Camouflaged Hearts Anthology Read online

  Oh hell.

  Who was she trying to fool?

  She'd wanted to take care of her pesky problem. For the love of God, how many twenty-five year old virgins were there in Britain?

  So how did she decide to solve the problem of her virginity?

  By buying two men. And not just any two men. Captains Trent Williams and Clayton Blackwell. Two of the county's bravest and sexiest soldiers.

  They had dominated her dreams since girlhood. Several years ahead of her in school, they'd been the older boys she and her friends had whispered about on the phone.

  She'd wanted to be kissed and held and romanced.

  They'd never even known she was alive.

  Then they'd grown up and gone away to university. The next time she'd seen them, they'd been in uniform.

  Oh, Lord.

  She'd wanted sex.

  And then...

  Life had happened.

  Bringing her to this moment and the fact her car was on the way back with both of them in it.

  Both of them.

  She pushed her hand into her hair again. There were no more pins to dislodge, but there was quite a pile of them on the floor.

  Micah heard a gravel crunch under car tyres.

  The illusion of bravery that she'd been clinging to deserted her.

  They were here.

  Her heart jumped into her throat, and nerves made her spine tingle.

  She smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt, wondering if she had time to run upstairs to the bedroom and change clothes ... for the fourth time today.

  What did one wear to a planned seduction? Especially when the seduction was her own?

  She walked through the house to greet them at the front door. She reached for the doorknob only to see it turn on its own.

  She took a quick step back to avoid being flattened.

  Captain Trent Williams filled the doorway.

  Oh, Lord! He was taller, broader, more commanding than she ever remembered. His dark hair was cut military short, and, beneath his sage green T-shirt, she noticed his biceps rippled.

  He was a hunk and a half in his military uniform and black boots. There was something about a man in uniform. She was all-but speechless already.

  What on earth had she gotten herself into? And, criminy, don't let her out anytime soon.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and dragged her against his chest, crushing her. “Micah Collins, I presume."

  She looked up. Her head spinning, unable to speak, unable to breathe, she had to settle to for nodding. His eyes, storm-tossed blue, commanded her attention.

  He dug one hand into her hair, holding her steady. She didn't have time to blink before he kissed her.

  Chapter Two

  The kiss was hard and deep; and he didn't relent until she gave a little moan of surrender.

  He tasted of power and determination, and he smelled of a rain-kissed night. His body was a solid mass of manhood, and she felt his cock against her. It was hard, too.

  Her knees weakened. If his fingers weren't digging into her shoulders, she doubted she could have stood up.

  "Well,” Clayton said, closing the front door with a decisive thud and dumping two duffel bags on the hardwood foyer, “the messy awkwardness of the first kiss is out of the way."

  Trent released her, slowly.

  "I'm Clayton,” the blond god said.

  Micah shook her head, trying to focus on what the man had said. Her lips were swollen. She'd never been kissed like that before.

  She realised Clayton had extended his hand. He stood just a few centimetres shorter than Trent, but Clayton was leaner. He resembled a long-distance runner, while Trent reminded her of a professional boxer.

  She took Clayton's hand, and he clasped hers. His grip was comforting, as if he were a man who could be leaned on for support, either emotional or physical.

  In a frightening situation, he'd be the one she wanted holding her. Trent, however, was the one she'd want brandishing a weapon to protect her.

  "I'm the warm, tender one,” Clayton said. He smiled, instead of glowering like his friend. “You've already met the insensitive half of this duo, Trent Williams."

  Where Trent was intense, Clayton was more casual. His blond hair skirted regulation length, she was sure. But his eyes were his most engaging feature. They were the colour of bittersweet chocolate, and she could melt into their depths.

  This could very well be the best ten thousand quid she'd ever spent. If she survived it. Well, she thought, her heart revving up with excitement, it might still be the best money she'd ever spent, even if she didn't survive it.

  Her gravestone would read: She died happily in the service of her country.

  "Share the joke?” Clayton asked.

