by Alexis Angel
Tale as old as fucking time.
Everyone feels more confident and protected behind their screens. The paparazzi are one thing—Chase can just beat the shit out of them until they’re too scared to talk trash anymore.
But the anonymity of the web makes them think that they’re safe from Chase’s fucking angry fists. He wouldn’t be able to reach right through the screen and blacken their eyes.
Fucking cowards.
As I suspect, there are people who are supportive of me. But then, there are also the cynical assholes who can’t keep their mouths shut and like to spread the hate, trolling my accounts like the losers they are.
Kara is a dumb bitch who slept her way to success.
I wince and quickly scroll past that snide remark.
I love Kara! She’s such an inspiration for all of us curvy girls who want to get healthy…and take hot dick while they do it!
That one makes me smile. It balances out the rudeness of the negative comments. I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling exhausted by the attacks. I try to focus on the overwhelming joy and support from my followers.
At least they think I’m doing great work by being a role model to women who are in the same situation I once was.
I read some comments about the paparazzi run-in last night and some news articles probably written by some bitter shitheads.
One of the news articles grabs my attention, and I draw the phone closer to scrutinize the details.
Obsessed and fanatical women follow superstar Kara while the pressure intensifies overseas
I read the caption again. I can’t believe this is really happening. I’ve never had insane fans before. I remember seeing them in the crowd yesterday, though. Could it be possible that some of them are out to get me?
Or worse…harm me or the guys?
Taking a deep breath, I shut off my social media apps. I’m dog tired, and it’s too damn early in the morning to analyze all this feedback.
Just when I’m getting ready to drift off to sleep again, my phone buzzes, alerting me to a new text message.
I freeze and hold my breath. I glance at the guys, but they don’t even stir.
Thank fuck, my phone is on vibrate, or they would have woken up from the noise.
I look at my phone and notice that the text is coming from my ex-boyfriend, Ryan.
Fuck, I don’t want to deal with him right now. Honestly, his bullshit is the last thing I need.
But ultimately, curiosity gets the better of me, and I roll my eyes at my own lack of self-control. I swipe the screen up to read his message. I won’t be able to sleep until I know for certain what he’s up to and why he’s reaching out to me all of the sudden.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, needing a second or two to get myself to read the text.
I have no idea if it might set me off or something. It’s too early in the morning to get angry at the dipshit, but I won’t be able to rest until I know what he wants.
We need to talk.
Ha. That’s fucking fresh.
Two whole years of nothing but radio silence, and now of all times, we need to talk?
It’s fucking hilarious is what that is.
Okay, so that’s his entire message. It’s vague and ambiguous.
We need to talk could mean a million different things, for a million different reasons that I can’t decipher or think of at this early hour.
I glance at the guys. Should I answer him? I think for a few seconds, but I can’t make up my mind.
I decide to ignore him, mainly because there’s really nothing in it for me. I’ll only get worked up over nothing, and he’ll only make me feel like shit—or maybe he wants to get back together with me because I’m hot now.
I can already imagine how fantastic it would be to have the smug satisfaction of watching him beg for me, pleading that I make him mine once again.
It’s never going to happen. As much as that fantasy appeals to me, I know it’s a disastrous idea to open the vents for contact.
I take another deep breath and hit the delete button, watching it disappear from my messaging history and my glam new life.
I’m making the right decision. I need good things in my life right now—not fame-chasing failed journalist ex-boyfriends.
I lean back in the bed, but by now Eric and Chase are already stirring and grinning up at me with groggy yet sexy expressions.
These two—they’re the good things I need in my life.
Chase grunts and leans closer. “Good morning, beautiful.”
His voice is a seductive song.
“Good morning, sexy,” I say and move in for a kiss on the lips.
“My turn,” Eric chimes in from behind me and gently pulls my chin to him, using his lips to tenderly send me into madness, with chills of pleasure.
“It’s the best feeling in the world, waking up next to you guys,” I say with delight.
Chase steps out of bed, and I watch with admiration as he walks around the room naked, his chiseled and perfectly carved body on display.
“Should we order breakfast?” Eric says as rises out of bed.
“That sounds good to me,” I say with a smile. “I’m pretty hungry this morning.”
“Me, too. Come here—you look good enough to eat.’” Chase jogs back to the bed and straddles me, pinning me down and making me squeal.
“Breakfast first,” I insist, shoving him off lightheartedly.
“I know what snack I’ll want after breakfast,” Chase says as he rubs my inner thigh, making my heart race.
I giggle and bite my bottom lip. He’s such a fucking tease.
“I like after-breakfast snacks, too,” I sit up and run a hand through his sandy blonde hair, then hop out of bed.
“Hey, where are you going?” he whines.
“Nowhere,” I call over my shoulder and head to the bathroom.
I glance in the mirror and pucker out my lips. I can’t believe I’m staring at this massively toned body in the mirror, and it belongs to me.
“Hey, babe, what do you want us to order for you off the room service menu?” Eric calls out from the partially cracked bathroom door.
“Just some fresh fruit and yogurt is good,” I respond before turning on the sink faucet.
