What have I become?
Some kind of super slut?
Because I’ve been going over the session in my mind on repeat. What did I do? What was I thinking?
But it was amazing, hands down. Beyond my wildest dreams.
And although they didn’t touch each other per se, there was a lot of looking between the two men.
Hot gazes. Male on male lust shivering in the air.
I’m not dumb. I could feel it, my skin sizzling with the knowledge.
But would they do that? Would they touch each other, savoring another man’s pleasure?
Oh god, I hope so.
Because sure, I’ve only had sex once in my life, but my feminine intuition tells me that there’s more going on between them. Men don’t look at other men that way. The three of us were locked in a triangle, each side just as powerful as the other.
And although it was new for me, not a single moment of our lovemaking was awkward. It was kind of like I walked in on an already established dance routine, the two of them already aware of each step, making my addition seamless and fluid.
The men coached me, and with every command I’d felt myself growing hotter and wetter. Closing my eyes, I slip my fingers between my round thighs and trace light circles on my skin, remembering their sexy orders. But just as my finger grazes my swollen clit, a glob of creamy white semen slides down the inside of my thigh.
Oh, gosh! My cheeks flush bright red at the memory of both men finishing inside me. Because I’m not on birth control, and this is the combined semen of two men.
They know right?
That I’m not on birth control?
After all, I was a virgin, so why would I need hormones?
I resolve to tell them, to keep the channels of communication open.
Because in my sex ed class, they were always preaching that communication is key in an intimate relationship. That’s what I want, so telling them is the next step. Maybe even during our next therapy session. I just hope it ends like this last one did.
With a sigh, I turn off the water and squeeze the water from my brown curls. I was in the shower for so long that the hot water ran out, but it was necessary. My mind needed the time to unwind as much as my body needed the scrubbing. There’s a lot to think about, the memories flooding my mind.
Because which of the men actually took my v-card? I guess technically, it was Mason because he was the first one to touch me there. His cock was the first that slid through my tight slit.
Oh god.
My thighs press together again, craving even more. Knowing Gray is in the next room makes it hard for me to calm myself down. Why don’t I just go find him and ask him for more of that long thick cock he loved inserting into my pussy? I’m sure he’d be happy to give me some more of his creamy cum.
I have to shake my head at how raunchy I’ve gotten in such a short span of time. Fucking two guys at once will do that to you, I guess. If only Lydia could see me now!
No one would believe I’ve been with two guys, and definitely not two guys at once. At school, people only know me as the shy girl with her head buried in the books. The chubby girl who can’t get a date.
But there are perks to being a bookworm. For example, school has always been easy for me – keeping my GPA at 4.0 hasn’t ever been an issue. Most of the people who have tried to befriend me only want something in return…like the answers to that Government test, or my American History paper from last year.
By middle school, I decided to just keep to myself. It was a lot easier than dealing with the wild, frantic world of pre-teen girls, filled with malicious gossip and cruel pranks.
Thank god that part of my life is over now.
It was painful while it lasted.
Stepping out of the shower, I take my warm towel from the heated rack and wrap it around my body, hugging myself as the cool air from the bedroom rushes in.
My bathroom, like everything else at Waverly Mansion, is designed right out of a home magazine. The walls and countertops are marble, with heated floors that sense your movement and lights that activate when you step inside.
The mirrors have an automatic cooling system that defogs them before I can get to the sink to brush my teeth. Tucking my towel in after wrapping it tightly around my body, I reach for my toothbrush and squeeze a little paste on the brushes.
There’s still a lingering taste of Gray in my mouth, his tangy, delicious semen. Gray’s words may be commanding, but when we were fucking, his eyes betrayed his vulnerability and I could see the longing and need in his eyes.
The loud buzzing of my vibrating phone shakes my thoughts and I run to my nightstand to see Lydia’s face illuminated on the screen.
Lydia has always been fiercely independent and rebellious, doing whatever she wants and never apologizing for who she is. I always wonder why she’s friends with a nobody like me – we have nothing in common.
Because Lydia is one of the popular girls at school. The boys like her, and every other week someone is asking her out or sending her anonymous messages online. She has so many followers on social media, I tease her about being a celebrity, but she assures me none of that matters.
“Hello?” I answer on the third ring.
“Mona! You answered!” Lydia sings joyfully. “Where were you half an hour ago? You didn’t pick up,” she pouts.
If only my friend knew …
“Oh, I had my therapy session with Gray,” is my mumbled excuse, explaining her missed call. Just saying Gray’s name fills me with guilt … and anticipation.
Because what am I doing? I can’t be in a relationship with my stepdad! This is mad! He’s married to my mom, after all.
Actually, I’m not sure. We haven’t seen Kathy around in two years now. Are they still married?
Nonetheless, I have to break this off. Even though my pussy clenches whenever the big man’s around, I can’t keep fucking Gray. It’s a sin, and there has to be something wrong with me.
I’d like to give myself a pass on Mason, but I know it’s wrong to take up with my therapist. There has to be some rule against sleeping with your doctor, the same way you shouldn’t sleep with your boss. Some type of conflict of interest, or maybe even too much authority for one man.
