The Face of Scandal by Helena Maeve Page B

purchase or the nearest anchor. Ward’s wrist was a glistening, rosy shaft, thicker than any cock, tapered abruptly where it disappeared inside her. The visual was too much.
    Hazel clenched around his fist with a pitiful whimper, muscles spasming as the tight ball of pleasure at the base of her spine violently unfurled. She was dimly aware of Dylan and Ward speaking to her in soft, urgent voices, but it was already too late. If they were warning her off coming, that ship had already sailed. Hazel dug her heels into the couch cushion and climaxed with a ragged sob, rutting into the unbearable, exquisite heft of Ward’s fist inside her.
    Pleasure rode her in violent, crashing waves, one tremor fading just as another snagged hold. She cried out with each one, the slightest twitch of movement in her body enough to trigger an avalanche of sensations too turbulent to resist.
    It might have gone on for a minute or ten. Hazel lost track of time as her whole body began to quake with exhaustion, thighs shaking on either side of Ward’s shoulders.
    “That’s it,” Dylan murmured soothingly in her ear. “That’s right, let it go… Hazel, look at me.”
    She tried, but he had to palm her cheek to help her out a little. It surprised her to discover his features slightly blurry. She hadn’t realized she was crying.
    “How’re you feeling?”
    Tired. Achy. Amazing. Hazel shot him a dizzy smile. “Can we stop now?”
    “Definitely, but you have to help us out. Can you relax a little? Breathe out for me?”
    “Oh…” It took conscious thought to lessen the hold of her inner muscles enough so that Ward could pry out his fist. The expression on his face was more bewildered than wary, but Hazel couldn’t figure out why.
    She toed his shoulder with a lax foot. “Hey… You okay?” Don’t go angsty on me now.
    Ward nodded. Blond hair stuck out over his ears and a faint sheen of sweat gleamed on his upper lip. “I haven’t come in my pants since I was in high school.”
    The tension that had threatened to build up between them dissipated at once.
    Hazel blew out a worn-out guffaw. She ached and she was drenched in slick lube and her own liquid arousal, but there was nothing in what they’d done that made her feel anything but pleased. Euphoria lingered as she came down from her high, moored to the certainty that Ward and Dylan would never hold it against her.
    Grappling with how much she had enjoyed it could happen later, once she cleaned up and got some shut-eye. This was worth keeping secrets for.

Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    “That,” Hazel murmured into the phone, “was amazing.”
    Dylan’s laughter rippled like a caress. “I’m very glad to hear that’s how you feel about it.”
    “How else should I feel?”
    “Used, exhausted—”
    “Oh, yeah. Definitely exhausted,” she replied, mindful of keeping her voice low, “but you two sure know how to show a girl a good time.” And take care of her, after. It was rare for Hazel to enjoy coddling in the aftermath of a scene, but since last night’s events didn’t technically qualify as her usual brand of kink, she didn’t think it was a matter of turning corners.
    “In that case,” said Dylan, “maybe we can do it again. Say, tonight?”
    Hazel’s stomach flipped at the sheer proposition, images of Dylan holding her down while Ward toyed with her cunt eliciting a small, eager smile. Then she remembered, she couldn’t. “I’m spoken for tonight,” she confessed.
    “Work?”
    Hazel winced. “Yeah, I offered to keep Sadie company.” A better friend would’ve done as much.
    “Oh. How…how is she?” It wasn’t the first time he’d asked since Sadie had moved back out of the loft. He seemed hesitant to broach the subject.
    “She’s fine,” Hazel replied, trying to clamp down on the sudden geyser of aggravation slowly disgorging poison into her belly. This was paranoia. This was foolish.
    A minute ago, she’d been squeezing her thighs and