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penis entered my throat a bit, but at my choked cough he pulled back. “Sorry. You all right?”
    “God, yes.” Despite the overwhelming sensation of Jamie’s finger toying with my anus, another in my vagina, and his thumb circling my clitoris, I sucked Gage eagerly and, I hoped, expertly.
    Gage squirmed like an ecstatic puppy, then looked over his shoulder. I guessed he wanted to see Jamie’s reaction to his wife having some other man in her mouth to the tonsils, and the man loving the way she worked him. I wished I could see Jamie.
    My husband’s voice was bedroom soft. “Take her. She’s ready. Got a condom?”
    “Yeah, got a couple in my wallet.”
    “How old?” Jamie handed Gage his pants.
    “I just put them in there four or five days ago.”
    Of course. He could have sex as often as he felt like it, and probably went through condoms like I did tea bags.
    Gage pulled the small packet from the wallet and showed it to Jamie. “This okay? It’s lubricated.”
    “Fine.” Jamie withdrew his fingers from me. I almost whimpered at their absence.
    Gage opened the condom package. “Anything you want,” he said to Jamie, then clambered over me to reposition himself.
    I had the sense to get all the way back on the sheepskin while he rolled the condom on. Gage’s penis spread my slickness to unaccustomed width. I lifted my legs, bent at the knee, and admired their golden tone from the firelight. Jamie’s hand urged my ankles higher and left them in the air; above Gage’s shoulder my husband seemed distant and very, very aroused.
    Gage shifted his body, pushing deeper still and opening his own legs a little. He made a guttural noise of pleasure.
    My tightness must have been good for him; his expression changed with every stroke. When we kissed, I could smell my own sex scent on his mouth and wondered if he could detect his on mine. I ran my hands down his body, reaching his buttocks easily. As he rocked deep in me, the muscles bunching beneath my hands felt springy and powerful.
    The reach proved uncomfortable, so I let my hands settle higher on Gage’s back. He kissed me again, harder, plunging his tongue into my mouth, then pulled his rod from me slightly and thrust it in hard enough to scoot me and the sheepskin under my back an inch along the fire-warmed stones, while he drove his tongue into my mouth and crushed his lips on mine almost painfully.
    I heard Jamie again, his voice breathy and excited. “Did you ever do this before?”
    Gage pulled his mouth from mine. “Yes,” he said. “No. Not exactly this. God.”
    “Is it good?”
    Jamie knew the answer. Of course it was good. He could see as well as I how Gage wriggled with the sensations, how hard his kisses were.
    “Yeah, it’s good, but…” Gage said.
    “I know,” James said. “Tell me when to push.”

Chapter Seven
    What? Damn that Bordeaux. Sure, I’d recognized Gage’s excitement. I’d fed it. Fed on it. Fueled my own. Taken credit. Given myself bonus points for overcoming the distraction of Jamie’s fingertip at my rear.
    Not just mine; Jamie’s other hand had also been busy. When Gage had entered me, my husband entered him.
    And Gage had let him.
    A ménage à trois was one of the many daydreams Jamie and I had discovered we had in common. We’d never talked details. I’d assumed I would be at its center. Jamie, judging by his face, was ecstatic at one end, and I was no less aroused now that I understood I had the other. If Gage enjoyed being in the middle, why not?
    Except that Gage had drawn his lips tight against perfect white teeth.
    “Give him a minute, Jamie,” I said.
    “Sure,” James replied. “All the time you need.”
    “He won’t hurt you,” I assured Gage, even though the grimace announced that Jamie was already hurting him. I returned my hands to Gage’s buttocks and gripped him as low as I could before gently spreading his cleft. “Let me help you,” I whispered in his ear. For the first time I noticed a