Cajun Hot (4 page)

"Please,” she whispered, fighting a losing battle with herself.

"Please yes,
chère
? Or please no? You wan’ us to stop?"

Did she? She knew the answer without even thinking.
Lord have mercy.
“No,” she groaned, giving in to the erotic pull of the forbidden. “Don't stop."

"You wan’ us to touch you?” Jacque asked.

"Yes!"

"You wan’ us to fuck you?"

His rough demand zinged straight into her center, flooding her with liquid desire. She swallowed heavily. Their hands glided over her body, turning her bones, one by one, to jelly. She closed her eyes and somebody kissed her.
Jacque.
Already she could taste the difference between them. Jacque's taste was darker than Quint's, richer. She tipped her head up, seeking more. She couldn't get enough of the taste of him. Of them. Of the feel of being sandwiched between two powerful men. She wanted—

"Yes,” she whispered. “Yes."

"Say it,
chère
."

Fingers trailed along her shoulders. Her robe slid to the floor, and she was naked in their arms. Turning her from one to the other, moving in a spiral around the one-room cabin, the men touched her, kissed her, pinched and stroked her until she trembled with desire, ached with need. Hands and mouths moved over her, indistinguishable as to which owner.

A mouth closed over her nipple and she cried out, shuddering in ecstasy. She rested her head on a wide male shoulder and surrendered her body to their will.

She didn't know where she was—wasn't even sure who she was anymore. The only thing she knew was she didn't want them to stop until all three of them were a single heap of flesh, sated and panting on the floor.

Jacque held her face between his hands. “Say it,
chère
. I wan’ to hear you say it,” he insisted, his voice harsh and guttural.

Denying it no longer, she let herself say the words he demanded of her. “Fuck me,” she whispered past a huge lump in her throat. “I want you to fuck me."

"Both of us? You want both of us to fuck you?"

Face flaming, she confessed, “Yes."

With a satisfied grunt, Jacque threw off his T-shirt and pressed his bare chest hungrily against hers, rubbing the crowns of her deliciously sensitized breasts against his coarse chest hair, back and forth, until she thought she'd explode with pleasure.
God, she wanted him.

Again, she was turned and, suddenly, she was skin to skin with a gloriously naked Quint. His strong arms surrounded her, pulling her hard against him. He was shorter than Jacque by an inch or two, a bit stockier, his body all muscle. His solid cock pressed into her belly, long and hard. She shivered, and ran her hands down his back to his buttocks, feeling his firm muscle.

"We gonna make you feel so good,” he crooned into her hair, slowly backing her into the bedroom area of the cabin. “S-o-o-o good."

His arm like an iron band at her back, he leaned down and covered her mouth, his kiss deep and impassioned. His knee insinuated itself between her thighs and he spread them wide, using his feet to anchor hers far apart, opening her most intimate place to the rush of cool air and the trickle of her own warm moisture.

The jingle of a belt buckle and rustle of a wrapper being torn registered from a distant place, and then she was trapped between them again. Their broad shoulders pinned her, their powerful thighs caged her, their muscled arms held her in place for their pleasure. She hummed a long note of bliss.

Jacque's cock pressed against her buttocks, hard as oak and thick as a nightstick, rocking up and down like a baby in his cradle. His hands came around and teased her breasts, gently pinching and squeezing her nipples while Quint rubbed himself in circles against her mound and kissed her. Her breath came fast and shallow. Never had she felt anything so exquisitely arousing. If they hadn't been holding her up, she'd already be a boneless puddle at their feet.

Quint's hand slid between her legs, gliding into her slick cleft, stroking her fire. She squirmed, pressing herself onto it, wanting more. Jacque's hand joined his. His fingers plucked at the pearl of her need, probing her secret cove, slipping far into her.

A ragged moan sounded in her throat. She was ready to explode.

She felt her thighs being parted even further. Jacque bent his knees and, suddenly, he thrust into her from behind, filling her soft void with his thick, hard maleness. She gasped, breathless, and stood perfectly still, letting herself adjust to the feel of his huge member inside her.

"
C'est bien?
Feel good?"

"Oh my God, I've never—Oh, yes. So good.” She thought she might come just from the sheer feel of him inside her.