I want to keep this body looking good, so no eggs, sausage, and bacon for me. The way the guys touch me fills my hunger anyway. I only want them.
I glance at the bathroom mirror behind me. A beautiful white ceramic claw foot tub calls to me.
After splashing water on my face and patting it dry with a hand towel, I turn around and walk to the tub. Room service can wait.
“Hey, guys?” I yell from inside the bathroom.
In an instant, their adorable heads come popping through the doorway.
“Yes?” Eric asks with eager curiosity.
I point to the tub and grin with mischief.
“What are you saying?” Chase asks, but he mirrors my grin. He already understands what I’m implying.
“It’s big enough for three people,” I say.
“Are you suggesting we all get in together?” Eric’s eyes widen with desire.
“Mmm-hmm,” I say, nodding seductively as they slowly walk toward me, wild hunger in their eyes.
Kara
Goddamn. Chase is like really fucking good at holding his breath.
“Is he—oh my god, fuck, yes—is he okay down there?”
I feel Eric shrug from behind me as he teases my nipples between his fingers.
“If you’re worried about him, come faster,” Eric suggests as my breathing becomes even more labored.
“I’m not going to have a choice here in a second,” I gasp.
I’m spread wide open, my sopping wet cunt ripe for the taking. I’m reclining against Eric’s hard, chiseled body in the claw foot tub as my hands slip around, fumbling to hold onto the sides. I’m gripping on for dear life under the intensity of the amazing sensations Chase is creating between my le
gs right now.
Finally, Chase comes up for air, his eyes gleaming as water drips from his gorgeous face.
I fucking swoon over both of their naked bodies. They’re totally gorgeous, carved with muscles that would rival a Greek god’s.
“Sorry,” Chase gasps. “Had to breathe.”
“You were down there for like, ten minutes, babe,” I say, a little concerned.
“Yeah,” Chase says, running his fingers through his hair. “Well…get ready for ten more.”
We’ve been in the tub for ages it seems, and we’ve talked about everything under the sun.
I know so much more about my men now—although, I can never really learn enough.
Chase was a scrawny kid growing up, or so he says. I can’t fucking imagine it. He spent a lot of time outside on the streets, trying to fend for himself.
The only way he could protect himself and his younger sister was by becoming stronger than anyone who might try to hurt them. So he worked hard, played street sports, and ate a fuckload of ramen until he beefed up.
It was only then that he could stand up to his wife-beating stepfather and send him packing for good. Chase only says that he took care of the guy. I’m not sure that I want any more details than that…for, like, legal reasons.
Eric, on the other hand, was on the opposite end of the spectrum. Growing up, he went to a preppy private school and had loads of friends. He was pretty popular—which, with his looks, I can imagine.
There was apparently an overweight female classmate who kept getting picked on by his hoard of buddies. Eric refused to join in, which pissed off his preppy friends.
One night, while he was in bed, he imagined the girl was probably in her own bed somewhere nearby, crying herself to sleep.
The next day at school, when his pals were in the lunchroom making fun of her for simply sitting there and eating a salad, Eric snapped, threw a punch, and got the snot beaten out of them.
His friends were furious that Eric would defy them like that, so they kicked him, punched him, and sent him crashing to the ground. He couldn’t open his left eye for a week because it had been so swollen from where they’d repeatedly punched him.
That was at the end of the school year.
But nothing gets between Eric and something that he wants. He spent that entire summer working out and bench pressing, lifting weights―until after summer vacation, everyone’s jaws dropped when they saw how burly and muscular Eric had become.
Unsurprisingly, the bullying stopped after that—though he didn’t exactly say how.
Somehow, knowing where they come from only makes our relationship make even more sense. They’re the kind of guys who like having something to protect—and my clumsy, self-destructive ass is pretty good at needing protection.
It’s not just that, though. Eric and Chase didn’t just look out for me when I was weak—they helped me grow and better myself until I became strong.
Back to the gorgeous things Chase is doing to my pussy with his tongue, though—there’s another strength building inside me right now, and it’s just begging to be unleashed.
“Oh, my god,” I gasp, and then I cry out.
I scream, wailing with ecstasy as Eric holds my trembling, shaking body in place with his thick, strong arms.
I lay there against his chest, totally fucking spent, as Chase comes back up for air, wildly grinning with the satisfaction of a job well done.
I chuckle and tousle his wet hair, but that’s all the energy I can expend for the moment as I lay there panting and gasping for air.
“I fucking love when you moan like that,” Eric whispers into my ear, making goosebumps rise on my exposed skin.
“You guys are amazing…incredible fucking lovers.” I reach up to kiss them both, one at a time.
Chase’s lips taste creamy and are sticky, slippery with my cum. It’s still dripping off his mouth, making him glisten and glow.
In the aftermath of my climax, I just want to lay here with them forever in the peaceful serenity of the moment.
When we finally emerge from the bath a few minutes later, Chase grabs my hand and helps pull me from the tub and wraps a soft cotton white towel around my body, rubbing me all over to pat me dry.
