Forbidden Pleasure (Bound Hearts #8)

Forbidden Pleasure (Bound Hearts #8) Page 41

“You’re going to rub their fucking noses in it,” Jethro drawled then, incredulously. “That’s why you wanted to go dancing.”

She risked a glance at his face only to stare out the windshield once again. It was just her luck, both men looked like volcanoes ready to explode. There wasn’t a chance she was taking either of them out in public tonight.

“That would be unwise.” She finally cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Maybe going home would be better after all.”

It took her a second to realize that rubbing their noses in it was exactly what she had intended. By morning, that picture would be on the tip of everyone’s tongue, and she would be damned if she was going to show any shame. She had intended to strike first.

She was aware of both their eyes on her, especially Mac’s. She swore she could feel him watching her, his gaze touching her with incredulity.

“Keiley? Would you look at me?” His voice was deadly calm.

She turned to him slowly. “I’m not ashamed of my life,” she told him fiercely. “I’m not ashamed of what I do in the privacy of my own home. If they want to make it public, then fuck them. I’ll show them how it’s done.”

“Fuck them?” He blinked back at her in shock.

Keiley drew in a deep breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared back at him.

“That’s what I said,” she bit out.

“Where is my wife?” he asked then with an air of a man suddenly confronting a stranger in the body of someone he thought he knew.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Fuck them,” he repeated. “Keiley, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“You don’t see me for hours after these meetings,” she reminded him. “And after plenty of alcohol.”

His nostrils flared as though he suddenly realized the anger of moments past rather than the surprise his wife was dealing him. His gaze went back to the picture he held in his hand, and Keiley couldn’t help but stare at it. Whoever had taken it had known how to do it. The perfect angle, the perfect shot. She could see the sweat beading over their three bodies, see the twisted expressions of pleasure, her limbs arranged over Mac’s, Jethro behind her, holding onto her, the muscles of his body powerfully defined, his flanks tense, tight as he thrust into her behind as Mac took her below.

She saw it all.

“I’m not ashamed,” she whispered, reaching out to touch the curve of Jethro’s back before her fingertip ran over the point where Mac’s lips touched hers. “But this was private. It was ours—” She blinked back the angry moisture in her eyes before breathing in deeply. “And I want to go dancing.”

Jethro watched her, his fist clenched at the side of his leg. He forced the fingers of the other to remain relaxed, laying on her thigh, the silk of the dress between them. He felt her pain, her anger. She wasn’t ashamed—she was hurt, she was violated.

He met Mac’s eyes over her head and knew neither of them would let this go unpunished. Others would see the picture, there was no doubt, there was no way to stop it, but they would pay for it. And he knew where to start.

“We’ll go dancing,” Mac told her, his voice low, but Jethro heard the undercurrents of rage, the tightly leashed violence that foretold the hurting someone was going to feel.

He sat back against the door of the truck, watching as Mac lowered his head, his lips touching Keiley’s, comforting her, whispering words Jethro couldn’t hear, but words he echoed in his heart.

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her soft lips, feel the passion and the promise, the dedication and the exhilarating warmth he had felt only with her.

“My turn.” He pulled her from Mac’s arms, ignoring her gasp, ignoring Mac’s chuckle.

Hell, he had played into his friend’s schemes from the moment they had first met. He wasn’t fighting this one any longer.

He pulled her over into his lap, right there, parked in front of God and whoever decided to drive by, and took the kiss he was aching for.

He felt her surprise, the shock, then the rich, heated promise of her lips parting for him, her tongue touching his and her arms twining around his neck.

In his arms. Arms that contracted around her, that held her close to his chest, that followed the vow his heart was making.

He would protect her. He and Mac. Against everything, even the wagging tongues of a county that had no idea the hell he could bring down on them.

“You picked a hell of a place to decide to mark her, Jethro,” Mac growled as he watched Jethro consuming Keiley’s kiss.

Seeing it, hearing her pleasure, her whispered moans, was making him crazy. His dick was hard enough to pound nails, and every muscle in his body was tight with the need to find release in the soft body twisting against Jethro’s chest.

And she wanted to go dancing. God help them both. Because he knew how Keiley danced. How her sensuous body swayed to the music, how she tempted with her eyes and her smile and made grown men whimper like babies in need of their momma.

His hand stroked up her bare leg, her knees, heading for the richness between those slender thighs, when he suddenly jerked to awareness.

He gripped her hips instead, pulled her from Jethro’s arms, and set her back in the center of the seat.

“Damn, we’re going to get arrested for lewd acts in public,” he informed them both.

“It was his fault.” Keiley was breathing hard, her hazel eyes glittering with green, her cheeks flushed with need. “I don’t want to go dancing after all. I want to go home.”

“Take her home, Mac,” Jethro snarled. “We’ll go dancing tomorrow night if she still wants to.”

Mac heard the silent message. She was angry now, hurt, and anything she did in public tonight could haunt her later. And Mac knew that well.

He pushed the truck into gear, pulled back onto the road, and headed home.

