Highland Obsession (31 page)

Would he hate her if she admitted it did? It didn’t matter, ultimately. She couldn’t lie to him.

It was all so confusing. The haze of lust, the strange sensation of the whisky swirling within her. Alan physically enveloping her, Cam nearby, his loving gaze stroking over her, soft and delicate as a feather. She was lost.

“Do you want it, Sorcha? Do you want us both?”

She couldn’t lie. She’d promised not to.

“Aye,” she sobbed.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

E
ven now, she couldn’t lie to him. Alan blinked against the onslaught of emotion he felt upon seeing his young wife’s confusion. She was overwhelmed by lust but beset by fear. That he inspired such strong feeling in her made his body quake with the need to have her, to possess her entirely.

Jealousy simmered somewhere in the background. The knowledge that she also desired Cam was a dark spot of poison on a rampant flowering vine. One he could ignore . . . for the moment.

Because, by God, the idea of both of them taking her at the same time made him want to come under his plaid. He glanced at Cam again. The dark lust in his friend’s eyes shone back at him. It had been there since Cam had awakened from the fever, but kept dormant, thrust aside. Now it was clear Cam had let it go, to grow and overpower his tightly held reserve of the past several days.

They’d always been able to communicate this way, he and Cam. It was part of what made them work well together. They could be silent but still-communicating partners, giving a woman the most pleasure possible.

“Stand.” Alan gave Sorcha a tiny nudge.

Cam nodded, but he blew out a nervous breath. Alan understood. This wasn’t some nameless whore. This was Sorcha, Alan’s wife.

Alan couldn’t think ahead, refused to acknowledge what would become of them after this night. Hell, in three days he could be headed south. In five, he could be dead.

There was only now. One woman and the two men who loved her. Who wanted her.

Sorcha rose, facing Cam.

“Turn around, Sorcha,” Alan commanded. “Toward me.”

Sorcha complied, turning until she was looking down at him, her chest heaving and her pulse beating in her throat like a frightened rabbit’s as Cam rose from his chair and came to stand behind her.

Tentatively, Cam’s hands closed over her shoulders. He moved her hair aside, and his mouth descended to her neck. All the while, he kept his gaze fastened on Alan.

It was a test, Alan realized. Would seeing his friend touch her make Alan insane with jealous rage? Did he mean to follow through with this mad plan?

Clenching his fists, Alan watched Cam’s fingers knead her shoulders. Cam’s lips pressed to the side of her neck, nipping gently. In his arms, Sorcha trembled from head to foot, flushed, needy, and more afraid than he’d ever seen her. Her fingers twitched in her skirts.

“Rest easy,
mo chridhe
,” Alan said in a low, soothing voice contrary to the tumultuous emotion roiling in his chest. “Cam and I seek only to please you.”

“Are you sure, Alan?” she asked, her voice pleading, even as she tilted her head to give Cam better access to the pale column of her neck. “Please tell me you are certain about this . . . please . . . I don’t want to . . .”

He rose and stood before her, taking her upper arms in his hands and squeezing gently. “I’m sure. We all want it.”

He spoke the truth. Cam’s long fingers played against her neck, stroking the place he’d just kissed. His eyelids were heavy with longing. Sorcha was flushed, panting, and Alan knew if he slid his fingers between her legs, he’d find her wet and ready for them.

And Alan himself . . . God help him, but his dissolute, debauched soul
enjoyed
seeing Cam’s hands on her. Craved it. Made him ache for more. For Cam to take more of her. He wanted to watch Cam’s cock shuttle in and out of her body. Wanted to see the look on her face when Cam took her. When he and Cam took her together.

A part of him bellowed a warning, telling him he was drunk and not thinking straight, but he squelched it ruthlessly as he raised his hands to the front of her bodice. Cam stood behind her, plucking at her laces. When he pulled the strings apart, Cam pushed her gown from her shoulders. With it went her stays and shift, and working together, the two men helped her shimmy out of the confining fabrics.

Finally she stood bare, wearing only her stockings, garters, and shoes, her pert breasts heaving with every breath she took.

Alan glanced at the door to the adjoining bedchamber, then cast a questioning look at Cam, who nodded. Lifting Sorcha in his arms, Alan pulled her close, her cool flesh pressing against his chest.

“Are you cold?” He brushed his lips against the silk of her hair.

“A little.” Snuggling closer into his body, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Moving ahead of them, Cam opened the door to his bedchamber. Alan paused at the threshold, staring in at the familiar, cavernous room.

Sorcha and Cam had made love here.

He strode toward the bed with determination. It would never happen again. Not without him there. Watching. Participating. In control.

 

Sorcha burrowed her face into Alan’s sleeve. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, and when he reached the bed, Cam pulled back the curtain and counterpane before Alan set her gently down. From her position on her back, she stared up into their hungry eyes. One light, one dark, both tall and so masculine, gazing down at her like she was the only woman in the world.

Alan wanted this. His expression was fierce with desire. Her own desire crested and peaked just by observing his need. If he wanted this, so did she. Anything that would please him would please her a hundred times over.

Cam walked around the bed, shucking his shirt and loosening his breeches as he moved. Sorcha followed him with her gaze, her mouth watering when his hard torso came into view. His muscles weren’t as large as Alan’s, but each one was well defined and tight, and there was no excess fat on any part of him.

She looked back toward Alan as the bed dipped with his weight, and he moved beside her.

Without hesitation or preamble, he cupped her breast in his hand and set his mouth over it, suckling her nipple so deeply, she could feel the pull all the way between her legs.

Cam pressed in behind her, and his erection settled in the crack of her bottom. Concern flared for his injury, but as she turned to question him, he curved his arm around her hip and touched the mound of her quim. Sorcha stilled as his fingers slipped lower to brush over her outer lips, gently parting them. Cam had never before moved this slowly with her.

