Before she could sort anything out, Deke reached around her back with one hand. With a single pinch of his fingers, her bra with the handy cutouts came unhooked. As Morgan gasped, the straps fell down her arms. He ignored her and set a gentle hand on her shoulder to lay her back, then drew the sheet down to her waist.
Morgan swallowed hard and raised her hands to cover herself. Deke anticipated her and grabbed her wrists, forcing them back to her sides.
“Let go,” she snapped.
He leaned over her and heaved a long-suffering sigh. The clasp of his fingers around her wrists was surprisingly gentle. “Look, I just watched you come hard enough to cause an earthquake while my best friend fucked your ass. Do you think we could drop the modest virgin routine? I’m trying to take care of you so I can go knock some sense into our mutual pal.”
Hmm. Put like that, Deke had a really good point.
With a sigh, Morgan stopped fighting and relaxed into the mattress.
Shaking his head, Deke reached for the tube he’d set beside her. After a quick turn of the cap, he pulled it off and, with nimble fingers, squeezed on the bottle. A puddle of clear oil collected in his palm. Deke rubbed his big palms together.
Then he put one on each of her breasts.
Morgan gasped, tensing, and zipped her gaze up to his face. Deke ignored her and focused on his task.
The oil, warmed by his skin, permeated her breasts, coated her sore nipples. Until he soothed them with the liquid balm, Morgan hadn’t realized how raw they actually were.
But as he rubbed his palms directly over the aching points, friction sent a zing of reaction straight through her body. Morgan closed her eyes, partly in shame. The other part of her reaction she didn’t want to think about. What the hell was wrong with her?
Then he changed the stroke, concentrating the oil just above and below the angry red tips, rolling them gently between thumbs and forefingers, massaging in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. And with every roll, pull, caress, the sensation built into something uncomfortably but undeniably like arousal.
“Morgan.” His voice was deeper, husky now.
She tried to ignore the pull of his voice. But his voice echoed in her head, throbbing in time with his tender strokes across her sore nipples.
Surrendering the losing battle, she opened her eyes and shot him a warning. Red flags of color dusted his cheekbones. His eyes now burned a deep midnight blue. Yet he removed his hands from her breasts, arched a brow, and flashed her a self-deprecating smile.
“Now I know exactly why Jack is so over the moon for you. Sizzle and submission all in one soft sigh.” He drew in a rough breath. “Roll over.”
“Over the moon for me?” She tossed her hands in the air. “You saw the same man I did, right? The one who cursed at me and stomped out of the room for telling him… Well, I should have kept that to myself. But his kind of behavior doesn’t say anything except get lost.”
“Doll, I’ve known Jack nearly ten years. We went to Basic together. We’ve fucked women together, and the idea has never bothered him in the least. Until you.”
Jack had participated in a ménage before? With Deke? Shock punched her in the stomach, stealing her breath. Her mind raced back over the conversation she and Jack had once had about Deke’s…preferences. It made sense that Jack knew about Deke’s sex life because he’d been part of it at some point. Even if the idea seared her with jealousy.
But if he’d participated in the past, why did he suddenly find the idea so objectionable?
“If ménage is your fantasy, Jack needed to hear that,” Deke assured.
“But—”
“He seemed pissed? Yeah, it’s his issue, not yours.” He sighed. “Roll over.”
She hesitated, but Deke didn’t notice. He rose from the bed and disappeared from the room. With a frown, she stared at his retreating back.
Odd man. Gentle, despite getting quite the floor show tonight. Seemingly calm and rational and normal, despite having three in his bed all the time. He was clearly aroused and doing nothing more than taking care of the marks another man had left on her body. He never pressed her for more, despite her own reaction to him, when most men would have viewed the first blush of her arousal as a green light.
Then he tried to soothe her feelings, assure her she was meaningful to Jack. While Morgan knew he had that part all wrong, she appreciated him trying to make her feel better.
Rolling to her stomach, Morgan lay her head on the pillow with a weary sigh. A ragged inhalation later…and she smelled Jack. Musk, leather, mystery, man. His scent never failed to work through her bloodstream like heady wine and drug her with desire. Only this time, it came with a pang of loss.
Upon hearing her deepest fantasy, Jack had left her. He probably didn’t want her back. And that damn urge to cry now tightening her throat was really pissing her off.
Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor. Morgan tensed until she recognized the cadence of Deke’s footfalls, longer and slower than Jack’s, a bit more silent. She relaxed, somehow relieved and disappointed at once.
With brisk hands, he covered the globes of her ass and parted them. Morgan clenched against him and opened her mouth to ask what the hell he thought he was doing. But the warm comfort of a hot washcloth covered her back entrance, and he rubbed gently, wiping away the excess lube.
“If you’re sore later, a warm bath will help, but you should be okay,” he murmured, easing her onto her back again. “Sleep now.”
Morgan nodded, watching with wide eyes as he leaned in. Was he going to…? Yes, he was.
A moment later, Deke laid his mouth over hers. The sweet press of lips lasted through one breath, two. Dry, almost chaste. Still somehow, he managed to convey caring, comfort, a bare hint of want. Then, with a light brush of his lips over hers, he drew back.
“Yeah, now I know exactly why Jack is wild for you,” he said with a bittersweet curl to his mouth as he rose to his feet.
“Wait!” She grabbed at his hand.
“How did you come to terms with it? How did you learn to be okay with…”
“Ménage?” He guessed it right in on the first try and shrugged. “At seventeen, the first time I heard a woman scream in ecstasy under double penetration. There’s nothing like knowing the perfect way to drive a woman absolutely wild.”
