Gemini Page 8

  But she wasn’t fooling him. He shoved his two fingers in, going deep, and knew by the sound she made that he had her.

  The girl was a feisty one, willing to give over to the primitive, gritty nature of raw, feral sex. She bucked up once, begging for more.

  He wanted the words. “Say it.” She was fucking his, and he needed her to admit it. “Say it.”

  “I like it.”

  “Keep going.” He scissored his fingers, stretching that tight opening. “Tell me what you want.”

  She was panting as he worked her, shivering. “I want…” She bucked up again, needy groans breaking out from behind her teeth. “Your cock. Fucking me hard. In the ass.”

  He held himself above her on one extended arm. Harder than he’d ever been in his life, his cock distended like a freaking rhino horn, he used his free hand to center himself at her hole. “You do it,” he said. “Fucking take me in.”

  She moaned again, but was really too needy to object. Arching her body, she pressed her face into the bed and pushed her ass against him. “Ahh.”

  He held himself steady for her as she took him in. She only got far as just letting the big circumference of his head push its way in.

  “Ah. Clay. Ahh.”

  She worked herself around him, swiveling herself, getting all the stimulation she could right in her sphincter.

  “Christ, baby.” It was all he could do to keep from slamming into her, from making her take every last inch of him.

  She moaned one more time, a wild, taken sound, and that made it more than he could do.

  He reared back, grasped her hips with his hands, pulled her to her knees, and fucked her.

  He went in deep with the very first stroke, pausing there when he was buried to the hilt, grinding against her. Then he withdrew, a long, gritty slide through the tight grasp of her hot ass.

  On the next thrust he was gone. He arched back, roaring, and pumped into her like a maniac. His grip bruising, he hauled her back against him, using her body to do half the fucking.

  She groaned out his name and incoherent exhortations. He gripped her harder, thrust harder, and was just short of letting his head explode when the neediness of her moans broke through his consciousness.

  She was nearing her own explosive orgasm, just by the power of this ass-fuck. She just needed… He could tell she just needed…

  He let go with one hand and reached around her. Blindly, barely having enough awareness to know what he was doing, he slapped in the general direction of her clit.

  She howled in agonized pleasure, and he slapped again, quick little pats that appeared to be exactly what she needed. She cried out, spasming in hard convulsions, clamping down on his cock with naked need.

  He gave her what she was asking for. He barreled into her, shoving her up the bed as he pounded her, flailing wildly, completely undone himself. His cum tore through his cock, blasting into her ass, a drenching come that slicked his last thrusts.

  Clay ended up laid out on top of her, both of them collapsed on the bed, his cock still holding its unholy place in her body and both of them shivering and twitching out the last of their orgasms.

  He realized after a while that every breath was still coming out in a curse that was part tribute and part wonder. He closed his lips, meaning to halt the profanity, but it was still in his head, with each breath he hummed out. Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck.

  A few more breaths and he realized he had his fingers curled around hers with crushing force. Putting a lot of effort into it, he slowly relaxed his hands. But he didn’t let go of his grip. No, he kept his fingers tangled with hers.

  Continuing to take stock as his wits gradually came back to him, he heard the huff of her breath. Lifting just a little—his head and chest, yeah, but he was in no way ready to give up possession of her ass—he nudged at her head. She was buried under that blond hair. He let go of one hand just long enough to brush it back so he could see her face. And so she could breathe, but he had to admit that was more or less secondary.

  She opened those soft brown eyes and he fell into them. Really. Fell. He was fucking in love. It ought to make him shudder, at the least. In the world that he’d known to date, it ought to make him leap out of bed and run for it. But, no. Damned if it didn’t make him start to heat up again.

  It was a fucking different world.

  “Gemini.”

  She looked at him carefully. He might have let a little trace of panic sound in his voice. And a bit of the heat, too.

  “Clay?”

  “I’m getting hard again.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the most significant thing that was going on in his head, but it was what came to the top.

  She had a little snark in her eyes. “I can tell.”

