Downtown Devil: Book 2 in series (Sins in the City) (16 page)

She changed again, grinding hard, taking what felt good and knowing Mica was likely missing those long strokes. His face told her she was right. His eyes were pleading for more, his mouth offering nothing but a string of breathy moans.

There was no bigger turn-on than a panting man. Especially a strong one, a highly sexual one like Mica, used to getting his way and calling the shots, reduced to a quaking, needy mess. She felt powerful,
and that power wound her up tight, tight, tight, as exciting as his fingers or cock or voice or orders. She stared down into those dark eyes, reduced to black slivers, his lids half-shut in desperation.

Behind her, Vaughn spoke. “He feel good?”

“Amazing.”

“Anything you need from me?”

“Just your orders. Your voice.” Gorgeous voice that it was, smooth and deep, the blackest velvet. “Though I’d take your hands, too, if they’re on offer.”

“Where?” he asked, already coming closer.

“Wherever excites you.” She was taking from Mica; let Vaughn take from her.

He knelt behind her and she felt broad palms gliding over her shoulders, down her back to cup and ride her flexing hips. The touch tingled, these outside sensations deepening everything going on inside her.

“Yeah.” She’d said it without thought.

“Like that? Nice and light?” His hand slid up her sides, down her back, and over her butt, leaving her nerve endings sizzling like sparklers.

“Yeah, that feels good.” Just the right contrast to the hot, rough friction she was stealing from Mica.

Then those hands slid higher, up her neck to gather her hair and expose her nape. Where rough palms had just been she now felt soft skin—his full, smooth lips—and the teasing brush of five-o’clock shadow.

“Good,” she murmured. Her eyes had shut, and when they blinked open once more she found Mica staring up at her, his lips parted, expression glazed. His own eyes were restless, shifting between Clare’s face and whatever he could see of Vaughn, again and again.

She craned her neck and spoke to Vaughn. “I want him on top. I want to watch him work.”

Vaughn’s gaze dropped—boldly so—to Mica. “You heard the lady.” Clare wondered if Vaughn knew what was in store for him, as well. He might not sound so bold.

She smiled as she stilled, then got off slowly, letting Mica’s cock slip free in a long, explicit stroke. He was on her as soon as her back found the sheets, sinking deep, arms locking up tight beside her ribs.

“How?” he asked, taking her with slow, mean strokes.

“Faster.”

He obeyed and she feasted her eyes on the muscles of his abdomen and sides, his chest, his hips. “Fuck, you look good.” She turned her attention to Vaughn, still kneeling, close. “I want your hands on him. The way he had his on you, when you were fucking me. On his back, and his neck.”

The hazy look on the man’s face changed, sobering. Mica’s expression shifted as well, a pleasurable flinch tightening those perfect features.

Vaughn hesitated only a moment before doing as she asked. He shuffled closer on his knees, then locked a hand to the back of Mica’s neck, rousing a moan. He touched Mica nothing like he’d touched Clare. It looked rough, even cold. And it looked like that single, hard point of contact had Mica teetering at the precipice.

“Touch me,” she said to Mica.

God bless those strong climber’s arms. He braced his thrusting weight on one arm easily and his other hand moved across her mound, thumb strumming her clit.

“Faster,” she prompted. “As fast as you’re fucking me. In little circles.”

He took the order as best he could, and even his distracted and clumsy efforts beat the expert job she could’ve done herself, because it was him. Because of his obedience. Because she knew how he needed the task just to keep from losing it. She watched his hand, his
arm, his exquisite face and laboring body. She drank in the point where Vaughn’s fingertips pressed into the skin of Mica’s throat, and she was there. The bowstring inside her snapped, the climax as quick and violent as any she’d ever felt. No crashing waves, no breaths-long ecstasy. The pleasure slapped her, hard, a moment’s respite chased by a sting of sensation, leaving her only wanting more.

Mica, though, he hadn’t had any yet. And he looked about ready to perish.

“Your turn,” she panted, answering the question posed by those dark eyes. Her orgasm had been so quick, he needed confirmation.

“Thank fucking Christ.”

