Devon was insanely hard.
Watching Morgan fuck Fallon—and her watching him while Morgan was inside her, making her come—almost pushed him over the precipice. Without even the slightest touch. Just the eye contact and the visual of her letting Morgan hammer into her.
Morgan eventually withdrew from her and worked her skirt back into place. Fallon splashed cold water on her face as Morgan snatched up one of his towels and wiped the sweat from his brow and collarbone.
In a strained voice, Devon said, “I reeled in a tuna. Guessing you both worked up an appetite.”
Fallon propped a hip against the counter, possibly for stability, and told him in a breathless tone, “I’m not filleting it. Gross to the extreme.”
Devon chuckled, despite his body being pulled so damn taut with sexual tension. “No worries there. Morgan’s the resident expert. I’ll do up rice and vegetables. Why don’t you set the table on deck, sweetheart? Pop the cork on some champagne?”
“Shouldn’t we head back to the harbor so you can drink?”
“We’re almost in the harbor,” he told her. “You just didn’t notice we were on the move.”
She gaped.
Devon strode toward her. “That was hot, by the way.” He kissed her. Then he said, “There are some battery-operated candles in the storage bin up on deck. The breeze won’t blow out the flames.”
She smiled sweetly. “I do love candlelight. Perfect with tonight’s full moon.” She left them.
Morgan crooked a brow at him.
“What?” Devon asked. “I’m not allowed to observe?”
“I’ve never known you to ‘observe’ and not participate.”
“Well . . . I had my turn with her last night. I figured you deserved the same. And she was really into it with you. I know what that feels like with her. Didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Thanks.”
Morgan followed Fallon to retrieve the tuna from the water box while Devon started in on the sides. They served dinner as Fallon poured their cocktails. They all settled in. She’d slipped into Morgan’s jacket, though Morgan hadn’t bothered to dress. He still only wore the towel around his hips.
The heaters warmed the air and there was plenty of glowing light from the moon, stars, and candles. Devon wasn’t exactly into ambience, but could appreciate it for Fallon’s sake. Actually, he was glad she enjoyed the atmosphere and the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull as the sailboat was anchored in the cove, though far enough away from other vessels, prying eyes, and the marina and club.
Over dinner, Devon and Morgan discussed some of the pertinent details of the possible Hamptons club. But neither mentioned the sale of the Bayfront club. That was something to be worked out before they shared the news with Fallon. She opened another bottle of champagne over dessert. She was halfway through her slice of cheesecake when she pushed the plate aside and refilled her glass.
While Devon and Morgan were discussing property values, she tossed off Morgan’s jacket and stood.
“Much as I’m happy to hear you both bonding over business,” she said, “I was sort of thinking you could do a little guy-bonding over me.” She whisked off her dress and let it drop to the deck. She hadn’t put her bra back on from this afternoon. And she’d discarded her thong since Morgan had torn it off her.
She was naked, her skin glistening in the golden light . . . And Devon was instantly hard again. Had no doubt Morgan was, too.
Reaching for her crystal flute, Fallon raised it to her chest and poured the contents over her breasts. Then she rounded the table to where Devon and Morgan sat across from her. She rested a knee alongside Devon’s thigh, her other leg wedged between his parted ones. She asked, “Who wants to lick Dom Perignon off me?”
Devon’s hands clasped her hips. “Yeah, that’d be me.” He opened his mouth and caught a drop on his tongue as it rolled off her nipple. Then his lips glided along the underside of her full mound, working his way up to the taut center. He flicked the bead before suckling deep. Fallon combed a hand through his hair as a sharp whimper fell from her lips.
“That’s fantastic,” she whispered. Pulling away, her gaze fell on Morgan. “Want a taste? It’s not the 1998 Krug Clos d’Ambonnay at two grand a pop that I know you prefer, but it is private-reserve.”
He eyed her hungrily. “I don’t give a damn about the champagne.”
She shifted and knelt on the bench seat, positioning herself between both men. Her arm draped over Morgan’s shoulders as he leaned in and his tongue fluttered over the opposite nipple Devon had tended to.
“This is exactly how we should all enjoy expensive bubbly,” she said on a dreamy sigh.
Devon was growing increasingly uncomfortable with his cock straining the fly of his shorts. He stood and divested himself of them. Stripped his shirt off and slipped out of his boat shoes. He knelt on the seat behind Fallon, placed his hands on her ass, and licked her cleft, then her clit, while Morgan continued to suck her nipples.
