And Sloan never moved. Not an inch. Not once.
Not even when Reese’s mouth dropped open and she began to chant short, nonsensical words. Rylan’s name, Sloan’s name, God’s name, until it was one rhythmic plea.
GodSloanYesRylanMoreFuckMoreYesMooooore.
Rylan wasn’t much better. “Jesus, you feel like a goddamn miracle. You’re so tight. So fucking tight. I’m not gonna last. Come, goddamn you. Come.”
His command worked as effectively as any of Sloan’s. Reese came with a scream, her body jerking and shuddering as Rylan kept hammering into her, seeking his own release. The two of them were mindless, and Sloan was so turned on he wondered, briefly, if he was going to come in his pants.
But his control was greater than he’d thought. Despite the agony in his groin, he kept his cool. Until Reese’s eyes fluttered open and he saw the hunger in them, and he realized his restraint was about to be tested again.
She still hadn’t had enough.
“Grab her some water,” he snapped at Rylan. “And then come back and get yourself hard again. You’re not done here.”
Reese damn near purred at that.
Fuck.
It was going to be a long night.
6
Rylan woke up naked and alone. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and realized he was sprawled on Reese’s bed. Weird. He didn’t even remember falling asleep last night. And he was genuinely surprised she hadn’t kicked him out after the sex.
The mind-melting, body-numbing sex.
The best sex of his life.
A part of him wondered if he’d dreamed it. He’d screwed her, what, five, six times?
The amount of orgasms he’d had seemed biologically impossible.
It happened, though. It must have, because he could still hear Sloan’s raspy orders in his head, commanding him to fuck Reese again and again and again.
Rylan sat up and arched his back to stretch it. Jesus. He was sore as shit. And pretty sure he’d pulled a muscle in his groin when he’d drilled Reese from behind that last time.
Unwittingly, his gaze moved to the armchair next to the bed. It was empty. But it hadn’t been empty last night. Sloan had sat in that chair and watched . . . when he wasn’t helping to hold Reese down.
Damn, that had been so hot. Rylan had known Reese was a passionate woman, but now he understood why men got that glazed look in their eyes whenever they talked about sleeping with her.
Last night had been . . . intense.
And he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to do it again.
He lazily climbed off the futon and did another stretch, a tremor of excitement rippling through him when he heard footsteps beyond the door. But, no. They were too heavy, the thump of a man’s boots rather than the soft tread of a woman’s.
Sure enough, the door swung open and Sloan appeared. “Morning,” he said roughly.
Rylan raked a hand through his tousled hair. “Morning.” He peered past Sloan’s broad shoulders, but Reese was nowhere in sight.
Swallowing his disappointment, he focused back on Sloan. The man wore faded jeans that rode low on his hips and a red plaid shirt he was in the process of buttoning up, but not before Rylan caught a glimpse of defined pectorals and the hard ridges of Sloan’s abs. The man was jacked. And a lot more attractive than Rylan had realized, though he hadn’t exactly been looking.
But at six-four, with his dark beard and rugged face, Sloan was damn easy on the eyes. Which made it all the more bizarre that Reese wasn’t screwing him.
“Where’s Reese?” Rylan asked lightly.
Sloan snapped the last button in place, then rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms. “Visiting with Bethany.”
Rylan’s hand slipped from the top of his head to squeeze the back of his neck. He would’ve stopped in to see Bethany last night, but the raiding party hadn’t reached Foxworth until late. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up. Pregnant women needed sleep, right?
Or had she already had the baby?
Sloan must have read his thoughts, because he said, “She’s ready to pop any day now.”
Shit. Rylan wondered who was going to help with the delivery. Reese? Beckett? He doubted anyone in town had much experience with delivering babies.