“But it’s not exactly what normal, everyday people next door do.”
Deke crossed his arms over his chest. “Luc and I have neighbors. I doubt they know we share women, but I don’t give a shit if they do.”
“Luc?”
“My cousin. It’s his place. I crash there now that I’ve been discharged. He’s made it all warm and cozy, and is just waiting on the right woman to come play house with us.”
Morgan doubted a deaf woman would have missed the mockery in Deke’s voice. “You don’t think it’s possible to find someone?”
She felt sad for him. The regret in his eyes told her how badly he wanted just that.
“What woman in her right mind wants to live with a temperamental chef and a former drill sergeant? Alone, either of us would drive a woman to drink. Together…” He shrugged. “It works for a night or two. It’s enough.”
Deke was lying. To her. To himself. His wants had cost him a chance at happiness, too.
“And right now, it’s irrelevant.” He busted in on her thoughts. “We were talking about you and Jack…”
Clearly, Deke didn’t want to talk about himself any more than she wanted to talk about herself.
“You’ll have to accept your own desires to be happy. And you shouldn’t settle for less. Jack will come around and he’ll help you. I can’t tell you when or how it will happen or what will make you okay with your needs. I just know you’ll manage.”
Morgan tried to rein in her frustration. Why did everyone keep insisting that the answer was inside her, was as simple as accepting herself? Clearly, if Jack was going to curse her and tear out of a room as if the hounds of hell were at his back, it wasn’t that simple.
Damn it, she’d been feeling so good about her choice to come to Jack’s playroom. The way he’d touched her, the pleasure in his touch, the praise in every caress, made her feel so accepted, like everything transpiring in his playroom between them was right. And then…then, he’d disparaged her wants. That had to mean there was something wrong with her, right?
Damn, had she ever been more confused?
For Deke’s sake, she just nodded. “I… Thanks.”
A mere word of appreciation seemed inadequate, given that he’d seen to her physical comfort, treated her without lust…but still like a woman. Tried to answer her question, but bared his soul instead. His gentle attention made her feel feminine and cared for, and was a balm to Jack’s rejection.
Smiling, Morgan sat up on her knees and reached for the broad planes of his cheeks. “It’s not much, but thank you.”
Then she settled her mouth over his, a light dusting of feminine sighs, warm lips, and thanks before pulling away. It was odd, really, this…bond of understanding sprinkled with a light dusting of desire. Morgan didn’t understand it any more than she understood him. But suddenly she was grateful for both.
“You’re welcome.” He stepped away, smoothing a broad palm down the cascade of her fiery hair. “Try resting now. You should be able to with some assurances, by the way. Hard to believe after everything that’s happened, but I came out here because no one answered the phone. I wanted to tell you two that your stalker appears to have left Louisiana. Tell Jack, because I’ll be too busy beating his ass, that the creep trashed your fiancé’s house three days ago and tried to set fire to your house in L.A. yesterday.”
“Oh my…” Poor Brandon. He was so proud of that house, and hadn’t asked for any trouble. He’d merely been trying to help. And her own house… “Damn it!”
“I know,” Deke soothed. “It sucks, but the good news is, with anger like his, if the bastard knew where you were right now, he’d be out here hunting you down, not hopping all over the country trying to draw you out by destroying property.”
Deke had a point, and it seemed to solidify the rationale that Reggie was her stalker. She hadn’t called him in days, and he’d been one of the few people who knew she’d made it as far as Louisiana. And he’d never had a good temper on the best of days. Was he disturbed? Obsessed? Probably both of the above. She sighed.
Until now, she’d been safe because she’d been staying with Jack. But today, everything had changed. Given Jack’s rejection— yet another man who had snubbed her after hearing her fantasies— and Deke’s information, she was ready to take action.
If Reggie had made his move, maybe…maybe it was time to make hers.
Jack had predicted Deke would make his way onto the wraparound porch, where night was settling over the swamp and the cold February air twisted over his bare skin. After a long shower, he’d wrapped himself in the robe Morgan had left on the back of the bathroom door. Damn thing smelled like her and gave him another fucking hard-on.
Trying to blot out both the feel of her tight ass around his cock and the stark pain on her face as he’d stomped out of the playroom, Jack gripped his bottle of beer and turned to his friend for the verbal ass-whipping he knew he deserved.
“You don’t have to say it,” Jack assured him, taking a long swallow of his brew.
“Oh, but I want to.” Deke settled into the chair beside his and glared. “You behaved like a stupid prick.”
“You’re right. Morgan just…shocked the hell out of me. I had no idea she was harboring fantasies about ménage. She can barely wrap her mind around the idea of submitting to me. That she’s thought of servicing two men…” He shrugged. “It blew me away. I reacted before I thought.”
“You betrayed her trust and made promises you didn’t fucking keep.”
“You’re right again.” Jack scrubbed a hand across his tired face. “Shit. It was bad enough that I turned my back on her. I damn near punished her for having the fantasy. She probably feels wretched and rejected.”
“You don’t want to share her.”
“No, I don’t,” Jack admitted, imbibing another long swallow of his beer. Absently, he wondered how long it would take him to get drunk and if he could forget about behaving like such an ass if he did.
“Because of Kayla?”
Nothing like getting right to the heart of the matter. His exwife’s betrayal of their marriage vows with one of his closest friends had carved a pit of fury in his gut that had just kept filling up with ire and hate over the years. Now it was thinly lined with a scar that enraged him at the thought of another man touching Morgan. Hell, he hadn’t cared much about Kayla, and knowing she’d fucked around on him had nearly driven him to a killing rage.