  "I was just wishing all my donations to military fundraisers had such rewards.” Unconsciously, she touched her tender lips.

  "And I was just wishing all of our assignments were this pleasant. Hey, Trent?"

  Trent's answer was more of a grunt.

  "A drink?” she asked.

  "Irish whiskey,” Trent said. “If you've got it."

  "I do."

  "Beer,” Clayton said.

  She headed for the kitchen, and Clayton followed. She pulled an already-opened bottle of Chablis from the wine cooler, and he took it from her.

  "For you?"

  "I'm a lightweight. One glass a night and no more."

  "What happens if you have more?"

  She closed the cooler with the toe of her shoe. “I get quite silly. Likely to do and say things I wish I hadn't."

  "I'll keep that in mind. Where do you keep your wineglasses?” he asked.

  "Getting me started early?"

  "Absolutely."

  She smiled. “Top shelf, in that cupboard to your right."

  He kicked something as he moved toward the cupboard.

  "Hairpin,” she explained, feeling uncomfortable, exposed. “Might want to make sure you don't slip on any others."

  He frowned in apparent confusion.

  "Some people smoke or bite their nails."

  "And you pull out hairpins."

  "Right.” Avoiding looking at him, she uncapped a beer and poured it into a mug.

  "You yank them when you're nervous?"

  "There's an even worse habit that you've already noticed.” She'd dated before, and had managed to keep her little habit hidden from everyone. “I tend to leave them where they lay, as well."

  "Micah?"

  Topping off the beer, trying not to let it spill over the rim, she said, “Hmm?"

  "Look at me."

  She put down the bottle.

  "We're both nervous, too."

  Her mouth opened, and then she snapped it shut, afraid she'd look like an out-of-water fish otherwise.

  After putting the wineglass on the granite countertop, he uncorked the bottle and splashed a small amount in it. He tasted the white wine before filling the glass. Was this a man after her own heart? Too bad she only had him for the weekend.

  Earlier, forty-eight hours had seemed an absurdly long amount of time to have two men to ravish. Now it might just be a blink. In less than ten minutes, she'd been kissed nearly senseless and had a man look out for her drink. Lucky girl.

  "You're the first one we've shared.” Then he amended, “Well, at the same time, anyway.” He touched her on the arm. “You're jumpy,” he said.

  Observant man.

  "This might help take the edge off,” he said, offering her the stem.

  The glass was two-thirds full, a whole lot more than she drank on a usual basis.

  "Wouldn't mind seeing you a bit silly, Micah."

  She took a drink, but then he plucked the stemware from her hand and slid it back onto the countertop.

  He advanced on her purposefully, but slowly, giving her time to move. But she was paralysed. She'd tasted Trent, now she wanted to taste Clayton.

  With his lean, sexy body, he nudged her backward unti
l she was against the cupboards.

  "May I kiss you?"

  So different from Trent. “Yes."

  He laid one hand alongside her jawbone, capturing her. He feathered his other hand into her hair. “I'm glad you've already pulled out the pins,” he said. “You saved me the effort."

  She placed a hand on his chest. The top two buttons of his uniform shirt were open. He had a white T-shirt on beneath. With the way he was looking at her, she wanted to feel his bare skin. Would his chest be smooth or covered with downy-fine hair?

  He brushed her lips with his own, in a light tease.

  Oh. So delicious. Sensual.

  He did it a second time, and then a third.

  He teased until she demanded more.

  She moved her hand behind his neck and drew him closer. Their tongues met and parried, and she leaned into him.

  She'd had no idea what to expect when she'd made that huge donation in exchange for a weekend with the two soldiers. A little embarrassment, perhaps. Maybe even some hesitation or regret for being so impulsive. She'd even wondered if either of them would be unkind. After all, they were probably not happy to hear their services were needed in such an unusual way.

  But each of them, each in their own unique way, chased away her inhibitions and made her respond so completely.

  He tasted of mint and man, and she wanted all of him.