"
Viens ici.
” Taking her with him, he backed up a step, and sat on the high back of the oversized sofa. Still deeply impaled, she rode on his lap, her back to his front. “Stretch your arms up around my neck,” he directed.

She did as she was told, reaching up and back to lace her fingers behind his neck. He joined his hands around her midriff. She turned and he angled his head for a kiss, his long, wild hair falling about their faces like a thick black curtain. Hungrily, they ate at each other, their tongues twining and dancing. She felt him hook his legs around hers and, with his knees, he spread her wide. She broke the kiss and looked at Quint, who observed them with hooded intensity. His gaze raked over her breasts—prominently displayed for him by virtue of her position—to the juncture of her thighs, held wide open for his inspection by Jacque's knees. Jacque rolled his hips, imbedding himself even deeper into her. Quint watched hungrily.

She sucked in a breath, poised delectably between mortification and paradise. It was her deepest, darkest fantasy come true.

Licking his lips, Quint stepped between her legs. He reached up and scraped his fingernails softly, deliberately, down her chest, barely touching her skin. She shivered uncontrollably, goose bumps cascading over her body.

"You like being tickled?"

"No!” she gasped, but pushed her breasts toward him, silently begging for more.

He chuckled and continued to rake her breasts. She cried out when he reached the tips and plucked them, arching into his teasing fingers. Jacque moved his hands to cup her, holding her up for his brother's torture. Quint played with her nipples for breathless minutes, then bent to take them in his mouth. He suckled first one, then the other, until she panted and pleaded with them both to put an end to her agony. She wriggled and squirmed, seeking relief by working herself further onto Jacque, rewarded when he lifted her and let her slowly slide down his steely length. She was mad to feel his cock pumping into her, hot and hard.

Quint's mouth moved lower, to her stomach, and lower still. She whimpered, terrified of what would come next. Craving with her whole body what would come next. When his tongue lapped over the tight bud at the apex of her legs, she cried out, urging him to take her fully. He licked at her softly, prolonging the delicious torment.

Jacque's hands squeezed her breasts, and his lips sought hers. Desperately, she returned his fevered kiss, aroused beyond control. Quint's tongue circled her need, flicking and probing. Then his mouth closed over her and he sucked.

She screamed; her body splintered in a thousand million pieces, convulsing with pleasure. She thought she'd die of ecstasy, reaching pinnacles of sensation she hadn't known existed. Over and over again, she came, each time from a different pleasure wrought from devilishly clever hands and mouths.

When she finally floated back to earth, panting and spent, cradled in Jacque's arms, she was unable to move.

"
C'est bien, ‘tite chatte
? Good?"

"Oh, Jacque,” was all she could mumble. “Oh, God."

Strong arms lifted her, turned her belly-to-belly with Jacque, and impaled her on him anew. She folded her knees on top of the soft, ample sofa on either side of his thighs where he sat, and snuggled into his embrace. She was surprised he hadn't come yet, but didn't mind a bit, if it meant experiencing more of his scorching prowess.

And then it would be Quint's turn.

If she survived Jacque, that is.

Jacque tipped up her face and kissed her, sweet and tender. His lips caressed her; his hands stroked her body, slowly bringing her back from her delicious, sensual lethargy. Her heart filled with feelings of warmth and joy. He was a wonderfully patient, generous lover. She flexed her knees, moving deeper onto him, wanting to give him as much pleasure as she'd been given. When the kiss broke, she looked up and saw her own feelings mirrored in his eyes.

He smiled and, in that instant, looking into his black, fathomless eyes, she fell in love.

"You keep dis one, Chat,” Quint murmured from behind her. “She keep you hummin’ in the mornin'."

"I think I will.” Jacque said, and his arms tightened around her.

Quint stepped closer and pressed his body against her back, capturing her once again between the two of them. His sheathed cock rubbed greedily against her bottom. Inside her, Jacque throbbed.

A shiver of excitement coursed through her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. They wanted her. Primitively. Primally. They both wanted her with an urgency she could practically taste. Their virile male bodies pushed against her, lusting to slake their explosive hunger with her—within her.

