Dylan crooked an eyebrow as though he hadn’t heard Ward speak. “Feels like I’m sending applications into the void,” Hazel confessed. She’d wrestled with anxiety and sudden surges of optimism all throughout the week. She was surprised to discover she was glad to talk about it. The shame she had anticipated was nowhere to be found.
If she couldn’t admit that she was still learning to adjust to her new life, what hope was there for making it work?
“Knowing I’ve got to show up in court isn’t helping me focus,” she added.
Ward turned to her, his scowl vanishing. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. You talked to the lawyers, right?”
He had arranged the meeting for her at the loft. Three white-haired suits and a frosty redhead had sat with Hazel for three hours, going through the details of the charges with a fine-tooth comb. All she remembered from the interview was how frequently she’d wondered how much they were charging Ward.
“They seemed optimistic,” Ward went on. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached across and gave Hazel’s fingers a gentle press. “You know he has nothing, just words.”
Except Sadie’s testimony. Except the willingness to bury me once and for all.
Hazel mustered a smile.
Their meal was a welcome distraction, with grilled peaches and Peking duck, and a chili sauce that Hazel instantly fell in love with. She struggled to banish the thought of losing it all on a guilty verdict.
Ward’s lawyers had assured her that chances of a prison sentence were slim to none. She had no record, no history of violence, and unless Malcolm was prepared to manufacture evidence, he couldn’t prove a pattern of harassment. A fine and a restraining order were the gravest punishment she was likely to incur.
Hazel didn’t mind the restraining order, but a fine would only bury her deeper and deeper into debt. She didn’t relish the thought.
“I don’t know,” Dylan said after a long beat. “There’s something to be said for
Orange is the New Black
…”
Despite herself, Hazel cracked a smile. “Oh, yeah? You spend a lot of time thinking of me in one of those sexy, sexy prison jumpsuits?”
“
In
one,
out
of one…” Dylan waved a hand. He had a knack for making even the filthiest remark somehow sound sweet.
Hazel tilted back in her seat—easy to do when the plush chair seemed designed for reclining. “You’d make a terrible CO.”
“I would?”
“Mm,” Hazel hummed. “You’d let me break all the rules.”
“Are you saying I’m a sucker for a pretty face?”
His voice was warm, but something in his gaze reminded Hazel of the last time he had called her beautiful—and the confession that followed hot on its heels. Hazel licked chili sauce off her bottom lip. “Face it, there’s not much you wouldn’t do for mine.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, Dylan narrowed his eyes at her. “Try me.”
The shiver that raced up Hazel’s spine had nothing to do with the evening chill. “Is that a dare?”
“Aren’t you two a little old to be playing that game?” Ward groused, fiddling with his still untasted whiskey.
“It’s not a game until I ask for a truth,” Hazel pointed out. She raised her foot off the floor and carefully slid the toe of her black pump up Dylan’s ankle.
“Too easy,” he replied.
Hazel clucked her tongue. Her shoe slipped off her heel, dangling precariously under the table. “Not a truth about you… About Ward.” Poker wasn’t her game, but she understood the principle of raising stakes to call a bluff. If she wasn’t doing it for quite the right reasons, so be it.
They hadn’t spoken about it since, but Dylan couldn’t very well expect her to let go of something as life-altering as
I’m in love with you.
She felt Ward stiffen in his seat, tension radiating from beneath his skinny blazer.
“A truth about Ward,” Dylan repeated meditatively. Golden light caught on his shiny black hair and long lashes, pooled in the curve of his smile. He looked proud and untouchable sitting there, examining his friend as though in an attempt to name a price. “He’s a terrible kisser—”
That indictment was enough to make Ward break his silence. “Hey, now!”
Dylan ignored him in favor of sliding a meaningful glance to Hazel. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Not for the world
. Hazel flashed back to Ward plundering her mouth while Dylan went down on her, cunt pulsing around his fingers as they both worked to bring her over the edge. There was nothing about Ward’s kisses that left her any less breathless than Dylan’s.
“Maybe I need a refresher,” she heard herself muse aloud.
Ward’s jaw went a little slack, aggravation fleeing his stern features.
“Maybe you do,” Dylan agreed. “Ward?”
