Show & Sell: A Dark MFMM Romance

by Abby Angel

  “What are you not used to?”

  I don’t know what Darcy means by this question, but it kind of gives me butterflies.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  I really want to know where Darcy is going with this. Now I‘m sitting up straight in my seat, wide awake. I turn my whole body sideways towards Mr. Big, including my thighs and my knees to send the right message.

  “I’m not asking about my mind. I know my mind. I know every damn corner of it, every nook and cranny. I’m not interested in it, not right now. I wanna know what’s in your mind?”

  The driver very gently brings the limo to a stop at a red light. There are several cars in front of us, and cars on either side. It’s a busy intersection. Darcy’s looking at me, fucking finally. I better come up with something good.

  “Is this a pop quiz? I haven’t studied.”

  Is that good? Fuck.

  “You’ve been studying your whole life. I’m asking about you, Lizzie. What do you wish you had? That’s what I’m interested in, and I don’t use that word lightly.”

  All I want is for Darcy to keep talking, but the light is green and he’s looking out the window again. What do I wish I had? Right now, Darcy, I suppose. That’s this moment. But what else?

  I’m relieved when Darcy starts talking again.

  “Do you know what’s one of the best things humans do?”

  “Hmm. I can’t really think of much that we specialize in. Talking, maybe? Playing the flugelhorn? Oral sex?”

  “You’re getting warmer. I’ll just say it: fantasizing. Our minds can create anything, and we can live there, in our fantasies, for a bit. It’s part of being human. That’s also part of how we both make our living. You embody the fantasies of every poor slob who watches one of your shows.”

  “I’ve gotta say, Darcy, that I appreciate the ride. Your driver’s doing a fantastic job with it. But what are you driving at right now?”

  The limo drifts lightly over to the passing lane, and it feels like we’re floating on air. The exit, a left lane exit, is coming up soon.

  Of course, Darcy’s chauffer knows how to get to the mansion by now. That thought gives me a bit of a stir, for some reason. But I do want to know what the hell Darcy’s trying to say.

  As we take the off-ramp just a bit too fast, Darcy gets to the point:

  “I know you have a fantasy, Lizzie. A scenario that rises above all the others in your head. I’m not just talking about any fantasy, I’m talking about the fantasy. It could be something you think is impossible, something you’re a bit afraid of, something that’s all the above and then some, but it outdoes all your other fantasies. It keeps coming back.

  “That’s what I want to hear from you. Not those garden variety bullshit little daydreams. I’m interested in only your fantasy. Before this drive is over, and it almost is, I want to have that knowledge.”

  Oh, that. I have a fantasy like that, naturally. No, no one else knows about it. Some shit you just keep to yourself. That fantasy I’m planning to take to the grave. But, damn, the drive is almost over.

  I turn away from Mr. Big to face the front of the limo again. I realize that I’m getting ready to spill the beans on this for the first time ever—just thinking about it, I can’t even face Darcy.

  I feel my cheeks flushing. I’m not much of a blusher, as you can imagine. I mean, come on. But this…this is new territory for me.

  The limo is hurtling down the isolated street, and by now the sky is almost completely dark. In a few seconds, the foot of the mansion’s driveway will be in view and the ride will be over. My pulse is shooting way up, and I feel like hyperventilating. Fuck, here it goes.

  “Jane and Lydia, they’re always trying to get me to…”

  I can’t even finish. Darcy’s looking right at me. He wasn’t lying, he is interested.

  “Take your time, Lizzie. You already started. Explain this to me.”

  I swallow and try to find the words.

  “Supposedly, girl-on-girl is good money…but I don’t care about that. I just…I want to have a ménage à trios. A threesome. I never have.”

  I’m leaving out the most important part of it. Darcy just nods casually.

  “Okay. Is that all?”

  “I…want it to be for real, not just part of a show. I want to have another girl there.”

  I say the last part fast, like I’m getting it out of the way. Darcy is even more casual with his response this time: a shrug.

  “You should, then. Fantasy is great, but reality’s even better. Besides, that seems like an attainable goal for you. You should bring your fantasy to life.”