Then Eric takes a turn, massaging lavender scented lotion onto my skin, opening up my pores and making me feel feminine and soft as silk from my head down to my toes.
I caress my own arm, marveling at how good it feels after the massage. “Thank you,” I whisper and plant a kiss on his cheek.
He grins with eager pleasure at the kiss and the compliment, and we all file back to the bed, where we collapse on top of each other―then I scoot to the middle so that the guys won’t fight over me.
Even now that I’m as fit and thin as I’ve ever been, there’s plenty of me to go around. I never want either one of them to feel left out—because I definitely have room in my heart for both.
It feels good. Fuck, this feels important. Like everything in my life has come together all at once.
“I wish I would have met you guys two years ago,” I say with a little laugh. “I would have fucking adored feeling loved like this back then, you know? The only problem is, you wouldn’t have gone for me back then.”
Eric and Chase give each other a glance and then stare at me, moving in closer.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Chase says.
“I’ve thought about it from the start, Kara,” Eric adds. “It’s not just about looks with you—we just hit the jackpot in that regard. We love you for more than just your body…” He runs his hand up my thigh, cupping my hip with his finger. “Although, we do love your body a whole fucking lot.”
I heave a sigh. “I’ve never felt loved like this before.”
“I can’t imagine why not,” Eric strokes my hair. “You’re a fucking catch.”
“You guys already know I grew up with a single mother,” I begin.
“Right,” Chase nods in confirmation.
“She was beautiful…” I trail off nostalgically, remembering the curls of her hair and the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled. “So beautiful that she was always trotting off to modeling shoots and leaving me behind.”
Okay, so I’m a little bitter about it still—but that’s not why I’m telling them this story.
“I basically used food as my only form of comfort,” I admit for the first time in my life…out loud…to anyone.
“Eating made me feel better when I was lonely or nervous, wondering if my mom was ever going to come back.”
“A lot of people do that, Kara,” Chase tells me. “You aren’t alone.”
“You’ll never be alone again,” Eric says and rubs my back, sending shivers of pleasure over my skin.
“Yeah, it’s a great thing I have you two to fall back on instead of food,” I joke. “I’ll take orgasms over a cheeseburger any day.”
“We’ll give you all the attention you crave,” Chase says with lust in his eyes. He strokes my thigh, and I can tell he’s getting hard again.
“I guess I’m just needier than most women,” I laugh. “Sexually, emotionally—the whole nine yards.”
“You’re perfect,” Eric says. “You have a huge heart, with twice as much love to give.”
“That’s why you have two of us,” Chase agrees. “You’re never going to feel too needy ever again. Not in your fucking life, babe.”
I squeezed their hands, nestled in between them.
Maybe they’re right.
Maybe fate really is on our side.
With the pageant coming up in just a few days…only time will tell.
Eric
The fucking bartender at this hotel bar keeps eyeing us up and serving us free whiskies on the house, which I’m taking to mean he’s got the wrong idea here.
I know how it fucking looks. Chase and I are two fit, handsome, wealthy-looking guys and the dude behind the bar thinks if he plies us with enough top-shelf booze and lingering looks thro
ughout the night, he might be able to make this two-way a three-way.
Poor guy is shit outta luck.
“Yeah, I just fuckin’ love boobs, man,” Chase says, derailing our conversation for the sixth time tonight in the hopes that the poor bastard might take a hint. “Boobs and pussy for me, y’know? Just love me some fine, hot, female genitalia.”
“You ought to give it up, man,” I chuckle, tipping back the last mouthful in my rocks glass and signaling for a refill. “We’re two aesthetic sons of bitches, Chase. People just want to show their gratitude.”
“Man, that’s fine,” Chase says, though with the way he hunches his shoulders up, he looks like a wild dog getting ready to bite the next person who so much as looks at him funny. “I just don’t know why everyone’s always going around assuming I’m gay and shit, y’know?”
“We do fall into bed together pretty often,” I remind him—strategically, just as the bartender pours me another glass.
I can see the poor schmuck’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he hangs onto every word of this conversation he can eavesdrop in on.
“Yeah, but with the world’s hottest woman between us, man! I’d argue that’s the straightest thing a man can possibly do for himself, tapping that ass. And pussy,” Chase adds, giving the bartender a cagey look. “All about that tight, wet pussy.”
The bartender gives me a questioning look, and I simply shrug. Is it nice to mess with his head like this? No, probably not.
But I’m not a nice man—and with Kara away at pageant rehearsals, I’m getting fucking bored. Never bodes well for those around me when I’m bored—why else do you think I’m fucking working all the time?
Poor fucking Chase, though. He’s not from the same world I am, where people are constantly looking to kiss your ass—or woo you into fucking theirs. Where Chase comes from, there’s no such thing as a free drink—every action has a very enforceable price attached.
“Speaking of Kara,” I say, checking the time on my phone, “When she gets back, we need to have this Protein Plus conversation once and for all. Even if she comes at us begging to ride our faces—”
“Christ, we are lucky men,” Chase says, licking his lips.