The sound of his name snapped whatever trance Ward had fallen under. He glowered at Dylan. “First with the insults, now with the puppeteering? Not sure I like this new and improved you.”
“Who said you had to like it?”
Hazel turned her hand in Ward’s grasp and pulled him to her before the back-and-forth could distract from the challenge at hand. She had to lean against the table, perched right on the edge of her seat, but as soon as she slotted her lips to Ward’s, the effort seemed irrelevant.
Ward breathed out through his nose, his exhale warm on her cheek. It didn’t take him long to find his bearings and deepen the kiss. He knotted a hand in Hazel’s freshly curled hair, gently tilting her head. In a heartbeat, he’d gone from prop in Hazel’s demonstration to conqueror. Hazel was more than happy to lay down arms and submit to his onslaught.
By the time he pulled back, her skin prickled with heat. Her lips were slightly numb.
“My mistake,” Dylan said smugly. “I must’ve been thinking of somebody else.”
“Yourself?” Ward suggested. He had entered the arena now and his opponent of choice would always be Dylan. “Hazel, perhaps you could help us put this to bed once and for all…”
I wasn’t aware there was a debate
. Hazel thought better of relying on witticisms when there was foreplay to be had.
Heart in her throat, she turned to Dylan, who arched an eyebrow as if considering the proposition. His gaze took on a decidedly harsher slant when Hazel slipped out of her chair to kneel on the floor.
They were shielded from view of the rest of the restaurant by the lattice screens, but Hazel still felt a shiver of pleasure at the thought of doing something like this semi-publicly.
Let them see.
She wasn’t ashamed of putting herself in Dylan’s power.
Let Ward see how well she served him.
Dylan slid a knuckle under her chin. “Lovely,” he purred, steadying her at the nape before sealing his mouth to hers. He wasn’t as rough as Ward. His was the kiss of a man who knew that he already owned her, who didn’t need to reassert his claim. He took his time coaxing a moan from her lips before he retreated, nuzzling against her cheek. “You’ll rip your stockings.”
“Yeah,” Hazel agreed, swaying slightly in his grasp.
“Thought you said they were new?”
Floating on the dizzying warmth of his kiss, Hazel had a hard time giving a damn. “Fuck the stockings.”
Ward chuckled. “You sound drunk.”
She felt drunk, but before she could say as much, Dylan had pulled away and the unintelligible hum of the restaurant filtered back into her ears. It was a rude awakening. Hazel swirled the water in her glass as she tried to claw her way back from feeling cheated.
“Guess that settles that, then,” Dylan surmised. “One of us got Hazel on her knees…and it wasn’t you, old friend.”
The gauntlet landed with a figurative thump in the center of the table. Ward bared teeth in a broad, wolfish grin. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
As soon as the waitress returned to ask if they needed anything more, Ward requested the check.
Hazel sucked her cheeks in to fight off a smile.
The night was young and her boys were just getting started.
Chapter Fifteen
For such a perfectly balanced vehicle, the Tesla manufacturers really needed to fix the vibrations that traveled up the chassis and into the backseat. They
had
to be coming from the engine. The only other alternative was that Hazel couldn’t sit still, squirming restlessly as Dylan conjured breathtakingly pornographic images behind her eyes.
He kept his voice down to a whisper, but apparently that wasn’t low enough to stop Ward from overhearing.
“Hazel?” he interrupted as they idled at a stoplight.
“Y—yeah?”
They locked eyes in the rearview mirror. “Since he refuses to stop talking, maybe you could find him something better to do with his mouth.”
The suggestion lit a fire in Hazel’s already simmering core. “You have a thing for screwing in cars, huh?” she quipped. It wasn’t an objection. She twisted on the leather backseat and pressed Dylan against the door.
“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Ward observed.
“Tough.”
“Yes, it is,” Dylan retorted, grinning when she rolled her eyes at the lame pun.
Hazel squeezed her hand around him in retribution, crowding him between the door and the backseat as she sought his mouth with hers. Dylan and Ward weren’t the only ones who craved contact. It was an ego trip to feel Dylan’s hips jerk against her palm, cock already at half-mast when she undid his zipper and tugged him free.
“Oh, fuck.” Dylan fumbled for purchase on the seat in front, but overshot the mark and seized hold of Ward’s shoulder instead of the upholstery.
