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“I…” She didn’t have a clue what to say.

“There’s no right or wrong answer, Whiskey,” Hank assured her, even as he kept fucking her…in front of Porter, who’d gone still as a statue. “Just tell me what you want. What you really want.”

Porter’s eyes met hers and she saw the same desire she’d seen that night a year ago. While they weren’t compatible in terms of a love match, there had been no denying their bodies liked each other just fine.

Rather than respond, Macie lifted her chest up from the table, giving Porter a much better view of her breasts. They swayed as Hank began to thrust inside harder, faster.

“Macie.” Porter whispered her name, the sound so quiet in the room, she read her name on his lips rather than hearing it.

She forced herself to keep her eyes open, locked with Porter’s. Hank reached around her sides and took her breasts in his hands, cupping them, using them for purchase as he fucked her even harder.

Macie couldn’t hold back her groans or the orgasm that was moving in faster than a hurricane in September.

“God, Hank,” she gasped.

Her words prompted more strength from her lover. The table squeaked against the tile floor, moving an inch or so with each inward thrust.

Porter walked across the room, placing his thighs against the table, holding it still, making Hank’s motions more potent, more powerful. Macie held her chest up with her elbows on the surface. Porter was tall, like Hank, so it was hard to keep her eyes on his face. She studied his chest instead as Hank took her.

Until Hank’s fingers gripped her hair tightly, tugging her face upward, forcing her to see the impact their fucking was having on Porter.

God, he wanted her too.

“Do you like this, Macie?”

She couldn’t speak, her breath coming too harshly, too loudly. Her heart was racing, with sheer excitement, arousal, and maybe even a little bit of fear. It was a potent combination.

She was naked between two fully dressed men, being fucked by one as the other watched. Single hottest moment of her life.

“Don’t stop talking now, Mace. Tell me.” Hank’s voice was deep, demanding.

“I love it. So fucking much.”

Her words seemed to free whatever grip Porter had on his emotions. She saw relief in his eyes. And so much need it almost hurt her to look at him.

Hank released his grip on her hair as his hands moved to her waist. He was close to the end. She could feel it.

Her gaze drifted lower as she spied the hard-on Porter was packing behind his jeans. She considered reaching out, but she was stopped when Porter shook his head.

He still leaned against the table, pushing against it to hold it steady for Hank’s thrusts.

“Not this time,” Porter murmured.

His comment obviously captured Hank’s attention, clued her lover in to her intentions.

Hank reached for her wrists and tugged them behind her back, holding them tightly with one hand. The restraint forced her chest back to the table’s surface.

Macie closed her eyes then, gave herself up to the moment, let go of every single thought racing through her mind and just let herself feel.

Her body trembled as her orgasm began. Hank kept her hands secured with one of his, his other hand gripped her hip. She was vaguely aware of another hand, stroking her hair gently.

Macie came loudly and Hank was with her, filling her with come as his climax shook the table. For several seconds afterward, Macie lay still, her cheek pressed against the table, her eyes closed.

Part of her was afraid to open them, to face what they’d just done.

Hank must have recognized her hesitance. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “It’s okay, Macie.”

“I can’t believe we…I didn’t know…” Her eyes flew open. She narrowed them as she looked over her shoulder at Hank, frustration taking over. “Why can’t I ever express a complete thought with you? I don’t have this trouble with anyone else.”