Fairyville (Fairyville #1)(54)
Author: Emma Holly

He looked to Bryan for confirmation but found only a seraphic smile.

"Bryan wants his pound of flesh," Zoe explained, "and he’s decided the particular pound he wants belongs to me."

Alex blinked. This didn’t sound like what he’d been hoping for. It sounded like Bryan wanted to get horizontal with Zoe.

"Oh," he said, realizing he was in no position to object. Yes, the idea that Bryan wanted Zoe surprised him a bit, but he’d slept with both of them, and he could see this had a certain vengeful symmetry. "I’ll, uh, just clear out and leave you two alone."

"No." Bryan’s gentle smile broadened. "We’ve decided we want you to watch."

"To watch?"

"We know that will be hard for you," Zoe said, "given how you like to be in the driver’s seat, but I brought something to make it easier."

His jaw dropped when she pulled a pair of shiny handcuffs from her leather bag. Zoe owned handcuffs? His Zoe? His face grew hot as he realized she meant to use them on him. Alex had been known to play at bondage, but never, ever on the receiving end.

"You could sit in that chair," she continued, nodding at the nearest one as if she weren’t threatening to turn his personal erotic world on its head. "We’d cuff your wrists to the arms and drag it nice and close to us."

His hands had curled into fists. "I can’t," he said, though his c**k was thickening up enough to put the lie to that.

"You can," Zoe said, sweet and low. "It would wipe the slate clean for all of us. No more recriminations. No hard feelings. I’d really like to, Alex, and so would Bryan. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to cheat on you?"

With all the blood surging to his cock, Alex’s synapses weren’t firing too quickly. "I didn’t make Bryan watch," was all he could think to say.

Zoe’s smile was as angelically wicked as Bryan’s had been. "Maybe you didn’t make him watch because you two have different hot buttons."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but Bryan cut him off.

"Get in the chair," he ordered in his intimidate-the-suspect voice. "Unless you’d rather I do her where you can’t see."

A tiny shiver shook Alex’s shoulder blades. He didn’t want to be handcuffed; didn’t want to give up control. But to not watch Bryan do Zoe, to not see him shove that hard, muscled body into and over her, suddenly seemed worse. Bryan had a hard-on to beat all hard-ons as he stood there challenging him, his legs planted wide, his eyes glittering like ink in his angry face.

Seeing him, his testosterone on full display, Alex didn’t know how he’d kept his hands off him for so long.

He came unsteadily to his feet. "You want me dressed or naked?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"Naked," the conspirators chimed in unison.

"Right," Alex said on a nervous huff. "I don’t suppose she could leave those shoes on then…"

For days, Magnus had been listening for the ping in his brain that would say his spell was in play. He’d been expecting it since he’d left Bryan in the bar. Magnus’s compulsions weren’t known to work slowly, and after a full twenty-four hours had passed, he’d begun to wonder if the thing had really taken root. He’d convinced himself it was for the best if it hadn’t. Maybe he’d be better off not seeing Bryan take Zoe, even if it would sate his craving to know how she felt.

And then the mental nudge came at last. Magnus was in his bedroom, fresh from a shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. In three long waves, his c**k surged up and tented it.

Evidently, his few last doubts weren’t going to take the edge off of his excitement.

He settled onto his back on the bed, wishing he felt more prepared. It would have been more ideal to do this from his secure bunker, but there wasn’t time to relocate. The psychic houselights were dimming, ready or not.

"Showtime," he murmured huskily to himself.

He closed his eyes as the metaphorical curtain rose. When he saw what it revealed, he almost opened them again.

There was one more participant in this drama than Magnus had been planning on. Apparently, Bryan had added his own twist to the f**k-her spell.

Bryan wanted in Zoe so badly he was shaking—not just his c**k but every inch of him. She was laid out lengthwise on Alex’s bed, a feast in pink and cream. Wearing only the high-heeled shoes, she had one knee bent and wagging, while the other draped the edge of the mattress. Aroused but nervous, her fingers played up and down the smooth-shaven thigh she’d raised. The plump folds of her slit were glistening in the little flashes she was giving him. The shoes were enough to crank him up—his tastes running in line with Alex’s there—but it was the sight of her wetness that stretched him to the bursting point.

This was trust she was showing him, a friendship he hadn’t earned. Her lips were parted with anticipation, the contrast between her lashes and her eyes transforming them to lustrous jewels. Her gaze was fastened on his, telling him more than words could that the next move was up to him.

Of course, it wasn’t only her rapt attention that got Bryan going.

The chair they’d handcuffed Alex to was close enough for his shins to touch the bed next to Zoe’s leg. The knowledge that he could also see Zoe creaming made Bryan’s testicles ache. Even though he’d agreed to go along with this, Bryan still had trouble believing Alex had actually let them restrain him.

"For God’s sake," his friend said now, the exclamation hoarse. "You’ve got me where you want me. Go ahead and take her."

Bryan lifted Zoe’s second leg until the sole of that shoe lay on the mattress, too. Then he raised both legs to wrap his waist. Finding the bed too low, he grabbed a pillow for her hips. As he worked it under her, Zoe’s hands slid up his arms, her fingers admiring the contours of his muscles. Her palms were warm and a little sweaty. Bryan’s lungs began to fill faster as he lowered himself. His chest met the slightly cooler softness of her br**sts, and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"You’re so thick," she whispered, not an observation likely to calm him. "Please don’t go too fast right away."

"Guide me in," he whispered back. "I want to feel your hands on me."

He flinched when she touched his shaft. As ready as he was, the gentle pressure of her fingers was almost too good to stand. A second later, her opening wrapped him in sultry warmth. That steadied him, oddly enough. He might be thick, but he knew his tip was formed for smooth entry—more bullet-shaped than crested. He tried to remember how many times he’d done this: no more than a dozen, he didn’t think, but the bliss of it came back quick. As much as he liked men, as much as he needed them, women were a unique pleasure. He pushed, and her flesh gave way, smooth and hot and growing creamier as he eased in.