she curls her fingertips into my belt that I know Kerr’s kisses have driven her out of her mind, and this could go from PG-13 to rated X quickly.

9

KERR

Fuck me—Kyra tastes like Christmas. It might be the peppermint on her tongue mixing with the chocolate Hershey’s Kiss I sucked on ten minutes ago—I have a huge sweet tooth—or it might be the way she’s lighting me up from the inside.

If Kyra was nervous, she got over that shit quick. She’s got one hand on Dem’s belt, her other hand on my thigh, and she lets me take control of our kiss, my tongue tangling with hers. It’s the middle of the day, on what normally would be a workday for all of us. We’re in her tiny apartment that can’t possibly contain the things that we want to do with her. O’Dell’s not here, so this can only go so far. All that is to say, it’s still going to take everything within me not to fucking lay her out on the coffee table right now like a buffet.

I run a line of kisses along her jaw and up to her ear, whispering words of encouragement. “Kiss Dem again, Kitten.”

She turns her head, and Dem is right there to claim her luscious lips.

Sliding my hand up her inner thigh, I’m thankful she has pants on. If she was wearing a skirt, there’d be no way I could keep my fingers from slipping inside of her panties.

I want to play with her.

I want to tease her until she’s dripping down my hand and soaking my cufflinks.

And then I want to taste her, sucking every drop from my fingertips.

Her fingers curl into my inner thigh, brushing the tip of my growing erection, and it takes all my willpower not to arch my hips up into her touch.

The one thing about me and my partners—none of us are greedy. So, it isn’t long before Kyra’s turning back to me, our lips sealed again, tongues dancing as my kitten purrs for me.

This time she boldly grabs my cock through my slacks, her fingers kneading the hardening flesh. I can’t help but groan and shift my hips, letting her touch me in a way that I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks.

She must do the same thing to Dem, because he also groans, our fingers meeting at the apex of her thighs. She’s wearing yoga pants, the material thin enough to feel her wet heat radiating through the crotch. Kyra unabashedly spreads her knees wider, granting us access—and fuck me, it’s the sexiest thing a woman can do. I love when a woman knows what she wants and has no problem asking for it.

I love it even more when it’s my woman.

“Do you want to come, Kitten?” I nod when she looks at me, as if to give her the answer I’m desperate for her to say out loud.

“Yes,” she mewls.

“O’Dell should be here the first time you come. He’s going to want to see you come apart.”

Dem smiles. “Can you hold back for us, Angel? Will you let us tease you, pleasure you, edge you until all three of us are here to make you orgasm?”

“Edge me?”

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