mouth.
Eddie slid in balls-deep. Mick worked his head slowly side to side as he pulled off Eddie’s cock. Before he could swallow, Whitney was bending down to kiss him. Surprised by her wanton action, Mick parted his lips and felt her tongue slide between. He’d never figured Whitney for the type to enjoy snowballing, but she seemed rather enthusiastic as she let her tongue move around the inside of his mouth to gather Eddie’s cum.
When Whitney broke their kiss, she swallowed and licked her lips. Eddie let loose a low moan at the deliciously naughty sight. Mick’s cock ached and demanded attention. Eddie fisted the front of his scrub top, hauled him to his feet and spun him around until his back hit the counter. While Eddie dropped to his knees and untied the drawstrings of his scrub bottoms, Mick shared increasingly more-desperate kisses with Whitney. He couldn’t get enough of her or the salty taste of Eddie’s cum clinging to her tongue.
“Christ!” Mick exclaimed as Eddie attacked his cock. The suction was just right, the depth perfect. Eddie fondled Mick’s balls, rolling them back and forth between his fingers the way Mick loved.
Whitney pawed at his chest and sucked his lower lip between her teeth. She applied a little pressure onto his soft flesh, just until it smarted, and then let it free. Her tongue flicked against the spot she’d just nibbled and then delved inside his mouth again. Her fingers walked down his tummy and then even lower to clasp his cock in the same way she’d done Eddie’s. Mick moaned into her mouth as she caressed his stiff length in the perfect dance with Eddie’s mouth.
Eddie’s cock-sucking was too good. Mick thrust his hips and fucked Eddie’s hot, wet mouth until both men were gasping for air. Whitney’s fingers squeezed a bit tighter as she stroked his shaft. Mick’s toes curled against the floor as his balls tingled and drew up tight against his body. There was no stopping his orgasm. Like a runaway freight train, it slammed into him and knocked the breath right out of his lungs. His knees wobbled as he jerked and shot ropy bursts of cum into Eddie’s receiving mouth.
Blissed out of his mind, Mick watched Eddie swap his cum with Whitney in the most intimate of kisses. She clutched at both of them, her fingers gripping their forearms as she let Eddie kiss her until she was breathless.
Mick wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees and bury his face in her pussy, but she stopped him. Even Eddie seemed a bit thrown by her reaction. Her voice husky, she explained, “This is enough for me tonight.”
“You’re sure?” Mick didn’t like the idea of Whitney going to bed unsatisfied.
“Positive.” She smiled at them and allowed Eddie to draw her and Mick into his big bear hug. “I’m not ready to go any further right now. I need some time.”
Mick finally understood. It was common for patients who’d escaped near death to experience some level of sexual dysfunction. “That’s okay,” Mick hurried to assure her. “You take all the time you need, sweetheart.”
Eddie kissed her temple. “We’ll be right here waiting when you’re ready.”
Chapter Fourteen
Whitney stepped out of the shower and onto her plush bath mat. She pulled the towel from the nearby rack and buffed her skin and squeegeed her hair. The towel went back on the rack, and she slipped into her bathrobe. She left her damp locks loose as she left the bathroom and settled into the chair in front of her vanity.
The front of the robe gaped and revealed the shiny, pale-pink scar running down the center of her chest. She pushed the robe open a little more and let her fingers slide down the raised bump of tissue. When she’d first spotted the ugly incision, she’d been horrified at the thought of being disfigured, but the scar was pretty as far as scars went.
Apparently suturing had come a long way since the days of the Frankenstein-like stitching she associated with big wounds. There hadn’t actually been any sutures on the top layers of skin, just some kind of glue and Steri- Strips. Once the strips had peeled away on their own, the wound healed as beautifully as Mick had promised. The hard and unnatural feeling of metal along her breastbone still freaked her out occasionally, but she was getting better about it.
It had only been four months, but Whitney had all but gotten used to the thin line peeking out through the necklines of her tops and dresses. Her coworkers didn’t even seem to notice it anymore. When she met with new clients or people she hadn’t seen in a while, they tended to stare a bit and then look away as if embarrassed. Some of them asked questions, but most didn’t dare. There seemed to be some kind of unspoken rule about inquiring about those kinds of things.
She peeled back the sides of the robe to look at the other scars marking her once-flawless skin. The bullet wound in her shoulder had healed much like Eddie’s. The incision on her belly wasn’t quite as nice as the one on her chest. Long and curved, it looked a bit gnarly in spots. She’d never be able wear a bikini without it taking center stage, but that was okay. Better to endure interested stares than, you know, death.
She laid her hands on her tummy. Her first post-shooting period had finally arrived the week prior. It had been a bit more uncomfortable than normal but over rather quickly. She’d switched her OB/GYN care to Dr. Cardenas, Mick’s friend, and liked the woman much better than her old doctor who seemed to be in and out the door of the exam room in three minutes flat. Dr. Cardenas sat with her for a full fifteen minutes, discussed Whitney’s concerns, and even walked her through the possible methods that might be required to get her pregnant in the future. She’d left that initial meeting calm and content and no longer afraid of what the bullets had done to her lady bits.
Of course, Dr. C hadn’t had a definitive answer as to why Whitney’s libido had tanked. Counseling had done little to bring that spark back. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She got hot watching Mick and Eddie go at it like horny weasels, but then who wouldn’t? Two ridiculously sexy men bumping and grinding? Uh, yeah, she’d have to be made of stone not to get turned on by that.
It wasn’t exactly the turning on that was the problem. It was the coming.
Whitney had tried a few times in the privacy of the shower or her bed to get her juices flowing again, so to speak. She’d think of Eddie hammering Mick or Mick’s lips sliding along Eddie’s cock while she rubbed her clit or played with a vibrator. She always got wet, but then nothing happened. It was frustrating as hell and made her want to punch someone in the face.
Deep down inside, Whitney suspected it was fear. Fear her heart might short-circuit if it beat too fast. Fear her still-healing lung would burst from all the hard breathing. Fear the long-since-healed artery feeding her uterus would tear and she’d bleed to death.
Fear. Fear. Fear.
And she was sick of it. Just absolutely disgusted. Enough was enough, she decided. It was time to live again. Really live.
As if on cue, her cell phone chirped. Whitney walked over to her bed and picked up the phone. Her finger tapped the screen and brought up the text message. It was an invite to a private party at The Blue Door, one of LA’s most exclusive clubs and her favorite haunt. There were some great perks to working in the fashion industry, and super-secret invites like this were part of them.
Whitney made a split-second decision and texted back her friend. She was going to this party and would bring a plus one.
She tossed the phone back on the bed and left her bedroom. The clack of fingers dancing across a keyboard led her to the office where Mick sat behind his desk. Stacks of medical books and printed pages clamped together with multicolored binder clips covered the surface. He’d been knocking back iced coffees from the looks of the dregs in the clear plastic cups.
“Busy?” she asked with a teasing smile on her face.
Mick looked up from his laptop and smiled. He rubbed his jaw and stretched his arms high overhead. “Not anymore.”
She walked over and sat on the edge of his desk. “Any chance you’d like to blow off this study for the rest of the night and go out for dinner and dancing?”
Mick’s gaze flicked from the pile of work on his desk to her. He didn’t hesitate. “Love to.” His wheeled chair squeaked as it moved closer to her. “I’ve had just about enough of collating data today.”
“You should get an assistant.” A frisson of excitement shook her belly as Mick’s hand rode the curve of her calf
