Was this what she’d felt the first time she’d seen Luca and Oscar?
Scarlet’s back arched as a low, keening cry escaped her lips. Her eyes were closed tightly, and for a moment, it looked as if every bit of the air in her body had been drawn inward, unable to escape, much like a black hole pulling in light. And then, it exploded in one loud expulsion as she came.
Roman had lived a privileged life. He’d seen the Northern Lights, witnessed the sun setting over the brilliant blue-green water of the Caribbean Sea. He’d been surrounded by a million vividly costumed performers, his world awash in color, as he danced on the streets of Rio de Janeiro during Carnaval.
None of that held a candle to Scarlet in the throes of an orgasm.
Then Tate lifted his head, his mouth and chin shiny from Scarlet’s arousal, and Roman realized there was no end to the beauty in this bed.
Roman shifted without thought, his actions driven as if by rote, though this was something he’d never done before. He grasped the back of Tate’s neck, propelling the other man forward, desperate to kiss, to taste.
Tate admitted to taking part in threesomes before, and given his lack of reticence and the way he moved closer to Roman, gripping his hips to pull their lower bodies closer, it was obvious this wasn’t the first kiss the former Marine had shared with a man.
Yet it was another first for Roman.
This time, his excuses had nothing to do with time and opportunity but rather attraction. He’d never met a man he had wanted to kiss. And that fact had caused Roman more than a few sleepless nights as he considered what might happen if the Grand Master had placed him with a man and a woman.
He tried to console himself with the fact his own parents consisted of two hetero men who shared a wife. He’d never seen his fathers kiss and suspected they’d never had sex with one another. Rather they were best friends—practically brothers after so many years of marriage—who shared, who loved, the same woman. Roman would have been perfectly fine in that type of marriage, but he’d been cognizant of the fact there was always a chance he would be paired up with a bisexual man, one who would want more from their marriage.
He’d feared that because he’d never experienced any desire for another man.
Until now.
Until Tate.
Tate’s mouth opened and Roman accepted the invitation, the taste of Scarlet on the other man’s lips. It was heady, delicious, and it awakened something almost wild, feral, primal inside Roman.
In the past, sex had been about meeting certain goals and outcomes, and all his actions were precise, calculated to achieve that end goal.
There was none of that now.
Now, there was just a need to take and be taken.
He sank his teeth into Tate’s lower lip, swallowing down his lover’s hiss of pain before caressing it away with his tongue. Tate responded to the roughness in kind, digging his fingers into Roman’s ass hard enough to bruise.
Several minutes passed as he and Tate fought for dominance during the kiss. Though perhaps fighting was the wrong word. They weren’t opposing factions, squaring off against each other, rather they were on the same side of the battle, marching together, a band of brothers, working toward the same goal.
Roman pulled away first when he felt a slight shift on the mattress, his attention drawn to Scarlet.
She remained on her back, but she had lifted her upper body up, her weight supported by her elbows. Her gaze was locked on him, on them, watching intently, her eyes missing nothing. It was one of the things that had attracted Roman to her in their very first meeting. She, like him, had an eye for detail.
He’d been touched by how much thought, how much care, she’d put into planning his cousin’s wedding, a wedding for three people who were strangers to Scarlet.
“So hot,” she whispered as she looked at them.
Tate’s charming grin reminded him of the friendly, laid-back guy Roman had met in Boston. One night over dinner, Tate had explained the purpose of the Warrior Scholars and his role within the group. And while Tate had also shared some stories of his experiences as a Marine sniper, Roman hadn’t been able to see the soldier beneath the good-natured, gentle man kicked back in the booth at the Hawthorne, drinking a glass of Scotch.
That impression had changed when they’d arrived in Charleston and Oscar had emerged with the stun gun. Since then, Tate, the warrior, had shown up and taken control of the mission—attempting to break them out of the room, deadening the sound of the music as much as possible, talking them through SERE.
And now...as the three of them crossed the line from friendly acquaintances to lovers, he was seeing yet another side to the man—sensual, confident.
“Lay back down,” Tate said to Scarlet. There was no mistaking the commanding—demanding—tone of his voice. It was dark, sexy, almost sinister, and Scarlet wasn’t the only one affected by it. Her nipples budded and if Tate weren’t still kneeling between her legs, Roman suspected she would have squirmed, would have pressed them together in an attempt to calm the fire he’d stoked.
Scarlet dropped to her back once more, her quick, obedient response going against what Roman suspected was her true nature, to await further instructions. Scarlet was no submissive. Roman would bet his life savings on that.
Tate gestured to her breasts. “Pinch your nipples. Get them nice and hard, ready for Roman to suck on. Don’t hold back, either. I’ll know if you do.”
Scarlet lifted her hands, cupping her breasts, before pinching and pulling on the nipples roughly, her lips tipped upwards in a come-hither smile. While she was content to obey for now, Roman was certain she would make a few of her own demands before all was said and
