by Alexis Angel
The ropes tied around my ankles start coming down and my feet touch the floor in a matter of seconds. The moment I’m up on my feet, the masked men come to my side and, producing a key from God knows where, they open my handcuffs. I shake my arms a little bit, my muscles still numb, and take a step forward. I almost fall, my legs still weak from that mind-bending orgasm, but Aidan holds me in his arms.
“This was amazing…” I whisper, looking up at him.
“Was? Who told you this was over?” he shoots back, immediately grabbing my hips and forcing me to turn around. He makes me go down to my knees and then, his forearm across my shoulder blades, he positions me on all fours.
Kneeling behind me, Aidan starts brushing the tip of his cock against my inner lips, and then he sheaths it to the hilt. I gasp as I feel his cock sliding in and, at the same time, the two masked men position themselves in front of me, their thick masts hovering over my face.
Knowing what I have to do, I reach for one cock with one hand, and for the other with my mouth. Rolling my lips down one shaft, I start stroking the other as fast as I can, which is harder than it sounds: Aidan’s thrusting hard, and that means my body is swaying back and forth. I’m only using one hand for support so, really, it’s a miracle that I’m multi-tasking like that. I guess women really are the ultimate multi-taskers, uh? Get me a laptop and I think I can pen down a novel while I’m at it.
“Oh, fuck, I can’t --” I start to say, taking that one cock out of my mouth. I’m struggling for air, so I take a deep breath. My muscles are tensing up like a nocked arrow, and soon enough I’m going to—oh fuck!
I don’t know if it’s an orgasm or a tsunami, but I start to convulse like crazy, my whole body twitching and trembling as if I’m having a seizure. I forget about the two cocks in front of me, and I’m about to fall forward when Aidan laces me by the waist, keeping me in place.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he teases me, the sound of his voice making my insides burn up. He takes his cock out of my pussy and, not letting go of me, brushes its tip up and down the length of my ass crack.
As he teases me, the man in the white mask goes down to his knees and then lays down on the ground, his cock pointing upward. Aidan pulls back from me and, moving fast, pushes me on top of the man on the floor. I climb on top of him, moving almost unconsciously, and grab his cock; straddling him, I ease myself down and let his cock pierce me all the way.
“That’s it, babe,” I hear Aidan say as he comes up to me again, his cock once more going up and down my ass crack. I moan as I feel him go over my asshole, and that’s when he stops; he presses on with the tip of his cock, my fluids coating his shaft and acting as lubricant, and his shaft starts sliding inside of my ass.
Aidan only stops when his twelve inches are buried inside of my ass, and by then I’m screaming as loud as I can, my throat working overtime to transform pleasure into sound.
Eager to stop screaming, I crane my neck and reach for the man still standing in front of me. I gobble up his cock in one quick movement, opening my mouth as wide as I can and only stopping when my lips are touching the skin at the root of his mast. I bob my head back and forth, sucking as best as I can while Aidan and the man under me thrust over and over again, their cocks demolishing my pussy and ass at the same time.
They work tirelessly, their cocks moving in and out of me like pistons. Each thrust of his makes me dizzy and lightheaded, and I know I’m close to my limit. I can only come one more time, and I know that when it happens it’s going to be overwhelming.
Even though I feel that fire and electricity building up in my muscles, I keep on sucking the man in front of me until I feel subtle spasms taking over his shaft. Only then do I allow his cock out of my mouth, but I reach for his cock with one hand right away, stroking him furiously.
I’m not the only one about to come: it seems like the three of us are already dangling over the edge, and it’ll only take a tiny little push to send us tumbling down.
“OH MY FUCKING GOD!” I scream, my brain melting inside my skull as a violent orgasm punches and kicks its way into existence. I let go of the cock I’m grabbing and just throw my head back, screaming like a banshee.
The two men stop thrusting as I scream and, the moment I’m capable of moving, I crawl forward and force their cocks to slide out of me. Rolling to the side, I sit up on the floor and then force myself to go up to my knees, gritting my teeth from the effort.
“Now, boys, show me what you got,” I whisper, still short of breath, as Aidan and the man with the white mask stand up. The three men line up in front of me, Aidan at the center, and then they start stroking their cocks, their unblinking gaze falling on me.
Wanting to lend a helping hand—well, two hands and a mouth—I lean forward and take Aidan’s cock into my mouth. Moving back and forth over his cock, I grab the other two men’s cocks and start stroking them at the same rhythm I’m sucking Aidan.
I start by feeling Aidan’s cock spasming inside my mouth, but then the other two follow suit. The moment Aidan unleashes a raging river of cum inside of my mouth, the other two men start shooting their loads over me. And now the crowd really goes crazy.
Women are clapping their hands, shouting, and screaming so loud that it seems like the whole building is shaking. They’re completely ecstatic, almost as if they are watching the performance of a lifetime—well, I guess they are, now that I think about it. I doubt most of them will ever experience anything like this in their lives.
Aidan fills my mouth in an instant, his cum dripping out from between my lips and going down my skin, blending with the other men’s loads. The moment I pull Aidan’s cock out of my mouth, he starts gushing his load onto my face, and I just stay there, frozen in place as the three of them paint me in white from head to toe.