  He’s not going to just leave me with that advice, is he? Now that I said it, I’m feeling pretty aggressive about making it happen. Like saying it aloud makes it officially something I have to accomplish or some shit. I don’t want to waste any more time.

  “Nice pep talk, but there’s more you could do for me. Are you going to help me attain another goal, or what?”

  Darcy’s smiling now, trying not to laugh.

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  “I want it to happen, tonight. I need your help, though. So, this is another fantasy, not some garden variety bullshit daydream. I want to see you do what you would do alone, while watching one of my shows. I want to see Mr. Big get off right in this fucking car. Right now.”

  Darcy looks away for a moment, something seems off to him. But he’s wrong about that: everything is very, very on right now.

  “Are you sure you want it this way? Now?” Darcy’s eyes are back on me, and I can feel his signature electricity, but also his warmth.

  “That show I did for you, Mr. Big, was not ordinary for me. That orgasm was shattering, and you witnessed all of it. Now I have a new fantasy: I want to see you reach that point as well. We’re almost at the mansion. Do you want to help make my fantasy a reality, or not?”

  Darcy picks up an old telephone receiver, part of his limo intercom system.

  “Yes, could you circle the block a few times?”

  Lizzie

  Before Darcy, I never would have thought remembering exactly how big a cock is would actually be possible. And if I’m being totally honest, I've seen some pretty forgettable cocks in my day.

  But Darcy's dick? It's actually too big for the human mind to fathom. It's one of those things you just have to see to believe. And once you get to see—and have—it, it’s just not possible to forget.

  As he yanks it out of his pants for me, I move across the limo to the seat opposite him just to take it all in.

  "Scared, Lizzie?" he asks, fisting his man meat for me. He's already hard. "I've never known you to be driven away by a stiff, eager cock before..."

  "Just enjoying the view," I say with a saucy little wink.

  It's not even a lie. Darcy is gorgeous, even with his suit still on. Out of it, he'd be a primal kind of erotic. Uncontrollably hot. Darcy has the kind of body that does cavewoman things to me. Unnga unnga! Me want dick!

  But having him like this, fully dressed in the back of a limousine with his rock-hard dick in his hand, it's like the best of both worlds. Powerful businessman Mr. Darcy and sex-crazed maniac Mr. Big, all in one.

  "Stroke it," I tell him.

  Raising an eyebrow, he complies. It takes a long time for his fist to travel all the way up his gorgeous shaft, and even longer for him to work in back down again.

  He's playing with me. Teasing. And here I was, thinking that I was the one in control here. Instead, Darcy is rendering me speechless.

  "If you don't close your mouth, Lizzie, I'm going to have to come over there and put my cock in it."

  I startle, and then realize what he’s saying. Oh, fuck. He's right. Here's Darcy, jacking off to me in the back of his limo, and here I am, staring at him open-mouthed like some kind of gawking virgin who's never seen a penis before.

  In my defense, Darcy's dick kind of renders every other cock in the world irrelevant.

&
nbsp; He wraps a second fist around it, just to hold it steady while he focuses his efforts on the tip. Oh, fucking hell. I'm wet. Dripping wet. There's just something about that—the fact that he actually needs two hands to control that bad boy—that just does it for me.

  It does it for me bad.

  "Why don't you join me, Lizzie?" he offers graciously.

  "Leave it to a billionaire to try and screw his way into a free show."

  "I could try to screw my way into something else, if you'd prefer," he smirks. "I was just thinking that you look awfully idle over there. Why not give me something to look at?"

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I say, squeezing my knees together, trying to get a hold of myself.

  Darcy's smile widens, and he tips his head back, all cocky and arrogant.

  It's a good look on him. Too good.

  Now I’m biting my lip.

  "I think we both would," he says. "Spread your legs for me. It would be ungentlemanly of me to be the only one getting off. Don't you agree?"

  Right on cue, my knees open up on their own for him.

  Shit. Apparently, I do.

  "Well, when you put it like that..."

  "Good," he growls. "I want you to touch yourself too, Lizzie. Lean back, finger that dripping wet cunt of yours...and listen to my voice."

