Amber to Ashes (The Torn Heart #1) (40 page)

Brock breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes, his shadowed with uncertainty. “Are you . . .
positive
? I didn’t say any of that to make you feel like you have to do this, Amber.”

“We don’t want you to feel forced into anything you’re unsure of,” Ryder whispers, his lips pressed warm against my ear.

“I don’t feel guilty or forced,” I say in all honesty, my ache for them growing. “I want this. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” And I haven’t.

Every fiber of who I am—who these men are sure to turn me into—knows this moment is right.
They’re
right. I capture Brock’s mouth in a desperate kiss, my legs quivering for their touch as I guide Ryder’s hands up under my dress.

“I want you to use my body,” I purr, not an ounce of shame in me. “Use it to escape what happened. Let it be your release from what you had to do to keep us safe. Use it to help you forget everything that happened that night.”

An understanding that we’re about to become one—united through death and tragedy—shifts the air hot, thickening the space
between the three of us. Brock looks at me then Ryder, their eyes communicating in a way I’ve never witnessed.

Brock studies Ryder for what seems like forever before taking my face between his hands, his touch gentle as he dips his head, teasing his lips against mine. “You want us to fuck you?” he asks in a low rasp, his gaze glistening to the measure of how turned on he is. I nod, and his lips fully connect with mine, his tongue seeking untapped depths as he groans and hitches my leg around his waist. He drops a hand to my pussy and slips two fingers inside me, deepening the kiss as he works my inner flesh. “Is that what you want, baby girl? Want us to make you feel better? Wipe your mind blank?”

“Yes,” I moan, a flame of desire licking its delicious tongue over my heated skin. “Please.”

Ryder’s fingers slide down my stomach, in between my legs, the soft hum of his heavy breathing dissolving my senses as he rolls my clit between them. “Say it,” Ryder whispers, his fingers joining Brock’s in their delicious onslaught. “Tell us what you want us to do to this sweet pussy.”

“I want you to hurt it,” I say breathily, my hands curled tight around Brock’s shoulders for support. I need them to take their pent-up aggression out on me—every disturbed bit of their torment drenching my mind, battering my body, unleashing their anger and confusion into my soul. Leather dress hiked up over my hips, I dig my nails into Brock’s back, grinding down against their hands as they finger-fuck me ripe. “I want to feel your pain, want you to feel mine. The pain I have for what you had to do. The pain I went through before I ever met the two of you. Hurt me, then heal me. Please. I need it.” I kiss Brock harder. “Take from me what you need, and let me take from the two of you in the same way.”

Lips pressed to the side of my mouth, Brock’s breath dances scalding challenges across my cheek, his groan causing my pulse to quicken.

“Turn around and look at Ryder,” he demands through a whisper.

They remove their fingers from me, tripping them over my clit before Brock releases my leg from his hold. I turn and face Ryder, searing curiosity reaching up from my stomach as he glides his dampened fingers along my lips. Goose bumps rise, chasing after his touch as I wrap my hands around his wrist and pull his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them, inhaling the infusion that makes up the deadly storm that defines me, Brock, and Ryder.

Hurt.

Pain.

Confusion.

Attraction.

Lust.

All a lethal but beautiful cocktail that’s about to combust, exploding each of us into a state of numbness, a state of healing through what we need.

Each other . . .

Almost in awe, Ryder stares at me, his damaging blue eyes piercing through every intention I’d had to keep myself balanced between what’s right and wrong and my desire for him. I ache to tear off the clothing covering his sun-kissed body, to feel him inside me.

His disheveled jet-black hair teases me into knotting my fingers through it as he snags my nape, guiding me to his luscious mouth. He groans, stealing a greedy kiss from me, this one taken with my permission as my longing to feel him fucking me raw burns across my skin. I moan, matching his eagerness as he kisses me harder, deeper, his heavy breathing working in tandem with mine as Brock slowly unzips my dress. It hits the ground and pools around my heels, my lace corset following as he unhooks each clasp. Brock latches his mouth onto my neck, his tongue laving the sensitive flesh where my shoulder and neck meet as he palms my tits, his fingers pinching my nipples into hardened buds. I furiously work Ryder’s belt and fly, my need to feel his lips tracing the swell of my breasts, the swirl of my stomach, and
the devilish pull of my pussy igniting into near pandemonium, my fingers not moving fast enough for my growing ache.

