Sexy Shorts

by Kathryn Nolan

  Daniel thrusts, and my lips suck, and Carter is shooting his come down my greedy throat. His hands tighten in my hair, holding me there, and when he finally lets go, Daniel puts him on his knees and fucks into him like an animal. My boyfriend grunts his release, muscles rippling, sweat sliding down his chest.

  And then it’s only a moment of rest before both men pin me with a hungry look.

  Because it’s my turn now.

  6

  Carter

  I think I might be falling in love with Daniel and Naomi.

  It’s true that they’re not the first couple I’ve ever played with; I’ve fucked my fair-share of curious couples. But I’d been drawn to Daniel from the first moment I showed up at that fire station; and the night I watched them fuck each other was easily one of the most erotic nights of my life.

  Until now.

  The thing is, they’re so affectionate with each other. Trusting and supportive. Fuck, this is the first time they’ve ever done this, and within minutes, my fingers were buried in her pretty cunt as he stroked my cock.

  They were eager for it, hungry, and instead of jealousy, there was only this beautiful exploration of each other’s bodies.

  “We’re going to get you ready now sweetheart,” I growl into Naomi’s ear, laying her on her side. I lock eyes with Daniel, who nods his approval. “If you’re going to take both of us,” I say, gliding my fingers down to the tight muscle of her ass, “I want you begging for it by the time we’re done with you. Understand?”

  I kiss sweetly along the back of her neck as Daniel kisses her deeply. And then he kisses me, groaning against my lips. He’d just fucked the hell out of me not twenty minutes ago, but we’re both rock-hard again.

  Daniel slides down Naomi’s body, pulling her leg over his shoulder. Immediately, she moans, his tongue darting against her clit. He looks up at me, and I smile. As he eats her pussy, I keep pressing my body against hers, sliding my finger into her ass. She gasps, shudders, squeezes her eyes tightly. And then… a total euphoria comes over her. Daniel sucks her clit, and I open and spread her. Prepping her to take my cock.

  “Relax, beautiful girl,” I whisper, dipping my head to lap at her nipples. She makes an inhuman sound of approval, and I slide another finger inside of her. I glance down her body, seeing his fingers working between the folds of her cunt, tongue swirling against her clit. She’s filled with my fingers now. Completely.

  “Does this feel good?” I whisper, and she can barely answer. Her body is already shaking. So I press a kiss at the base of her spine. Then lower. And lower, sliding my tongue down her back, her hips, the curve of her ass.

  Then my tongue joins my fingers, dipping into that tight ring, and she absolutely wails. I tangle my legs with Daniel, and his big hand comes around to grip my neck. He is growling against her skin, and I’m grinding my cock against his stomach, and Naomi is shrieking and coming between the two of us.

  She tries to shove both of us away, but we refuse to move, and the two of us work our fingers and our tongues until she’s cresting again.

  “What the ever-loving fucking fuck was that,” she pants, flopping onto the floor, and the two of us laugh against her skin. He is hard.

  I am so hard.

  And she’s ready.

  7

  Naomi

  I was more than ready to take two cocks.

  My body is boneless and begging. I’ve come so many times I’ve lost count, but the two muscled, sexy men pressed against me are making damn sure I can take one more.

  “You’re trembling,” Daniel says against my lips, smoothing his palm over my hair. Caressing the back of my neck. Carter is at my back, massaging my hips, my thighs.

  “Just excitement,” I say, kissing him passionately. “I want you both. Want you both so badly.”

  Behind me, I feel the rookie chuckle softly, licking up my spine.

  “Greedy girl,” he murmurs, and I can only nod. Because he’s right.

  Daniel has some kind of wordless communication with Carter, and then he is hooking my leg over his hip, gliding his cock inside of me.

  “Oh God,” I moan, his fingers bruising my waist, lips crushing the pulse at my throat. “Still feels so amazing.”

