The Stories We Whisper at Night

by Sky Corgan

  He shakes his head at me, a smirk taking over his face before he gasps as his orgasm wrecks him. I half expect him to say he doesn't know what to do with me, as he often does when I tease him like this, but it's written all over his face, so no words are needed.

  When we're finished, he pulls out and stuffs his dick back in his pants. I hop off of the table and put my dress back on, walking with a satisfied swagger.

  “Same time next week,” I ask as I approach the door.

  “Same time every week,” he replies with a smile.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KELLAN

  NINE MONTHS LATER

  It's the one year anniversary of Adore giving herself to me, and I have a special night planned.

  I make her wear a blindfold all the way to The SX Club because I know she'd protest coming here otherwise. We've talked about it several times since we first met, about how the experience was hot but that neither of us wanted to repeat it. The thought of sharing her with an audience isn't ideal, but this place has significance for us, and that's why I feel the need to do this here.

  Adore's reaction is about what I expected it to be when I finally pull the blindfold away from her eyes. The excited smile she was wearing flatlines as she see's the dingy little club.

  “Really, Kellan?” She raises a perfect eyebrow at me.

  “Can you guess what night it is?” I stare at the line, not wanting to see the disapproval on her face.

  “Even less of a reason for us to be here.” Adore leans in to whisper to me, “If you remember correctly, I'm not a virgin anymore.”

  “Oh, I remember.” I place my hand on her inner thigh, my cock swelling from the thought of being inside of her. Memories flash through my mind of that first time together, of how much I had wanted her to be mine back then. That feeling has only grown over time.

  “Don't tell me you have a virgin fetish. Wanting to replace me with a newer model?” She pouts.

  I cup her chin, drawing her face up to me. “Baby, you're all there is for me.”

  Adore brushes my hand away, still pouting. “Then why are we here?”

  “Nostalgia,” I reply plainly, opening my car door so that she can't argue anymore. “Tanika and Gilbert are going to meet us here later.”

  She follows me into the line, but I can tell that just being here makes her uncomfortable. There are probably a dozen other things she'd rather be doing with her Saturday night. I'm hoping I can turn that around.

  Since neither of us has returned since last year, our memberships have expired. We spend a few extra minutes renewing them before we're allowed into the club.

  The place hasn't changed in a year, though I'm honestly not surprised. I smirk as my eyes land on the row of chairs and tables set up for The Virgin Dating Game. Ashley is manning the registration table again. The bull pin is also set up in the same place as before. It all gives me major déjà vu. Except I don't feel miserable being here like I did the first time. This time, I'm with my girl.

  “I wonder if anyone else will fall in love tonight?” I muse as I lead Adore to a table away from the action. I would have rather sat closer to where The Virgin Dating Game is taking place, but the club is packed tonight, and for some reason, despite all my other preparations, I didn't think to reserve us a table.

  “I can only assume we were a rare case.” She sits, her eyes fixed on a young woman signing up at the registration table.

  The awkward silence between us tells me that she's upset about all of this. Thankfully, Tanika and Gilbert show up, and Adore seems to come back to life with her friend around. I feel like she's trying to block out everything else going on around her, and I'm fine with that. Nothing that's going on right now matters anyway.

  The Virgin Dating Game begins. Tanika starts talking about everything that happened a year ago that led us all to be here together now. Adore blushes when Tanika goes on and on about our crazy sexual performance in the private area. Gilbert tells us they outdid us last week with their own public display. They've been engaged for about six months now and couldn't be happier together. I've gotten to know them both pretty well since Adore and I became a couple. They're our go-to double date partners.

  We drink from the bottle of Crown Royal that Tanika brought and indulge in conversation. There's a steady stream of adrenaline pumping through my veins. My nerves are a bit on edge, and time can't pass quickly enough.

  Finally, The Virgin Dating Game comes to an end, and the announcer starts calling out the couples who matched. By the time she gets to the end, I feel like I could crawl out of my skin.