“Is this crazy enough for you?” Aidan asks me, grinning and breathing hard. The other two men kneel in front of me, and their mouths go straight for my tits. They lift their masks up so that only their mouths are showing, and then they run their lips and tongues all over my skin.
“Yes,” I tell Aidan, looking into his eyes as the two men lick me dry. When they’re finally done, they just stand up and walk back to wherever they came from, going so fast it almost seems they vanished in the air.
Standing up on wobbly legs, I place my arms over Aidan’s shoulders and press my cum-coated lips against his. We kiss for a long time, our tongues softly dancing around one another until I forget that I’m standing on a stage in front of hundreds of people.
Right now, there are only two people in my little corner of the universe—Aidan and I.
And that’s just the way it should be.
19
Abby
Five hundred thousand.
That’s how many copies Big Dick has sold since we published it. All I wanted was to make a comeback, but I ended up becoming one of the best-selling writers in the US. Crazy.
Even though Big Dick’s quick stay at the #1 spot lasted for only a few minutes, it was enough to keep us in the Top 100 for weeks. Which means that I’m no longer a broke and starving writer; now I’m back in the big leagues, babe.
Sure, I have to split all the profit with Aidan, but that’s not a problem. I doubt the book would’ve had this type of success if Aidan hadn’t helped me write it. Besides, it was this collaboration that brought us together. As far as I’m concerned, even if Big Dick had been a major flop, Aidan and I crossing paths would've made it all worth it.
Since that night at Python, we’ve grown closer too. I spend most nights at his apartment now, and I don’t think you need me to tell you what happens every day, do you? Well, I’ll tell you anyway; we fuck until we both collapse, our exhausted bodies glistening with sweat, and drift off to sleep. And then we just do it all over again when we wake up.
Three to five hundred.
That’s how many orgasms I’ve probably had since I met Aidan. And that’s just a rough estimate. Doubt me? Well, asid
e from all the sex I’ve told you about—where I always end up coming God knows how many times—we end up fucking almost every single day. His body is an drug ... and I’m a serious addict now.
Yeah, you’ve probably heard that before, haven’t you?
I mean, you’re talking to someone who writes romance novels, remember?
But trust me when I tell you, that this man is insane.
Can you believe we’ve even fucked in public? It happened a couple of days ago; we decided to go for a stroll at the beach after an interview on the local radio station, and then I just couldn’t help myself. I reached for his cock, squeezing it until he became hard, and then it was only a matter of finding somewhere private enough. Which we did—hidden from all the beach goers by tall dunes, I hiked my skirt up, slid my thong to the side and rode him hard into ecstasy.
Seriously, it’s crazy. I thought that the urge to have sex started fading away the longer you were in a relationship, but with Aidan it’s just the opposite.
Wait, did I say ‘relationship’?
Yeah, well, I guess there’s no other way around it; we’re in a relationship. But it’s not like it’s official, you know? He isn’t my ‘boyfriend’, and he sure as hell hasn’t proposed. But we spend most days together, we fuck every day and…
I love him. I really do.
I started realizing that when we did our first book tour. The fans wanted (or, rather, demanded) book signings, and so CJ and Cheryl devised a plan that kept us busy for two weeks.
Thirteen states.
We visited thirteen states during these two weeks. I never thought I’d have hundreds of people lining up just to get my signature on a book, but that happened every single time we held a book signing.
Readers wanted to see the faces of the writers behind the book they loved so much, and I can’t tell you how surprised everyone gets when they find out that the authors are already on the cover. That always gets them even more excited to get our signature—well, my signature. All of our female readers are always more interested in taking selfies with Aidan, but that’s alright. If I were in their shoes, I’d do the same.
These two weeks were grueling; I never thought that flying from place to place could be so exhausting. We spent almost every night in a different city, no place to call home but a hotel room. I was glad when our book tour was finally over, but it was during these two weeks that I realized that I felt something more for Aidan.
During these weeks, we had no place to call home, but every morning I woke up right by his side, I knew that home was wherever we could be together.
It wasn’t love right away, you know? I looked at him like a woman looks at a rugged adventurer—someone to show you new and exciting things, to take you on a wondrous ride. And then someone you kiss goodbye and remember fondly forever.
But traveling across the US with Aidan made me realize that I didn’t want to kiss him goodbye.
I want him by my side—as a writer, and as a man.
Of course, there’s one more thing I haven’t told you, and I discovered it with ...
One test.
The kind of test you have to pee on. Yeah, that’s right; I’m pregnant. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that Aidan’s baby is growing inside of my belly, but that’s what’s happening. And you know what? I couldn’t be any happier about it.
Still, I haven’t told Aidan yet. Why? I’m not sure… I guess I’m a bit nervous about what his reaction is going to be. I want him to be happy about it, as happy as I am, and deep down I know that’s what’s going to happen. But I can’t stop myself from worrying; what if this changes the way he feels about me? What if, instead of bringing us closer, this drives a wedge between the two of us?