  He might love her, but that didn’t mean he’d go easy on her if she sassed him. He humped into her once. She moaned just a little, not necessarily in pleasure.

  He took a breath, reconsidering. “You’d think I’d be done.”

  “You’d think.”

  Clay searched her eyes in surprise. It was fucking sass. He pumped into her again, and he was full-out hard now. She met his gaze steadily, and he’d swear there was a little gleam of challenge in it.

  “I’m not done.” He was a bit loud with it, a bit belligerent.

  “Fine,” she said. “But you’re on your own.”

  Like fuck. He gave her a look to show her what he thought of that. But still, he took the invitation as offered.

  Still plugging her ass, he brought her up, one leg at a time, until she was on her knees again. His own knees were at either side, so he had her lower half surrounded. Then he did the same with the upper half. He fell over her, wrapping his arms around her so she was all tucked in beneath him, all contained.

  Like she was his, all his. Like he owned her.

  He loved it. Loved it so much that his cock started throbbing, surging inside her on its own accord.

  She acted like she didn’t care. She let him have her, let him bundle her up and then thrust away into her ass like it was a walk in the park.

  He wouldn’t have it. He took her down, flat onto the bed again. He had his hands under her, so one ended up gripping her tit and the other fingering her clit. “You’re not done, either,” he growled. He worked her ass, pumping in and out again like a piston, and used his fingers hard on her. “You’re not fucking done.”

  She wasn’t, either. He could hear her breath catch as she got on board, feel her body tense. He let out a victorious howl as it happened. She was a hell of a fuck.

  Okay, yeah, her next orgasm might have contained a bit of relief along with the pleasure. But she had one. She moaned and shuddered underneath him. Would have bucked, he was sure, if she’d had the muscle left for it.

  He took it as enough—her little moans, her quivers. Letting her off easy—kind of—he let go himself. Not so rough this time, not so wild, but a freaking satisfying come.

  He owned her. It was enough. Not more than enough, but enough.

  * * * *

  Clay fell asleep on top of her. After a couple minutes, his cock slipped out of her—blessedly soft, for a change. A few minutes after that, he slid to the side, not on her so much, but still possessing her. His one leg was still draped over her, plus his right arm and half his chest.

  Gemini slept then, too, worn out with it. She’d kind of lost track of the number of orgasms she’d had. Kind of lost track of…herself.

  She mulled it over when she woke from her little doze, with the powerful, powerfully attractive man still covering her. His face was relaxed in sleep, the hard planes of it gentled. But she was certain there was a core of him that was still alert. That if she moved, his arm over her would tighten, his eyes would open and find her.

  That was his makeup. He’d fuck her, use her wildly, and blatantly express his dominant nature. But he wouldn’t hurt her, ever, and he’d protect her against any threat.

  He’d be that way with any woman he took to his bed
. She understood that. But there was more, with her. She was sure of it. What had happened between them hadn’t been just a wild ride in the sack. Not even to him. She’d seen that something in his eyes, in that lull between those crazy ass fucks.

  He’d meant to be done that first time. He’d gotten off so wildly, come so hard, howling out his ferocious orgasm. There was no way he’d done that and then left his cock in her ass, waiting for it to harden again for another round.

  No, it had come as a surprise to him, the way he’d quickened and wanted her again. And it had happened as he’d slid her hair back, looking into her eyes, touching her gently.

  Clay had been as surprised by it as she had been. Not just that he got hard again, determined to take her again, but by the other, too. The feeling he’d had of wanting her—not just another fuck, but her. Of caring. Maybe even loving.

  She hadn’t seen that look in a man’s eyes for a long time. Maybe not ever, she had to admit now. Whatever Bryce had felt for her, she knew now it wasn’t love. Or not a good, healthy kind of love, anyway.

  What Clay held felt in those moments he looked at her, she’d felt it right back. And she was pretty sure he’d seen it. That he knew what was behind the little bit of sass she’d given him. Yeah, he’d hardened again like a flag pole up her ass, and it sure as hell wasn’t because he’d been left wanting. No, that first ass fuck had blown his head off.

