Brotherhood of Fire by Elizabeth Moore Page A

insistent feeling of pure need course through him like a drumbeat. The look on John's face mirrored Garrett's feelings and then some. No mistaking he'd gone beyond control, beyond thinking. He needed. Plain and simple.
And apparently, he'd decided to take heed of Garrett's advice to take charge.
With three short strides, John to closed the distance to Carrie. "You good with this?" He tossed the question back over his shoulder. "Say no now if you aren't. Otherwise, you better get in here." Then his mouth closed over Carrie's in a desperate, hot kiss.
Garrett leaned in the doorway, trying to breathe, his body on fire, his mind racing. John went at Carrie with abandon, and Garrett had never seen anything more erotic in his life. It was just how he'd pictured it. His wife melting into John, her hands twisted in his hair, little moans of pleasure coming from her—he had a feeling he might never get enough of seeing such an amazing scene.
"Naked. Now, Garrett." John barked, tearing at Carrie's clothes, his lips barely leaving her skin long enough to get the words out.
Hands flew, and groans and small grunts filled the room as they shed clothing fast and furious. Stripped in seconds, Garrett moved in to help finish yanking Carrie's jeans down over her legs while John pushed her to the bed.
The low groan he heard came from his own chest as he watched John cover his wife with his big body, holding himself above her. Tensed, he hovered there, looking like he struggled to hold back, like he wanted to keep his wits and savor every second of this. The same thoughts and emotions ran through Garrett's head.
The dam had to break one way or the other.
"Take her. Take her like you want to."
Carrie's low whimper broke the sound of heavy breathing as John had the presence of mind to slide his fingers between her already-glistening pussy lips, pulling the moisture over her. "Damn, so wet. I love how wet you get for us."
He felt his cock go iron hard and pulse with fresh need as John moved back. Instead of burying himself in her, he dropped down and moved his big shoulders in between her thighs. A long, low, sigh of a moan came from him as he leaned in to taste her. Garrett knew all too well that first taste, the first wet lick of his wife's sweet pussy. He felt a gush of pre-cum coat the head of his cock as he thought of it, heard the sounds of John lapping at her while she squirmed and moaned on the bed. She was lifting her hand, begging him to come forward, to get closer, and he realized he'd been frozen in place, watching John devour her.
"Sorry." He leaned down onto the bed with her.
Kissing her softly, he watched her face. Her expression was rapt with desire and lost in the feel of John's mouth on her, her eyes barely open but holding his with fascination.
"It's so good," she moaned quietly.
The low, whimpering sounds she made sent a pulsing throb straight to his cock. He breathed through it, looking to John. His belly tightened into a knot as he caught sight of his tongue lapping gently at her clit, his mouth sucking at her pink folds, hearing him suckle in her sweet honey.
"Nothing I've ever seen . . . ." Garrett couldn't finish the words. With a low growl, he bent his head to cover one of her dark nipples with his mouth, never once losing sight of John's face, dark with need, deep in concentration, driving his wife to a screaming orgasm with his tongue.
John stood, looking down at her. Once again, Garrett felt the sensation of knowing every thought going through his head. The satisfaction of driving her to such a height, the taste of her still on his lips, watching her come down from the high with the satisfied grin tugging up the corners of her mouth.
Garrett needed to be inside her. He stood, he moved between them, and leaned in over her. John stepped back out of the way, eyes glued to every move he made. He knew it, saw it, and the image stayed in his mind as part of it all, the three of them, together. Her sweet, wet warmth beckoned