“Want us to taste this beautiful cunt?” Brock’s question is spoken hot against my ear as he slips his fingers inside my warmth. Continuing to tweak my nipples with his free hand, he grinds his cock against my ass. “Take turns tongue-fucking it until you can’t take anymore?”

“God, yes,” I breathe, devouring the familiar yet unfamiliar taste of Ryder. “Yes, baby, please.”

The second I’ve got Ryder down to his boxers, shirt, and tie, he lifts me from the ground, fastens his lips to mine, and carries my naked body to the couch, kissing me one last time before setting me down on shaky legs. Gaze locked on mine, he kicks off his shoes, his socks following in their wake as he looks me up and down with scalding reverence.

“Christ, you’re beyond goddamn gorgeous,” Ryder says, unexpected nervousness cutting across his features as he slants a trembling hand through his hair. “A fucking angel.” The isolated dimple I’ve claimed as my own appears on his cheek, hidden under the stubble shadowing his face. “You’re . . . I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “You’ve rendered my mind blank. I haven’t got a single fucking thing.” Another shake of his head, his voice cracking as he captures my face between his hands, gliding his thumbs along the seam of my lips. “Thank you for everything. For the last couple of months, for tonight, tomorrow, for . . . you, peach. Even if this is the only time we do this—hell, even if we all freeze up and stop halfway through—thank you. This very second alone is something I’ll never let go of. Ever.”

God. This beautiful creature’s nervous—I feel it, sense it through and through. He lays his lips on my forehead, his movements carried out with that of a man who’s unsure if the territory he’s about to explore should be walked at all as his palms slither up my shoulders, barely smoothing over my skin. Instantly, every objection I had to doing this falls away.

“It’s okay, Ryder,” I whisper, nervousness grabbing me tight. “I want this. I want . . . you.”

Silently, I grab his tie, sliding it from his neck. Somewhere deep in the crevices of my soul—the unseen compartments of my heart that he and Brock have already dissected—I know Ryder never intended to refuse Brock’s request for this to happen. I also know I didn’t either.

Time—a thief of decisions—kept me from acknowledging that this moment was always meant to be. Despite the mixture of fear and excitement in my chest, as Brock and Ryder stare at me with hungry eyes, every wound I ache to have healed splits open, allowing them to medicate me, their touch a numbing agent to the demons of my past. Everything I want this night to be, no matter how right it feels or how wrong it is in others’ opinions, is my way of letting go of my control—the control I’m willing to hand over to them. I want them to own me, both men breaking down my defenses. My body pulls and strains, longing to be filled with everything Ryder and Brock want to give me, with everything I need to give them in return.

Gaze prowling the length of my body, Brock steps behind me, his voice an untamed whisper as he slides Ryder’s tie from my hold. “Close your eyes.”

My pulse takes off as he slips the silk tie over my eyes, knotting it across the back of my head. With my sight gone, silence sweeps through the room, nothing but their heavy breathing in my ears.

A soft kiss graces my cheek, followed by another along the opposite curve of my shoulder. I stretch my neck, pushing my chin toward the ceiling, my senses rocketing awake as a hand skirts across my breasts, down the dip of my stomach, and settles between my legs. A finger, then a second, breaches the barrier of my warmth, my body bucking of its own accord as they slide in and out, each pass dragging moisture up along my clit.

“Jesus, you’re already wet for us.” Brock’s husky whisper moves
across my cheek, my pulse hammering through my chest as my G-spot’s found and hooked with skilled precision.

“So goddamn sweet,” Ryder says, the heat of his mouth blazing a line of urgency down my spine. My back bows, my pussy clenching around a third finger as it works its way inside me. “Do you know which one of us is finger-fucking you?”

“No,” I pant, my head dizzy with curiosity. My hips rock with my pleasure-inducer’s steady rhythm as I grind against his talented fingers. “I . . . I don’t.”

“It’s both of us,” Brock offers, his voice encased in a delicious, tempered growl. “Now it’s time to guess which one of us is about to lick this pussy until it aches to be fucked.”

Before I can say a word, they simultaneously withdraw their fingers, the chilled air rolling across my dampened flesh in their wake. Wasting not a single second, a pair of hands shackles my wrists, gently lifting my arms over my head. A surge of adrenaline floods my listless muscles, my heart thrashing as fear, desire, and excitement create a craving so intense—so brutally intoxicating—I feel as if I’m about to explode.