  And it does. I was worried I’d be sore or tender, overly stimulated. But instead it’s like an orgasm that hasn’t fully ended, a lingering shock of pleasure that pulses through my body. Daniel groans in delight, and for a few minutes, it’s just the two of us, rocking against each other. Eyes locked in passion.

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “I want you to be sure, baby.”

  Behind me, Carter hovers his lips over my ear. Waiting.

  “Fuck yes,” I pant. There’s a shift of movement behind me, lube dripping down my ass.

  “We’re going to make you feel so good,” Carter promises, holding me still for a moment. I moan in frustration, needing friction, movement, slick thrusting. Daniel plays with my nipples, fingers my clit, sucks my tongue into his mouth. A distraction.

  The rookie nudges his cock into my ass. Just an inch. I squeal, although it’s not entirely in pain.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Carter soothes, caressing my hair. His fingers dance along my breasts, holding one up for Daniel to lick. I make a strangled sound, and the rookie slides in another inch.

  “Oh Christ,” I pant, holding stock still. I want more I want more I want—

  “More, fuck, more,” I whimper as both men kiss me. Kiss each other. Another inch, and Daniel rocks into me at the same time. Light and sound explode inside my body. Both firefighters are grunting with effort, sweat gliding down their chests. Hands everywhere. Lips everywhere.

  “More,” I beg, one final time, and both men slide entirely inside me.

  I scream for a long time as the most exquisite pleasure tears through me. As if reading each other’s minds, they rock in tandem, sliding in the same slow, but steady, rhythm. Building me up for what I already know will be the most intense orgasm of my life. Daniel spreads my ass cheeks, watches the rookie’s cock take me there. Carter slaps Daniel on the ass, hard, and he speeds up his movements. I am pinned between both, two sets of hands on my nipples. Then two sets of fingers on my clit.

  “So fucking tight,” Carter swears, biting my shoulder. Staring at Daniel. “Tell me you’ve taken this ass before.”

  Daniel shakes his head, moaning, watching me with fire in his eyes. “Not yet. But I will.”

  I shiver at the delicious threat because Carter’s cock is hitting some beautiful angle that makes Daniel’s cock slide even deeper.

  “Now tell me what her pussy feels like,” Carter demands, reaching forward and grabbing Daniel’s chin. “Look at me and tell me.”

  “Fuck, so wet,” he grunts, his rhythm faltering for a moment. I am hanging by a thread, watching this. “She’s so perfect. Lets me get so fucking deep.”

  “Goddammit yes,” Carter groans. “Rub that clit, handsome. Make our pretty girl come apart.”

  I’ve never seen my boyfriend follow orders so willingly, but he does, as desperate to please Carter as I am. The rookie bottoms out inside of me as my boyfriend begins driving between my legs. And when his thumb lands on my clit I go off in a shower of sparks.

  I scream so loudly Carter covers my mouth, laughing huskily in my ear, stroking me as my pussy clenches and grips and climaxes for what feels like a full minute. My sexy firemen come not a moment later, and I’ve never heard anything hotter in my life than the sounds of two men, coming undone, muttering dirty phrases and growling against my skin.

  They are beautiful in their ecstasy.

  And I’ve never felt more beautiful. More worshipped, more loved, more cherished. Because the three of us hold each other for a long time on that floor, sweat finally drying, breath finally slowing. When I wake the next morning, I am crushed between the two of them, hands entwined.

  I slide out from between their bodies, cataloging the image of my boyfriend, naked, with another hot firefigh
ter. The sun drifts through the windows, the spring breeze like a caress. Because it’s a new day.

  It was just the two of us before. Happy, in love. But now?

  Now it was going to be three.

  Did You Touch Yourself?

  Our hero is nothing but demands this evening.

  A long dinner together—the kind with candles and expensive wine and a dish you couldn’t pronounce but nevertheless devoured. Our hero had been his usual warm, funny self, winking at you over the candlelight. Holding your hand beneath the table. Looking dapper as fuck in his suit, his eyes never lingering past the pearls around your throat.

