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I
couldn’t have picked two men more opposing than they. One dark-headed, slightly
controlling, but intuitive. The other all unruly copper curls, somewhat
bashful, but sensual. Yet, my fall for them felt the same—hard and fast.
I never
slept around or cheated, but when you're the girl who got dumped for being too
kinky--you realize and accept you are different. Somehow, some way, they had to
be mine. My mind spun with what could be, and I set out to entice them with my
fantasy.
Only, my
plot had a twist…Royce and Shea were already lovers. Luckily for me, they liked
to share.
Warning: Contains a headstrong daughter of nudist, hippy
parents, an Alpha with seriously protective instincts, positive representations
of Asperger's Syndrome and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and oh yeah, M/M,
M/M/M, M/M/F, and M/F/M.
Excerpt
Any Way We Want (Excerpt
#1) All rights reserved. © 2014 Grey Cole
Champagne
always made her giggly and warm and tingly.
Especially tingly. If she’d had a man, you better believe she would be
fucked six ways from Sunday right about now. Instead, Luna found herself
finishing off a few reports after saying goodnight to the guys. It had been a
stellar day. Phase Two—by far the largest coup in their plan—had been firmly
achieved. Royce had broken out the champagne, and Luna managed to consume
copious amounts before promising the men she would call a cab when she was
ready to head out for the night. They were reluctant to leave her behind, but
their desire to do a little personal celebrating of their own was palpable. Far
be it for her to stand in the way of the double dose of the pure male need and
testosterone that engulfed the room.
Since she
and Shea had become fast friends, he had divulged more than his share of their
passionate tale to her over the last six months, even though she felt sure that
he’d kept it toned down for her benefit. Still, she felt like she could read
them. When she noticed little things, like the way Royce’s fingertips would
curl possessively around Shea’s bicep at the end of even the briefest touch or
when Shea’s eyes would suddenly shine brighter while Royce presented the most
boring of facts and figures, Luna would glance to the others present in the
room to see if they, too, were aware of exactly how sexual … how sensual …
their bosses were. But, it seemed she alone picked up on these things. No
raised eyebrows. No gossip around the water cooler.
That made
her wonder if she was actually picking up on things, or if she was just perving
on the gorgeous duo. Her subconscious picked that moment to send X-rated images
flitting across her brain, involuntarily making her squeeze her crossed legs
tighter. In an effort to halt her mind’s deviant trajectory, she grasped at the
water bottle to her right, only to send it spinning across the desk until it
toppled over the edge and skittered across the floor to come to a halt by the
door.
Deciding
she had probably done enough damage for the night, she saved all her documents
and logged out of the computer before jotting herself a note. Sticking it to
the computer, she laughed out loud at the message. You were drunk and horny last night, double check your files before
sending. A little unsteady, she made
her way to the abused water bottle, figuring she should refill it to stay
hydrated. She’d call for a cab and head home to finish off the night with some
Pinot and some porn. This time she actually giggled out loud. Pinot and porn. God, if only to have the
third P present. Oh well, she
thought, wiggling her fingers in front of her face, you’ll have to do.
She ended
up tiptoeing down the hall, cringing at how dark and still it was when no one
was around. Just when she seemed to become accustomed to the difference, she
heard them. Moans and groans and curses and near shouts. Luna froze for a
moment before understanding hit her with her blunt force. Where her body
tingled before—now it sang. Where she’d been warm—she blazed. Her eyes flew to
the partially closed door of Royce and Shea’s office, only daring to listen for
a moment longer before she turned on her heel and darted back to her own
office.
Her water
bottle hit the floor with a clang as she slammed the door behind her. Wincing
at the loud noise, she waited a moment to see if she would be discovered before
rushing over to her desk. Only a security light from the hall cast a dull ray
of light into her office. She eased herself into her chair and spun it so that
she faced the windows. Luna’s face burned anew as she recalled the frantic
words exchanged between Royce and Shea. Even her wicked imagination had not
done them justice.
She could
make out her own expression in the glass—pupils blown, hair disheveled, clothes
askew. Taking a few calming breaths, Luna closed her eyes tightly, but as soon
as she did, images of the two men locked in a passionate embrace flooded her
brain.
Fuck me, Royce.
Take every inch of me. You like that don’t you? When I
pull your hair, you nearly come undone.
Fuck yeah. Please, Royce.
Luna
would do anything to have those words lavished upon her, to be able to say
those very things to them. So, she pretended they included her. That she was
the object of their desire and they were hers. The little app on her iPad
filled with the gay porn blogs she’d become addicted to after meeting the men
had nothing on the heat those two created within her. She couldn’t have stopped
her hands if she’d tried. The things had a mind of their own when they bunched
her loosely flowing skirt around her waist and dove into her panties. Her
fingers circled her clit for a moment before dipping into the searing wetness.
She fingered herself hard for a moment, even throwing her own hand over her
mouth to muffle the obscene noises threatening to bubble from her throat.
When her
clit throbbed with need, she pushed her thumb to it.
Pressed.
Teased.
Pinched.
Repeated
the pattern again and again.
When she
felt herself on the verge of coming, Luna shoved both fingers in her vagina
again.
Rotated
them.
Spread
them.
She liked
it rough. Fuck, did she like it rough. She held her breath, knowing that would
make her orgasm all the more intense. Her head slammed back against the chair.
Her hips circled to ride her fingers to the finish.
Then her
fingers were replaced by Royce’s. Fuck, but they were thick and demanding.
She
needed Shea too. She pinched her lips together so that she could remove her
hand. That hand flew down to squeeze one nipple. Hard. It was Shea thumbing the
bud and then twisting so hard, asking if she liked that. Yes, Shea. Just like that, Luna moaned.
Royce
told her to fuck his hand like she meant it, so she did. He needed to know she
meant it. She cried out his name.
She bent
and bucked and writhed. Then she came.
Silently.
Harshly.
Harder
than she’d ever come before.
Her men
smiled at each other. Then at her. Then they kissed, almost chastely,
counteracting the wild moment. They kissed her. She tasted them on each other.
Royce pressed his fingers into her mouth, and Luna licked them clean before he
removed them and sucked her tongue into his mouth.
Luna’s
body seemed to melt into the chair. Time was suspended. Her breaths were
shallow and hot. Once she opened her eyes, she knew they would disappear,
taking their sweet kisses and their panty-combusting commands with them. She
almost couldn’t bear it. Right now, their presence was so strong she could
almost feel it.
With a
deep sigh, she let her fingers fall from her mouth and her breast. Both hands dropped to the chair with a thud.
She giggled again at how deeply sated she was.
Only, her
giggle seemed to echo. But it was deeper. Richer. More masculine.
She was
drunker than she thought.
Luna’s
eyes fluttered open and closed. Open and closed. She finally fixed her stare on
the glass where twin gazes of amusement shone back at her. One an intense blue.
The other a mesmerizing hazel.
Too late
to pretend embarrassment, Luna swallowed her nerves and met their eyes with her
own.
“Luna,
dear girl,” Royce tsked, “if only we’d known.”
Shea
dipped his head and bit Royce’s shoulder. “God, if we’d known,” he groaned.
Luna
chose to believe that the champagne made her bold when she brazened, “And if
you’d known?”
“That’s
simple, darling. We could have celebrated. The three of us. Together,” Royce
declared.
Inside,
she gasped, even though she hoped she remained steadfast in appearance. But you’re both gay. Why would you want me? Her naïveté won
in the end when she whispered, “But how would that even work?”
Royce
spun her chair around to face them as they sat perched on her desk. “Any way we
want.”
Author Information
Grey Cole
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