Page 10 of Swept Away (Men of War #1)

G EMMA

The second time he tries to help me with my dress, things aren't much better. The only difference is that we don’t end up fucking.

Almost.

He slides the straps of my dress over my shoulders and cups my boobs and kneads them in a tease before tugging at my skirt, which is suddenly not long enough for him, now that I no longer wear my panties.

He makes an effort to keep his hand away from me and fails miserably as he brushes the apex of my thighs through my dress and then clutches my waist and runs his hand between my thighs one last time to make sure I’m not dripping, he says, and we both laugh.

He licks his fingers after collecting the last drop of arousal from between my legs and then gives me a taste of how I taste by locking my mouth.

He thrusts his tongue between my lips, and my core feels like his cock just slid between my legs.

Throbbing with need, I eventually move with him toward the street.

We walk casually. No locked hands. No languorous gazes.

But even so, it would be hard to miss what had been going on since Carter left.

Mason’s friend is waiting for us, his back propped against the car, his arms crossed over his chest.

His legs also crossed.

“Things good?” Mason asks as we inch closer.

Carter gives us a soft smile.

“Couldn’t be better. I handed her to her mother, who thanked me for bringing her back in one piece. How about you? Are you two good?”

Mason looks at me, grinning.

“I’m fine,” I say sweetly.

Carter laughs knowingly.

“Are you tired?”

Distracted, I give him a double take, unsure whether he’s still talking to me.

“Who, me?”

“Yeah.”

He straightens, pushing off the car, and uncrosses his arms while Mason opens the car door for me to slide in the back.

No one moves as Carter is still waiting for my answer.

“I’m good,” I say neutrally.

“Would you be interested in another drink?” he asks, and I look at Mason.

He watches me with a secret glint in his eyes, but doesn’t help me in the slightest with an answer, and I don’t know what to say.

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

“We can stop by at my place,” Carter says, and a strange feeling sweeps through me, a kernel of angst mixed with curiosity.

I look at Mason again.

“Do you want to do that?” I ask.

“It’s up to you.”

“Does he live far?”

“Not far from where you live.”

“All right.”

I’m still pondering.

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” I say, thinking out loud.

“I’ll prepare you something light,” Carter suggests, and I’m leaning toward saying yes.

I shouldn’t, but I do.

“Okay. We can do that.”

I enter the car, having no idea what I’ve said yes to.

“Will there be other people at your place?” I ask when Mason slides behind the wheel and Carter takes the seat next to him.

“Only the three of us,” Carter says seriously, not looking at me.

My chest tightens, and I look closely into that feeling to detect fear, but I’m not afraid. I’m just strangely tense.

Mason turns the radio on, and an old blues song fills the air. Neither of them talks, and I lean back in my seat, keep my legs together, a little turned on that I’m here with them, wearing no panties under my short dress, and I stare at the city.

Lights resembling fireflies are strewn across the city.

The car windows are down, and I feel so relaxed in their presence that I let my mind drift away and revisit what’s happened this evening.

We turn right not far from my place, and soon after, we make a left, and the car rolls slowly up to the front of a house similar to mine.

It’s a two-story building, and it’s sunk in darkness.

“That’s us,” Carter says, and I straighten in my seat.

Mason lets me out and locks the door behind me while his friend is already moving up the stairs and opening the door for us.

Mason looks at me as I get ready to walk and enter the building.

“Are you cold?” he asks, smiling when a shiver sweeps through me.

“No.”

He loops his arm around my neck and pulls me into him.

“Nervous?” he asks as we begin to walk.

“No. I’m just not used to going out.”

“I couldn’t tell back at the club,” he says, holding the door for me and inviting me in.

We enter a small foyer, take the stairs up, and turn left.

The door to Carter’s apartment is on the left side, and it’s open.

Music flows from behind the door.

I stroll into a spacious, dimly lit space with a sofa, a coffee table, and two armchairs.

A few framed photographs adorn the walls while a floor lamp sits in the corner.

His place looks nice.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Carter says from behind the kitchen counter, already mixing a cocktail for me.