But Lydia has no idea
“So how was it?” she asks breezily. “Did you get a lot accomplished?
The question should scare me, but I know Lydia well enough to know she doesn’t really care. She’s a good friend, if a bit selfish, and besides, talking about myself has always made me uncomfortable.
“Oh, it was fine. Did you have a date tonight?” I change the topic suddenly. And it works, as usual. Lydia loves to talk about herself.
“Yes! Jason took me out. He’s so cute! Guess where we went?” She gushes on, quickly forgetting about my therapy session, and I’m grateful for her short memory.
Because we’re buddies, but still. The relationship is a little unbalanced, and yet I never really minded. Lydia was the star, and I was her follower. So my friend prattles on and on, while I listen patiently.
“The movies?” is my befuddled voice. “Oh right, sorry.”
Conversations with Lydia require participation. To check your engagement, she’ll randomly ask a question or challenge you with trivia. When we first met, I thought it was annoying, but now I think it’s hilarious and I always look forward to her stories because of it.
“No, that’s lame! We went to a skating rink and had a blast. Mona, do you know how to skate?”
“No, but I did when I was younger. I guess it’s one of those skills you need to practice every now and again.”
“They let you rent the skates there, but Jason had his own rollerblades. He is so advanced, and I cheered him on when he started doing tricks,” she gushes happily. “It was really cool.”
“Well, they do say that the nineties are coming back. That sounds fun,” I lie.
Because my night was fun. Her night was a drag by comparison.
/> But Lydia has no idea.
“It was,” she confirms. “And he was asking me about our future, Mona. Like, I think he really wants to make something happen between us,” Lydia gushes, hope spilling onto each of her words.
I understand my buddy’s longing for a connection with Jason. She gave him her virginity, and they’ve been dating casually for about six months. That’s a long time to invest in someone, especially at our age.
Because Jason is a teenage boy, and even I know that they never know what they want for more than a week. Every two days their minds change, and being friends with Lydia meant I had to always hear about his fuck-ups and indecisiveness. Jason never knew what he wanted. Lydia was the one who wanted him to be her boyfriend.
“What did he say?” is my slow question.
“He has a few colleges that want to recruit him and he asked if I wanted to come with him,” she squeals happily.
Jason is the star quarterback of our school’s football team, so everyone knew he was going to go to a big college. Lydia, on the other hand, was neither an athlete nor a scholar, so college for her was far from a shoo-in. I couldn’t that imagine a school recruiting Jason would also accept someone with her GPA.
“Where is he thinking of going?” I ask cautiously, not wanting to hurt my friend.
“What do you mean?” Lydia asks. She sounds confused.
“You know, colleges. Which college would he attend?”
“Oh, I don’t know, but wherever he goes, I’ll be there to beat those cheerleaders off with a stick!”
We both laugh at Lydia’s joke, even if inside, I’m not sure that’s really going to happen.
“Would you really want to go to college with Jason though?” I regret the words as soon as they leave my tongue. Lydia already knows how I feel about Jason – there’s no need to remind her.
“Of course, I do,” she sniffs importantly. “I know he’ll be busy. But that’s more of a reason to go if you ask me. Otherwise, we’ll hardly see each other, and who wants that?”
Lydia isn’t even talking to me anymore. These are her thoughts, meant for her to work through. I may be on the other end of the phone, but to Lydia I’m a million miles away. I should be grateful to her – god knows I’ve got enough going on in my life.
“Anyways,” she prattles. “I was thinking to get the girls together to share my news. We could go out tomorrow night. That is, if you’re not too busy working on those college essays.”
Oh no, I don’t want to. But I have to make like this is exciting.
“Sure,” is my slow reply. “Who do you think is gonna come?”
Lydia thinks for a moment.
“I can ask Karen and Michelle. Let’s go to that new bar in the Marquise Hotel,” my buddy suggests. “It’ll be so fun!”
I roll my eyes, grateful that Lydia can’t see me. “The bar in the Marquise is twenty-one and older,” is my soft reprimand. “How do we swing that?”
But age has never deterred the blonde before.
“Dummy, it’s a hotel – they’ll let us in, duh, we’ll just say we’re going to the restaurant instead. And then, you know – smile and flash our fake IDs and saunter right into the bar.”
“Yeah, I guess,” is my frown. It doesn’t seem very likely to me – we’re all obviously underage. But Lydia’s done it before, and I know nothing will stop her from doing it again.
Because I’ve had a fake ID since my sophomore year of high school, but I hate using it and prefer to not go to events until I’m old enough to attend. Lydia just enjoys breaking rules, so she regularly makes plans that involve us pretending to be adults.
That’s exactly what makes me uncomfortable about this situation with Gray and Mason. I feel as if I’m just pretending to be an adult and have this all figured out, but I don’t. Gray and Mason together are overwhelming. Even when we’re not together, they’re controlling my body, and my mind has become their slave.
“Okay, I’ll go,” is my slow agreement. After all, I need to behave like a teen, even if going out to bars isn’t my thing. I need to do age-appropriate activities to get grounded again. What’s happening in my life is crazy, so this will be a good return to reality.
And Lydia squeals with happiness.
