Dr. Stud

by Jess Bentley

  Rob purses his lips thoughtfully. “Really? But there are pictures… Surely you've seen…”

  “Sure, but you know what people can do with PhotoShop these days. It’s amazing. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was all it amounted to.” She blinds him with a dazzling smile.

  “Really,” he says, not sounding at all convinced. I’m sure he’s seen the pictures before editing. I wonder if he’s wondering how bright she is, at this moment.

  “Honest!” she insists. “They’re practically boy scouts. As a matter of fact, I don't think I've ever even seen Dillon with a woman!”

  Dillon starts to stand, but I race him out of his chair and go stand right behind him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder and shove him back into the wooden chair, so hard I hear the gravel crunching underneath the legs.

  We have sparred before. I usually can actually kick his ass. I just don't want to. He knows it. After about twenty seconds, I feel him relax just slightly.

  In the meantime, Bella has just continued batting her eyelashes at Rob, who seems to be enjoying the show. Slowly he turns back toward her, eventually resting his elbow on the table and then his cheek against his fist. He looks like a schoolboy in love. She blushes charmingly.

  “Anyway… like I was saying…” she continues, grinning brilliantly again. “It's just been amazing. Everything. It's like something out of a fairytale! Did you try the smoked salmon? Unf, it’s so good.”

  And with that brilliant little segue, Rob starts eating. Bella keeps asking me and Dillon well-placed questions while Rob stuffs his face. She's conducting the interview, and the poor guy is so overwhelmed he doesn't even know it. But the upshot is that she is curating the whole experience, while he loads up. Clever.

  After about ten minutes, Rob has a whole story: how we met, how we immediately fell for each other, and how uncharacteristically selfless and supportive Dillon has been throughout the whole thing.

  As if on cue, Wolfgang arrives again, this time with two servers bearing plates of pan roasted chicken with extra golden mashed potatoes, just like I like from his Miami restaurant.

  “Are you ready for the second course?” Wolfgang asks, clapping his hands together eagerly as the servers display their plates with pride.

  “Yes, please!” Rob answers immediately, blotting his face with his napkin.

  His enthusiasm is actually infectious. Now that Bella has concluded her narrative portion of the evening, we can finally just relax and enjoy the meal. The Montrachet chardonnay is velvety on my tongue, reminding me of all the other velvety pleasures I'd like to experience tonight.

  For a while, we all just bask in the visceral delight of Wolfgang’s expert cooking. The chicken is perfect, even if it’s a little humble for a magical dinner. But it’s too warm for duck anyway.

  I watch Bella as she eats, the way she holds her fork so delicately, but takes substantial bites. She has a deep, throbbing hunger in her, I can tell. I saw it in her eyes when she demanded to see my cock. All remaining traces of shyness and doubt had left her as she totally gave into her passions.

  I cannot wait to see that part of her again. It’s precious.

  When the chef arrives again, I hold up a hand. Then I turn to Bella and stroke her cheek slowly.

  “Chef, if you wouldn't mind… I think we need to be retiring early. Is that all right with you?”

  Bella smiles, biting her lip delicately. Though I know it’s for Rob’s benefit, she means it, deep down.

  “Certainly!” the Chef barks amiably. “It was a grand pleasure to meet you. All of you! Auf wiedersehen!”

  I kiss Bella slowly, tasting the wine, the spices, and a rising desire in her breath. She sighs, then nods eagerly, like she can’t wait to be alone too.

  “Oh, brother,” Dillon says.

  But to his credit, he stands, taking Rob gently by the elbow. He thanks him politely for coming and ushers him back out of the tent.

  When they’re safely out of earshot, Bella slumps slightly in her chair, pantomiming exhaustion.

  “Oh my God, what was that?” she murmurs urgently, keeping her voice low enough that no one could hear us outside the tent.

  “That was your best performance yet,” I quip. “I was totally impressed. You had him eating out of your hand!”

  She waves her hand dismissively. “Oh, yeah, Rob… he just needed some guidance.”

  “No, I’m serious,” I insist. “You should get an Oscar for that level of acting.”