  There was more between them than just wild monkey sex, and wasn’t that a stunner?

  She could imagine falling for Quinn. Had imagined. Maybe had done it, even. And there was Jace out there, quiet, observant, intense.

  If she was going to lose her head over any of them, her last guess would have been Clay.

  But here she was, mulling over that very thing. And there he was, alert to her even in sleep. His eyes were open now, watching her, seeming to know what was running through her mind.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  She searched his eyes and found acknowledgement of all she’d been thinking. He had feelings for her, and accepted that she had feelings for him. “But—”

  “Yeah.”

  He’d said he wasn’t going to care what happened between her and Quinn or Jace. She’d doubted it even as he’d said it. She was entirely certain that he was a possessive man. It wouldn’t come easy to him to share, not even with his best friends, not even a woman he saw only as a night’s entertainment. She’d have guessed this would change things, that it would be beyond him now to consider it. “Do—”

  “Yeah,” he said, with emphasis. Like he was done talking about it.

  She refused to be cowed. Even if he could manage it, could think of her being with Quinn or Jace, could she? She stared back into his eyes, knowing what she was seeing there even if she had trouble believing. He believed it—she could love him, Clay, and still be with the others. Maybe love the others. Shaking her head, she backed away from the image of it, wishing it wouldn’t even form in her mind. “I—”

  “I know,” he said bluntly, almost rudely. “I told you, you don’t have to decide it all now. You don’t have to know where it’s all going right this minute.”

  He kissed her, oddly hard and soft at the same time. “Here’s what you have to decide right now. Either we’re getting up and hitting the shower so you can go to work”—he managed to imply that wasn’t his first choice—“or to I’m going feed you, then fuck you some more and keep you here all night. Which is it going to be?”

  They went with a kind of compromise, and she let the rest of it go. They got up and he led her to his shower—a lavish brick wall and glass affair lit by overhead skylights. There were multiple nozzles, and they stood in the hot spray, facing each other. He soaped and rinsed his cock, making a show of cleansing himself, and making himself hard yet again. Then he lifted her, helped her wrap her legs around him, and settled her down onto him. Once he had her filled, he started kissing her. His mouth mated with hers, soft and needy, loving. After long moments of it, he started gently pumping into her. Never letting go of her mouth, he brought them to a tenderly sweet, shared orgasm.

  * * * *

  “Come on, babe. You and I are going out.”

  Jason had barely kept from planting his fist in Clay’s face at those words. Well, not at the words so much, because he was totally unsurprised that Clay’s play for Gemini would be bossy and aggressive when he made it.

  But at the timing, and at the fact that she’d moved, putting out her hand in a kind of daze like she didn’t know to expect such a thing from that damned hound-dog.

  Jace wasn’t fooled. Oh, he was aware that, among the friends, he was the one to be considered lucky with the ladies. And the fact was, Jace loved women. He liked nothing better than dressing himself up and showing a good time to a glamorous woman. He loved the elegant dresses and the glitter of pearls circling a toned neck, the ridiculous girly high heels and dabs of designer perfume behind the ears and at a provocative yet conservative bit of cleavage.

  He got what he wanted from women, almost always—and it didn’t have to include heels to the sky in the sack. He loved the game, the seduction, even if it was only play. Even if it ended with nothing but a sweet, lingering kiss outside a woman’s door.

  He knew it was really his pal who boned women all but indiscriminately. Clay was quiet about it, but he zeroed in on women like they had a homing signal built just for him. He had a rough, hard-hitting sexuality, and Jace was certain his buddy made an impression. He’d seen a lot of Clay’s discarded women send him hot gazes full of longing. And he’d watched Clay brush them off with nothing more than a brusque, careless nod.

  So Jace hadn’t expected Clay to be the first to make his play for Gemini. The girl was their dead buddy’s sister, for Christ’s sake, and he assumed Clay would show a little respect. She wasn’t just free pussy.

