And she vaguely recognized the sound of a condom package tearing. And she most certainly felt a hard cock slipping through her slick folds, pressing against the opening to her pussy.
Her eyes flew open to see who was between her legs. Mark.
He held his cock in one hand and guided it into her slit, just barely inside her, then he settled down over her, brushed a finger across her lower lip.
Brandon and Ethan sat on either side of her, lifting and spreading her legs, opening and holding her wide for Mark. With their free hands, they stroked over her hair, ran their fingers through the tangled locks.
Then Mark pressed against her, probed inside her opening.
“I want you so badly,” he whispered in her ear. “It seems like I’ve been waiting forever.”
And with those words, he drove his huge cock inside her, shocking a cry from her open mouth, a burst of surprised air from her lungs. So big. He stretched her, on the verge of hurting, but not quite.
His groan of surrender fueled her own desire, and he settled into long, slow strokes. She lifted her hips to meet him and would have wrapped her legs around him if they weren’t being held captive by Brandon and Ethan.
But she liked that they held her ankles, liked the way it made her feel spread for them, taken. Owned.
Mark nuzzled her neck and sent tingles dashing downward to join with the incredible sensations of him moving inside her.
Sometimes, she’d hear Brandon mutter a soft, “Yes,” or Ethan blow out a long breath.
And they settled in like this, for a while anyway. And it was lovely, and her nerve endings were abuzz.
Morgan breathed in the scents of her lovers, accepted Mark sliding in and out of her, the sweetness of his weight upon her, his girth inside her. She stroked his muscled back, his solid shoulders and squeezed his lean hips.
And she was more than ready when he pumped into her faster and faster, driving to the hilt, relentless in pursuit of her depths. She bucked up against him, met his thrusts. And soon she was panting again, thrashing, and seeking another release.
It wasn’t to be, though. Mark came before she did. He threw back his head and cried out his release, the deep sound of his cries urging her onward, pushing her closer to a second brink.
No, though. Too soon, he leaned down and kissed her softly, then he pulled out of her, and the moment was gone.
Ethan lay stretched beside her, his cock already sheathed in a condom. He wrapped his big arms around her and turned her onto him, where he lay on his back and she straddled him. His hands cupped her ass, and lifted her, guiding her over his cock, then impaled her on his rod in a smooth, quick motion.
His cock was longer than Mark’s and she felt him deep inside her. He pulled her face down to his and kissed her as his hips began moving upward, his hands wrapped firmly around her waist, sliding her over himself while he fucked her. In this position, she would have expected to the do the work, but Ethan had other ideas.
As did Brandon, she soon discovered, when he began squeezing her ass. He helped move her over Ethan’s cock, pushing her forward then waiting for Ethan to press her back downward into position for Brandon to push forward again.
Ethan groaned under her and Brandon breathed hard behind her. Mark stretched out on his side nearby, watching her as avidly as ever, his cock at half-mast after his orgasm.
The position in which Brandon and Ethan held her was maddening by way of angle of entry and stimulation on her clit. And her breasts rubbed against Ethan’s hard chest, the friction super-sensitizing her nipples.
“Yes, yes,” she whispered under her breath, as she slid forward and backward over Ethan, as the fire built higher inside.
“Come with me,” Ethan said, fucking her faster, his breath blowing hot and hard against her cheek.
She shivered. “Yes, please.”
Brandon pushed faster. Ethan pulled harder. Morgan’s fingers wrapped in Ethan’s hair, and if she was pulling it too hard, he didn’t complain.
“Now,” Ethan said, his chest rising up against her as he entered his own orgasm, his head arcing back against the mattress, his exposed throat stretching before her.
She buried her face in his neck, in his sandalwood scent, and her powerful lovers sent her hurtling over the edge. She cried out against him, reveled in the sensation rushing through her, out of her.
Ethan bucked a few times, finishing inside her. Then Brandon lifted her off of Ethan as if she were weightless, flipping her over and scooping her up. Her limbs were leaden and useless when he turned her onto her stomach and tried to get her onto her hands and knees. No, she was still held enthralled in the aftershocks of her orgasm, in the zips and zings flitting through her body.
He grabbed a few pillows and stacked them under her stomach, raising her rear into the air. After quickly rolling on a rubber, and without further preamble, he speared her in one ungodly heave. A low growl sounded from deep in his chest when he rammed up against the limit of her. She grunted at his entry, felt herself shoved forward an inch or two on the mattress from the impact.
He pulled all the way out. Then again he pounded into her, and again. His huge hands covered her ass, squeezed her buttocks, kneaded the flesh as he pistoned against her.
She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she felt another orgasm rising within her. Brandon’s fierceness turned her on, left her wanting nothing more than to utterly give herself over to him, to allow whatever he might do to her next.
His fingers dug into her flesh and it hurt her some, but not too much. Just enough, actually, to send shocks of pleasure joining with the release already gaining power inside her.
“God,” Brandon said. “You have a beautiful ass.”
Ethan, who was stretched nearby, still breathing hard from his own release, chuckled lightly. “You and asses,” he said.
“God. Look at it,” Brandon said.
“Oh, I am. I have.”