  “Yeah, that’s funny. At least I got some chicken!”

  “Oh, Wolfgang can't possibly be in love with you too,” I joke, quaffing the rest of my wine.

  I really do want to get out here, right now. My body is roasting, hungrier than it was ten minutes ago. Every time she moves, I can hear her skin softly rustling against itself. I need to open her up, get her into a bed. To lay her down properly nude and have a good look at her. Drink her in.

  “But, Dillon! Was he trying to sabotage the whole meeting? What is he thinking?”

  “He's thinking he wants a piece of you too. Can you blame him?” I murmur, drawing her close. She melts in my arms.

  Now that we're alone, the sounds of the fountain splashing fill the tent and I'm aware of the dense humidity and the blue and purple lights. It really is quite romantic. I wish we'd started out this way, alone and comfortable.

  “Hey, don't start without me,” Dillon says, entering quickly and snapping the canvas closed behind him. At least he's discreet enough to do that. In a moment he's on her other side, drawing up close as well, his hands slipping around her middle. She raises her arms, allowing us both to palm her taut, round flesh strategically. His hand slips between her knees and starts to pull them open. In moments his fingers slide behind her neck and tip his face toward hers so he can kiss her long and slow, his cheeks caved in, his eyes tightly closed. For a moment, I do feel sort of bad. He has waited quite a while, while I’ve been able to enjoy my desire for her out in the open.

  “All right, let's get out of here,” I announce.

  “Excuse me, out of here?” she asks when Dillon releases her lips, blinking in confusion.

  “You're coming with us, Bella. I am done talking.”

  She pauses, looking at each of us. I see the muscle working at the back of her jaw as she contemplates.

  But I don't even have to remind her of the other night. Silently, she stands, adjusting her skirt back over her hips.

  “I presume you have a car?” she asks, just before she strides out of the tent.

  When we reach our building, we hurry through the granite and glass lobby to our private elevator. Bella turns to me immediately, standing on her tiptoes to kiss me, nearly falling against me. I can still taste the wine on her tongue and kiss her hungrily, eager to absorb everything of her.

  “I want to taste you,” I growl, suddenly realizing how desperately I need to have her on my tongue.

  “Lean on me,” Dillon instructs her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dipping his head to mouth the soft line between her neck and shoulder.

  Her fingers plunge into my hair as I kneel in front of her, shoving her skirt to the side, burying my face between her thighs. I inhale deeply, drinking in perfume… Chanel, I believe, and a deeper perfume. She smells salty, sweet. Like that vanilla and spice that's always on her lips, but more intense. More focused.

  My tongue finds her seam; I’m hungry and impatient. I rip the panties away to expose her, feasting my eyes on that beautiful pink curl, the unfurling petals of her sex. I see a glistening drop of wetness, trembling on the outer edge of her lips, inviting me deeper.

  I'm starving for her. I have to keep myself from coming right now as I open my lips to cover her whole sex at once, drinking her in, my tongue lapping insatiably. I want all of her.

  “Fuck!” Dillon grunts as the elevator door slides open. The three of us tumble inside, eager and blind, confused but determined. Somehow we all make it to the bed, leaving a trail of discard
ed clothes behind us.

  Bella breaks away, whirling around to face us both, her hands up as though forming an invisible barrier. Her chest heaves as she stands there, nipples pebbling fast, her body trembling with unmasked desire.

  Dillon I glance at each other then wait, standing before her, wanting her and ready, hard as rocks.

  “I want it,” she whispers, looking at both of us. “I really do.”

  “I know,” I nod, stepping toward her cautiously. I can see that she does want us, but there is that hesitation again. It has to be up to her, completely. I will never force a woman.

  “Just relax,” Dillon murmurs. He draws closer to her until his stiff cock brushes against her thighs and she shudders, arching her back and staring up at him longingly. “You will love this.”

  He takes her in his arms, kissing her mouth and neck as he crawls from the bottom of the bed. They’re lying in the middle.

