The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) Nikki Sloane (sight word books TXT) 📖

it stole my breath. Years of wearing heels had taught me to be comfortable with pain. I had no problem with a long, lingering ache or a blister. I didn’t notice half the time, and occasionally, I found it weirdly pleasurable.

But pain that came on in an instant? And was white-hot? I wasn’t prepared.

A panicked whine tore from my mouth and I squirmed on the table, fighting against my restraints, desperate to escape. On some level, I was aware I wasn’t the only one wrestling with discomfort, but it wasn’t until he spoke that I remembered anything outside of the icy fire existed.

Travis’s urgent warning was forceful and verged on scary. “Clay.”

I gasped with relief as the ice went away, and Clay’s attention snapped toward the other man, who’d risen to his feet and stood with a threatening posture. Clay wasn’t intimidated, nor was he happy with how Travis had interrupted the scene and the way he’d been challenged.

“Trust me,” Clay said. “I know what I’m doing, and unlike you—I have this under control.”

It was clear he didn’t just mean the scene—this was a dig at how Travis’s self-control had faltered both yesterday, and maybe even now. He waited impatiently for Travis to say something else, and when nothing came, his focus shifted back to me.

I’d expected another round with the ice or a reminder I needed to beg, but he kept me guessing, that was for sure. Clay pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, as if preparing to study blueprints, set down the ice and glove, and then lowered in to place his mouth over my clit. My satisfied moan was immediate and unstoppable.

Oh, he was good.

If he’d asked me to beg, I was already weak enough I would have done it, but his warm mouth against my numb skin gave me time to recover. It rekindled my desire to resist . . . especially if this was going to be my reward.

My toes went into points as his tongue flickered, and in my contentment, my head lolled to the side. Travis was still on his feet beside the stool, as if he’d been too distracted to find his seat, and now the lust coiling inside him made it impossible to move. His broad shoulders were as tense as the muscle flexed along the side of his jaw, signaling he was clenching his teeth.

Clay had seen another man go down on me several times, but this was a first for Travis, and although he was clearly enjoying it, he also looked like a fragile bomb that had been armed.

One wrong move and he’d lose control.

I suspected he was desperate to join us, and his cock was ready to go. It bulged behind his jeans, swelling enormously to one side. I stared at him through my hazy eyes as Clay’s tongue painted pleasure between my legs.

“Fuck,” Travis growled. “That’s so sexy.”

Whatever filter I possessed had been burned away by the ice. “Yeah?” I arched my back provocatively, making my knees and my tits point toward the ceiling. “You like watching him go down on me?”

The tongue between my legs hesitated. Clay wanted to hear the answer.

“I want to watch him fuck you.”

There was one final teasing lick and then a half of a chuckle. “Nice try, but she knows what she has to do.” I was sure there wasn’t a more persuasive, seductive taunt in the world when he whispered it to me. “Beg.”

I was a breath away from saying no but didn’t get the chance.

Travis crossed his thick arms over his chest and tilted his head. “What if I did it for her?”

His question charged the room with chaotic energy, and I could practically hear Clay’s mind stumble. He’d planned the scene, and this wasn’t part of it, but . . . hearing a dominant beg rather than a submissive? That would be quite the power trip, and he considered it carefully. Would he ever get another opportunity like this?

He straightened, sitting back on his heels, and turned his intense stare toward the other man. “Go on, then.”

Travis went still. He hadn’t expected Clay to accept his offer and now he fumbled for what to do. His arms uncrossed and hung at his sides as he searched for the right words.

“Please.” His voice was unsure. “Please do it. I want to see you fuck her and make her come.”

His plea earned him an unimpressed reaction from Clay. “That’s it?”

He frowned and adjusted. “Goddamnit, please, Clay. I’m begging you. Show me how it is when you’re with her.” He gave up fighting whatever was holding him back, and his voice went thick with need. “I want to see your cock slide inside her tight, little pussy. I want to find out if her moans are the same as when I’m the one fucking her.”

A slow, surprised smile warmed Clay’s face. “Yeah?” He hooked a finger under the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down, freeing his erection. “Which cock? This one?”

Jesus.

Travis’s unflinching gaze drifted down to take in the display, and my bones threatened to liquify. There wasn’t bashfulness from either man—only curiosity.

Travis ran a hand over his lips, maybe muffling a curse word beneath it, but he didn’t shy away. I didn’t blame him, either. Besides being built for sex, Clay’s body was made for admiration.

Travis’s hand fell away, a decision made, and his chest lifted with a deep breath. “Yes.”

Clay’s triumphant smile slid from the man to me, and although he didn’t ask with words, he peered down patiently and waited for my consent.

“Yes,” I said eagerly.

He pushed his underwear further down and out of the way, and moved over me, supporting himself on one hand while he used the other to steady himself.

The realization sliced through me, nearly as cold as the ice he’d used.

“Wait,” I gasped.

He turned to stone and concern filled every inch of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Travis and I,” I gulped down a breath, “we didn’t use protection last night.” My voice went powerless. “I thought