  “We have one more match,” she says, a knowing smile crossing her face. “A special couple that met here last year through our Virgin Dating Game. See, folks, love can bloom from these things. Can Kellan and Adore please join the rest of the couples at the registration table.”

  Adore gasps, her eyes going wide. She looks at me, and I see the panic in her expression. “Kellan, no.”

  I suck in a breath between clenched teeth, trying to play innocent and avoid the dagger eyes she's giving me. “I guess we should go up there.”

  “I don't want to.” She folds her arms over her chest and sinks down as if anchoring herself to the chair.

  “Oh, come on. It will be fun.” Tanika slaps her on the shoulder.

  I lean over and whisper into her ear, “Don't you remember how hot it was last time?”

  She visibly shivers. With a sigh, she relents, standing, though I can tell she's still not happy with me.

  “It will be fun. I promise.” I take her hand, leading her towards the registration table.

  Adore's palm sweats against mine as we wait to be let into the private area. She presses her small body to me as if seeking out protection.

  “Are we really going to do this again?” she asks.

  “Are you really that against it?” I brush a strand of hair away from her face.

  “It was hot.” Adore shifts her weight, contemplating.

  I find myself becoming impatient waiting for them to lead us in, worrying that at any moment Adore could change her mind and head back to our table. I'm not sure what I'd do then.

  Finally, Ashley opens the door, and we go inside. Adore squeezes my hand as we're led to the viewing bays. Ashley gives me a pat on the back as she directs us in first. My heart is beating like mad knowing this is all coming together as planned.

  “Oh no.” Adore's hands fly up to her face as she realizes we have been put in the middle bay. Front and center. “Shouldn't they have put one of the new couples here?” She gazes past me at the door, taking notice that no one else has been let into the area.

  I reach into my pocket for the box that's been burning a hole there ever since I picked up Adore from her apartment earlier. Then I drop to my knee in front of her before she has a chance to process that there's something fishy going on. When she sees me kneeling before her, tears come to her eyes.

  “Adore Scarborough, one year ago I saw you here and knew you had to be mine. You trusted me to lead you through one of the most memorable moments in a woman's life. Now trust that I will lead you through the rest of your life with all the kindness and love that you deserve. Will you marry me?”

  The tears are flowing like raindrops down the side of a wall. Her mascara is running down with them, but she's never looked more beautiful. The crowd is watching us with bated breath, and I can hear a few of the women awing over my proposal.

  For the first time since I planned this all out, I feel doubt. Adore did not want to come here. Maybe this wasn't the best place to propose, but I like everything important that I do to have some significance, and this place holds meaning for both of us.

  She lets out a strained laugh, glancing at the crowd and then looking back at me. “I think you're more of a showman than you think. But this couldn't be more perfect. Yes. Yes, I'll marry you!”

  I stand and Adore flies into my arms. And in that moment, all my dreams have come true.

  THE
END.

  Two Much for You

  SKY CORGAN

  CHAPTER ONE

  ROSE

  Is it wrong to spy on your next door neighbor with binoculars? And by spy, I mean peek through the blinds of your second story window with your tongue lolling out while you watch loads of shirtless hot muscle suds-downed and scrubbing a Camaro in the summer heat. Soap tastes like shit, but I'd love to lick the glistening wetness off of every inch of my new neighbors' torso.

  Both of them.

  What bros. I smirk to myself as neighbor number two comes out of the house like he's getting ready to step onto the photo shoot of a fireman calendar. Ripped faded jeans. Perfectly styled blonde hair. And what do you know. No shirt.

  My face hurts from all the grinning as I eye him lecherously, thinking about what I could do to that body.

  They're a perfect pair. One brunette, one blond. One broad and chiseled, the other lean and cut. Both of them could be models. Hell, they might be for all I know. They both drive nice cars. Both have looks that kill. Both have filled my fantasies at night ever since they moved in two weeks ago.