  The bedsheets frame their bodies. I slip in beside them, pulling gently at the fabric that covers Bella's shoulder, kissing and tonguing the sensitive skin there, as she hitches and shudders in pleasure. I watch the skin gather at my touch, as I trail my fingers down the sides of her body.

  I can't get enough of Bella. The intoxicating fragrance of her, the look of her, the wholesome, naughty contradiction that she is. I need to take her. She turns to look at me, and something in her eyes makes me feel as if she knows what I'm thinking, that we are connected more than just physically.

  And we are. We are part of each other's game, for certain. We have agreed to help each other — but there's more than that. I know there's something inside her that is allowing us far more than what we initially agreed to. Something in me answers. I kiss her lips softly, questioningly almost, and her mouth becomes both soft and fierce at the same time.

  She moans softly, from the base of her throat. I touch it like one would touch a kitten, to feel if she is purring.

  Dillon is making soft sounds too, as he pinches and plays with her nipples. She writhes between us. Finding her ass cheeks with my hand, I squeeze them together and pull gently apart, the rhythm of her body's response showing me what she wants. Slipping down her back I lick the dimples at the base of her spine as I thrust one finger inside her furrow, and feel her squeeze my finger, holding it inside her.

  I want to taste her everywhere, and so I do, my lips moving from cheek to cheek and finally between them, circling her puckered hole with my eager tongue. One of us, Dillon or I, earns a squeal from Bella. I like to think it's a squeal for me, but we are all together. One.

  She smells and tastes divine, better than anything from Wolfgang Puck's dinner offering tonight. Her skin is soft, responsive. Her moans heighten. I look up to see Dillon kissing her breasts. Then he's moving down her body as well, ready to offer his tongue to her.

  We begin to lick her from either side, as she tangles one hand in my hair and the other in Dillon's, and when he goes further, burying his tongue inside her channel, I plunge in as well. Our bodies are fused, the three of us together, playing her like a Stradivarius as her moans pitch higher and higher until we are rewarded with a gush and the undulations of her orgasm.

  Her legs open and I catch Dillon's eye, and he motions to continue, so we don't let up. Torturing her with the most exquisite of pleasures.

  She's trying to form words but she can’t, so she cries out in elated syllables. Dillon and I love trying to outdo each other like this. We can go all day, keep bringing her over the edge, until she’s just a quivering mass.

  But after three orgasms, she pulls us up, catches both of us in her gaze and says, "Now take me. Come inside. Don't make me wait any longer!"

  My engorged cock leaps at the idea of stuffing her to the hilt, each of us feeling that exquisite sensation of merely a wall of muscle and flesh between us. Knowing that none of us could be any closer, Dillon and I pass a look between us before positioning our hips to her entrances.

  My nose is buried in her mahogany hair now, the scent of lilac fills my nostrils as I kiss the back of her neck hungrily. Dillon's kissing her lips which have fallen open in pleasure, as she whimpers sweetly between us.

  "Dillon...Emmet," she says softly, barely audibly.

  "Yes, Bella," Dillon answers.

  "This is amazing," she groans. "I've never felt so close to anyone before."

  "Me neither," he murmurs, reaching between his legs to position himself for entry.

  My hands trail along her smooth, flexing legs. She drapes her knee over his hip, opening herself for him.

  “That's it, that's perfect,” I whisper against her neck, licking the mist of sweat from her hairline, reaching around to tease her pert, hard nipples between my fingers.

  My hands drift down so I'm holding the back of her thigh, angling her hip for him. He glances at me, connecting with me again so that we are all together all at once.

  Just as he reaches her sweet, tight pussy, I begin nudging at her back entrance, wetting the tip of my cock liberally with saliva so that it slides easily between her full, ripe cheeks.

  She moans deeply, shuddering, stiff for just a moment and then relaxing. Dillon enters her gingerly, just testing her, just breaching her and teasing himself too. He likes to savor the moment, to wait for her to want him more, to push herself onto him.

  And she does. Her hip swivel as she moans, and she begins pulsing, grasping at him with her sex, drawing him deeper. I feel her grasping at me too, opening up, allowing me to enter her from behind.

