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each other’s minds, their hands slid down her body, skating over her belly to her panties. Her stomach muscles clenched in anticipation. She didn’t have to wait long.
    Rashon’s nimble fingers slipped beneath the edge of her panties and cupped her mound, fingers dipping down to her waiting clit, circling her engorged flesh with teasing strokes. When she lifted her hips in wordless response, Kurik pushed her panties down to her knees. Then his hand slid up—oh, gods, yes, right there —parting her slick folds and delving a finger into her core.
    Shutting her eyes, she mewled in pleasure, hips lifting involuntarily in a quest for more, conscious of the dueling brands of their erections pressed against her flanks, still covered by far too much clothing. Kurik withdrew, only to slowly thrust two thick fingers into her slick passage as he continued to kiss and suckle first one breast, then the other. Her inner muscles clamped down on his fingers as she gasped against Rashon’s mouth, his tongue mimicking the strokes below.
    Desire tightened inside her, a coil in need of release. The two men worked in tandem to push her further, stroke her higher. Passion swirled inside her, gathering momentum and force as unstoppable as any natural law.
    With a keening cry she came, as pure pleasure assaulted her senses. Kurik withdrew but Rashon continued stroking her, stoking the fire of her desire.
    She opened her eyes to find Kurik pulling his T-shirt over his head, revealing the wide expanse of his chest. As she watched, he pushed his shorts down his hips, revealing the thickness of his cock jutting from a shocking tuft of red hair. It stood proudly from his body, so engorged the foreskin was already pushed back. A whimper escaped her before she could stop it.
    Rashon’s low chuckle skated over her lips. “I’ve made that same sound for the same reason,” he admitted. “You can’t help yourself.”
    “I want,” she confessed, then clammed up, a flush heating her skin.
    “What do you want, sweetheart?” Kurik asked.
    So many ideas, images and desires flitted through her head. Some of them she wasn’t ready to give voice to. Her gaze darted to the bowl of frosting. She licked her lips. “I want to taste you,” she whispered. “I want to put frosting on you and taste you while Rashon takes me.”
    “Gods.” Rashon”s hand convulsed on her breast. “That. We should do that.”
    He stood, then helped her to her feet. Kurik crossed to the low-slung leather chair next to the sofa. He sprawled into it, his cock bobbing hypnotically. “Come here, sweetheart,” he purred. “Sit on my lap while we watch our man strip for us. Then you can put frosting on me.”
    Unable and unwilling to resist, Amarie picked up the bowl of frosting then walked over to him, her gaze fixed on his cock. It suited him, a complement to his size and his strength. Instant uncertainty assailed her, making her wonder if she could take him, even in her mouth. If he would hurt her as her former clan had done.
    “Amarie.” Understanding lit his yellow-gold eyes. “I would never hurt you. Neither will Rashon. We’ll stop whenever you want, I swear.”
    She nodded. They wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that. They were stronger, an established pair in the clan. They could have forced her at any time since she’d come to live with them. Instead, they’d cared for her, nurtured her and left her freedom to choose. And with having that freedom there was only one choice to make.
    She sat in Kurik’s lap, moaning at the hot hardness beneath her. He turned her, arranging her legs until the length of him molded to her slit, almost, but not quite penetrating. Moisture welled in response, coating his cock.
    “Gods, you’re so hot,” Kurik whispered, his voice reverent. “Lean back against me.”
    She eased against him, her body taut with nervous anticipation. The broadness of his chest braced her back, his warmth seeping into her, his cock hot and hard beneath