Dark was falling, casting the mountains in shadows and the interior of the truck into an intimate oasis of darkness. As Mac drove, his free hand moved along Keiley’s thigh, inching higher, beneath her dress, until his fingers brushed another hand searching for the same secrets he was intent upon.

“Hell!”

Keiley’s laughter filled his head before it turned to a gasp, the sound assuring him that Jethro had found paradise first.

Desperate, he clamped both hands on the steering wheel and glared at the road ahead.

He couldn’t watch, but he could listen. He could feel her leaning against him as Jethro turned her, arranging her legs until one foot rested in the floor and the other on the seat behind his back.

Keiley was arching, her strangled moans destroying him as he lifted his arm, allowing her head to fall against his chest, giving him a clear view down her body.

“Fuck you, Jethro,” he bit out.

Jethro’s fingers pumped inside her in a long, powerful stroke that had her crying out. The dress lay around her waist, her panties were pulled aside, and the sight of her juices gleaming on Jethro’s fingers as he pulled back nearly had Mac coming in his jeans.

“She’s so tight.” Jethro’s voice was reverent, filled with hunger. “I’m just using two fingers, Mac.”

He knew exactly how tight she was, how hot and sweet. How her pussy gripped around his fingers or his cock and squeezed until pleasure became rapture. He knew how wet she got, how the silken heat became slicker, creamier as her arousal was pushed higher.

“Mac,” she moaned his name as she shifted against his chest, her arms twining around his neck as he held her against him with one arm and drove with the other.

“Hot, baby?” he groaned.

“Wicked hot,” she purred against his neck, her tongue peeking out to lick over his skin like a living flame.

“Oh God!” She tightened in his arms.

“What’s he doing, Keiley?” He had to blink the sweat from his eyes to concentrate on the road. “Tell me what he’s doing to you, sweetheart.”

She jerked, whimpered.

“Tell me, Kei.” He was dying. He had to know, needed to know.

“Oh God, his fingers, Mac.”

“Are they in your pussy, darlin’? Stroking that softest flesh?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“And you’re clenching on him? Burning him because you need more?”

“Oh God, Mac, I need more,” she whimpered, her breathing jerky against his neck as her hips arched again and a cry slipped past her lips.

“Tell me, Kei,” he snarled. “Tell me what he’s doing.”

“I’m so full,” she cried out, her head falling back to his shoulder as she fought to breathe. “He’s in me everywhere, Mac. Everywhere.”

“Your sweet pussy?”

“Oh God, yes.”

“Your tight little ass?” He was dying. He swore he was dying.

“Yes—” Her breathing hitched, a moan slipping free as he heard Jethro bite off a curse, felt the vibration of the next thrust inside her body as he finally realized how close to the farm they were.

Hell, he needed just a few more minutes. He lifted his foot from the gas, easing the speed as the sounds of Jethro’s fingers sinking repeatedly into the liquid depths of Keiley’s pussy nearly pushed him to the edge.

She was chanting his name. His, Jethro’s, begging, demanding. Then a low, drawn-out cry seared his senses as he made the turn onto the farm road and came to a stop.

His arms surrounded her as she shuddered through an orgasm, jerking and writhing against him as Jethro used his fingers to draw the release out longer, to build the pleasure until she was shaking from it.

Mac watched her face, the gleam of perspiration on it, her eyes wide and unseeing, the glow of passion and release that gave her an ethereal, otherworldly appearance.

“Get us to the fucking house,” Jethro gritted out as she finally relaxed in his arms. “If I don’t fuck her, I’m going to die here.”

Mac’s chuckle was rusty, strained, as he helped Jethro ease her back into her seat.

“Check the security alarm.” He put the truck back in gear. “We’ll check the house out first.”

The passion was enough to blind a man, but he couldn’t forget his priorities. Keiley’s safety. Nothing mattered except keeping her safe.

“The house and grounds show no movements,” Jethro told him as the house came into view, the outside lights blazing around the farmhouse, stables, and barns.

The grounds showed up clearly, without so much as the first odd shadow. It looked peaceful, serene.

“After today’s shooting he would likely choose to lay low.” Jethro was still breathing hard, but hell, so was he, Mac thought. And it had nothing to do with the damned stalker.

“Pappy is laying by the front door where we left him.” Jethro nodded to the large animal as it rose, its tail wagging at the sight of the vehicle pulling in.

“Let’s get in,” Mac growled. “Before we both come in our jeans.”

23

Jethro and Mac escorted Keiley to the bedroom Jethro was using. A thorough check determined that nothing or no one had been in it. They left her there, gun in hand, with strict orders to lock the door behind them, then left the room to check the rest of the house and reset the alarms throughout it.

Nearly an hour later, Mac’s knock sounded on the door.

“Unlock the door. We’re clear out here.”

Keiley laid the pistol on the end table, rose from the chair she was sitting in, and went to unlock the door. She knew what was coming. She knew the time away from her would do little to dim the lust raging through the two men. It would have built; the threat of danger mixing with the hunger would have their bodies hard and ready for her.

As hard for her as she was soft and wet.

She unlocked the door slowly, moving back as it swung open to reveal a temptation so forbidden Keiley wondered if any of them would survive it.