For the first time in her life, she felt both feminine and powerful, and knew she could send either of them over the edge without even trying.

Quint reached around to fondle her breasts. Jacque's tongue swept into her mouth. They moved against her, starting a slow, rhythmic dance, with her in the middle. She moaned in enjoyment, spurring them to move faster. Their hands and mouths were everywhere. Her body burned with renewed desire. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe
she
was the one who'd go over the edge without even trying. She nudged Jacque to thrust deeper.

Behind her, Quint caressed her backside with his cock. Using long, smooth strokes, he slid between her bottom cheeks, down to where Jacque pumped into her, then up again. He paused at her back entry, prodding with his swollen tip. She rocked against him, aroused by the unusual sensation. Jacque found the throbbing nubbin between her legs and began circling it relentlessly with his thumb.

She writhed in their arms, hot and ready.

Something cool and wet slid down her bottom, sending a shiver down her spine. Quint's erection slid through it, then returned to her back entry all slick and slippery. Again he nudged her, pressing harder this time.

She jerked away.

"Don’ move, baby,” Jacque said breathlessly. “Jus’ relax and don’ move ‘til Quint's in all the way."

Blood rushed to her face as she realized what they had in mind.
Oh, my God.

She panicked. “I don't think I can do this. I've never—"

"Shhh,
'tite coeur
. Sure you can."

"We'll help you. Just don’ resist me, darlin'.” Quint pushed against her, a smooth in and out movement, just short of breaching her. “You'll love how it feels with two cocks inside you."

He kept at it, and she felt the pulsing of his blood through the tumid tip pressing into her. Like a subtle stroking.

She swallowed heavily. She
did
like how it felt.

Foreign, unfamiliar, yet sexy as hell. But would she feel the same way once he was inside her, long and huge, invading her in a way she'd never even imagined?

He prodded again, longer, stronger, and she felt on the verge of giving way to his penetration. “Let me in,
chère
."

He kissed the back of her neck while Jacque held her close to his chest. The pressure from Quint's shaft increased. She gazed uncertainly into Jacque's eyes.

"Trust me."

It was inconceivable, but she did. She trusted Jacque to keep her safe.

"It'll be all right. I promise."

She closed her eyes and relaxed.

Quint's grip on her hips tightened. His cock pushed.

Suddenly the silence was shattered by the loud bang of the front door. It smacked open against the living room wall with a resounding blow. A string of incomprehensible Cajun French split the air, delivered in a shrill female voice.

"
Dat
,” the feminine voice screeched ominously, “
is what you think!
"

All hell broke loose.

Sahara screamed. Quint bolted backwards and cast around frantically for his pants. Lisette cursed a blue streak.

Jacque was the only one who remained cool. “Hello, Lisette,” he said calmly, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

Bon Dieu
. Talk about timing.

Sahara squirmed on his lap. He banded his arms around her and held tight. He wanted her right where she was and didn't want her getting ideas to the contrary.

"Don’ you ‘hello’ me, Jacque Cherchat!” Lisette spit out. “Dis is all your doing! An’ as for
you
—” She swung her dagger-sharp gaze to Quint.

His brother quailed. “Sweet thing! What are you doin’ here? I thought you were at your mama's.” Dispassionately, Jacque watched his brother hop around on one foot and desperately try to cram the other into his jeans.

"—you get in dat boat dis minute, ‘fore I slice your worthless Cajun throat right here!” Lisette hissed.

"Of course,
mon ange
,” Quint hurriedly replied, and shrugged at Jacque as he tripped his way out the door.

Jacque chuckled, tightening his grip on Sahara, who was still trying to wriggle free.

"
Ça t'amuse
?” Lisette demanded.

"About damn time you showed up,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm.

"Hrmph!” She eyed Sahara up and down. “An’ dis, I s'pose, is the girl wit’ the ribbons?” If Lisette noticed they were naked and in the middle of fucking, she didn't give any indication.

He dipped his head in confirmation. “Lisette Cherchat, meet Sahara Jensen. Sahara, dis here's Lisette, Quint's wife."

A strangled gasp came from the region of Sahara's throat and her body went rigid. “Wife? Quint's
wife
?"

Lisette snorted derisively. “I should slit her throat, too."