Call Me Sugar Page 11

  “Have the two of you done this before? Have you shared a woman?”

  Keith lowers a hand down and over my breast in a perfectly possessive glide with heat glistening in his eyes. He leans me onto my back and cups and caresses my flesh softly and tenderly then squeezes the tip of my nipple so hard and callously that I feel it all the way through my clit and deep in my belly.

  “Not even once, sugar.”

  When I see Jason take a step backward and settle against the wall with a look so lustful, so provocative and hungry, I find myself unable to look away. Even as I feel Keith spreading my thighs apart, cupping my sex that is so achy and so wet, then flickering his tongue over my clit, my gaze strangely never leaves Jason. My body arches, a fierce tremor sending rippling waves of heat through my veins when I see his lips parting and his eyes beginning to dilate.

  God, how I want to taste him.

  I expect Keith to demand that I look his way or even smack his palm against my ass, but he only raises my hips up higher, his tongue plunging inside me, licking, sucking, teasing my clit, as his hands run a sweltering path up and down my thighs. Jason is breathing hard. Keith is breathing hard. We’re all helplessly aroused while I moan then whimper, squirm then gasp, my body wanting more, wanting everything, wanting both of them. My eyes settle back on Keith because he’s the one I’ve loved since I was a teenager, the man I’ve always dreamed of having a life with, and the man that has my body so shamelessly aroused that I already feel a faint tingling building in my abdomen.

  “Eyes back on Jason,” Keith snaps with an iciness to his voice as my hands tug at his hair, my hips arching, the ache deep in my sex already telling me I’m seconds from erupting into a shattering climax by the most seductive, erotic, sexual experience of my life.

  “Keith.” I’m nearly panting as my pelvis hoists and my legs widen, brazenly welcoming his fingers as they slide inside me and touch that perfect spot with the perfect pressure. “Keith.” I pull harder at his head as his fingers and lips stroke all the sensitive spots on me with nothing but beautiful precision.

  My God, he knows his way around my body.

  Jason’s jaw is clenched tight, his pants tented. His breathing is coming out hard and uneven, while his hands fist at his sides. So much hunger flickers in those eyes that are so blue and so beautiful that my sex clenches and squeezes around Keith’s tongue as my core burns ashy hot fire from Jason’s gaze, the thick erection beneath his zipper, and the low rumble vibrating in his chest.

  My senses are inundated with two men. Frighteningly so. I want them both hungry, both touching me, both inhaling my scent, both tasting me, feeling every inch of me, and doing everything that three bodies can do. No matter how wrong, how deranged, or how foolish it is to believe something this insane could ever possibly work, I ache for them both on such a level that it scares me.

  I look back at Keith, and he stops what he’s doing then flips me onto my stomach before landing a harsh, stinging slap on my ass, which is so hard, so painful, but so arousing that it has all five feet, five inches of my body lifting and every inch of me quivering while I listen to what sounds like a groan from Jason.

  “I told you, baby girl. Eyes to the wall … and Jason. You’ve been eye fucking my boy since he stepped through the door, and your pussy clenches every time you look his direction. Don’t think I’m not wise enough to know when a woman loves a man.”

  Fire shoots through my chest and nipples and ends at my clit as I concede and look back toward Jason with my mind becoming torn between the way I’m feeling and what Keith is making me do. “There’s only you. It’s always been you, Keith.”

  Another hard slap on my ass has me trembling and my mind spiraling and reveling in the harsh way that he prevails and controls and the way he takes charge but also doesn’t insist on my complete attentiveness. “You don’t get to lie to me, Jen. Not now. Not ever,” he says with a dangerous rumble to his voice.

  He lowers his head and presses his lips against the stinging skin on my butt cheek and lingers there for a long moment before I feel another palm of scalding-hot fire, this time against the eminently fragile spot where my ass meets the top of my thigh. Then again … and again … and again. Lost and bewildered, I’m fidgeting, squirming, rubbing my clit against the soft fabric underneath, and yielding to the beautiful and powerful Dominance of Keith Ryker while the eyes of his lover continue swallowing me, seducing me. Captivating me.

  I feel another strike. Two more. One, maybe two, maybe ten.