  "What happened to the whiskey?"

  Slowly, never taking his gaze from her, Clayton ended the kiss and responded, “Sorry, mate. We got distracted."

  "You've never been distracted a day in your life,” Trent said. “You're a captain in the Queens Royal Hussars. Nothing shakes you."

  She felt a flush creep up her face. In less than five minutes, she'd been kissed by two men. Did life get any better? “I'll, uhm, just get that whiskey."

  "She's a bit nervous,” Clayton supplied.

  "Do you swim, Micah?"

  "Swim?"

  He grinned, and it transformed his face, making him a whole lot less intense. “Swim. Like in the water,” he said helpfully.

  She nodded.

  "Ever dipped in your toes and found the water too cold?"

  "It's England,” she said. “The water's always too bloody cold."

  Clayton smiled.

  "So what do you do about it?"

  When she didn't answer right away, he crossed the room, almost silently. “Jump in,” he supplied helpfully. “With both feet."

  He unfastened her top button.

  The calluses on his fingertips abraded her sensitive skin. “Well, that's certainly one way,” she said.

  "Ever done a ménage before?” Clayton asked, pouring Trent a whiskey, neat.

  "Uh. No.” Or a non-ménage, for that matter.

  "Why us?” Trent asked, opening a second button.

  "Trent—” Clayton warned.

  Heat radiated from Trent's body, and there was a bite of spice to his aftershave. She scooted a little farther back, but the counter prevented her from moving more than a couple of milimetres. “Jaynie. You've probably met her."

  "She's my sister's friend."

  "She's a friend of mine, as well. And one night we were brainstorming ideas for the military fundraiser.” She tipped her head back, determined to meet his gaze and not act like a simpering virgin. “She asked me what my wildest fantasy was. What I'd be willing to pay for."

  "Over a glass of wine?” Clayton guessed.

  "Well ... Yes. And after a night with Brad Pitt, I said my second wildest fantasy was two sexy men. I actually never thought...” She smiled. “I never thought she'd put something together, then hit me up for the massive donation you two asked for."

  "She...?” Trent asked.

  "Jaynie said she'd found my two hunks, her words. And if I were willing to make a donation to the soldier's fundraiser, you two had wanted to spend a weekend with me. I could hardly refuse when all of you went to that effort. Queen and country, you know? All for a good cause."

  "Methinks Jaynie has some explaining to do,” Clayton said. He took a drink from his beer. “But I'm not complaining."

  A third button surrendered beneath Trent's onslaught.

  Her bra was visible, and her breathing changed, oxygen constricting deep in her chest.

  He tugged the shirt's hem from her slim-fitting black skirt. Then, while his gaze continued to hold hers, he released the last two buttons.

  "Uh..."

  "You have to get wet when you go swimming,” Trent told her. He grabbed her hand and put it on his cock.

  Her eyes widened.

  "Squeeze it,” he said. “Harder."

  She did.

  "Now stroke."

  Through his uniform pants, she did. She hoped he didn't realise how little experience she had pleasing a man.

  "I want you naked,” he said.

  Here? In the kitchen?

  He moved her hand away from his penis and then shucked the silky turquoise coloured blouse from her shoulders. The material swished to the tile, joining her hairpins.

  "Turn around,” he told her, backing off a couple of metres.

  Feeling her own heartbeat in her throat, she did. Both men were watching her; she was hyper-aware of both of them. She suddenly wished she'd thought to turn on the radio or slide in a CD, any kind of music would be preferable to the sound of her ragged breathing.

  Trent deftly released her bra, then lowered her skirt's zipper.

  Trent worked the skirt past her hips and down her thighs. He knelt so she could step out of it. Surprising her, he folded the skirt then placed it on the countertop.

  Micah had dressed for seduction, or for being seduced, as the case might be. She'd taken a trip to London for lingerie, and now she was terribly glad she had.

  For the first time in her life, she was wearing a garter belt, stockings and a sexy thong. They were all black and lacy, and it was all a smart match with her bra.

