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

cushion and getting to his feet, his cock still shiny and slick from sex, his nakedness somehow feeling more obvious to her now than … well, perhaps ever in their entire relationship. Because there isn’t usually a third person in the room to see it.
    But stop thinking and get back to feeling.
    That’s when Rogan’s voice came in her ear. “Stand up.” And even just that one small command made her pussy shiver.
    It was almost challenging to unloop her legs from over his knees—she’d gotten stiff from being in the same position for so long—but finally she pushed to her feet, very aware of her own nakedness, too. Finally standing, she stripped her tank top over her head and tossed it aside, simply because it made no sense to have it on anymore. And she was reaching behind her to undo her bra—when Rogan stood, as well, quickly, stepping in close, cupping her boobs in his hands from behind again, somehow firm yet tender. He brushed his thumbs across the ever-sensitive nipples, once, twice, each touch making her sigh with the small but potent rush of pleasure, and she instinctively looked over her shoulder at him.
    Their gazes met, held. And he turned her in his arms to face him. Then let his eyes drop to her breasts for a few potent seconds before he bent to rake his tongue across one stiffened pink peak.
    She trembled in response—oh Lord, it had been over four years. And suddenly he was touching her again, kissing her again. About to be fucking her again. She drew in her breath, just letting the realization wash over her anew.
    And then it was he who reached behind her to smoothly unhook her bra, drawing it down her arms and casting it onto the table where playing cards and drink glasses still resided. After which he simply said, “Go to the bed.”
    Where was Ethan now? She didn’t know. And almost didn’t even care.
    But she was supposed to be sharing this with him—all of it, right? So she had to care. And he’d just brought her so much pleasure and made her feel so cherished, worshipped, and he was such a good, kind, hot, and sexy man. Practically her fiancé, even. Other than the neglect she’d suffered due to his law practice, they were perfect together. And he’d made all this happen.
    And yet Rogan was so … commanding. Back when they’d been a couple, she’d hated that at first—but had secretly learned to love it in the bedroom. He always knew what he wanted and didn’t hesitate to take it. There was something she admired about that boldness, something in it that even made her want to submit to him. And now, without thought, she simply obeyed him and went to the bed.
    She sat down on the edge of the calico comforter sprinkled with a summer garden’s worth of blooming flowers—yellow, red, purple, orange—and waited as Rogan followed. A second later, he stood directly before her on the hardwood floor, which put the bulge in his jeans around eye level. That bulge she’d been feeling all night. That bulge she’d once known so well.
    “Unzip me,” he said.
    Again she suffered the urge to look around, to locate Ethan—yet Rogan’s very tone commanded all her attention and left her almost afraid to look away. He’d been unerringly patient and now almost seemed im patient, ready to have his way with her.
    So she didn’t hesitate to reach up, unbutton his jeans, slide the zipper down over that tremendous bulge. As the denim parted, she could clearly make out the cylindrical shape of his cock behind the black boxer briefs he’d always worn. And mmm, just seeing it, even still covered, sent a bolt of need through her chest. And it made her unthinkingly reach out, run the flat of her palm up the thick ridge concealed beneath the fabric. He sucked in his breath and she liked it. He could act all tough, but even tough guys had their moments of weakness.
    His passed quickly, though, and he met her eyes again to say, “Tell me what you want, babe.”
    Don’t think too much. Don’t worry about