Page 76 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)
Makai
I woke slowly, disoriented by the gentle rocking beneath me and the unfamiliar weight of bodies pressed against mine. Sunlight filtered through the small porthole, casting golden patterns across naked skin.
After dinner and a dip in the chilly bay to rinse off, we’d gone to bed exhausted. Somehow, I’d ended up snuggled between the married couple as we slept. My arm was draped over Imogen’s waist, Hamish’s leg tangled with mine behind me. And we fit so perfectly it made my chest ache. The memories of last night crashed over me in vivid flashes: Hamish on his knees, his mouth around my cock; Imogen’s face as she came with both of us inside her; the three of us collapsed in a sweaty, satisfied heap.
It was still difficult to believe that I’d just had a mind-blowing threesome with my married clients.
I carefully shifted my weight, trying not to wake them as I sorted through the tangle of emotions churning inside me.
And I didn’t regret it. But did they?
I felt Hamish stir behind me, his breathing changing rhythm as he woke. I kept my eyes closed, not ready to face whatever morning-after awkwardness might be waiting. Would he regret it? Blame the isolation, the romance of being stranded at sea? Would he look at me with disgust or shame for what I’d encouraged him to do?
His arm tightened around my waist, contradicting my fears. I felt his breath on the back of my neck, followed by the gentle press of lips against my shoulder. That didn’t feel like regret.
I finally opened my eyes, turning to meet his gaze. Hamish looked different in the morning light—younger somehow, the usual anxiety that tightened his features replaced by a relaxed contentment. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and stubble darkened his jaw. He looked fucking hot with bedhead, and it reminded me of how sexy he’d looked the first morning, when I’d picked him up.
“Morning,”
he whispered, his voice gravelly with sleep.
“Hey.”
Now was not the time to get shy, but there was so much I didn’t know about how they’d react to this.
“You okay?”
“More than okay. Want to touch you.”
Smiling, I took his hand and put it where I wanted it, between my legs, cupped around my cock. I hardened immediately at his touch and he grinned, pressing closer. He wrapped his fingers around me, giving a slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip.
“Want to kiss you, but I’m afraid I have morning breath,”
he groaned. Then he let go of my cock and reached over the edge of the bed, rifling around in the pile of discarded clothing down there.
His ass was in the air, tempting me, and I slapped it, making him laugh.
“Patience. I have breath mints somewhere.”
He pulled out a packet, popped one into his mouth, and handed me one before snuggling up next to me again. The mint was cool and crisp on my tongue, making me glad he had the foresight to grab it.
“I’ve been dreaming about this all night,”
he admitted, continuing those long, languid strokes.
“Waking up with you. Touching you again. Fucking her with you again.”
I glanced at Imogen, still sleeping peacefully beside us.
“What about—”
“She’ll be pleased to wake up to this,”
Hamish assured me, his grip tightening slightly.
“We already know she loves watching us play.”
“And you love watching me with her,”
I murmured.
“Yes. I’ve been fantasizing about it for days. It was sexier than I would have ever imagined.”
The admission hit me like a physical blow, making me wonder if Hamish was getting me hard not just for his own pleasure, but for his wife’s. The thought of him preparing me to fuck Imogen sent heat surging through my veins.
I reached between us, finding him already fully erect.
“Is this for her or for me?”
I asked, wrapping my fingers around his impressive length.
“Both,”
he admitted, a flush creeping up his neck.
“Is that alright?”
“You may be unsure, but I fucking love cock. And pussy. Pretty much all the good bits. I’ve been out as pansexual since I was a teenager.”
I stroked him firmly, watching his eyelids flutter at the sensation. His hand stilled on my cock as he became lost in his own pleasure for a moment, before resuming his steady rhythm.
“You’re pretty good at this,”
I observed, sliding my thumb over his sensitive head, gathering the pre-cum that had already beaded there.
A soft sound from beside us interrupted our play. Imogen stirred, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked confused, then her gaze focused on our hands, and understanding dawned in her eyes.
“Don’t stop on my account,”
she murmured, voice husky with sleep. She propped herself up on one elbow and helped herself to the package of mints Hamish had left on the low shelf beside the bed, making no move to do anything but watch.
