She reached out and stroked her hand over his cock, too. “I don’t need romance. I don’t want romance. I want to fuck you. Both of you.”
She didn’t know what kind of telepathy they had going between them, and couldn’t really read the facial expressions that came, and then went, so quickly.
Morgan cupped her face, and when she met his gaze, the heat and the emotion she read there brought a lump to her throat.
“We beg to differ, Tamara Jones. Maybe you don’t want romance. And maybe you simply don’t know how much hotter, and yes, how much sweeter, the romance will make the sex. So why not let us have our way in this and see what you think afterwards?”
Tamara shivered. Something in his manner felt almost threatening, but she didn’t know what or how or why. She did know she’d never been so turned on, never needed to be touched and stroked and fucked the way she needed all those things right now. She wanted to rush to the prize, and clearly, they weren’t going to let her do that.
If putting up with a bit of romance was the price she had to pay to have her need for hot, sweaty jungle sex met, then so be it.
She had a feeling these two flyboys would meet her needs beyond her wildest expectations.
It took a lot of effort to get out of the driver’s seat. “All right. Romance away.”
She smelled it then, a soft, alluring fragrance. She turned her head as Henry came back to them. She hadn’t noticed him stepping away. Neither had she realized he’d lit candles.
There had to be a dozen of them in small glass bowls, scattered throughout the room.
Henry put his hands gently on her shoulders, and Tamara started, just a little. Morgan gave her a slow, sexy smile.
“You know, Red, a woman who manages to dead-stick a plane as if she did it every day shouldn’t be afraid of a little romance.”
“I understand planes. Romance scares the hell out me.” What was it about these two men that made her say things she’d normally keep to herself?
“It won’t hurt you, sweetheart.” Morgan lifted the hem of her T-shirt.
Tamara raised her arms, shivering when the cotton swept clear of her body. She felt Henry behind her, close and warm. Then his fingers stroked her back lightly just above the clasp of her bra before unfastening the small hooks.
Morgan gently pulled the lacy garment from her and dropped it to the floor.
Her nipples had peaked, and he took a moment to caress the underside of her breasts back and forth with the back of his hand.
Tamara sucked in a tiny breath. Morgan’s gentle touch spiked her arousal. Her nipples drew up so tight they felt pinched, and that just drove her excitement higher, too.
“You’re so incredibly sensitive, here,” Morgan said.
“I never have been.” They wanted to give her romance, to seduce her slowly when all she wanted was to have them on her and in her. She wanted to give them something in return. She wanted to give them the truth. “Having my breasts played with has never really turned me on before. The prospect of sex has never been this thrilling before.”
“Ah, darling.” Henry slipped his arms around her from behind. “That’s probably because no one’s ever taken the time to learn you.”
“Before we close our eyes tonight, we’re going to know you inside out,” Morgan said.
Henry unsnapped her jeans and lowered the zipper. Morgan leaned down and suckled her right nipple into his mouth.
The wet heat, the strong suction, and the brush of his tongue combined to make Tamara cry out as a bolt of pure sensation shot through her.
Henry tilted her head up and back, and Tamara turned so she could brush her lips against his. He cupped her chin and took her mouth with his, hot and wet and carnal. With his tongue he stroked her deeply, an in-and-out penetration that gave her a hint of the actions his cock would soon take when he fucked her cunt.
Morgan let her nipple go with a wet plop, then gently blew air on her dampened flesh. Tamara shivered, and he chuckled.
Henry weaned his lips from hers and nuzzled her neck. His face rested beside hers as he looked over her shoulder. She never would have imagined it would turn her on, one man watching another play with her. Tamara had the feeling that before this night was done, she’d learn a lot of things about herself she’d never known.
“Did you know I can smell your cunt? It’s been calling to me for hours.” Morgan slid his hands under the loosened waistband of her jeans, then smoothed jeans and panties down her legs. He knelt before her and gently lifted one foot, and then the other, freeing her of her clothing.
He inhaled deeply, and Tamara moaned, the idea that he would inhale her somehow seeming more intimate an act than anything she’d ever known.
“Just like with a very fine wine. First you inhale the bouquet,” he reached out and eased her legs just a little bit farther apart, “and then you sip.”
Morgan said those last four words against the wet folds of her pussy. His lips settled on her, and he suited actions to words.
“Oh, God.” The stroke of his tongue against her slit, up and down, back and forth, shot her arousal high and fast. Her heart thudded and her flesh pebbled. Her breathing hitched and her hips convulsed, pushing her pussy against his face.
Henry held her securely so that when her legs gave way he supported her. Then one hand left her middle to once more urge her lips to his. She gave him what he wanted with wild abandon.
Sleek and sultry, the wet and wonderful glide and slide of tongues, in her mouth, in her cunt, together, two men stroking her, drinking from her and pleasuring her, pushed Tamara’s heat, her arousal to levels she’d