  Then he’s moving down, his mouth returning to the slickness between my thighs, his hands purposefully squeezing at the stinging skin of my wildly inflamed ass as he spreads me apart, spears his tongue back inside, and orally seduces me in a way I’ve never come close to being seduced before.

  Jason’s hand is inside his slacks and cupping his dick, while his eyes stay glued to mine. Suddenly, I’m trying to decide if what I’m feeling is shame, disgust, humiliation, or the exact opposite as I watch him watching me, watching Keith, while my entire backside feels like it’s on fire and my core is mindless with pleasure and the need to come. Keith pulls my clit between his lips and suckles and teases while I open my legs wider, shamelessly, so close to erupting into the most intense, most erotic climax of my life.

  “Your pussy still tastes just like sweet rose water, and you’re still so damned wet. So damned warm and swollen. Were you wet for him all those years ago the way you were for me? Did you want to sink to your knees and play sub to him like you did me? Did you go home and make yourself come when he wouldn’t give you his cock, Jen? Do you want his cock now?”

  “Keith. I … I don’t—"

  Humiliation mixed with lust stings at my eyes when Keith lifts me up onto my knees and spins me around then tosses me onto my back, where he starts to lick and nip and suck at my inner thighs hard enough to leave marks.

  “Oh, God.” My hands grip the linens beneath me as I pant with hunger for Keith and ache with growing need for Jason. Urgency and desperation glistens in Jason’s eyes as he stares at Keith, then me, then back at Keith while jacking himself harder, furiously, desperately, while I think of Keith inside my pussy, Jason in my ass, Jason in my pussy, Keith inside his ass, and both of them inside my sex … at the same time.

  Keith spreads me apart then sucks at me, teases me, his mouth continuing its silky assault of excruciating bliss on my body as he tongues me into what I know is only seconds from a paralyzing climax.

  More whimpers slide from my lips, and then it starts happening. I feel myself fading, throbbing, so fiercely hot and turned on for these two men that I’m slipping away, quickly, too quickly, the tense knot in my sex seconds from igniting. There is nothing but bliss and contentment spiraling through me, and I don’t want it to end. God, I don’t. But it’s dark, darker, then bright, lights flashing, flickering. Jason is slowly disappearing in front of me with the sensual sight of his hand on his cock fading. There’s only dark … light … dark … more light. It’s torment. Torture. Bliss. Nirvana. Keith bites down on the tip of my clit, and I feel it everywhere, inside, outside, my hair, my fingernails, my face.

  “Oh God! Keith…” Everything inside me burns.

  “That’s so beautiful, sugar,” he murmurs with my clit back between his lips, while I whimper and feel tears falling from my eyes in a long steady stream. “She tastes so goddamned good, Jason.”

  I force my heavy eyes open and look toward Jason, intoxicated by the way his eyes are so blue, so dilated, so hungry, the glistening dusting of blond hair on his hand that’s fisting his cock harshly, unceremoniously, urgently, and his bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth. My fingertips twist and turn into the bed sheets as I burst into a shattering orgasm that’s so intense, so dirty and erotic, that I feel like I’ll never recover, never feel normal or crave normal sex again.

  With my body still spiraling, trembling, and quivering, Keith moves up beside me and pulls me into his chest, his breath smelling of me as he traces th
e line of my cheekbone. “I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful or wanted one the way I do you, baby girl. You’re made for me. I knew it before. I know it now.”

  Once I’ve stopped shaking, he walks toward Jason and pushes his hand away from his cock and replaces it with his own. He strokes up and down the length of his shaft then leans over and kisses deep into his mouth like someone hungry, like someone aching, like a man who can’t get enough and needs more … and everything … everything that I can’t give him. Low and luscious moans rise up Jason’s chest and his hands coil through Keith’s hair as their bodies move in a slow sultry sway against each other like two people who can’t get enough. Like two people would never recover should they lose one another. Like two people sharing a beautiful eternal love affair.

  “Fucking hell, Keith.”

  Keith starts fisting Jason harder, rougher, with wild unrestrained strokes. He urges him forward then licks into his mouth passionately, desperately, kissing and kissing, until every wet trace of me is long kissed away and the sculpted lines of his stomach are tensing as he spurts thick lines of semen into Keith’s palm.

