Free In MIB Custody [The Service Club 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Tonya Ramagos Page A

to roll, small talk while they teased her however they wished and expected her to keep her scruples intact.
    Danica let her gaze drop to Lowell’s finger, looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and saw amusement playing with the heat in his eyes.
    “I went to New York not—” She swallowed hard, momentarily losing her train of thought when he flicked the callused pad of his thumb over her rapidly hardening nipple.
    “You were saying?” The amusement in his eyes danced in his voice.
    She could do this. Let him play. She would enjoy it, and she would keep the conversation going, too. “I spent some time in New York not long after you left town.”
    She had gone to scope it out, get a real feel for the city and the area where she might like to live. She had known she wasn’t quite ready to make the leap. Her mother had still been alive, she had needed her, and everything that had happened had still been too fresh for her to pack up and go for good.
    “I played tourist, got familiar with places, researched others...” She shrugged as his finger trailed down her abdomen, her stomach, and paused to circle her belly button. He remembered. She saw it in his eyes. She had never been ticklish. Instead, her belly button acted as more of an erogenous zone, sending darts of arousal arrowing straight to her clit. “I enjoyed the trip, but I think I knew even before I left that I wouldn’t be going back.”
    Her belly quivered as his fingers moved on, turning to glide further down, stopping to draw pressured circles just above her slit.
    “Why?” Heat overtook his tone, turning it husky and dark.
    “Have you ever been somewhere that you felt you just didn’t belong?”
    “Every day.”
    His gaze met hers, held, and she knew nothing about that confession had been easy for him. It surprised her, too. He had followed his career ambitions, joined the FBI, and settled in Tampa. He had everything he had ever talked about wanting. She couldn’t imagine how he could feel like he didn’t belong.
    “I don’t belong in New York. This is my place. It’s my town. It’s my home.” She gave a half laugh that morphed to a quiet half-gasping moan as his finger slipped between her folds and found her clit.
    “It’s funny how all we could talk about growing up was getting out of this one-horse town. All of us.” Lowell shook his head. “Half never left at all, and most of those who did ended up back here anyway.”
    You didn’t.
    She bit her tongue on the words even as his finger ground on her clit. She closed her eyes, let her head fall back on her shoulders, and tightened her grip on the table to keep from slithering to the floor. Something warm brushed her lips. She licked them out of reflex and moaned when flavor exploded on her tongue. Spice and a hint of lime and more seasonings she couldn’t quite separate to define combined in a delicious concoction that somehow perfectly accented what Lowell was doing between her legs.
    “Does it pass the test?” Zane’s hand snaked beneath her hair to cup her nape, the words a husky whisper against the side of her face as he fed her the bite of chicken and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
    She rolled her head toward him, closing her eyes as she chewed. “Mmm.” The move drew his mouth to hers, and her lips parted. Between her legs, Lowell’s fingers dipped lower, sliding through the cream coating her cunt, and spreading it to the crack of her ass.
    Zane’s tongue dove into her mouth, danced over hers, and treated her to more of that scrumptious flavor blended with his innate taste. She never would have thought fajitas could be sexy. She definitely knew she would never eat them the same way again.
    “The chicken gets an excellent review,” she told Zane breathlessly as he slowly broke the kiss. “You still don’t.”
    A dart of worry shot through his eyes. “How am I rating so far?”
    Danica chewed her bottom lip and pretended to think. It was definitely an act. No freaking