  But you know what a night like tonight means to him—to the hungry beast that lives beneath his skin, barely caged. Barely restrained, even though on the drive back to your house, he is sweetly stroking your wrist, delighting you with some silly story from work. You’re still laughing when you step through the door, climb the stairs up to your bedroom. Still airy and almost light-headed from the wine and the dinner and the way his dark eyes never left yours. He is like that always, willing for you to be the subject of his laser focus, his trust, his all-consuming love.

  But you know what’s coming, and as he leans against the counter, fiddling with his cuff-link, you sit primly on the bed.

  Awaiting instruction.

  Because our hero has a way with instructions.

  He crosses his long legs in front of himself, leaning back fully. A careful arch of his brow.

  “Did you touch yourself this week?” he asks.

  You shake your head vigorously. It was his most important demand, and you (almost) never break it.

  “No,” you say, swallowing. “Sir.”

  He looks like he doesn’t believe you.

  “So that means you haven’t had an orgasm in…” he consults his watch, counting back the days. “A week. Correct?”

  You nod. You’ve been gone on business, and even though our hero sent you a string of filthy text messages—complete with descriptions—his only demand was that you don’t masturbate.

  You obeyed his demand, even though you ached so much you couldn’t sleep, your dreams fevered with memories of your time spent together.

  “Prove it,” he says, sliding his hands into his pockets. He could have been talking to you about the weather. Having a meeting. Certainly not sucking all the oxygen out of the room with his domineering presence.

  “How?” you ask, already spreading your legs. You weren’t wearing any underwear—another demand.

  “Fuck yourself,” he says, tilting his head. “I’ll watch. And time you,” he says, tapping on his watch. “You’re a greedy, dirty girl. Greedy girls can get themselves off quickly when they’ve waited a week or more.”

  The air between you stretches tight with tension.

  “Isn’t that right?”

  You swallow roughly. “Yes,” you say. “That’s right.” Already, you are almost dizzy with arousal, moisture seeping down your thighs. Our hero knows what this does to you, the suit and the candles and the demands. It is your entire life, the rush you crave.

  He snaps his fingers.

  “Dress off,” he says, still leaning against the fucking counter. Fully dressed. Voice light, although you can hear the knife’s edge of it.

  You stand, lifting your dress up and off. Only you can see the way his jaw works, the tension in his fingers. This is torture for him, but our hero would do anything for you.

  “Lay back on the bed,” he says, voice strained. Your eyes flick down, and you can see the outline of his cock against his suit pants. “Spread your legs.”

  You’re elevated on a pillow so you can watch our hero, and when you spread your legs, he almost snaps his cufflinks off. Your heart soars—even after all this time, he is hungry for you.

  “Ninety seconds,” our hero says, sliding his hands back into his pockets. “That’s all you get, princess.” You’re already nodding hungrily, sliding your fingers down to your clit.

  “And if you don’t come?” He says, voice silky with danger. “Then you can wait another goddamn week for that orgasm.”

  Ten seconds later, and you are already almost there. His gaze rakes up and down your prone body. You need to come, you need to come, you need to come, and you chant this to yourself as you circle your clit roughly, our hero watching your fingers with a look of primal hunger on his face. He is still leaning against the counter, fully dressed in his suit, but you recognize the self-control it takes for him to stay far away from you.

  “God yes,” you moan, eyes fluttering closed as your pleasure mounts.

  “Eyes open,” he snaps. You obey, locking on his.

  “I’m sorry,” you say, but it’s no more than a breathless pant, and you let a fantasy play out in your mind as he glances at his watch with an arched eyebrow. You don’t know how much time you have left, but you fuck yourself and remember the multiple times he’s fucked you over that counter. Taken you against the wall. Eaten your pussy in the shower until you collapsed onto the tiles.

  You remember the many brilliant, mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasms he has given you, and in seconds, you are climaxing around your fingers, screaming his name, and before you can even come down, he is stalking towards the bed.

  Suit on, cock out.

  Flips you onto your stomach like you weigh nothing, which is quite possible because as he grips your hips and slides his cock inside, you feel weightless with lust. Floating somewhere near a paradise of sensation.