  Darcy's gaze on me is so heavy, I can actually feel it as I scoot down in the seat and spread my legs open a little wider.

  I should be used to this by now. Men watch me do this all the fucking time during work hours. But to do it for someone after hours feels…different.

  Coming for a bunch of faceless guys, anonymously pouring money into my bank account across a computer screen is fun. It makes me feel good about myself, I get off, but at the end of it all, it's just a show. A gig. Something I do for the return. Something that keeps my monthly budget thoroughly in the green.

  I do it for the pay. Everything else is a fringe benefit.

  Doing it for Darcy, though. That's something else entirely.

  I stroke my pussy lips with two fingers, already feeling the steaming hot slickness that the sight of his cock has caused there. When I decided not to wear panties for this little adventure, I was feeling confident. Now, for the first time, I'm feeling totally exposed.

  "Look at me," he commands.

  I raise my eyes to meet his. He's staring at me with brutal intensity and my clit throbs. Darcy is totally eye-fucking me right now and I can't bring myself to look away.

  I think about pretending that he's just another fan and realize I can't. It's the same feeling I had when he was chatting me during that first show he watched.

  This man couldn't be just some other guy even if he was actively trying to be. Everything about him is electric. Visceral. Too hot to handle. More than any other guys I’ve met.

  "You get off for a lot of men," Darcy is saying. My gaze lowers to his fists as he pumps his cock with them. "Something of a talent of yours, isn't it?"

  "Do you like that?" I ask.

  I shouldn't give a shit about what he likes or doesn't like...but I do.

  "I like that you're confident in your sexuality. You know what turns you on. You know what you want."

  His tongue slicks across his lower lip, and BAM! I'm imagining it lapping at my clit instead.

  "Slip your fingers in your slit and start rubbing your honey around, Lizzie. You've probably made a million different men come, while they watch you do exactly that. Someone ought to return the favor."

  I lick my bottom lip too, mirroring him.

  Well, he's not wrong.

  A tiny moan escapes my lips as I dip my fingers into my pussy. My pussy lips were already wet. Between them, it’s even wetter. I'm slick and sticky and so fucking hot for Darcy right now, I could scream in ecstacy.

  Instead, I start rubbing myself like he tells me to and restrain myself to a needy whimper.

  "You spend too much time with your toys. You need a real man. Your body knows it, too. That's why you get so wet for me. I can smell you from all the way over here. You're begging to be fucked. And not by some fucking dildo. Not by your vibrator. You need cock, Lizzie. Real cock. Can you feel it?"

  My whimper turns to a big, whining moan as I start stroking my clit. I'm trying to trap it between my fingers, but I'm so wet, that it keeps escaping me. Every time I nearly catch it, it's another burst of total ecstasy. And it's all the better because I know that he’s watching. Stroking his cock. Getting off on it, too.

  I can feel it.

  He's so fucking right.

  "Imagine my cock inside you, stretching that tight little pussy of yours out, while you struggle to accommodate me. Isn't that better than some piece of silicone?"

  I imagine it so hard, I can feel it. Darcy's cockhead pushing between my pussy lips. His big, thick shaft sliding in deep. It’s almost too much.

  "Now imagine my arms around you, holding you close while my big, heavy cock rubs against your G-spot, driving you closer and closer to orgasm. An orgasm you can't control."

  My pussy clenches in anticipation. What he's describing is exactly what I want. Having all of him inside me, and knowing that he's real. That this is all real.

  If I could just have him at my beck and call, ready to fuck the way I want, whenever I want it, I would throw out every dildo I own.

  "Now…" he says, and there's a darkness to his voice.”Imagine while I fuck you, a gorgeous woman kisses your neck, going down your back. She wraps her arms around you too, squeezing your nipples from behind, while I ruin that perfect cunt of yours."

  Oh, God. I shouldn't have told him about that. I almost wish I hadn't. Because now he's using it against me, and I'm getting so close to coming to the thought of it that I'm blushing.

  "Maybe it's Lydia," Darcy suggests.