So, yeah, I’ve been keeping this secret for a few days now. I guess I’m waiting for the perfect moment to tell him. We also haven’t decided if we’re going to keep collaborating as writers, so I’ll tell him when we figure that out.
I want to keep writing with him, but I know he still hasn’t reached a decision. Despite Cheryl urging me to pressure him, I don't want to do that. I know that if we keep working together, we can launch a few heavy hitters into the market and then… well, the sky’s the limit. But he’s still on the fence between going back to modeling and assuming his role as a writer, so I want to give him all the time he needs to find out what he really wants.
Just between you and I, though, I think I already know what his decision is going to be. Soon enough, we’re going to be more than just co-authors.
We’re going to be one and only, and that for life.
I just know it.
20
Aidan
I hear my stomach growl and I look around the kitchen.
Fuck, I'm hungry. I need to resist the urge scarf down something I'll regret—like that box of cookies in the back of the cupboard.
I want to throw together something healthy. I grab spinach, pineapple, kale, green apple slices—don't look at me like that—a cup of ice, a splash of juice, and a scoop of protein powder, and throw all of the ingredients into the blender.
The machine purrs to life and I watch all of the contents liquefy, turning a deep shade of green.
What? Does this look disgusting? Well, let me tell you something. It isn't easy keeping this physique. If I've learned anything as a personal trainer it's that fitness starts in the kitchen.
As soon as I push the button to turn the blender off, I pour the contents into a glass, raise it to my lips, and before I can drink it, I hear a knock on the door.
Who the fuck is that? I'm not expecting anyone.
It can't be Abby; I know she's got a full plate this afternoon.
For a moment, I debate whether or not I should put a shirt on before answering the door, but fuck it. I decide that whoever this is can see me shirtless.
I open the door and I'm confused.
Standing in front of me is a man in a grey suit. His hair is slicked back, his hands are buried in his pockets, and he's rocking back on his heels. He seems to be in his early 30s … maybe? But if I'm fucking honest, I'm a terrible judge of age.
He seems vaguely familiar. But the important question is: what the fuck does he want?
"Can I help you?" I ask.
He eyes me up and down for a moment, and his lips crack into a smile.
"That's exactly what I'm here to find out," he says, pointing to my apartment. "Can I come in?"
I step aside and figure what the hell. If this guy is some sort of marketer—maybe trying to sell me on the latest Tupperware, or the next big pyramid scheme, or something—I guess it won't hurt to hear his spiel. I must be in a good mood because I decide to give the poor schmo a few minutes to say what he needs to say before giving him the boot. But something tells me he came here for a specific reason and that he knows who I am, in other words, that his visit isn't an accident.
"Sure, come in," I say, stepping back into the apartment. He follows after me, shutting the door behind him.
I grab my glass of liquefied greens.
"Want a drink?" I smile.
"No, I won't be here long."
There's something about the way he quickly dismisses me—and yes, I realize this glass of liquid green doesn't look appetizing, but still—that rubs me wrong.
"Why are you here?" I ask.
"I have an offer."
"Look, I'm not interested in buying Girl Scout cookies, or installing new cable, or trying to convince the Home Owners Association to install a solar system on the roof of this apartment, or whatever the fuck you're here to sell me—so thanks, but no thanks. I'll pass." My good mood is fading. I'm suddenly kicking myself for letting this guy in.
"It's not like that," he says.
"So, what is it?"
"Let's just say it's more of an ultimatum."
An ultimatum? Who the fuck does this guy think he is? Lesson number one: don't invite nut jobs in grey suits into your apartment.
"You know wh
at? I think you should leave now."
I walk toward the door, leading the way for his exit, but he doesn't budge and continues, "I know all about you and Abby."
As soon as he says Abby's name, my pulse quickens. Who is this guy and why the fuck is he bringing Abby into this? I decide to challenge him.
"Yeah, and?"
He just smiles. "And that puts you in a compromising situation."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I have photos."
Great. Now this is getting personal. Really personal. "What kind of photos?" I ask.
"Of both you and Abby … ones I doubt you'd want circulated."
All of a sudden, it fucking dawns on me. I put a name to his face. I know who this fucking guy is.
"Wait a minute … you're Grady O'Sullivan, of Bad Boy Publishing."
"Indeed, I am," he says, nodding. His hands are still shoved in his pockets.
Now it all makes sense. This is the guy Abby told me all about… her ex; the man with the tiny cock who fucked her over with Alyssa Moore. The guy who apparently likes sloppy seconds. I walk to the door and open it.
"In that case, you can leave. Now. Your time is up."
“Don’t say no to me, Aidan,” Grady says, not budging.
“Listen, fucker,” I tell Grady, snarling my teeth. If this is some jealousy thing because I fucked Alyssa before you and took Abby away from you…”
Grady doesn’t let me finish.
“If it weren’t for you, she would have come crawling back in a less than a week!” he yells. “She didn’t know the first thing about being a publisher when she left. And now she’s becoming unstoppable!”
“So what?” I ask. “You’re here to stop her?”
“If I can’t have her talent, then I’ll at least have yours,” Grady sneers. “Trust me when I tell you that you’ll cooperate if you know what’s good for you.”