  And Jace knew Quinn, so he figured that one would bide his time. He’d be thinking about Gemini’s traumatic history and the fact that she was technically still married. The man had the patience of a saint. He’d wait, probably until Gem made the first move.

  Ergo, ever since the night she’d walked into the bar, Jace had presumed that he’d be the one to have her. Even over the last ten days, as it had become clear they all had a hard-on for her. Even today, when they’d agreed they could each give it a shot however they wanted, he thought he’d be the first.

  He’d been imagining it, really, from that first night. Dinner at the Broadmoor, dancing after—maybe out on his own deck, under the stars, with the city lights twinkling below. A couple nights of that, at least. No rush to get her to bed, no worries that he’d be the second act.

  Oh, he wasn’t concerned about making his own impression. Women were more than satisfied when he left their beds.

  It was just—hell.

  He’d looked at Quinn when Clay and Gemini had disappeared down the stairs. That one wasn’t happy, either.

  “Damn it. He’s going to fuck her,” Quinn said.

  “No shit.”

  “No moss growing under his ass.”

  “Whatever the hell that means.”

  “Yeah.”

  Philosophically, Quinn slapped him on the shoulder and started cleaning up their lunch mess.

  “I’m going for a run,” Jace said.

  “Yeah, that’ll help.”

  Fuck.

  * * * *

  Quinn was tending bar, but mostly he was watching the door. Jace was sitting at the bar nursing his gin and tonic, his eyes locked on the mirror, pretending he wasn’t doing the same thing.

  He’d started looking out for Gemini and Clay at about six, but he’d been thinking of them since Clay took Gem’s arm and walked her out of the apartment. He had to admit he’d been surprised some at Clay making the first move and more at Gemini’s acquiescence to it. That stung a little. Quinn had already put his cards on the table, had already let Gemini know he wanted her. He’d been as tender as he could be with her, holding back the hot desire he fe
lt in favor of giving her time to heal and get back on her feet. Stupid as it sounded now, he thought they had an understanding.

  But, hell, they’d just gotten done telling her she could be with them all if she wanted to. And what an asinine plan that was. The moment Gemini had stood up, following Clay’s command, Quinn was ready to deal himself his own ass-kicking. He should have claimed her, when the three men had sat together knocking back beers after their game. He should have said he’d already kissed her, already declared for her.

  He’d held back, though. The fact was, they’d all already kissed her. Well, in Clay’s case, it hadn’t necessarily involved kissing, but it had sure as hell involved fucking. Whatever the hell they’d been thinking that night, they’d all lit into her, all wanted her. It hadn’t mattered a whit that she was Cap’s sister, and wounded.

  Quinn felt he knew Gemini a bit now, and what he knew just didn’t jive with the events of that night. She wasn’t a damn “ho.” She wasn’t a party girl. She wasn’t loose. She probably wasn’t even easy. He had to figure it had just been the moment—her desperate flight from an abusive marriage, her lack of sleep, and that urgent need to wipe the stain of Tomlinson’s touch off her. Her harebrained scheme to counter any claim to paternity her ex could make had been a bit of self-deception on her part, Quinn was sure.

  She’d felt low, unloved and unworthy. Letting three men fuck her had been a sort of self-punishment. She’d fallen into a pit of hell and, somehow, that night had marked a turning point for her. It had marked the bottom of the abyss, and she’d been climbing her way out ever since.

  That fact didn’t relieve the three men from their burden of guilt. The help they should have given Gemini, the kind of concern for her they owed to Cap, had nothing at all to do with a freaking gangbang. Quinn had known that very night that he should have tucked her under his wing, walked her out of the bar, and settled her into his spare room unmolested. Should have given her a chance to heal and find herself without having to also deal with the fallout of her actions that night.

  He was a hundred percent sure that giving herself to three men in a closed bar was not her usual behavior. They were strangers to her. Sure, their connection through Cap was a real one, but, still.