She had to laugh at his face—such pure, overwrought relief.

Immediately, his hips were speeding. He dropped to his elbows, his belly brushing hers, cock rushing, skin slapping. Vaughn leaned closer, his hand on Mica’s back now, urging or merely riding. Clare knew he was doing that for her, and knew it had to be thrilling Mica, but she hoped it excited Vaughn as well, if only from the taboo.

Then, a sound broke through the crush of collective breath—Vaughn’s voice, strong and fearless and
mean.
“Fuck her,” he told Mica, the words as cold as that grip had been.

Mica groaned. He was a man tortured now, and his skin shone with sweat in the light of the Christmas bulbs. What else did he wish for, in this moment? He had Clare’s pussy, Vaughn’s hand and voice, his own cock taking what it desired, but what else? Did he wish for Vaughn’s hand to slide lower? To cup his balls, tease his ass? She could only guess, and the guessing had a fresh climax building, hot on the heels of the first. She slid her hand between their bodies, seeking her clit.

Mica slowed, but she urged him to go quicker with her free hand. “Your turn,” she said again. She wanted to come bad enough to get herself off once he was done, with or without any assistance.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” Did Mica mean her? She assumed so, but those words could so easily be meant for Vaughn, as well. “I need to come.”

“So come.” She kept on touching herself, but it was his climax she ached for. There couldn’t be any more powerful feeling in the world than leaving
this
man helpless. “I want to see it.”

“Yeah? How? Where?”

All that came to mind was a filthy vision of white come against Vaughn’s dark skin, but she knew now wasn’t the time. Instead she said, “Anywhere you want.”

His answer came back immediately. “Your hand. Right where it is. Keep touching yourself.”

She did, burning hotter than ever at those words. She nailed her attention right where she wanted it—to those flexing hips and that flashing cock, every gorgeous, racing muscle chasing release. Where was Vaughn looking? she wondered. Maybe her hand, maybe her breasts—maybe Mica. She let herself imagine it was the latter, and another orgasm grew inside her. The truth came tumbling from her lips. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Good. Watch me.” His voice was strained—he was close, right there. His eyes were shut tight, body hammering. Her gaze jumped to his neck, and she found Vaughn’s grip tight, his dark thumb pressing hard into Mica’s tan skin.
That’s no tentative touch.
Not shy, not grudging. Vaughn felt something belied by his stern expression. Something hot, something wrong. She looked up, seeking Vaughn’s gaze and finding it on her face. So intense, it struck like a bolt, but the moment was diffused when Mica suddenly pulled out and sat up. Vaughn’s hand fell away as Mica stroked himself home. He dropped back down, braced on one arm as he came across Clare’s knuckles with a choked, disbelieving series of grunts. She was lost in those sounds, lost in that
pained and beautiful face, her pleasure cresting on the heels of his, searing. Obliterating.

The room grew quiet save for their mingled breathing. Mica settled beside her, radiating heat. Vaughn was on his back on her other side, and she turned to rest a hand on his ribs. She hoped it let him know he was welcome to linger, but not such needy contact that he’d think she expected him to stay all night. She wanted Mica to herself at some point, but this man meant something to her as well. He’d given her pleasure as surely as the man at her back had, and her affection for him had deepened tonight.

The silence thickened, neither strained nor easy. Mica was awake; she wasn’t so sure about Vaughn. Beneath her palm, his chest rose and fell slowly. She wasn’t nearly so dozy herself, still keyed up from everything that had gone down. Everything she’d done, everything that had been said, everything that had been shown to her here in this room, in this bed. She hoped she’d remember every detail of these unexpected nights with these men years after they’d all fallen out of contact.

But would they remember her?

C
lare felt Mica’s lips on her shoulder, heard the soft hum of a sigh warm her skin there. The arm around her waist tensed affectionately, then went slack on a long exhalation.

Some minutes later, just as Clare was flirting with unconsciousness, Vaughn left the covers without a word, gathered his clothes, and slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly. Clare released a held breath. She’d been anticipating this moment—finding herself alone with Mica in this bed—with both impatience and nerves. She hoped he was even awake.