  I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, so heartbreakingly warm and erotic and emotional. Tears fall down my face and off the tip of my nose as a million questions fill my head with chaos and mayhem.

  They love each other.

  I suspected it then.

  I’m positive now.

  And with all that is holy, I want to be included. I want to be involved. I want to feel loved … by them both.

  When Keith ends what may be the most seductive kiss I’ve ever laid eyes on, his gaze turns cold and emotionless. “You get to taste what I do,” he says with a cold, insensitive tone. He leans over and gives Jason a final, quick, and heartless smack on the lips. “But only when I say. Her pussy is my property to do with as I like.”

  With that, he turns and walks into the adjoining bathroom and returns with a wet cloth and a tube of cream in which he hands both to Jason.

  “Clean her up, gently. Feed her some water. Smooth some aloe over her ass,” he adds with a tone so demeaning, so callous and provocative, that it sends blazing coils of heat down my body. “Then take her home and don’t leave her sight until she’s recovered and sleeping.”

  Jason says nothing, only nodding, pulled just as deeply into the dynamic electric submission to Keith Ryker as I am.

  ****

  Keith

  In the country, the nights are a warm, welcoming sight, a serenade of velvet dark tranquility and a restfulness to calm a tired soul and offer a piece of gratitude to the comforts of home. The night air at Ryker Ranch has always been my oasis of quietude, like Mother Nature’s gift that allows me to rest my brain before dawn returns.

  Miserable in at least a dozen kinds of ways, right now the chilled, lonely hush of night is almost a daunting disruption.

  While I gaze across the silent hush of my property, the subdued quiet feels anything but peaceful and more like the sound of black gloom as I try easing the shit show playing through my mind. My fist is relentless and ruthless—craving Jason, craving my boy—as it grips my dick hoping to lessen just a small fragment of this wretchedness pounding in my head like a jackhammer. Deep-seated need stirs through my chest with an urgency to drive into town to check on Jen and make sure she’s safe and recovered then do the same damn thing for Jason. With my head heavy and throbbing like it’s seconds from exploding, I stoke harder, gratingly, needing, wanting, and aching for them both.

  “Christ Jesus.” My heart is in fucking pieces, split into two pronounced halves. I want and need Jen in my bed and my life, to taste, to touch, to fuck, then taste, touch, and fuck again. Nothing has ever felt any more right, or any more natural. But it doesn’t change the undying, unyielding urge swimming inside me that is, and will always be, Jason Lee kneeling before me, obeying, respecting, worshiping, his thighs covered in raised, red welts with a little piece of my soul left inside his body. I could never walk away.

  I’d die for either of them.

  I need them both. My God, I do.

  Fucking fuck. Fuck my life.

  A surge of heat charges through my veins, and I close my eyes with my balls drawing up tight and the preposterous illusion of the three of us in bed … sharing our passions and our bodies … in every fucking conceivable scenario. Not just a meaningless, one-time sexual experience between three people, but every day, every night, until the end of time.

  “Hey.” Just as my dick jets hot threads of semen onto my belly, he’s here. Only feet away. Taking long determined strides through the French doors with his lips parting, his cock hard behind his zipper, and his blue gaze piercing, lustful, and tormented all at the same time.

  He drops to his knees—obediently and unabashed—a flood of emotions in his blue eyes. He reaches for my erection that’s still pulsing and hard, shoves at my thighs, then swallows me the way he knows I need to be swallowed before devouring every inch of me uncontrollably, dementedly, desperately. With my teeth gritting and my fingertips curling into his scalp, I force him against me so hard and so brutally that I know his breathing is awkward then fuck his mouth until he’s pulling the final drops of my orgasm.

  “Fucking shit.” With a hoarse cry, I find his eyes and release with a groan deep in my chest, his tongue still moving over me in a way that’s harsh and insensitive, but rousing and stimulating, and just exactly what he knows I want and need. There’s no hot spot on my body that Jason is unfamiliar with. He knows just where to press his tongue, the ideal instant I need gentle or rough, or how to squeeze my balls just the right way with the perfect vigor.