“Awesome! We’ll leave around ten.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Sorry, my mom’s outside my room. I gotta go.”
“Okay, bye Lyd.”
When we hang up, I flop down on my bed with a sigh. Talking with Lydia can be exhausting sometimes, the blond filled with giggles and chirps, boy crazy to the max.
But that’s how I should be.
Not the chubby nerd studying at her carrel.
Not the plump goddess, getting it on with two men.
Oh god, what’s wrong with me? Why can’t I find some middle ground? What’s happening?
Because Mason and Gray have driven me insane. They rule my mind and body, and it’s like I’m living a second life. One where my bookish exterior is shed to reveal the true Mona inside.
But who am I?
What do I want to happen?
And shamefully, heat rushes into my face. Because even though it’s wrong, I just want more. I want more of the two alphas, the dark and the light crowding me from both sides. I want to know them better, to feel both men deep in my body as well as my mind.
This shouldn’t be happening, but it is, and hopefully, it never ends. Even if this dream never becomes reality, I want to live life to its fullest … whatever it brings.
Chapter 8
Mona
“I like that color on you,” Michelle says in a sing-song voice to Karen.
Michelle is a short brunette, and she rarely takes a risk fashion-wise. She’s got a short black cocktail dress on, blending into the masses.
Karen is more like Lydia, and her bright pink hair is clear proof.
Glancing over, I take in Karen’s teal jumpsuit, appreciating how well it goes with her new hair color. She’s so versatile and cute, anything looks good on her.
We’ve just finished getting ready for the club tonight, the room humming with female energy.
None of the girls know about my little secret, and if I have anything to do with it, none of them will. It’s too raunchy and salacious to tell a group of girls. Even Lydia would be shocked – and possibly even a little jealous that I’ve been with two men at once while she’s stuck with Mr. High School.
And that’s too bad, because I need to bounce this craziness off of someone. It’s been a full twenty-four hours and I haven’t heard a peep from Gray or Mason.
Stay strong, the voice inside my head speaks. Don’t go nuts.
Because this morning I woke up excited, sure I would see Gray for breakfast, and maybe it could turn into something more. But, no, he was long gone by the time I got downstairs and the chef let me know he hadn’t had anything to eat. Typical Gray – stoic and addicted to work.
I just wish he was addicted to me, instead.
I don’t even have a way to contact Mason, so it’s not surprising that I haven’t heard anything from him. But Gray and I live in the same house. The least he could’ve done was check up on me over breakfast.
“Mona, this looks hot. I’ve never seen you in anything this sexy.” Michelle says, popping my thought bubble and bringing me back to the present. Michelle has brought her confidence boosting skills to my side of the room, and not a minute too soon.
She’s right, I never wear revealing clothes, choosing to be more conservative in my fashion choices, much like my life decisions. But everything has changed, and my dress needs to reflect that.
So I went wild.
My black dress is made of a stretch fabric that hugs every one of my assets, dipping low for cleavage and stopping just below the curve of my ass. A pair of sky high stilettos complete my look, and a quick glance in the mirror yields an adult woman, not an eighteen-year-old girl.
“They’re gonna believe you’re twenty-one,” Karen nods approvingly, taking in
my outfit.
“I know, she looks like a real woman, right?” Michelle’s response is a mix of confusion and shock, and I giggle watching her face contort.
“Hopefully, we have a stress-free entry, and we can all have a good time,” I grin at my friends. “Sound amazing?”
Lydia is bent over a chair as she looks into a mirror, painting her eyelashes with a thick, black mascara. When the blonde finishes, she takes a step back, placing her hands on her hips while staring at her reflection with a slow nod.
I wish I could be as confident as Lydia. My friend knows she looks good, no matter what she’s doing or wearing. There’s something within her that always shines through, allowing her to coast through stressful situations as if they can’t even touch her.
I want to feel that comfortable with myself, but until then I’ll do what Lydia always tells me – “Fake it til you make it.”
Wise words. Easy to say, but hard to do for someone like me.
“Here, use this,” Lydia says, handing me a small compact case with a mirror on the inside. With gentle fingers, I open the case to see a tan circle of bronzer, and after dabbing the sponge over my cheekbones, Lydia takes the compact back and slides it in her bag.
“Perfect. I think we’re ready, ladies! Let’s get ‘em!” Lydia announces.
And like a gaggle of hens, we make our way to the door. Lydia has arranged for a private car to drive us around for the evening. I wonder if I should’ve asked Elmer to take me. Although we’ve never discussed it, I know Gray checks up on the places I visit, and a small part of me wants to make him jealous that I went to a bar with my girlfriends.
Petty right?
How I want to make my stepdad jealous?
But I’m still irritated that he’s barely spoken to me since our “therapy” session. A pang of guilt shoots through my soul – these thoughts are horrible, and as much as I want them to stop, I’m not sure they ever will.
Maybe there really is something wrong with me.
Maybe I’m crazy, gone certifiably insane.
We all follow Lydia outside, where the car waits. Michelle and Karen squeal with excitement, but all I can think about is how much I’d rather be in the middle of Gray and Mason, squealing a different type of squeal.
Their Secret Page 7