She turned around under his arm and found his eyes half-open, his lips half-smiling.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” He kissed her, light and lingering, a romantic, sweet gesture that didn’t match the night’s tone and thrilled her all the more for it.

“Just you and me, I guess.”

“I guess so. What did you think?” he asked.

“About . . . ?”

“Everything. Tonight. The sex.” The drowsiness had left his voice, eagerness charging the words. “Me and him. Everything.”

“I loved it.”
I love this, too. Just us.
What they did with Vaughn . . . that was some once-in-a-lifetime shit, a destination that took her miles beyond the sexual adventure she’d been craving in the wake of her breakup. What she craved from Mica—to be looked at the way he did, to feel in his touch and hear in his voice the way he wanted her, so physically, so raw, after all that time with a lover who’d grown all but indifferent to her . . . That was what had her hooked. That was what made this affair so addictive. The stuff with Vaughn? That was just gasoline on the fire. She didn’t regret it, not a second, not a single boundary they’d blown past. But this . . .

She snaked an arm around his waist and dragged her knuckles lightly up and down his spine. She kissed his lower lip, then his chin, feeling playful. That was something they weren’t, during sex. These adventures were many things—shocking, erotic, exciting, edgy—but
playful
wasn’t one of them. She craved it now, a little taste of how this man could be when their clothes were still on.

“I love it when it’s just us, too,” she added.

“So do I. But tonight . . .”

She’d never seen him at a loss for words. “Have you done that, before? Let a woman see you with a man?”

“It’s different with Vaughn,” he said, not answering her question. “No one knows about us. No one’s been told about it, let alone seen it. Been a part of it.”

“Guess I’m a lucky girl, then.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “Guess you are.”

“How long have you known you like guys?” she asked.

“Pretty much always. Since I was old enough to feel attracted to people.”

“Were you out about it? About being bi?”

“Not right away. I mean, I grew up in some rough neighborhoods. I already looked different from everybody else; last thing I needed was to be the neighborhood queer, on top of that. Plus, I knew I liked girls. I just shut my attraction for guys off, at first, kept it to myself, only explored it in my head. I think I was seventeen the first time I messed around with a guy, which is late, considering how early I started with girls.”

“And?” she prompted. “How was it, the first time you were with a man?”

“Hot. Real fucking hot. But also . . . cold. I’ve rarely had feelings beyond physical attraction for men.”

“Rarely? You mean Vaughn, right?”

“I guess. Though I’m not in love with him or anything, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I’m not sure what I’m getting at, except he wouldn’t be your best friend if you didn’t feel more for him than just the physical.”

“Fair enough.”

After a long pause Clare said, “You were different tonight. When I was on top of you and he was calling the shots.”

He smiled. “I was?”

“Yes, and you know it, so don’t act coy,” she teased. “You like it that way, too, huh? Usually you’re the bossy one, but you can handle getting bossed around, I take it?”

“I can. And yes, I like it.”

“Are you kinky?” she asked, both thrilled and intimidated at the prospect. “You like getting tied up or anything?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh.”

“Kinky, sure. But not getting tied up. Same reason I won’t go to
climbing gyms—they make you use harnesses, and I can’t stand being bound like that.”

“Oh,” she said again.

He smiled at whatever show of worry her face gave away. “I had a fucked-up childhood. My foster parents used to tie me to a high chair while they went to work.”

Her body went still and chilly in the dim room. “God. For how long?”

“Hours. They left me with food and water, but I was, like, two, three years old. If I knocked it to the ground, that was that. And don’t ask about the diaper situation.”

“Jesus. You remember all that? From so young?”

“Bits and pieces. But a social worker told me about it, when I was older. They had a record of me being found like that, when neighbors called the cops about the crying.”

“That’s seriously fucked up. You must’ve gotten taken away from them, right?”

“Yeah, but things didn’t get much better. The next woman who fostered me locked me in a closet when she couldn’t handle me. I’m still not a big fan of small spaces.”

“How long were you living with her?”

“Ages. From when I was four or five till sixth grade. The older I got, the meaner I got, and eventually she started hitting me regularly. And hard. She fucked up and hit me in the face one time, and that was the end of that.”