But Hamish was in a hurry, and didn’t stroke me much longer before pushing me onto my back, coaxing Imogen to straddle me, this time facing towards my feet. She was pliant and agreeable, and I watched, breath caught in my throat, as Hamish teased her with my cock, making sure she was good and wet before he positioned my cock at his wife’s entrance, feeding me into her.
“Fuck,”
I hissed as she sank down, taking me in one slow, deliberate motion as his hands skimmed over where we were joined. She was already wet, and I knew that Hamish was right. Watching us turned her on.
Hamish moved behind her, his hands on her hips, controlling her movements on my cock. His eyes met mine over her shoulder, dark with desire.
“I want to taste you both,”
he said, his voice rougher than I’d heard it before.
“Cock and pussy together.”
He guided Imogen to lean back a little, supporting herself on my chest, my cock still buried inside her. Then he moved down the bed, positioning himself between our legs. I felt his tongue, hot and wet, licking along the base of my shaft where it disappeared into his wife, circling my balls, lapping at her pussy.
“Jesus Christ,”
I groaned, bucking against him.
Imogen whimpered against my neck, her body clenching around me.
“Oh god, Hamish.”
He hummed in response, the vibration traveling through both our bodies. His tongue moved from my balls to Imogen’s clit, then back again, tasting us together. The sensation was unlike anything I’d experienced—the wet heat of Imogen around my cock, the teasing flicks of Hamish’s tongue against my most sensitive spots.
“Your husband is fucking incredible,”
I said to Imogen.
Imogen whimpered, her body moving with more urgency as Hamish continued to lick us both. I felt her tighten around me, her climax approaching rapidly. He kept going, focusing in on her as she writhed around my cock, her hands buried in her husband’s hair while he sucked relentlessly on her clit.
She screamed as her orgasm crashed through her, and I thrust up into her, chasing my own.
“Wait,”
Hamish said, pulling away. His face was flushed, lips wet and swollen.
“I want more.”
He guided Imogen off me, leaving my cock achingly hard and glistening with her arousal. Without explanation, he positioned her on her hands and knees, then looked at me expectantly.
“Take her from behind,”
he instructed, moving to kneel by Imogen’s head.
“I want to watch your cock sliding into her while she sucks mine.”
The raw command in his voice, so at odds with his usual careful demeanor, sent a fresh surge of arousal through me. I moved into position behind Imogen, gripping her hips as I aligned myself with her entrance. Hamish had already positioned himself in front of her, his cock level with her mouth.
I pushed inside her in one smooth thrust, just as she took Hamish between her lips. The sight of her, filled at both ends by us, was almost enough to make me come immediately. I forced myself to breathe, to focus, to make this last.
We found a rhythm as if we’d done this a hundred times before. I pushed in as Imogen took Hamish deeper, then pulled back as she retreated. Hamish’s eyes met mine over Imogen’s back, a silent communication passing between us, a shared appreciation for the woman between us, a mutual desire that extended beyond her to each other.
“Fuck, you look so good,”
I groaned, my fingers digging into Imogen’s hips as I increased my pace.
“Taking both our cocks like this.”
Hamish moaned in agreement, one hand tangled in his wife’s honey-blonde hair, guiding her movements.
“She’s perfect,”
he said, his voice strained.
“You’re both perfect.”
Imogen made a muffled sound around Hamish’s cock, her body tightening around mine in response to our words. I reached beneath her, finding her swollen clit and circling it in time with my thrusts. Her reaction was immediate—her back arched, her inner walls clenching around me.
“She’s close,”
I told Hamish, who nodded, his eyes dark with lust.
“Come for us again, darling,”
he encouraged, his accent thickening with arousal. “Let go.”
As if she’d been waiting for permission, Imogen shuddered, her orgasm rippling through her in waves I could feel around my cock. The sight of her coming apart between us pushed Hamish over the edge. He threw his head back, his hips jerking as he came in his wife’s mouth.
The combined visual was too much. I slammed into Imogen one final time, emptying myself inside her with a hoarse shout. For several heartbeats, none of us moved, happy to be frozen, joined together as one.
Slowly, we disentangled, collapsing onto the narrow berth in a sweaty heap. Imogen curled against my chest, Hamish’s arm thrown across both of us. The silence was comfortable, free of the awkwardness I’d feared.
As my breathing returned to normal, reality began to creep back in. This wasn’t sustainable. They were from England, and my entire life was here. How could it work?