I sit on the sofa while Mason walks to the kitchen and pours two drinks for himself and his friend.

Later, Carter brings a lemon drop martini to the living room and hands it to me.

I take a sip after we clink our glasses.

“Mmm…” I say, enjoying the flavorful taste.

Mason sits next to me, his drink on a coaster in front of him on the coffee table.

“I’ll take a shower, if you don’t mind,” Carter says, gesturing at a small hallway in the back.

“Do your thing, man,” Mason says.

“The cocktail is good,” I say, taking a few more sips while Carter walks away.

Mason doesn’t touch his drink.

“You don’t like yours?” I ask, nodding at his drink.

“I do,” he murmurs, and brings it to his lips as well. “You wanna try it?” he asks, his eyes dipping to my mouth.

“What is it?”

“Bourbon.”

“Let me smell it first.”

“It smells good.”

He brings his drink to my nose and I inhale the aroma dipped in sweet and woody notes.

“It’s great,” I say. “But I have my cocktail already.”

He takes a small drink and swallows the hard liquor before curling his hand around my neck and bringing me closer.

His lips brush mine.

“Do you feel it?” he asks, smiling, the aroma floating up my nostrils.

“It’s fantastic,” I say, getting into his game.

“What about now?” he breathes into me and gives me a slow, sexy kiss that makes my skin prickle from my shoulders to my toes.

“You’re very good at this…” I say, a little tipsy, a little turned on.

“Am I?” he says, laughing before bringing his drink to his lips. “Drinking with a beautiful woman at my side?”

He takes another swig and this time, he doesn’t swallow.

My eyes fall to his lips.

“I want to taste it,” I say, and he nods before pressing his lips against mine.

Parting them, he lets the fiery drink drip to my lips and locks us into a kiss that doesn’t allow us to breathe, let alone swallow.

The bourbon sets my insides ablaze.

It’s like I’m doused in kerosene and set on fire by his touch when he leans over me and kisses me with fervor.

My hand moves to his thigh while he pulls up closer, kissing me deep and hard, not letting me move away.

Not that I want to.

The alcohol has lifted all the restrictions we might’ve placed on ourselves, and I don’t know how much time has gone since Carter left the room, and whether they have an understanding about this type of situation, but I want this man right now.

I fall against a pillow that supports my back as we keep kissing, burning against each other.

Without looking to the side, he sets his drink on the table and takes the glass from my hand and places it next to it.

Once he frees his hand, he slips his hand between my knees and gently nudges them open.

“He’ll come back…” I say, so turned on that I could rip his clothes off.

“Don’t worry about him,” he says, his voice heavy with lust, his hand riding up my skirt.

Maybe they do have an agreement in place, and that’s precisely why Carter is ‘taking a shower’ while we sip drinks in his living room.

One of my shoes slips off my foot.

He removes the other one and starts undoing his shirt.

I help him with the buckle before he pushes me back and tugs at my skirt.

He rides it up, and a puff of cold air rolls over my pussy.

His eyes glisten with need as if he just remembered that my ripped panties are still in his back pocket.

In one move, he removes his shirt and tosses it down, and that’s probably not the best thing to do, as Carter could return any moment now.

And that is another thing Mason will need to do–put his shirt back on–so it doesn’t look like he just fucked me on his friend’s couch.

Less concerned with that than I am, he moves his hand between my thighs and smoothly curls two fingers and pushes them in.

An explosion of pleasure tumbles through me.

“You’re insane…” I say, laughing, a bit too carelessly because of the alcohol.

He props himself on his knee, his belt dangling, his buckle open, his fly undone, and roughly lowers my neckline so a boob slips out.

“God, woman…” he says, tipping his eyes to my slit while kneading my breasts hard.

Arching my back, I push my shoulders into the pillow and softly moan.

“You want more bourbon?” he asks, noticing how swept away in a trance I am.

“Uh-huh,” I say, pulsing around his fingers, so close to having an orgasm.