  He knows my body, my needs, my demands, like no other ever has or could or will.

  With my hands spearing into his hair, my chest rising and falling, an ocean of emotions storming through my chest, and my cock so damned sensitive, I’m nonetheless swelling all over again like I didn’t just spray my load sixty seconds ago.

  Christ! This is a fucking freak show in so many ways, these thoughts in my head, these aches swirling inside me, the endless need for Jason and his pretty eyes, the urgency for his warm tongue, his thick lips, his cock, but also yearning for Jen’s luscious curves, her sweet face, her tight pussy that grows wet just by my touch. I want them both. Jen wants us both. Jason wants us both. Could Jen accept two men at the same time? Long term? Could Jason accept me having sincere feelings for a woman? For the duration? Could I learn to welcome watching a man I love thrust his cock into the woman I love? Permanently?

  Motherfucking shit. I harden all over again just thinking about it.

  “Goddammit, boy.” I can’t get enough. I ram myself back down his throat, desperate and mean, then yank him against me and fuck his mouth so savagely, so ruthlessly, that I see water building in his eyes. Every part of me wants to pull my cock from his mouth and beat the fuck out of him until he leaves and never returns. I want to throw him off my property and demand he never show his face again. “You know how I feel about you, but God help me, I want her too. I need her. I fucking need the both of you.”

  Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he doesn’t budge. He licks firmly, then softly. Quickly, then slowly, my hands tugging through his hair cruelly, his scalp turning hot as he moans with the pain, his cock hardening with building hunger. I yank him against me and shove deeper, wickedly, passionless, with a savage groan pulling up my chest that the nightlife can undoubtedly hear as I feel the fire of another climax and start pulsing and spurting until he’s at last milked me fucking dry.

  Jason doesn’t move an inch until I’m done pulsing and my fingertips uncurl and he’s licked away every last drop. I ease out of his mouth and reach for his hand. “Stand up, boy.” He does as I command, and I tug him against my chest and mouth, where lips, tongues, and teeth tangle together in an urgency so extreme, so dire, that it feels like two people at combat and warfare. He tastes like Jason, and me, and I’m frantic, desperate for my hands around his throat, my marks on his pretty ass a
nd thighs, and his body facing the wall as he groans deep in his chest and welcomes my cock while pleading for my ass.

  I want him. In more ways than one, I want him. Fuck, I do.

  But there’s also Jen. I ache for her. My God, how I ache for her.

  Agonizing torment, deep and raw, claws at my chest like red-hot, razor-sharp knives. They’re both my life, my heart, and to stay away from either would be pain. Excruciating, harrowing, soul-crushing, physical and emotional agony.

  “And I need you both as well,” Jason responds. “Christ, I do. But right now, it’s you that I need. You that I ache for. Will you ever let me inside you? Will you ever let me show you just how much I need you?”

  Never in my life have I felt such anguish, such conflict.

  “There’s nothing about this that doesn’t scream fucked up, Jason. Not a goddamned thing.” I lift my pants back up and turn to walk inside.

  “We can do this,” Jason says while inching behind me. “The three of us. We’ll make it work. I’ll make it work. If it’s the last thing I do.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jen

  Three weeks pass quickly.

  Business trips for Jason. Museum work for me. Keith continuing to be busy with cattle preparation for an upcoming auction where he’ll sell most of his calves. Most evenings, the two of us have shared a short dinner together, mainly at the ranch, occasionally in my kitchen, and of course the weekly fix of Mendez Tex-Mex. All because I’ve insisted.

  Keith is anything but his usual spirited self.

  Day in and day out, it’s been the same. His expression is gloom, his normal lively spirit flat and listless. There’s an ache behind his eyes, a darkness in his gaze, as if something has sucked the spring and sparkle from him and replaced it with misery and gloom.

  Twenty-one days without him laying a hand on me has felt like torture in more ways than one. But worse than the sexual frustration is the silence. It’s a lingering, dead, continuous silence, like a hopeless dark void. Some days we’ve barely spoken at all, even over dinner. A dull gloominess persists in his eyes, his smiles fewer and further between, his words more and more limited. And I know just exactly where this is coming from. I know, because I feel the same way.