A whimper escaped her and Logan tilted her head, his fingers tunneling in her hair as his lips glided along hers. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he gave her a sneak peek at the devastation he could wreak on her body. If she let him. The question was, would she?
As if they’d intuited her hesitation, Logan and Griff straightened, almost in unison. Griff’s hand slid up along her rib cage and cupped her breast, its fullness overflowing his palm. “It’s okay, baby. Please let us give you your fantasy.”
My fantasy? Before she could ponder that completely, Logan slipped the fabric back over her face. He folded it over her eyes, and she panicked at the sudden sense of vulnerability that washed over her.
“Shhh, the blindfold’s only for a second.” Logan kissed her lightly before securing the fabric with a firm knot.
“Then why put it on me?” The tremor in her voice ruined the defiant vibe she’d been shooting for.
“You’ll see in a moment. But right now, we want you to concentrate on your raunchiest fantasy. Think you can do that for us?”
“But—”
Someone nipped her ear and she yelped. She lashed out toward the culprit but encountered nothing but empty space. “When I find out which one of you did that, you are so getting a nipple twister.”
“You mean like this?” A thumb and forefinger tweaked her right nipple. Though Logan had asked the question, she couldn’t say for certain that his fingers were the ones doing the plucking. The fact that she didn’t know added a naughty, forbidden thrill to the experience. Her breath quickened.
“I think you’re starting to enjoy our little game, sugar. Are you concentrating like I told you to?”
A palm splayed on her mound. Broad, blunt fingers made slow circles over the silk covering her clit, and she gasped. The positioning of the hands were at odd angles from each other, leaving her to assume that both Logan and Griff were touching her. But who was where?
“You haven’t answered my question.”
It took a few seconds to even remember what Logan had asked. “I can barely recall my own name at this point, much less concentrate on a fantasy.”
“Guess we’ll have to give you some inspiration.” In perfect synchronization, a pair of tongues replaced both hands. Her knees buckled. Hands steadied her at her hips and beneath her armpits. Soft whiskers brushed the side of her breast before the mouth returned to feast on the tightened bud. There goes one mystery solved. No mistaking Logan’s goatee. Griff slid her panties down her legs and burrowed his tongue into her slit, lapping up her juices before flickering back toward her clit. Groaning, she undulated against him.
The mouth at her breast eased off. “That’s it, sugar. Ride Catman’s tongue. You gonna do that for me when I’m eating your sweet pussy?”
She whimpered, her mind instantly conjuring a vivid tableau. The fantasy wasn’t exactly new, only this time it featured an additional player. “Oh God.” She shuddered, nearly on the cusp of orgasm. Aggravatingly enough, Griff’s licking stopped and a disbelieving grunt fell from Logan. The blindfold was suddenly loosened and whipped off. She blinked, dazzled by the unexpected flood of fluorescent light.
Wait…fluorescent light? The kitchen didn’t have—
Her eyes widening, she gaped at her surroundings. Where the stainless-steel stove and work island used to be, there was now a checkout line and a cash register. Holy shit, she was standing in the middle of Finnegan Hardware. She whirled, almost falling over in shock when she spotted Griff and Logan standing there in nothing but matching tool belts.
“This is your fantasy?”
She blinked at Griff’s incredulous expression. It took a moment for his words to sink in. Once they did, she took another look around and her mouth dropped. “Oh wow, it is my fantasy.” She inched forward and ran an experimental hand over the cash register. Bemused, she punched the Cash Out button. The drawer popped open with a ding and she jumped back. “How?”
“Clarissa put a summoning spell on the blindfold. It read your fantasy and gave it to you. Power tools and all.” Logan grinned and patted his leather tool belt. Her mouth went dry when she noticed the staggering state of his arousal.
“How long have you had this fantasy?”
She shifted her gaze from Logan’s cock to Griff’s face. He was staring at her, disbelief stamped all over his features. Ah damn. Obviously he recognized where they were. Crap, she was so busted. No way around it. “Eight years, give or take.” Jeez, did that ever sound pathetic. “Look, can you blame me? Every time I go in there and see you in that tool belt, I just want you to…” She blushed, unable to say it.
“Drill you?” Logan offered with a waggle of his brows.
She sighed and tweaked the bridge of her nose. “This is more embarrassing than the time I walked around all day with my skirt tucked in my pantyhose.”
Snapping out of his stupor, Griff strode forward and swept her into his arms. Before she could even blink, he sat her on the checkout counter and kissed the daylights out of her. She twined her arms around his shoulders, luxuriating in the delicious glide of his chest rubbing against her breasts. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist but discovered the tool belt was in the way. “Hmm, we have a little glitch in my fantasy.”
With an expert tug that came from years of practice, Griff released the belt. It clunked to the cement floor and she tucked her thighs around his hips. Giving a rumble of satisfaction, he nibbled on her mouth. “You’ve wanted this—me—all that time?”
“Duh, like you didn’t know.”
He leaned back, his eyes reflecting some unknown emotion. His fingertips traced her lips with a slow reverence. “I didn’t. I thought I was the only one torturing myself.”
“Speakin’ of torture, how do you get this damn thing off?” Fumbling with his tool belt, Logan sidled to the counter.
She glanced at Griff and he grunted. “Baby, these hands aren’t getting within a one-foot radius of that dick.”
Rolling her eyes, she reached for the metal clasp on the tool belt. She spied the grin sliding across Logan’s face and mentally groaned at her culpability. “Crafty bastard. You totally just played me.”
“Sugar, you wound me.”
“Not yet. But keep it up.”
“Don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Logan gave his shaft an indulgent stroke. An illicit thrill raced through her at the sight. Almost unconscious of what she was doing, she slipped her fingers around Griff’s cock and mimicked Logan’s motion. A strangled noise came from the back of Griff’s throat, and he white-knuckled the counter.
His smile stretching wider, Logan fisted his cock tighter, not the least bit shy about jacking himself in front of an audience. “You’ve got him by the balls, darlin’. Well, not literally. Though you might try—”
“Shut the fuck up before she kills me.” Half growling, half groaning, Griff rested his forehead against hers. “Baby, we’re supposed to be giving you a fantasy.”
“You are.”
His soft laugh feathered against her lips. “Giving me a hand job at the register while that damn werewolf watches is your fantasy?”
“Actually…” She gnawed on her bottom lip. “Usually I’m blowing you.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“What? You asked.” Now that the cat was out of the bag—so to speak—she was almost delirious with the need to taste Griff. She pushed against his chest and started to wiggle down from the checkout stand. Logan’s palm curved around her hip, stalling her.
“Got a better idea. Why don’t you lay back on the counter?” Logan gave her an encouraging squeeze. Sliding him an uncertain look, she stretched out on her side. Griff’s delectable cock bobbed near her face, and she licked her lips in anticipation.