  Our hero is unleashed now, and there is no hope that he will be gentle. And who would want him to? You love him like this. You want him like this, his palm ringing down on your ass. His hand, tangling in your hair and shoving your face hard into the mattress. You’re so aroused you just… keep coming. Over and over, clenching and moaning and screaming and sighing. He pulls out before he comes, yanking your ass up to his face so he can fuck you with his tongue, fucking your ass with his finger. Filling you everywhere.

  The sounds from his mouth are rough and needy, and you are the source of this. Of all of it. Before you met, our hero fucked like a gentleman. But you’ve turned him into the alpha of your dreams. And the alpha of your dreams is bringing you to another orgasm with his tongue and his finger, flipping you onto your back and throwing your legs over his shoulders so he can bend you the fuck in half.

  “Good girl,” he says, lowering his face to yours. “Dirty girl. Greedy girl.” His smile is just as dirty and just as greedy, and you grip his face in your hands as you kiss him, tasting yourself. Tasting his desire and yours, a potent mixture.

  “Yours,” you say, and he curses, dropping his face to your neck and pulling your skin between his teeth.

  “Always yours,” you chant. Our hero comes like that, explosively. Shooting you to the moon, the outer edges of our universe. A place all your own.

  The Gift

  What captivates me about my sister’s fiancé is that he’s a boxer in secret. He fights underground, in some dark, sunken room; fights with men stripped to the waist, fists raised and snarls on their lips. It is an image I’ve thought about often at night as the embers in my fireplace slowly die. I’m not sure what the feeling is. What they do to each other is pure brutality, an act almost carnal in nature, and when I think about it, I squeeze my thighs together, quelling some ache I can’t diagnose.

  Baron assumes no one knows, but I’ve seen his bloodied knuckles at dinner. Seen him wince when my sister grasps his palm as they waltz, twirling around the drawing room like clusters of birds. His eyes are shadowed with bruises, and every time our gaze meets, his burn like the embers.

  What captivates me about my sister’s fiancé is that he is always watching me. When the others have retired to play cards or badminton, the two of us sit. Not close, but close enough. The thick layers of my skirt rustle against his pant legs, and when my glove exposes the thin skin of my wrist, Baron appears… hungered.

  Our conversation is always deep and intimate—he is a fan o
f literature, and minutes turn to hours as we discuss favorite passages and rhymes. His dark hair is curled and just slightly wild, and I want to press my gloved hands to the strands.

  What captivates me about my sister’s fiancé—Baron—is that he is duly betrothed to her yet has sent me a secret missive in the night. A note, written plainly, asking me to meet him here. A darkened parlour, the kind I’ve read about with pink cheeks, with clientele who favor the scandal pages. I’ve been sitting far in the corner, the darkest alcove, next to a roaring fire. My gloves have been removed, due to the heat, and my fingers flex with freedom. When he arrives, he is panting; shirt half-unbuttoned to reveal a scandalous few inches of chest. There is dark hair there, curling like the ones on his head, and I feel that ache again.

  “Have you…” I ask, startled because his knuckles are blood-red. “Are you coming from there? Boxing?”

  Baron grins ruefully, and my heart flutters. “I knew you’d figured it out,” he says. “And yes. Yes, I have.” He sits next to me—practically on top of me, or at least that’s how it feels. His thigh presses against mine, hip to hip, shoulder-to-shoulder. I am frozen with desire, and his dark eyes never stray far from my lips.

  “Why do you do it?” I ask. “And why did you bring me here? You know it’s not… it’s not right.”

  There’s a movement beneath my skirts, a faint rustling, and at first I can’t place it. I glance down, but Baron’s voice intersects my thoughts. “Look at me, Alice.”

  And so I do, my body operating on some biological instinct. Baron is grasping my palm, bare skin to bare skin, and my body feels like a million tiny rays of light. He turns it softly, raises it to his lips. Beneath my skirts, Baron slides his strong, rough fingers around my bare knee.