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Twisting a finger into the loop of his jeans, I tugged him closer.
“Pack up,” I told the other two, towing Nate behind me to the sound of Dominic’s playful complaints. I whipped open the car door and shoved my captive into the back seat. Thankfully, the SUV had enough room that I could kneel between his legs.
He stared down at me, eyes blown with desire and voice raspy. “You think a blow job is going to make up for some shitty-ass tattoo?”
I felt every word thrum through me like an electric charge, practically vibrating across my skin as I ran my hands down his thighs. When I got close to his dick, he grabbed my wrists, halting my progress.
I liked that he was fighting me on this. We’d had a lot of me fighting, him bending lately. It felt good to be the one on my knees.
Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss on his clothed cock, enjoying how his hips kicked up at that small touch. His hands released me almost without his volition, and I took that as consent to move forward. I undid his jeans until I could see his cock pressed against his briefs. My mouth watered at him hot and hard and ready for me. “You know I’d never allow that. It’ll be a tasteful tattoo. Promise.”
I figured Dominic wouldn’t do anything too embarrassing, but I’d have Grey make sure of it, just in case. Nate hummed, running his hand through my hair and lifting his hips to help me slide his jeans down, revealing muscles and all that bare, naked skin. “You always take such good care of us.”
Why did that light me up inside? Why did I need him to tell me I was doing a good job?
Because this matters, my brain whispered.
It did. They did.
I’d never been in an actual relationship before them. Casual sex and long-term hookups, but no love. No commitment. Now, I was married to Greyson and committed to the other two. New or not, this was huge and real and the one thing in my life I was wholly unprepared for. I needed to know that I wasn’t fucking this up.
“I’m trying.”
“You’re doing.” Nate’s correction made me smile, but I wanted to focus on the task at hand.
He was barely out of his briefs before I was leaning forward for a slow lick along the underside of his cock.
“Fucking Christ,” he whispered, one hand tight in my hair while the other fisted against the seat.
I didn’t even get him completely in my mouth before a throat cleared nearby, and we both turned dazed eyes to see Dominic and Greyson with half the cases loaded in their arms.
“Is this a party or a show?” Dominic asked.
“A show,” Nate growled, turning back to me. He curled his hand around my neck and jaw in a possessive grip. Those eyes, dark blue and desperate, held me captive. “This is for us. Right now, you’re mine and only mine.”
Um, yes.
Even though I’d just come, my panties were soaked, and I shifted, trying to get some friction on my clit and knowing he wouldn’t let me.
“What do you like, Mari? How do you want to take me?”
It was a struggle to breathe through the arousal, let alone think, but I did. I had to. We’d never actually talked about my limits, and he needed to know them. Nate knew me so well and we’d been through so much, I sometimes forgot we were still new to each other. “You can pull my hair and fuck my face, but don’t shove me onto your cock. I don’t mind choking, but I like being able to pull away.”
“I can hold you still, then? Keep you exactly where I want you as I use your mouth?”
Oh God. “Yes, please.”
“Fuck me.” His cock jumped in my hand, and I stroked it absently. “Tap my hips twice if you need me to stop, even just to breathe. I don’t want this if it’s going to hurt you.”
“I’ll tap out if I have to.”
“I know, angel.” He ran his thumb across my lower lip. “Now, be my good girl. Make it up to me and suck me off.”
With Nate’s hesitation gone, I dove onto him, alternating between shallow bobs and deep, sucking pulls. Twirling my tongue around the width of him while I stroked what I couldn’t reach with my mouth. I needed him to lose his mind and he was right there with me, but I knew the control was a lie.
I moved because Nate let me. I took him because he wanted me to, and when he was sick of giving me even a hint of control, he framed my cheeks and took. Those powerful muscles rippled as he flexed, lifting his hips off the seat until they pressed tight against my face, using my mouth for his pleasure. Over and over, he gave me all he had until everything narrowed down to this. Us.
He split his time between praising me to the sky and back, chanting my name, and saying mine, mine, mine like he needed the world to hear it. Maybe he did. Maybe he needed to claim me just as much as I needed to claim him. That deep-seated desire to brand my name on his skin so no one could look at him without understanding who he belonged to.