  She'd splurged on shoes, too. They were higher than she usually wore, and they had a spiky heel. The shoes made her calves actually look like they had a nice shape. No wonder so many women dropped a mint at the shops.

  "Take off the bra,” Clayton said.

  Coming from him, the command was even more potent. She shrugged it off and let it pool to the floor.

  Then she was mostly naked in front of two men, self-conscious and nervous.

  "Beautiful,” said Clayton. He moved in closer and cupped her breasts in his large palms, supporting their weight.

  Capturing her gaze, he drew his thumbs across her nipples, teasing them until they became hardened, erect nubs. His touch was exquisitely wonderful, and her eyes shut, as if she could enjoy the sensations more that way.

  She was aware on some level of Trent picking up his own whiskey glass and tossing back the amber liquid in a single swallow.

  Her eyes opened again when Clayton brushed her lips with his.

  "I'm afraid my mate will flatten me if I don't share."

  It'd be more than fine with her if Clayton just swept her up the stairs and took her. For her first, she couldn't think of a more perfect man. But she had bought them both.

  "Move behind her,” Trent said.

  Command dominated his tone. This was a man accustomed to being obeyed without hesitation. Nothing in his voice soothed; rather, it insisted.

  "Take off your knickers,” Trent told her.

  He overwhelmed her senses.

  Still, while Clayton moved away, she did. In for a penny...

  Moments later, all she wore was a garter belt and stockings, along with her fabulous shoes. She resisted the impulse to strategically place her hands across her lower body.

  Clayton got behind her. Reaching around, he cupped her breasts and started to play with her nipples again.

  "Open your legs for me, Micah,” Trent instructed. This time, he wasn't bossy. It sounded more like a request.

  Again, she complied. Her throat was so dry, she could hardly swallow. Wine. A glass of wine
would be great.

  Clayton gently bit the tender flesh between her neck and shoulder while Trent got onto his knees.

  She was captivated.

  Trent licked a finger, then drew it across her clit.

  Her knees threatened to buckle. Clayton, however, wasn't letting her go anywhere. He held her, supported her, kissing the side of her neck and keeping her overwhelmed.

  Trent looked up at her and increased the pressure against her clit. He alternated pressure with long, sweeping strokes. She moistened. And as he dipped a finger into her vagina, she became totally wet.

  He parted her labia and pressed on her clit.

  "Ahhhh...” The man touched her exactly the way she liked, the same way she touched herself when she used her vibrator. “Just...” It would only take a few more minutes for her to come, especially with the way Clayton was tormenting her nipples.

  This was all she had hoped for when she'd had a glass of wine and told Jaynie her wildest dreams. But never had she imagined it would be so exquisite. Two handsome, sexy men who were totally focused on her. Did life get any better?

  Her hips jerked forward. “I'm—"

  "Don't hold back,” Clayton whispered in her ear. Then he nipped at her lobe.

  His hands gripping her thighs, Trent moved in closer and licked her clit.

  "Oh. Oh my ... God!” This hot, hot man had his head between her legs!

  "Come,” Clayton told her.

  Shaking convulsively, she did.

  Trent didn't stop, even though she'd climaxed. He kept up the pressure, and then intensified it. It was a total assault. Her whole body felt as if it were on fire with desire. Nerve endings she didn't know she had were vibrating.

  Deep inside, another orgasm built. She could hardly believe it was possible. She'd never come more than once. In fact, she generally just fell asleep after coming. But Trent was having none of that.

  Clayton squeezed her breasts, moving them closer together.

  Trent inserted one finger inside her before slipping in a second.

  Her hands curled into his shoulders.

  "You've got the hottest cunt,” Trent said.

  His words, raw and earthy, were enough.

  She jerked convulsively, shamelessly. And then she screamed.

  Clayton laughed, a seductive sound if ever there was one. His breath was warm on her skin. “It's my turn,” he said. “I want to hear you scream for me."