The car accelerated, engine roaring.
“He likes that,” Hazel gasped, not entirely sure which of them she was addressing. It didn’t matter. Blood battered her eardrums as she slid her fist down Dylan’s length in a slow, confident stroke. He stiffened beautifully, pre-cum already beading at the tip by the time Hazel ducked to lick the flushed head.
The taste of him exploded on her tongue, colored slightly by the chili and the peaches they’d enjoyed.
Dylan cursed, a guttural sound snarling in his throat, “That’s it… Christ. Think you can get us home in one piece, old man?”
“You worry about yourself, Romeo,” Ward shot back. Then, a beat later, “Thought I told you to shut him up, Hazel.”
Trying to
, Hazel made to retort when a better idea sprouted. Sliding back in spite of Dylan’s frustrated protests, she hooked both thumbs in the elastic band of her underwear and hastily tugged them down her legs. The stockings only reached to mid-thigh, so they were no impediment.
“Open up.”
Dylan didn’t let bewilderment hold him back from obedience. He didn’t even bite her fingers as she thrust the balled up panties into his mouth.
“Goddamn,” Ward slurred, watching the show in his mirrors.
The Tesla veered around a corner with a screech of tires, propelling Hazel into Dylan’s arms. He caught her easily, hands warm on her upper arms. There was nothing stopping him from reaching up and removing the makeshift silk gag. He had every reason to want to do it—he was her Dominant and this was anything but domineering of him—but Hazel couldn’t help notice that his cock was hard against her stomach, pre-cum slick on her little black dress.
Ward wasn’t the only one who got off on this.
Before the car could slide into another vicious turn, Hazel bowed her head and went to work. She couldn’t breathe if she took Dylan too deep, the bumps in the road nudging him into the back of her throat too brutally for her gag reflex to cooperate. She couldn’t hold him between her lips too long with Ward driving like a maniac. But what pleasure she did manage to offer Dylan, it seemed to do the trick. His teasing might’ve stopped, but his moans only grew louder with the gag in his mouth.
He had Hazel by the hair, hips rising to meet the infinitesimal slide of her lips down his length, when Ward abruptly cut the engine.
“Make yourselves presentable,” he gritted out.
Hazel pulled off with a pop, her throat raw with hard use. “What?”
It was Dylan who answered, casually spitting out her panties and tucking himself back into his clothes. “We’re home.”
On legs that barely recalled their purpose, Hazel stumbled out of the car and into four-seven-one Aulden Way. She didn’t have the brain power left to wonder why
home
elicited such a surge of warmth in her cunt. It probably had something to do with all those fancy toys in Dylan’s playroom—not that it looked like they were going to make it that far.
Ward shoved her against the metal door, kissing her with such fervor that Hazel briefly forgot to breathe. Her pulse throbbed in her ears as he pulled back.
“You want to come, don’t you, Dylan?” He directed the question at her, but didn’t seem interested in what Hazel had to say.
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”
Over Ward’s shoulder, Hazel saw Dylan heave for breath. She could empathize. The long drive home, the longer climb up the stairs—Ward’s deft fingers under her dress, zeroing in on the wet, warm parts of her.
No, wait. That’s just me.
Without her panties in the way, Ward had an easy task of filling her with two fingers. She gripped down against the intrusion, but it was too swift for her moan to translate into a plea.
“Please,” Dylan said, voice rough with need.
Since when do you beg?
She was left wondering, brain short-circuiting as Ward slid slick fingers out of her and into his mouth.
“Oh, God.” Hazel squeezed her eyes shut, but it was already too late. The sight of Ward savoring her taste had already etched itself onto her retinas.
Ward smirked. “She’s all yours.”
Before Hazel could catch her breath, Dylan was already taking his place. He grabbed her by the elbows and roughly spun her around. The days of triple-checking if she was sure were long gone. Now he trusted her to speak up, safewords a dusty ‘Break in Case of Emergency’ box Hazel barely considered smashing as her skirt was hiked up around her waist and Dylan hauled her into his lap.
She moaned with the sudden burst of contact. Dylan had been hard on the drive over, but his willingness to let her set the pace had evaporated with the rumbling of the engine. His belt buckle hung cool and metallic against her naked hip. She registered the
prrk
of the zipper being pulled down and braced herself.