She moaned, low and throaty.
The tip of Devon’s tongue flitted over the little pearl between her legs, making her wetter. He loved the feel of her against his tongue. The taste of her. The smell of her. He licked feverishly, then his lips tugged on hers.
“That’s so good,” she murmured. “Both of you.”
Devon suckled her clit and she let out a small shriek. He got serious. Straightened slightly and eased two fingers into her tight pussy. Stroked long and leisurely as he reached around the front of her and rubbed her clit with the pads of his fingers.
Morgan kept her nipples hard with his hand on one breast and his mouth on the other.
Fallon tore at the towel around Morgan’s waist and the material fell away. She fisted his cock at the root and pumped in time with Devon’s ministrations. Which hastened as excitement coursed through him and the air turned thick with anticipation.
Fallon’s pussy clenched his fingers and her shallow panting filled the otherwise quiet night. She was dripping and Devon could tell she was close to coming. Her legs quivered and she squeezed more firmly. He worked in a third finger and increased the cadence.
“Dev,” she said on a broken breath. Morgan must have sucked deep at her breast, because another cry escaped her. “Morgan. Oh, God.”
Tension seized Devon. His lust for her raged and his muscles bunched as the need to fuck her took hold of him.
But first . . . He had to get her off.
His fingers caressed tenaciously, making her gasp. The pads on her clit picked up the same rhythm—as did Fallon’s hand on Morgan’s cock.
“Goddamn,” Morgan growled. “Don’t make me come yet.” He covered her hand to slow her pace.
She groaned. “No fair.”
“Trust me,” Morgan muttered, “it’ll be much better when I’m coming inside you.”
“But I like getting you so worked up.”
“Wait’ll we make love to you.”
She tossed a look over her shoulder. “Dev doesn’t make love.”
“No, he does not,” Devon concurred. Then he pumped and stroked heartier to back up his comment.
“Oh, God,” she wailed. “Oh, fuck!” She came a heartbeat later, her inner walls holding his fingers in a vise grip, her cream coating them.
Devon let her ride out the orgasm, despite every fiber of his being screaming for his own release. And knowing Morgan did the same.
When her panting calmed just a bit, Devon withdrew from her.
Fallon straddled Morgan’s lap, positioning the tip of his cock at her opening and then gradually lowering herself onto him. Enough to likely tease the hell out of Morgan . . . and Devon as he watched.
Her arms wound around Morgan’s neck and she kissed him as she rocked against him. Morgan clasped her hips, controlling her so that she didn’t quicken the pace. He was buried inside her and thrusting up into her—slowly. Filling her enough to cause her to break their kiss and suck in a breath.
Devon gripped his own cock and his fingers glided along his shaft easily, because of Fallon’s juices. She eyed him over her shoulder, detangled one of her arms from Morgan’s neck, and crooked a finger at Devon.
He moved closer to her and she twisted slightly at the waist. She replaced his hand with hers and flitted the tip of her tongue over his cockhead. Devon’s hand threaded through her hair and he cupped the back of her head.
“Suck me hard, sweetheart,” he instructed.
She drew him into her mouth, taking a few moments to adjust to him. Then she slid him almost all the way out before taking him in again. She sucked. Hard. So fucking hard.
Devon let out a grunt from deep in his throat. “Yeah, like that, baby. Again.”
She kept at it and Devon’s cock throbbed in erratic beats and his chest heaved. He was so turned on, he couldn’t stop himself from holding her head in place as he fucked her mouth. Until he was just about to lose it.
Then he eased out. His gaze met Morgan’s. Morgan grinned and lifted Fallon a little off his lap and pumped into her, apparently pushing her right to the edge again.
“Morgan!”
Her hand that had been coiled around Devon’s dick now grasped Morgan’s biceps. Her head fell back as Morgan drove into her.
“Oh, God, yes,” she rasped. “Like that. I’m going to come again.”
Morgan’s hips bucked. Fallon’s nails dug in. And then . . . she screamed as another climax claimed her.
She collapsed against Morgan, her breasts pressed to his chest. Devon rummaged in the end table for a condom and lubricant, his cock pulsing with the desperate need to be inside Fallon.
He sheathed himself as Morgan asked her, “Can you take both of us?”