“That must’ve been a relief.”

“Not really. I mean, kids like predictability. Routine. My routine fucking sucked, but I was used to it. It didn’t scare me as bad as where I might end up the next time.”

“And where did you end up?”

“Nowhere, for a while, group homes and shit, then eventually with this black family—mom, dad, two young daughters. They were pretty cool. They were doing it for the check, but they fed me, gave me my own room, didn’t smack me unless I was really being a shit. I wound up moving out when I was seventeen to crash with some friends, but they weren’t bad. But this shrink the state made me see told me I’d already gotten fucked up big-time, from the ones who came before. So too little, too late.”

“Sure . . . God, that’s just terrible. I’m sorry to hear all that.”

He shrugged, rumpling the sheets with his shoulder. “It was what it was. Too bad, though—I might’ve enjoyed getting tied up, in another life.” He smirked, and her heart unknotted a little.

“Enough about that sad crap,” Mica announced, then pulled her closer, his thigh inching between hers and their faces almost near enough to kiss. “What did you like best about tonight? What was the hottest thing?”

She considered it. “Your voice, telling me what to do while I was going down on him.”

“You like taking orders, too, then.”

“Maybe. And I liked when he was taking me, and you were in my mouth. So yeah, maybe I kinda like having the shots called for me, sometimes.” She’d never self-identified as submissive in bed, but there was no denying she was getting hooked on Mica’s pushiness. “I never know where you’re going to take me,” she said, and reached up to rub his stubbly jaw. “And that’s a little scary. But way more exciting than scary.”

“You said you always like where we wind up.”

She nodded, gave his chin a silly squeeze. “I do.”

“And I like watching your face when I take you there.”

“Oh?”

He palmed her butt and pulled her tight to him. “Oh yes. Like when he’s eating you. When you come from his cock and my hand. How you look when you touch yourself.” His eyes shut as though he was savoring the memory. “I’ll be thinking about that last one the next time I’m getting myself off.”

“Oh, will you? Does that mean you won’t be interrupting my shopping trips every time you need a friendly assist?”

“You wish.”

She laughed. “You were lucky I wasn’t at work.”

“So were you.”

She quirked her lips, hesitating before sharing her next thought. “You could’ve asked me here, you know. Pathetic as it sounds, I’d have run right over.”

His eyebrow rose in a cocky little show. “Oh yeah? Good to know.”

“For a chance at wasting a couple hours in your bed in the middle of the day?”
Just the two of us?
“Yeah, I hate to say it, but I’d have ditched my friend if you’d said the word. I’m probably not supposed to admit that, though.”

He pushed some errant curl behind her ear. “Why not?”

“I should be playing it cool, I bet. Keep you guessing just how tight you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

“Games are stupid. All but the kind you play in bed, anyhow.”

“I should be acting harder to get.”

“Fuck that. All that does is leave us both impatient and frustrated when we could be in this bed.”

“Amen.”
But what about outside this bed?
she thought. In a coffee shop or at a bar, in a restaurant or walking along the river—what would it be like to explore those more innocent places with Mica? What would the thrill feel like, to be seen out with such a gorgeous man, hand in hand, or kissing in some sultry corner of a club? Did he dance? she wondered. She hadn’t gone out dancing in far too long. Ages.

“Do you dance?” she asked. “Just, like, club dancing.”

“Sure.”

“We should go sometime. I know a couple good places around here.”

“Long as we wind up naked at the end of the night,” Mica said through a yawn, “I’m willing.”

“I’d say that’s a given by now. I mean, we had a three-way on the second date. Or whatever you want to call it.” More of a booty call, that second hookup. And the first one had ostensibly been a professional outing.

“Turn over,” he murmured. There was a smile in his voice, and as Clare flipped to face the wall, she imagined him saying that in a different tone—darker and hungrier—in a different context. She’d take the command without knowing what came next, breathless and just a little nervous to find out.

Good God, you can’t have any idea how doomed I am, with you.

But a part of her had to think he did. He knew exactly how bad she had it.