Morgan thought her ears might be burning. Who knew a conversation about her ass could be so ... so ... erotic. The thought amused her in an odd way and a surge of happiness rose up within her.
Here she was, naked, her butt in the air in front of three men, being fucked by a man with hips that rammed her like a jackhammer. And they were talking about her, about her ass. And it thrilled her, made her happy.
She wanted to laugh with joy, but didn’t. They might not understand. She was going to come again anyway. And she’d barely beat Brandon to it, she knew.
So she bit back her laugh of delight and waited through the remaining exquisite moments before another torrent of wonder washed through her, over her.
Brandon slammed home hard enough to rattle her teeth. He arched his back, cried out. He ground his hips against her as his cock twitched inside her.
And Morgan came ... for the third time. The charm.
____________________
When Morgan awoke in the morning, it took a few moments for her to realize where she was. She soon realized that she was snuggled in a massive bed with three of the lustiest men she’d ever known, and with that realization, she wanted to stretch herself like a satisfied, lazy cat. Oh yes, life was good.
She couldn’t stretch, though. There was no chance, not when one of those lusty men was spooned up behind her and had his hand between her legs, slipping fingers inside her ever-wet pussy. And not when the man facing her was squeezing her breast and tormenting her nipples with pinches and pulls.
Ethan and Mark. Already rock hard and ready for her. Again.
Some way to wake up. She could get used to this.
Ethan whispered in her ear, “Are you too sore?”
She said she wasn’t. Not too sore. But she was sore, even if it wasn’t enough to stop her from wanting more. No, she’d earned this soreness and she cherished it. The evidence of the longest, sexiest night of her life.
Ethan made a mmm sound, then she felt his cock prodding at her from behind, felt him angling himself inside her. He lifted he
r top leg to open her up for him.
“We need to be quiet,” he said softly. “Brandon’s still asleep.”
Morgan nodded, sighed in a combination of ache and pleasure upon Ethan’s slick entry. He fucked her slowly, carefully, gently. Mark looked at her lovingly, fondled her breasts and stole a passionate kiss.
They were insatiable, she thought. How many times had they taken her during the night? She couldn’t recall, exactly. How many times had they come? How many times had she? No clue.
She would think they were finished and would drift off, but soon enough, one of them woke her, aroused her until she was begging for them to fuck her again, and they obliged. They always obliged.
And when Brandon and Ethan shared her at the same time, one in her mouth, one in her pussy, both of them pumping her at once, she’d thought she’d hit the zenith of the night. But that was before Mark moved up, took her hand and wrapped it around his hard cock.
Three at once. God, it was insane. Insanely hot.
Now it was morning and they wanted more. After Ethan finished, she rolled over so Mark could take her the same way. And when Brandon woke up and wanted his turn, she waited until Mark had his fill and then she rolled over again, offering the same access to Brandon that she’d granted the others.
Her body had entered a state of permanent arousal it seemed, and every touch, every entry and exit of her pussy sent shivers dancing through her. She trembled from it, shuddered, sighed and moaned, gave herself over to the sublime novelty of unending bliss.
She came when Brandon did, and then they all dozed once more, and she was snug between them, safe and warm. Replete, for now.
When she woke a second time it was to the smell of cooking bacon. She realized with a start that she was alone in the bed, no big bodies squeezing her from both sides, no big hands fondling her curves, prodding her crannies.
Having space finally, she gave in to her urge and had a lazy, cat-like stretch, loosening her stiffened, overworked muscles, pairing function with pleasure.
She closed her eyes, smiled and relaxed again. Mmm, that bacon smelled so good.
“Are you hungry?” asked Mark, his voice familiar to her now in a way it hadn’t been before their long night together.
She rolled onto her side and looked at him, standing at the foot of the bed so tall and handsome, and gloriously naked. “Starving.”
“Good. We’ll be back in a few.”
And then he was gone. She watched his tight ass as he walked away. Mmm. A twinge shot through her sore pussy.
What the hell was wrong with her? She was oversexed, that’s what. And that was fine with her.
They ate breakfast in bed, bacon and eggs and muffins, fresh fruit and orange juice. It was a feast, made all the better when her lovers decided she’d dropped too many crumbs on her person and needed a thorough going over to get her cleaned up.
It was Saturday, and none of them had anywhere to go, anything to do, so they lazed the morning away in bed.
Brandon smiled at her, cuddling with her back against Mark. “What’s your verdict?” he asked.
“I don’t follow,” she said.
“All three of us. Are we too much to take on at once?”
“Obviously not. I think I managed okay, don’t you?”
“Better than okay.”
Mark murmured an assent and snuggled her in tighter against him. Ethan made a sound that implied he, too, believed her to have been better than okay.
“How much better?” she asked Brandon.
“A lot.”
“That’s boring.”
“Infinitely better.”
“Hmm, not bad.”
“You’re fucking perfect,” said Ethan.
She laughed. “I doubt that. But I don’t mind hearing it.”
Mark murmured again, something that sounded like, “Perfect.”
Brandon raised an eyebrow. “No. Not perfect. Only practice makes perfect. And we’ve just gotten started.”
