Page 35 of Wild Flower

“Is that true?”

Finn shrugs. “I’m still trying to find the right subject for the upcoming show at school.”

“Well, if you’re interested in flowers,” I venture, “I have a farm of varieties you won’t see in the public gardens because they’re either too hard to keep alive or they’re poisonous.”

A smile hitches Finn’s face, impressed I take such care with things that are dark and dangerous.

“Do those flowers compare to the Eden of tattoos under your dress?” Archer asks in a low voice that reverberates in my chest. Warmth floods my lower belly and my fingertips heat.

Is that what Finn meant? Does he want to takenudephotographs of me?

My lower regions wake up at the idea of lying naked on these rocks with my tattoos on display: my pale skin contrasting against the night, my nipples pert, the roughness of the rock under my spine. Prickles of need shoot through my body.

“Is that …” I look at Finn, breathless, “… what you meant?”

“I’d be honored to …” Finn’s eyes trace over the briars of my skin.

“It’s too dark,” Archer reminds us. “Tonight, we swim.”

We both turn to see Archer completely naked. His suit is folded neatly on the rocks, his body disarming in the moonlight. Archer stands as if being naked was his most comfortable state of being with no clothes or secrets to hide behind.

My gaze drifts lower, and Archer’s endowments are as impressive as the spadix of a rare Titan arum, fleshy and proud in the curl of a giant purple petal. It makes me want to get on my knees and tend to him in the dirt, feel him in my mouth.

Before I have a chance to kneel, Archer steps forward and cups my chin, tilting my lips to him, his long, dark hair a curtain of beauty that frames the fire in his eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Wild Flower.”

He takes my mouth hotly, and I whimper at his advance, my hands finding his naked hips, his lower back, his strength. He’s made of a warmth and firmness, and I’m weak in my legs.

“I like that nickname,” I pant, as his arms ring my back and he presses me against him. He’s sobig, with hands like a hurricane that swirl over the velvet of my dress and ignite my moaning.

I slide my fingers over the curve of his ass, and Archer grunts in appreciation. God, he’s fit! Then pressure envelopes me from behind—it’s a second body, Finn’s—and I’m sandwiched between both of them.

Two men, all heat, large and surrounding.

My mouth drops open and I pant against Archer’s mouth as Finn’s hands become just as devious on my velvet.

“You’re wearing too much for a swim,” Finn breathes in my ear, and I reach behind me to find Finn is also naked: his hips and thighs are bare.

“You’re both—” I arch my back and stretch my fingers to find Finn’s backside just as firm as Archers. “God, you’re both so—”

There are hands unzipping my dress. I don’t know whose, but it’s Archer’s mouth that’s blazing down my neck. His lips nip at the yellow blossoms that stretch across my cleavage, but Archer doesn’t stop there. He peels down the green velvet, then the cup of my bra, before latching onto my bare nipple with his wet assault.

“Oh, wow!” I gasp, dropping my head back and resting it on Finn’s shoulder. My body reacts of its own accord, arching deviously into Archer.

Finn turns my face to his and claims my lips. I open my mouth and savor his tender embrace. I’m on fire. One mouth sucks my tongue and the other is on my breast, as four incredible hands grope and clutch and turn me wicked.

I don’t know who finishes unzipping my dress, but the velvet opens and hands find their way inside, covering my navel and searing up my ribs. I think it’s Finn who cups the weight of my breasts, pulling the other bra cup down and fiendishly claiming my flesh, my exposed nipples knotting as fingers pluck and flick.

My core throbs as two men worship me. I’ve never felt more gorgeous or desired.

The hooks of my bra unlatch and the band releases, allowing both men to take my weight with their mouths and fingers. I look at the stars shining above, sparkling like every nerve in my skin. Archer moves to my newly exposed nipple and bites. He’s a demon casting a spell, because each nip makes my clit throb. I open my knees wider with each tongue lashing, eager for mouths and hands to plunder where I’m aching below.

Hands peel my dress and bra from my shoulders, slipping the fabric down my sides, until I’m wearing nothing but my thong and heels and two men.

I hook both of my arms around Finn’s neck, behind me, letting him take my weight as my tits and stomach arch in the moonlight. The tattooed briars and ferns that cup my ribs and frame my breasts are an offering, presenting my tits to Archer like a gift. Which he gladly unwraps, raking his teeth over my swollen weight, nipping and suckling until I’m moaning savagely.

I cry out so load the night swallows my breath, and I realize I’m going to fuck these men on this cliff, right now, with Archer worshiping my skin. I’m so achy and wet, that whatever inhibitions I had the other night when I went home are completely gone. This is what my romance novels mean when therightman—or men—turn you on, and it’s a spell of lust you fall under.

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