He lifts his drink from the table and tilts it against his lips, his fingers still inside me, and I wait for him patiently, propped back on my elbows, squeezing my thighs so I can fuel the tension inside me and perfectly revel in every pulsation.

My need to come is so intense it almost hurts.

He shifts back to me, shirtless, heat rolling off his chest, fire in his mouth, and presses his lips against mine.

We slowly kiss and drink the bourbon while he slowly finger fucks my center.

A surging wave of heat breaks through me, and I wrap my arm around his neck and slide my free hand to his groin.

His cock already juts out, hard as wood, chiseled to perfection, and wet at the tip.

I want to take him into my mouth so badly, but I’m not sure we have enough time for that.

This thing will be complicated either way.

Whether we do it or not, this won’t be enough.

Now I wish we were at my place and fucked the entire night.

“No condom,” I say as I rub his cock. “Are you okay with that?”

“I am if you are,” he says, tossing a wrapper on the coffee table just in case.

I push upright and take him into my mouth, forcing him to peel his fingers away from my pussy, my mouth burning from the hard liquor, his nipples tightening from the arousal, a raspy groan leaving his lips.

His hands come to my head as I suck on his hard flesh and choke on him.

“Easy, baby…” he says, a sense of urgency streaming through his voice. “Let me fuck you, yeah?”

I nod and fall back.

“This won’t be our last. I promise you,” he says, and slowly enters me.

I can’t hold myself back, and the moment I feel him inside me, his weight on top of me, his hand grabbing at my chest, I explode with lust and bliss under his frame.

I come so quickly that I catch him off guard.

Still, he fucks me through my orgasm, holding me down and covering my mouth.

I writhe beneath him, soaked in sweat and rocking with need.

My body finally settles down, and he keeps moving into me, quietly shushing me, his elbows on either side of me, his fingers threaded through my hair.

His hard flesh burning, sliding through my juices, which now trickle down my legs.

We’ve made a mess.

I’m sure there’s a puddle under me, and it’s probably stained the couch, yet all I do is run my hands down his back, wanting more of him.

He’s fucking me at a slower pace as if waiting for me to scale up again.

I don’t even know if I can do that.

Especially now that I’m getting all stressed out that Carter might walk in on us.

On the other hand, I don’t know anyone who showers for that long, and I’m convinced he’s purposely left us alone.

“Maybe we should go to my place,” I say as he enters me repeatedly, his lips tracing down my neck.

“We can go, if you want to.”

“He’ll be mad that we’ve ruined his couch.”

He laughs against my skin.

“We didn’t ruin his couch.”

A door opens in the back, and I turn to stone.

“Oh, my God. He’s coming back.”

“Do you want me to tell him to return to the bathroom?” he asks seriously, and I feel like there’s a trap hidden in his words.

He lifts his gaze and sinks it deep into my eyes.

“We can finish with him here… He won’t mind it. Will you?”

My mouth falls open as I mull over an answer.

And the answer comes from between my legs as I pulse around him.

His eyebrows go up, an amused expression sliding over his face.

“Is that your answer?” he jokes.

“That’s not my answer,” I say, swatting his shoulder slightly, with humor.

Carter’s steps echo in the hallway before coming to a stop.

He clears his throat.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

Mason looks at me, but I can’t utter words, still throbbing around him, harder than before, my pleasure sliding up again, begging to be released.

“I need to come again…” I whisper, hoping Carter can’t hear me.

“I can talk to him,” he says evenly, and I’m sure Carter can hear us from where he stands.

I don’t know what to say.

“Can you give us a few more moments?” Mason asks in a firm voice.

“Sure, no problem.”

Carter’s answer comes quickly before he moves away and enters a different room.

“That is so embarrassing,” I say when we’re alone again.

For a moment there, I feel like I sobered up, but the moment I have Mason all for myself, and he slides into me again, and there is no longer the stress of getting caught by his friend, my fire returns.

Our lips lock, and he moves on top of me until my hands become iron clutches on his shoulders, and sweat damps my upper lip.

“Fuck, Mason…” I murmur, completely gone, and then he plunges into me until we both fall, indulging in the most exquisite storm.