Ricky opened for him with a guttural groan, and Martin swept his tongue inside, hunting and licking every hidden wet crevice between teeth and cheek.
He’d denied himself too long, but that wasn’t the only reason he felt so reckless and desperate.
Ricky wasn’t just an exceptionally trained kisser. He kissed passionately, feverishly, with every breath, every beat of his heart, and every muscle in his body.
“Sweet Jesus.” Ricky gasped and slipped greedy fingers beneath Martin’s shirt and along his back.
Blood flowed, and muscles trembled beneath the diabolical caress of masculine hands. His hunger rose in a flood of heat, throbbing between his legs and skyrocketing his heart rate.
They pressed closer, chests colliding, arms winding, and bodies entwining as they frantically deepened the kiss. It wasn’t enough.
He hauled Ricky against him and took him down to the mattress, falling atop him in a grinding crush of hips and swollen cocks.
Fucking goddamn, his familiar taste. It was the first time they’d ever kissed, but he recognized the dark, crisp flavor of Ricky’s mouth as if it were his own.
The scent of Ricky’s hot skin seeped into his lungs. The firmness of Ricky’s lips permanently imprinted the moment on his heart. He melted into the sensations, clinging tight to the pleasure as Ricky grunted and thrust beneath him.
“I need you.” Ricky gripped his ass and bit his lips. “Please. Fucking touch me. Hurt me. Put me out of my misery.”
The intensity of that surrender vibrated the muscles beneath Martin’s hands, but the words gave him pause.
Hurt me.
Ricky didn’t know what he was asking.
Gutting memories invaded his senses and coiled his insides into a bloody knot of horror.
How was he supposed to separate the damage he endured with Jeff and Van, the pain Ricky craved, and the hurt he desperately needed to inflict? There were levels of right and wrong, willing and unwilling, and gray areas in between. He didn’t know how to navigate intimacy with one person, let alone two.
All he knew was he didn’t want to stop.
Lashing his tongue wildly against Ricky’s, he indulged in Ricky’s surrender. With his hands fisted in Ricky’s thick black hair, he bit, sucked, and kissed savagely and mindlessly with abandon.
Until nausea hit his stomach.
He pushed away before it became too much, before he lost himself in the past and puked his guts out. Or worse, before he became the monster he feared.
“Tula,” he rasped breathlessly.
She was already there, lips parted, nipples pebbling beneath her shirt, and the burnt umber of her gorgeous eyes glittering around dilated pupils.
“He’s waiting.” He sat beside Ricky, breathing heavily as he tried to reel in the unraveling mess of his thoughts.
He just needed a breather, and she seemed to read that in his expression.
With a nod, she turned to Ricky and said softly, “That was exciting.”
“You liked watching us.” Ricky sat up and lifted her onto his lap, arranging her legs to straddle him.
She shook her head and blinked.
Ricky kissed her, just a tease of lips, before boldly pinching one of her hard nipples. “These don’t lie.”
She batted his hand away and touched her brow to his. “You kissed like you’ve been lovers for years.” She feathered her fingers along his whiskered jaw. “You’re in love with each other.”
The precision of her words zapped every molecule in the air. Ricky felt it, his eyes locking onto Martin’s like beams of energy, holding him stationary in time and space. They emitted a thousand words that didn’t require voice or explanation.
Lines had been crossed.
Boundaries erased.
Everything had changed.
“Thank you.” Ricky touched his lips to hers. Then he did it again. “You opened a door.”
“And now she was walking with demons.” Her mouth twisted. “A quote from The Hellbound Heart.”
Must’ve been one of the books in her cell. Martin wasn’t much of a reader, but the sexy, nerdy, schoolteacher persona she hid from the other prisoners turned him on like nothing else.
“I don’t know that one, but I can give you this.” Ricky cleared his voice and belted out a familiar tune, “Her lips are devil-red, and her skin’s the color mocha. She…will…wear…you…out.”
“Livin’ la Vida Loca.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “That has me thinking…”
“What’s up, querida?” Ricky trailed his mouth along her jaw.
“There’s no Tula in Ricky Martin.”
“Wanna bet?” He nipped at her throat and met Martin’s eyes. “I’ve fantasied about this for years. I want to watch him with you. I want him to watch you with me. I want the three of us together, joined in every position, fucking and ravaging without hesitation or caution.”
Christ, the way Ricky just threw that out there in his gravelly voice… His confidence was sexy as hell.
“How could you always want that when you just met me?” she asked.
“In my wildest fantasies, the woman between us was faceless.” Ricky inclined his head, edging closer to her lips. “Not anymore.” He cupped his hands around her neck. “God help me, I never imagined you’d be this beautiful. Every time I look at you, it fucking hurts.”