“Your slave wants to suck your cock. Are you going to deny her fondest wish?”
He stood. She carefully scooted to the edge of the couch and pulled him to her, between her legs.
She pushed his hands away from his waistband when he tried to pull his shorts down. “Let me do this.”
She laid her face against his hips, closing her eyes at the feel of his fingers tangling in her still-damp hair. She nuzzled his growing bulge, breathing in his familiar scent. She ran her teeth over him through the fabric, enjoying the sound of his low moan, feeling the deep stirrings within her again. She waited until he was hard and throbbing before freeing his thick shaft, running her fingers up and down his smooth flesh, reaching between his legs to gently massage his balls.
“Oh, Nevvie, that’s wonderful.”
“I haven’t started yet.” She licked the head, swirling her tongue around him the way he loved, flicking the tip for several long, slow minutes before wrapping her lips around it and taking him in. She stopped when just the head was inside her mouth, massaging him with her tongue, thoroughly exploring the silky smooth surface. His hips started a slow, sultry thrusting, and his fingers tightened in her hair, then relaxed as if he realized what he was doing, afraid of hurting her.
With steady, pulsating sucks she worked her way down his shaft, tasting him, feeling him throb against her tongue. She used one hand to massage his balls and the other to stroke him. It didn’t take long. When she felt him start to come she grabbed his hips and held him tight, swallowing every hot drop and taking him deep into her throat.
Thomas grabbed the back of the couch, trying not to fall on her as she refused to let go, suckling him until he grew soft in her mouth. Only then did she release him and crook her finger at him to lean in close.
She grabbed his head, kissing him, jamming her tongue deep in his mouth, drawing more moans from him. When she released him she whispered in his ear, “I love you, Thomas. And I love him. I will not choose. I want you to remember how much you love him. It would break my heart to lose either of you. I need both of you.”
He dropped to his knees, crying, his head in her lap. She stroked his hair, rubbing his shoulders. Now she had an idea how to reconnect them, to pull Tyler from his shame and Thomas from his anger. She’d play dirty if she had to.
Tyler wasn’t the only one who could plan.
When Thomas recovered he sat up and tenderly kissed her. “I’ll get your medicine. What do you want for breakfast?”
She smiled. “I just had it.”
He looked blank for a moment before laughing. It was the best sound she’d heard in weeks. He caressed her cheek and touched his forehead to hers. “It’s going to take me a while to get to that place, if ever. I won’t lie to you, Nevvie. Because of what he did—”
“He didn’t stab me. You said you trust me. Do you trust me to make up my mind about this?”
He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “Scrambled eggs?”
“Okay.”
Her pussy tingled again even though pain now climbed through her body, demanding attention and medicine, fighting for control even while she thought about how Thomas sounded when he came for her, and how Tyler moaned against her neck.
Thomas brought her medicine and a glass of water. When he turned she caught his hand and held it. He helped her lay on the couch and knelt beside her.
“Do you hurt, sugar?”
Nevvie smiled. She drew him to her, kissed him, then placed his hand between her legs. She whispered in his ear, “Feel what you’ve done to your little slave, Master.”
He kissed her again as his fingers slipped inside her waistband and found her wet. He gently inserted two fingers, stroking her clit with his thumb. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his ear.
“Please make me come, Master,” she breathed, and in a few minutes, he did.
Nevvie dozed, content, awakened by the smell of eggs and coffee. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings and made an effort not to grimace at how sweet he’d fixed her coffee. Tyler prepared it perfectly for her—the right amount of sugar, just enough to barely sweeten it and take the bitterness away, no milk. Thomas had dumped several heaping spoonfuls into the mug.
Tyler always made it right, closely studying her every move the first few weeks she worked for them, then mimicking exactly how she fixed it. She remembered his proud smile the first time he handed her an already-prepared mug and expectantly watched her face while she sipped and nodded her approval.
He’d beamed.
Now she understood why it seemed so important to him—because it was.
God, how could it have taken her so long to see that about her sweet Tyler? That his entire existence revolved around making them happy?
The bedroom door opened. Fully dressed, Tyler walked into the kitchen. He glanced at her, avoiding Thomas’ glare. She smiled and he finally returned it.
Tyler watched as she choked down another sip of coffee. He reached for a mug, hesitated, and grabbed one out of the cabinet that was a duplicate to the one she held.
She ate. The eggs were good. Thomas wasn’t a bad cook. Plain, basic, hearty Southern food. He just…wasn’t Tyler. Thomas’ strengths lay in his sturdy, solid nature, his willingness to die to protect those he loved, his attention to the big picture and reliability to get the job done, one way or another. Tyler was the detail man.
When Tyler walked into the living room, Thomas took his plate to the kitchen and left them alone. She thought it was odd the way Tyler turned his back to the kitchen before leaning over and setting his coffee mug next to hers. Then he kissed her and picked up his mug, returning to the kitchen. When she took her next sip of coffee, hoping she could choke it down, it was perfect.
Startled, she looked at Tyler and watched as he waited until Thomas had retreated down the hall to dump the mug, rinse it, and pour himself a cup of black coffee.
She mouthed a silent thank you. He shrugged and started to make his breakfast.
That was Tyler: modest, self-effacing, always paying attention. A lesser man would have made a big deal, or at least a snide remark, about the coffee being totally wrong to avenge his bruised ego.
She had to remind Thomas why he fell in love with Tyler if she was going to bring them together again.
Nevvie planned.
Both men stayed home, carefully avoiding the other. She couldn’t keep them in the same room for more than a few minutes at a time. Thomas let Tyler make lunch. After they finished eating, he wordlessly helped clean up the kitchen. Ah good. Finally, a thaw.
She needed to act before her afternoon pain pill knocked her out. It had to be today. The tension in the air suffocated her. She wanted to curl up with her boys—both of them.
When they finished cleaning the kitchen she called them into the living room to stand before her. She’d retrieved her phone from the office on her last potty trip. Tyler’s BlackBerry was clipped to his slacks.
She held out her hand. “Tyler, give me your phone.”
“What?”
She snapped her fingers. “Give it.” Puzzled but compliant, he unclipped the holster and handed it to her.
Thomas watched, curious.
She studied her boys for a long moment then used the remote to mute the TV. She deliberately kept her voice soft.
“I want you to stay silent and listen. Simply nod or shake your heads unless I ask you a question requiring an answer, understand?”
The men glanced at each other, but nodded.
“Good. I love you. Both of you, got that? Not one or the other. We were perfectly happy a little over two weeks ago, and I want that happiness back. Do you still love me?”