  Her hand drifts over my hip as she pulls me, silently begging me to plunge deeper into her, but I go slow as I can, waiting until I feel her muscles relax. She’s so tight I know I'm the first one to ever explore her, that we're the only ones to ever open her up this way.

  She was made for this. We were all made for this. We rock together, each finding our own pleasure, each using the others to leverage our desires until we all climax, clenching and grunting, wringing every drop from each other, then falling in a heap.

  Chapter 33

  Bella

  When I roll over in the morning, groggy and still half inside the dream, I’m surprised to find my fingers sliding along the empty bedsheets. I'm alone, but it feels weird. I expected to wake up in their arms, pressed between them again, nestled in that warm, safe space.

  Which is... insane, I remind myself. “Safe” is probably the last word I should be using to describe that space. But I keep getting pulled into their gravity. Something comes over me when I’m around them. A throbbing, gnawing hunger. I know I said I didn’t want to get really involved but… it feels too good.

  That’s it. It just feels good. A nice benefit of the job and nothing more, I remind myself. A risk-free fantasy to live out, no matter how temporary it might be.

  I hear my cell phone jingling in my purse as I roll back over and try to piece together getting home. Obviously, it happened, because here I am. When and how it happened, is a little harder to figure out.

  Squinting until the numbers on my alarm clock become clear, I realize it's one in the afternoon. And then it all comes back to me, clear as crystal.

  We made love — I mean, had sex — over and over. Really good stuff. Crazy like we were starving for it. Once I felt it… I couldn’t get enough. How have I waited this long? I guess I was scared. I never thought two men would push me over the edge into becoming what I am now, a non-virgin… But it’s an amazing feeling. It’s delicious, a full-body satisfaction. As long as I don’t allow myself to get emotionally involved, it should be fine. That’s what a safe space is.

  I trail my hand over my body, remembering, as my insides clench in a sudden, dreamy way, echoing the pleasure of the night before.

  At some point we were exhausted, and they fell asleep on either side of me, their arms draped over my middle while I slept on my side, curving myself to fit between their bodies, feeling myself almost snap snugly into place.

  Soon they were snoring, and the sound filled the air beneath the heavy, lux
urious blankets. It reminded me of a lion’s den or a wolf’s den, or some other kind of communal habitat. Perfectly wonderful.

  I slept until dawn, and when I woke we all seemed to wake up at the same time. Dillon pushed my hair off my forehead and kissed it tenderly while Emmet squeezed my shoulder and nibbled the back of my neck. I slid to the foot of the bed and off, pulling my dress slowly around me and tying it, not really in any hurry, as Emmet summoned his driver for me.

  We kissed each other goodbye and I left their building, riding in the back seat of the chauffeured car along practically deserted city streets, watching the sun turn everything pink and then bronze. A beautiful Chicago morning, after a beautiful Chicago evening.

  Sometimes it really is like a fairytale.

  So, I must have gotten a good five hours of sleep in my own bed, plus a few hours in their bed, and that must be why I feel so rejuvenated, right? That is certainly the most logical explanation.

  But I don't just feel rejuvenated, I feel amazing. Carefully I wiggle my hips, testing myself out. Even though I performed some astounding acrobatics yesterday, I feel fine. My nethers are little sore, a little roughed up, but I suppose that's to be expected. But my blood is pumping like never before. I feel like I'm on drugs. The really good stuff.

  Smiling to myself, I arch my back. If I knew how to purr like a cat, I certainly would. After indulging a good, long, made up yoga pose, I fling back the sheet and slip to the floor. A shower would be wonderful right now. A long, steamy, scented shower. I wonder what kind of fancy soaps I have? I never use them. I'm always saving them for a “special” occasion. But the occasion never comes. I think they're in a basket in the linen closet…

  But there goes my phone again. I realize it's been going off quite a bit. I should probably get that. Definitely.

  For a moment, I weigh getting it before the shower or getting it after the shower. If I get it after the shower, then I'm going to come out of the shower feeling absolutely wonderful and then… who knows. Could be a buzzkill.