“I have to leave. I don’t like to drive at night, though. Besides, there’s nothing I can do.” The helplessness in my friend’s voice hits me hard. Like a lot of men, he tends to ignore infirmity. Hell, even after a doctor ordered him to take it easy, Beau hardly slowed down. That’s why he isn’t really healing. He keeps aggravating the soft tissue by helping me with the fences and the horses and, lately, with Sadie.
But the real pain I see in my friend is that he’s facing his mortality. You can’t punch a virus—and I witnessed the tension in his body outside, I know he wanted to throw one. He can’t fix his body through sheer willpower, either. Add the fact that tonight I have basically turned down his further services as a bodyguard—not specifically, perhaps. But we both know he’ll never be mistaken for the owner of The Black Diamond again. Not if I have anything to say about it.
Beau’s going through an identity crisis.
We all are. Together.
I stride closer to the sofa. “Beau. There’s one thing you can do. Let Sadie and me take your mind off your mom’s illness for a bit. Tomorrow you’ll go take care of her. But tonight...” I glance at Sadie. “We fuck.”
She nods, once, assertive.
Beau finally meets my eyes. “Well, alrighty, Dakota. I can’t argue with that.”
As if to reinforce my authority, Sadie tucks her legs to kneel on the couch. Her fingertips tent gently on either side of my belt buckle. I glance at my friend and then down at her. I’m already rising eagerly for her touch. Forever will not be enough to satisfy me. I rock back on my heels and nod once to indicate my permission. Sadie’s pretty mouth curls up at the corners as she works the leather through metal. There’s the quiet shift of cotton and the sound of our breath. I slide my fingers into her hair.
“Watch us, Beau,” I command.
He hesitates, then says in his laconic drawl, “Yes, sir.”
12
Sadie
Beau watches greedily as I gently extract Dakota’s dick and take him into the hot cavern of my mouth. I’ve always felt as though I have to hide this part of myself from others. My body was always meant to be hidden, and each shot of pleasure taken only with a chaser of shame.
I adore sex. Tonight, I’m claiming that. No one will ever make me feel shame again.
The thought energizes me. I feel powerful. When I glance at him Dakota’s hot, dark gaze sparks against mine.
His full mouth twitches and flattens as I take him deeper, past my gag reflex and into my throat. Stiff hair tickles my lips as I take him all the way inside. He groans.
Beau’s enjoying the show. He runs his big, warm hands up my ribcage and tucks one fingertip under the lace. I pop off Dakota’s cock and sit back up, wiping my mouth with the heel of my hand and grinning. Beau flicks my nipples out from under the fabric. He rolls them between rough thumb and forefinger. I moan.
“Nice,” Dakota says appreciatively. “Hot.”
I arch into his friend’s touch. I want to savor every moment of this experience, because tonight will be our only time together like this. Once he leaves, it will be weeks before Beau comes back. By then, I hope that whatever new and raw relationship Dakota and I are forming will be solidified. Knowing he won’t reject me no matter what we do tonight lets me feel free in a way I never have before. I experiment by tugging the lingerie up over the mounds of my breasts. They bounce free. Both men’s eyes widen fractionally. I grin.
“Like that?” I ask. Dakota is still standing by my side, while I’ve pinned Beau to the couch. Now, I slide off his thighs in a sinuous movement and hop onto the coffee table. There’s no music, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve done these movements a thousand times. The difference is that tonight, I’m dancing for me as much as I am for my audience.
I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my pants and swing my hips in a slow figure-eight. Dakota sinks onto the couch. I turn in a half-circle. The furniture is sturdy enough to support my gyrations if I’m careful. I give them a peek at my thong, then slide my loose pants down my thighs and kick them away.
Beau wolf whistles.
I wink at him over my shoulder. Then, I turn to face the opposite wall. I gather my hair in both hands and let it cascade down my back. Dakota howls. I’m dancing for real now, slow and sexy, revealing my body inch by inch. I can hardly believe it was just this afternoon that I begged Beau to treat me rough, to let me play the brat. Guess I needed it. But taking control in truth is so much better—so much more fun.
I needed that to work through that pain to gain the confidence to perform like this for men whose opinion of me counts for so much. It was worth it. Now, I can let go.
“Come on down here, baby,” Beau calls out. He’s stripped off his shirt. Dakota’s shed his jeans and sits sideways on the couch wearing only his boxers. His cock tents out. I get down off my makeshift platform and shove Beau aside to make space for myself between them.
“Ooh, bossy now, are you?” he teases, grinning. His eyes crinkle at the corner.
I return his happiness and say, “You’ll find out.”
I work my hand down the flat plane of his belly into his pants and stroke the hard length of his cock. His eyes flutter closed. Excitement pulses through me. I work leather through metal and undo his belt. He’s already hard. I stroke his length while I cast Dakota a sidelong glance. “I want to fuck your friend.”
He settles back against the arm of