Another pair of hands brushes down my collarbone, along the sides of my breasts, the soft silk of a tongue stopping to lick, suck, and lightly bite my nipples before coming to rest where I need it most. I moan, my fingers gripping a shoulder for support as my leg is guided onto an unknown surface.

Hands still held captive above my head, I shimmy my ass against the hardened cock of whoever’s behind me, each of my senses tested as I hear what I assume are knees hitting the ground, followed by a soft, cool breath over my slickened folds. A hand grips the underside of my thigh, lifting my leg higher, as a tongue laps my clit, sucking on the swollen bud with a long, deep, mind-numbing groan.

“Oh my God,” I pant, ripping my wrists free from their confines. My fingers seek the hair of the man whose tongue is pleasuring me
as I thrust my hips forward, grinding my pussy against his face. “God, yes. Please don’t stop.”

From behind, a hand comes around the side of my jaw, tugging my head back as soft lips capture mine in a ravenous kiss, a groan on the heels of each greedy swipe of his tongue. Before tonight, if someone had asked me if I could tell the difference between Brock’s and another man’s touch, I would have said without a doubt I could. But once whoever was just devouring me pulls away, I’m left clueless as to who’s where and doing what. All I know is I’m surging with an intense desire to feel these men fill me, take me, use me up until I beg them to stop.

Almost perfectly timed, the mouth buried between my legs halts its delicious intrusion as I’m swept up—bride-style—into strong, thick arms. Another deep kiss, this one just as intense as all the rest, before I’m gently placed on the bed. My back melts against cool silk sheets as anticipation lights me up, yearning dizzying my head with every nervous breath I try for.

“Spread your legs.” Brock’s voice threads through the air, his heated command spoken from too far away to determine where he is.

I obey, no inhibitions or fear hindering my movements. I’ll give them whatever they want, whatever they need, my entire body Brock’s and Ryder’s to keep.

Large hands wrap around my ankles, spreading my legs wider, opening me up, not an inch of me unexposed to their eyes. I’m pulled to the very edge of the mattress, the reality of what’s about to happen yanking me—in the best way possible—clear out of my weed-induced high.

Not expecting to feel anything so soon, my breath escapes me in a harsh rush as Ryder and Brock each take a breast in their hand and sweep their tongues over the hardened peaks of my nipples. I lurch forward, tingles screaming across my skin as my heels hit the wood floor, their echo lost amid the increased pounding of my heart.

They pull away for what feels like an eternity before I feel a touch again on my inner thigh. The bed dips with the weight of a body to my left, a tantalizing groan to my right. A tongue licks a fiery trail up the bend of my calf as fingers trace my swollen lips, the shell of my ear, and the curve of my jaw. A mouth descends upon mine, kissing me soft and slow. Its addictive taste is familiar yet unfamiliar, but delicious all the same as its rhythm picks up, kissing me faster, harder. Another talented set of lips finds the flat of my stomach, moves up the arch of my ribs, the sensitive swell of my breasts, and ultimately lands on my neck, where it sucks with vigor, each teasing bite and masterful flick turning me into a fiend for them, for this, for us.

Drowning in an ocean of bliss, I let out a shaky whimper. My fingers delve into a thick mane of hair as a glorious tongue dances with mine. Another meets my ankle, its warmth traveling to the back of my knee, the curve of my waist, and the dip of my navel before heading back south, lapping at my clit with urgency.

My womb jerks in ecstasy, sweat gathering between my breasts as two fingers effortlessly slide inside me. Letting out a guttural groan, my boy licks me slow—ripening me up—his mouth attacking every inch of my pussy as my muscles buckle under the pressure of my approaching orgasm.

“You taste better than I could’ve ever imagined.” Ryder’s snarl travels across the room, his free hand digging into the back of my thigh. “I could suck on this pussy for days.”

Curiosity burns across my body, scalding everything in its path, intensifying my need to watch Ryder take me so intimately as I spring up onto my elbows and yank the tie from my eyes. Breathless, the delicious sight of him buried between my legs annihilates the air in my lungs, my already explosive want for him igniting into something dangerous, mentally lethal.