Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel by Lacey Alexander Page B

absorbed how it felt now —perfect and big and strong inside her.
    As she began to ride him, he murmured, “Let me suck those pretty titties.” And she leaned over, playfully letting them both hover just above his mouth before finally lowering one hard, pink nipple into the moisture there. He sucked and she purred—again, the feeling shot like a pinball straight to her pussy. He knew her well, knew that sucking her tits would make her come faster, harder.
    And as the hot orgasm rushed through her just a minute later, she reveled in it even as she reaffirmed her new way of thinking about this little birthday party. Last night had been … the breaking-in period, the orientation. Whatever happened today would be easier for her. Would be still more freeing for her. Would be whatever her body wanted it to be in the moment.
    She wanted this now, all of it.
    She wanted it in a way she simply hadn’t been able to process that quickly last night. But now Ethan had helped her make sense of it, helped her accept it and begin to embrace it.
    Everything from this point forward would be more than just a gift Ethan was giving her—it would also be a gift she was giving herself.
    T he day was working out nicely. So far anyway. Turned out Ethan hadn’t minded the morning rain at all—it had made him feel intimately cocooned with his girl while they’d had some damn good sex on the front porch. But he’d been glad to see the skies brightening beyond the windows as he and Mira cooked up some bacon and eggs together in the small kitchen area, him in his underwear, her in her white panties and cute little button-up cami. She’d started to grab her jeans when they’d stepped back inside, but he’d touched her arm and quietly suggested, “Leave ’em off. It’s just us.” The three of us, he’d meant. Because he’d also meant every word he said to her—he wanted her to be comfortable with this.
    And he’d been happy when she’d considered it for a second, then dropped the jeans back on the floor, saying, “Okay,” as merrily as if it had been just the two of them.
    About the time the aroma of bacon had started filling the cabin, Rogan awoke, ambling over in blue jeans and mussed hair to say, “Damn, smells good.”
    “Figures you show up when the work’s done,” Ethan said to him on a laugh. That was sort of how he really saw Rogan, but he’d meant it good-naturedly—he didn’t believe you could really change people at their core, so he accepted them as they were.
    Rogan just laughed, running a hand back through his hair to say, “Sometimes my timing’s better than others.” Then he’d leaned in to kiss Mira on the cheek. “Morning, babe.”
    “Morning.”
    Ethan hadn’t really seen that coming, the kiss, but under the circumstances he supposed it made sense. Just like prodding her to cook breakfast in her panties, it encouraged her to relax into this situation.
    And since then, he thought she really had seemed more at ease. And though he didn’t think you could change people, he thought you could find sides they kept hidden for whatever reason, and he’d known there was a more sensuous person lurking beneath Mira’s soft skin than he’d seen before. Not that she wasn’t sensual—hell, she was sexy as sin—but Mira was a class act, and she cared what people thought of her in a way that went deep and was more about habit than decision. And even though he liked and respected both those traits, he also didn’t want her to miss out on life, living, because of it. Ever since the night she’d told him her fantasy about two men, he’d known there was a wilder aspect to her sexuality than even she really understood—and he was determined to bring it out this weekend. And so far, so good. At least after their talk in the hammock this morning.
    Now he’d driven his SUV—Rogan going along for the ride while Mira stayed behind to get the picnic basket ready—out to the highway and down the Lake Superior coast