Alan plucked her nipple just as two of Cam’s fingers tugged on her clitoris, and she shuddered, feeling the men all through her. Their warmth, their hard masculinity, their need. She threaded her hands through Alan’s thick hair and pressed him tighter to her breast as she wedged her backside more firmly against Cam’s groin.

Alan pushed her onto her back. Cam rose up onto his knees and bent to her free breast. His mouth closed over her nipple.

It was almost too much to stand. Sensation barreled through her, hot and sharp, and she squirmed against it. One of their hands—she couldn’t tell whose anymore—pressed on her hip bone, pinning her to the bed.

“Alan,” she gasped. “Cam.” She looked at the two heads—Cam’s cropped black locks and Alan’s thick blond curls, both knelt in worship over her body.

Fingers—Cam’s, she thought, because she couldn’t remember him ever removing his hand from between her legs—began stroking her in earnest. Sliding through her slick folds, circling her entrance, teasing the sensitive pearl above.

Alan curled his fingers around her breast, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, but not quite hard enough to hurt.

With one final lick over her taut, aching nipple, he raised his head, meeting her gaze.

“I’m going to fuck you now,
mo chridhe
.” The statement was blunt, said in a rasping voice, but it made her arch her back in anticipation.

Please
.

Cam’s damp hand grazed her belly and kneaded the breast Alan had abandoned, and Cam’s teeth closed over her flesh as Alan rose to settle between her legs.

Holding his cock in his hand, he gazed at the top of Cam’s head for a long moment as Cam tortured one of her breasts with his mouth, the other with his fingers. Sorcha watched in fascinated anticipation as Alan’s fingertips brushed lightly over the long length of his erection, pushing the foreskin upward, and then pulling back down to reveal the blunt, swollen cap.

She licked her lips, remembering how the tip of his cock felt—warm and soft, but so very alive—and Alan’s gaze rose to meet hers.

“Do you want me, Sorcha? Do you want this?” A whispered growl.

She did. And yet—“Only if you do, Alan. I only want what you want.” Her voice sounded smooth to her ears, like honey, so quiet she hardly heard herself beyond the lust roaring through her body. Cam paused at her breasts for a breath, and then he swirled his tongue around her nipple and lifted away. She closed her fingers on his shoulder.

Alan, however, didn’t move. His eyes clouded, and his lids lowered as if he were considering the options. His hand tightened over his cock, but stopped its languid motion.

Sorcha wanted to bite her tongue for making him question himself.

“Please, Alan,” she whispered. “I want this. I want
you
. So much.”

Alan leaned over her as Cam faded into the background. She still felt Cam’s skin beneath her fingers, though, his muscles rippling as he moved to give Alan room.

Alan adjusted his cock at her entrance, and she groaned as it nudged her open, forcing her body to conform to its girth.

He didn’t push all the way in, though. Lodged halfway inside her, he stopped, his jaw clenching with restraint.

He bent low over her and whispered into her ear, his voice a silken brush over her lobe. “I want to watch you suck Cam’s cock.”

She could only whimper as the words sent her arousal soaring higher. She bit her lip. It was all she could do not to grind her body down over Alan’s erection.

Yet she didn’t understand why he wanted to watch her with Cam. She still sensed a simmer of animosity under his skin. Perhaps he suspected that she desired Cam more than him. The emotion wasn’t blatant, but she could sense it, smell it, like a lingering dampness in the sun after a storm.

She feared what would happen if she did this. And yet her husband had commanded her to.

Worse, far worse, she wanted to. Since the last time she and Cam had made love, she’d thought hundreds of times of taking his long, satiny cock in her mouth. She loved his taste almost as much as she loved Alan’s. Lord help her.

“Are you sure?” she managed to gasp. “Please, Alan . . .”
Please tell the truth. Don’t ask me to do this if it’s going to hurt you.
Because as much as she wanted Cam, she didn’t want to hurt Alan. She’d rather die than risk their marriage again.

“Goddammit, Sorcha.” He raised his head, searing her with his hot blue gaze. “Do you think I’d suggest it if I didn’t find it arousing? If it didn’t make me want to fuck you harder, to come all over you? Over”—he shoved his cock balls-deep, making her cry out at the rush of sensation—“and over?”

Cam’s hand traced down her arm, and his fingers laced in hers and squeezed, but he remained silent, allowing her and Alan to work it out between them. She loved Cam for his silence, knew that one word from him might spark a fire none of them would be able to contain.

“I don’t—I don’t know, Alan—” She was so afraid. So, so frightened of what might happen when this was over.

Slowly, he drew out, and then just as fast, just as hard as the first time, he sank deep inside of her.

“Oh!” Sorcha cried, shaken to her toes by the violence of the motion. She gripped his forearm, digging her nails into the skin. He paused, his groin flush against hers, and rose up onto his knees, adjusting Sorcha’s body to move with him and giving Cam room to edge close. She didn’t look Cam’s way, but saw him in her peripheral vision, felt his heat, his warmth.

“Take him in your mouth,
mo chridhe
,” Alan commanded.

The blunt head of Cam’s cock nudged her cheek, and she turned her head, pursing her lips. Gently, he bumped against her closed mouth as Alan stroked inside her again. Sorcha shuddered. She felt like she’d been laid out on the rack. With the merest effort, these men could tear her apart, either bringing her exquisite pleasure or ultimate, deadly pain.

To think they had such power over her—her whole body reacted, every muscle spasming, even the one circling the channel in which Alan’s cock was now lodged. Clearly feeling the undulating pressure, he growled low in his throat.

Cam’s cock brushed her lips again, smearing a drop of fluid over them. It took all her will to resist licking it off.