Complete Bliss (a Her Billionaires novella #3) Read Online Free Page B

their bodies by pure desire to come to her, the length of so much flesh pressing into her curves with such impulsive need that they shocked her.
    “You’re ready… already ?” she asked Mike as Dylan stole her words away with a breathtaking kiss, tongue sweeping across her mouth like wind and fire. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, and Mike’s answer was two hands that took her breasts like he was staking a claim on them.
    Ah. Well. So.
    She guessed he was.
    A burst of wet heat turned her legs to jelly, and the thrumming sense of pounding as her blood rushed to and fro, building to something so much greater, took her rational thought and shattered it to shards. Reaching for Dylan, she found his thick, strong shaft, and he groaned against her teeth as she stroked him, a simple reuniting that made the fire inside them all flame higher and higher. 
    Sex wasn’t just sex anymore. Not after two years together. It wasn’t just intimacy or connection or some necessary act that they indulged in for pleasure. It was, instead, a constant, consistent re-commitment to be each other’s heat, to make each other tremble in awe, to use fingertips and tongues and smiles and groans in order to be the most important soul for each other.
    Acceptance is the greater part of intimacy.
    How much more accepting could three people be when exploring the bounty of flesh, tendon, bone, muscle—and the pure frenzy of driving someone to a release that catapulted them out of their mind?
    Trusting both, she sighed deeply, Mike’s touch between her legs making her gasps turn to his name, cried out in sighs and moans, a language of arousal and more.
    Trust .
    Mike was in her first, hard as rock, his lips on her face and neck like a hungry man who was touching a woman for the first time in decades. His hands were rough against her back, her ass, the globes of her breasts, the sensation just on the edge of her comfort zone but so raw and real she couldn’t stop wanting more.
    Heightened senses and the sound of their breath in the room, background noise coming from the woods in the form of the rush of leaves pushed by wind, the calls of birds she could not name, and it all turned into a tunnel-vision pinpoint of nothing as Dylan entered her with aching slowness, patient gentleness, from behind, stretching her to the point of oblivion, a kind of disintegration of the self that came only after so, so much pleasure.
    When the moment of climax came for all three, the combined explosion sent them all whirling into space, so separate from the very slick skin that twisted and flexed, adjusted and morphed, their spirits in another realm that could only be accessed by the very primal acts of flesh and want that their bodies committed. 
    It felt like a sacrament and a sin.
    Like blasphemy and atonement.
    Most of all, though, it felt so fucking good .
    * * *
    If she and the guys smoked, Laura could imagine this scene quite differently. Sandwiched beautifully between both men, their bodies twisted together in a pile of limbs and torsos that resembled a human pile of stretched taffy ( and was just about as sticky… ), she reclined in pure harmony with long, lean, blond Mike and compact, musclebound, swarthy Dylan.
    All were completely sated. Sexually, that is.
    “Who’s getting up for the ice cream?” she teased. Sort of. It had been a longstanding joke among the three of them to share a pint of something gooey and sweet right after sex, but they hadn’t done that in months. Too many quickies, too many hot, frantic sex sessions done under the watchful timeline of a baby who might wake up at the slightest noise.
    “How about steaks and shrimp?” Mike asked, peeling the covers off him and moving like a human gazelle toward the kitchen, his strides more than double the length of hers. That dimpled ass always made her sigh. His body was a series of gears and pulley lines, all muscle under skin, and watching him was better than anything on