Love Under Two Flyboys [The Lusty, Texas Collection], Cara Covington [best ebook reader android .TXT] 📗

The brothers said nothing. They just grinned. Did that mean they’d decorated the place themselves? Surely not. In her experience men not only didn’t possess decorating sense, they didn’t even know such a thing existed.

Upstairs, to the right, stood a small bedroom, the only room in the house, so far, without a lick of furniture in it. A window adorned with a lace curtain looked out over the backyard. Then she went across the hall to what clearly was the master bedroom.

Her jaw dropped. “That is the biggest bed I have ever seen! That’s got to be even larger than a king-sized bed. What the hell do you call a bed that big?”

“Lusty sized,” Morgan said.

The two men stood very close to her, and she could feel their heat, scent their skin. Unbidden, their flavors, shared so freely with her during those incendiary kisses earlier, flooded her anew. Oh, it was so not a good idea for her to be anywhere near a bed with these two flyboys standing so close.

Tamara took a step away from them and fought for air. The room itself was large, with a fireplace on the far wall that also featured an archway. Blinking, Tamara realized there was another room on the other side of the fireplace. Curious, she went to investigate.

“That’s too posh to be called a bathroom.” The space held a good-sized Jacuzzi, a very large claw-foot tub, and a shower big enough to hold a party in with see-through glass walls. She had to push back the images that flashed through her mind, images of naked men, hot water, and hotter sex.

She turned and looked at the two men. “This is way too much house for me.”

“What are you afraid of, Itty-Bitty?”

Tamara’s temper sparked, fast and furious. She marched right over to Henry Kendall and poked him in the chest with her index finger. “I’m not afraid of anything, flyboy.”

“Good.”

He combed his fingers through her hair and tilted her head up, up, until their gazes met. I should really say something snarky and step back. That was the last cogent thought she had before his lips settled on hers.

Powerful, potent, his kiss consumed her, sucking her tongue into his mouth and her will to resist clear out of her brain. Arousal, sharp and sweet, swept through her, a sirocco of succulent sensuality that heated her blood and slicked her sex. She felt her knees go weak and didn’t care. All she wanted in that moment was for this kiss to go on, for the rising fire within her to burn, and for his taste to fill her completely.

She felt Morgan come up behind her until his body braced hers, and when Henry eased his lips from hers, she instinctively turned her head, seeking Morgan’s lips.

“Yes, give me some of that fire.” His words brushed her lips. Then he opened his mouth over hers. His kiss, compelling and carnal, destroyed the last of her defenses, and Tamara surrendered completely. His tongue tangled with hers, stroking, dancing, seducing. A soul-deep moan of pleasure vibrated from her chest.

“God, you taste like more,” Morgan said.

“You’re very addictive, love,” Henry agreed.

Tamara gasped for breath and then shivered as they set their hands on her. Henry stroked back and forth across her breasts. She might as well have been naked, for her nipples pinched, reaching for his touch, a touch that made her hotter and wetter.

Morgan reached down and slowly, deeply caressed the denim that covered her cunt.

Tamara had never whimpered in her life, but she did now, tilting her hips, silently begging for more.

“Easy, Red. We’ll take care of you.” He bent down and took her mouth again.

Wet, wonderful, she opened to him, received his tongue, their tango an erotic preview of the hot and heavy in-and-out movements she hoped would soon follow.

Cool air brushed her breasts as Henry lifted her T-shirt, pulled up her bra, and then closed his mouth over one nipple. He suckled her hard, and Tamara rocked her hips, back and forth in a raw plea. Male growls communicated feral desire, and she knew none of them had any doubt where this foreplay was headed.

“Oh, God.” On the verge of a complete meltdown, Tamara shivered, so close to the edge she could only mew in need.

Morgan broke their kiss. “Here, now.” He unsnapped her jeans, worked the zipper down, then slid his hand inside her pants, under her panties until he stroked her hot, wet cunt. Then he took her mouth again as he speared a finger inside her. He stroked her deeply, once, then added a second finger to torment her.

Tamara sucked his tongue, pressed her breast closer to Henry’s mouth, and rode Morgan’s fingers hard and fast. Her orgasm exploded, a deep, pulsing pleasure so wonderful, so heady, she wanted it never to end.

Masculine murmurs of encouragement cushioned her as she soared and soared, as her body shivered and her skin quivered and her pussy gushed into Morgan’s hand.

As if they knew her body completely, the men ended their ministrations as she came down, as the ecstasy ebbed, and she was left with a pounding heart and sated senses.

“I’ve never…” She couldn’t finish the sentence. She wasn’t even standing on her own. Morgan’s arm had come around her waist, and she knew if it hadn’t, she’d have fallen on her ass on the floor.

“Never what, sweetheart?” Morgan placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“You’ve never come? Or come so fast?” Henry’s fingers brushed her nipple lightly, and then he pulled her bra down to cover her and eased her T-shirt back into place.

Tamara opened her mouth to answer, but another voice, sultry and feminine, floated up the stairs.

“Morgan? Henry? Are you up there?”

“Oh, God!” Tamara felt the snap back to reality like a slap across the face.

“Shh,” Henry whispered as he, too, placed a kiss on her forehead.

“We’ll be right down, Mother,” Morgan said.

“Your mother is here?”

A masculine voice said, “We’ll wait in the kitchen. Make some coffee.”

“Good