  Fuck. I can feel Lydia's perfect body, naked and warm against mine. Her mouth on my shoulders, sucking and licking, while Darcy holds me and uses me like a whore.

  "Or maybe it's Jane," he says with a cruel smile.

  I can feel the physical sensation of Jane's huge, perfect tits pressing onto my back. Her long, gorgeous nails squeezing my nipples. Her straight white teeth sinking into my neck as I—

  "Darcy! Jane! YES! AAAAH!" I moan as it hits me.

  Orgasm. Pink-hot, throbbing, sticky, soaking wet orgasm. My knees go wild as I lose control of my body. My back arches like I'm possessed, and I’m gasping for air like I’m hyperventilating.

  And all the while, Darcy is there. Watching. Jerking himself off.

  "Jane, huh?" he chuckles as my chest heaves and my body relaxes. "I thought that might do it for you. She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

  Even in the afterglow of orgasm, I feel a brief pang of jealousy that I didn't expect. Jane is gorgeous, he's right. But does that mean…

  "But not quite my type," he says casually, soothing my inner angry green just like that. "You need a woman who properly compliments your beauty."

  Wait...what does that mean? I prop myself up on my elbows to stare at him in confusion. The look Darcy shoots back at me is just as intense as ever.

  "Did I tell you that you could stop touching yourself, Lizzie?"

  Oh, wow. I've never felt my fingers fly to my clit so fast in my entire life.

  He smirks.

  "You like being ordered around, don't you?"

  "Only in bed," I shoot back.

  If Darcy thinks he can bend me to his will like this, without manipulation through orgasm, he's got another thing coming.

  "Or in the backs of limos," he adds.

  I bite my lip. He has a point. The fact that I can feel the ground rolling past beneath us, and the knowledge that Darcy's driver is right on the other side of the partition is pretty fucking hot.

  "Or in the backs of limos," I relent. "But that's it."

  Darcy laughs. He's got the dreamiest laugh. It sounds good on his lips.

  "No coat check rooms, then?"

  "Not a chance," I say.

  "
How do you feel about kitchen counters?"

  "I have a strict no kitchen counter policy, actually."

  "Hmm," he muses. "I might have to see about changing that."

  "You can try," I tease, laughing back at him.

  "I wonder if you would respond to a woman ordering you around, the way you respond to me."

  Suddenly, the laugh dies in my throat. In its place, a little moan comes out.

  Darcy's lips curl into his signature wolfish grin.

  "I thought so," he says. "For someone with such a dominant personality, Lizzie, you have such a submissive streak."

  God. I must. Because right now, I'm working my clit beneath my fingers like I'm a mafia henchman and it's the guy who just ratted me out to the police.

  "Imagine a woman," Darcy tells me. "Not Jane or Lydia...someone else. A woman you think you would look beautiful with."

  I turn my gaze to his cock again, wracking my brain for what he’s after. What? A woman I would look beautiful with? Like, Darcy, babe. I’m hot. I would look beautiful with anyone. But then I see his cock…still hard. Still clenched in his fist.

  He's getting off on this.

  I wasn't prepared for how much I would fucking like that, but I do. I love it.

  I decide to play along.

  "Are you imagining her, Lizzie?"

  I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

  First, I imagine his hands. He has such big, sexy hands. They're manly. Made for touching. Stroking. Petting. And…mmm, spanking, too.

  The last time we were together, Darcy moved my body around with those hands like I was some kind of human sex doll made for his pleasure. I'm imagining them now, stroking up and down my thighs. Teasing beneath my dress. Making me even wetter than I am now, which doesn't even seem possible.

  Except that with Darcy, nothing's impossible.

  And then, it happens. There's another set of hands in my fantasy. Gorgeous, tan hands. Long, effeminate fingers. Short, practical nails. Classy french tips. Darcy places his hands on top of them and guides them where to touch me and how.

  "Describe her to me," Darcy says.

  I swallow hard and focus on the image.

  She looks up at me with dark, enchanting eyes. Hazel. Rimmed with long, thick lashes. Suddenly, I can picture her perfectly.