“Have we?” she asked, knowing that there was more behind his statement than what was on the surface.
“I hope so,” said Brandon. “It’s what we wanted all along.”
Warmth flooded over her at his obvious sincerity, and at the little squeeze Mark gave her and the quick touch of Ethan’s fingers over her cheek.
She reached out and laid her palm on Brandon’s smooth chest. “Then I guess that’s what it is. A beginning.”
Brandon smiled, his eyes flashing. “A damned fine one, too, I’d say. No reason for you to go home yet, don’t you think? Spend the day? Another night?”
Easy questions for her. “Like you said, practice makes perfect.”
“Mmm,” Mark nuzzled her neck, raising goosebumps on her arms.
“Sexy and smart, too,” said Ethan.
She stifled an urge to giggle. Damn, she must be happy if she felt like giggling. But hey, she had every reason to be happy. Three, sexy passionate reasons, in fact. And that was more than she’d ever imagined, ever dreamed was possible.
Cecile would be disappointed when she learned what happened, how there’d be no leftovers for her.
Morgan had selfishly taken all three, just as she pleased. And as they pleased, they’d claimed her in return. Over and over again.
Delicious.
Perfect.
And only the beginning.
Read on for a sample of
Jasmine Plays Her Hand,
Also by Anwen Stiles
From
Jasmine Plays Her Hand
Chapter 1
“I liked how the swim coach took the heroine from behind in the swimming pool.” Jasmine fanned herself rapidly.
The other ladies tittered, eight in all, each one fondly remembering that particular scene from the book.
“Ooh,” said Cynthia, “the way he yanked off her bikini and bent her over the side of the pool. It was so ... so ... manly.”
Exactly. All the ladies agreed.
“And then when the other swimmers came out of the locker room and saw her there naked. Oh my God,” said Layla, her face tinged with a red glow, “I would have died of embarrassment.”
“Not me,” said Jasmine. “I’d do just what she did — tell them to line up and wait their turn. I wouldn’t want too many of them falling on me at once. I’m not some gangbang Wonder Woman.”
Half of the women laughed and the other half responded with varying levels of scandalized expressions. No one ever admitted that their guilty little fantasies might be something they’d like to try in real life. They generally prefaced comments about erotic scenes with phrases like, “Not that I’d do what she did,” or “It’s not something I’d want my husband/boyfriend to do, but ...”
This was a meeting of The Ladies Naughty Book Club, not a gathering of free-loving swingers. All of the women present lived perfectly respectable lives, some of them married, some dating, some neither. What they had in common was that they were not, in real life, terribly sexually adventurous. A stolen kiss from another girl in college, or letting their first boyfriend feel them up at a movie theater was the extent of their experimentation.
These nine women (and several others who weren’t present that night) had come together and formed the LNBC after reading a wildly popular erotic novel and discovering their shared interests through a book lover’s web site. They met at least twice a month, sometimes more often, to discuss new group reads, all of them spicy, sexy romances with commanding alpha-male heroes and spirited heroines.
It was great fun. For a while. As time passed, however, they found that their tastes for sexier delights expanded the more they read. What had once seemed too hard core and scary, became titillating, enticing them to broaden their choices of erotica.
They developed an increasing tolerance for kink, smut even. And now here they were, more than two years after the formation of the book club and their latest group read was titled “Nancy Trains the Swim Team,” an explicit, gangbang novelette. It wa
sn’t naughty; it was pure smut. And they loved every minute of it, even Layla, the youngest and most reserved woman in the group.
Now Jasmine had opened the members of the LNBC to the idea that she, if no others, had contemplated doing something sexually outrageous in real life. Not fantasy. Real life.
“You don’t mean that, Jasmine,” Layla said. “You could never actually do anything so, so you know.”
“I don’t know.” Jasmine tapped her blood-red nails on the arm of her chair. “I’ve been thinking more and more that I just might want it. I mean, why not? I’m single, successful, still young and attractive enough to have my pick, more or less. Why not live it up while I can? I just turned thirty. Life’s short, ladies.”
Several women nodded, Cynthia among them.
“If I were single,” Cynthia said, “and didn’t have kids, I’d feel the same way. Come on, you guys. Admit it. Part of the fantasy of reading these books is imagining being the heroine. What if you could do more than imagine? What if you had the balls to actually do it?”
Jasmine leaned forward in her chair. “My point exactly. We could do more than imagine. All of us, even if you’re married.”
Margie, a happily-married woman in her mid-forties, held up her hand. “Not me. That would be adultery. I don’t cheat.”
“Me either. Or, only in my mind with my pretend lovers in these books,” Cynthia said, with a wistful note behind her words.
“It wouldn’t be cheating if your husbands agreed to it,” Jasmine said.
This brought on an uproar, and no insignificant hilarity. The ladies agreed that the idea of asking their husbands to let them be in a gangbang was laughable in the extreme; it wasn’t even a remote possibility.
After the chuckles faded away, Cynthia looked to Jasmine and said, “But just because some of us are out of the mix, doesn’t mean you are. If you did it, you could tell us about it, and we could live vicariously through you.”
Take Three, Please (A Menage, Sexy and Short Romance) Page 3