  I wet my lips with my tongue as I watch Mr. Blond grab a sponge from the soap bucket to help his buddy out. They have to be gay, I realize with a slight frown. They're too beautiful, and I've never seen two guys wash a car together like this before.

  I pull my fingers out from between the blinds and listen to the metallic sound of them snapping shut, then I turn and press my back against the wall, inhaling deeply. Just watching the two of them has me turned on. Too bad it's all for naught. Even if they weren't gay, it would be all for naught. Realistically, I wouldn't have a chance with either one of them. They're too perfect, and I highly doubt I'm the type of girl they'd go for.

  My eyes drift down to my less than flat stomach. I'm far from fat, but I could certainly afford to lose a few pounds. Guys like them probably date stick skinny girls with perfect hair, flawless makeup, and giant breasts. At least, I have one of those three things going for me.

  I cup my tits and readjust them in the old sports bra I'm wearing. The poor thing has seen so many miles that the elastic in it is just about shot. I need to get rid of it, but it's one of my most comfortable bras, and I don't see the harm in walking around the house in it. Besides, it's not like anyone else will ever see it. Not like they will ever see it.

  I chew my bottom lip for a moment before giving in to the urge to peek at my neighbors again. One is stretching out over the hood while the other is scrubbing down the trunk. I sigh as I watch their bodies glisten from the tiny water droplets beading their skin.

  Maybe I should put some clothes on and go over to introduce myself. That is the neighborly thing to do, after all. I had told myself that's exactly what I would do when I found out that new people were moving in next door...until I saw how gorgeous they were.

  To be fair, I did give it a try. A few days after they moved in I baked them chocolate chip cookies. I got dressed in my workout clothes and pulled my long brown hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to impress them by making them think I care about fitness. It's not really a lie. Does going to the gym once a week with my best friend qualify as caring about fitness?

  I had given myself a pep talk as I walked with the cookies to the front door. But as soon as I opened the door and my eyes landed on my dark-haired neighbor working on his car in his driveway, my cheeks turned about fifty shades of pink and I immediately did a u-turn back into my house. Then my mind went wild with excuses for why I shouldn't go over. Things like, he looks busy. Maybe I should try another time. And, both of them have less than ten percent body fat. They probably don't even eat cookies.

  The cookies sat in my kitchen for days before frustration and temptation got the best of me and I ended up eating the whole plate by myself while sitting on my sofa brooding over my shyness. I knew then what the real excuse was. The odds of me trying to talk to them without blushing like my face was on fire were slim to none. It's always been an uncontrollable reaction I've had to stunningly attractive men—a dead giveaway of my thoughts about them. That is a super awkward way to start a relationship with your neighbors. It's better if they just remain strangers, to save myself some embarrassment.

  I sigh, letting my desire to get to know them fade away. I can stare and try to motivate myself all day, but that's not going to make my feet carry me over to their house. Maybe someday we'll cross paths, but it's not going to be today.

  My blond neighbor glances over his shoulder up towards my window and my breath hitches as our eyes meet. At least, I think our eyes met. I withdrew from the blinds like they bit me, jumping back a good foot.

  It looks like I embarrassed myself anyway. He totally just caught me spying on them.

  For a moment, I feel panicked. But then I decide to let it go. Who cares if he saw me staring? They're both half-naked and yummy. What straight woman wouldn't be trying to catch a peek if she had such a good view? Besides, it's not like I was taking pictures or video or anything(though now that I think about it, that would have been a brilliant idea). No harm. No foul.

  I stand there until the rhythm of my heart returns to normal, then I concede defeat and head back downstairs to find my cell phone. Seeing the two of them was a painful reminder of what's missing from my life.

  Dick.

  No. That's just my hormones talking. I want a boyfriend. I've wanted a boyfriend for the past several months.

  Jumping back into the dating game after five years of being single was so much harder than I ever thought it would be. It's not so much that finding guys to date is difficult, it's finding quality guys. And by quality guys, I mean guys who aren't just out to fuck and run.

  Now that I've hit my thirties, it seems like everyone is coming out of divorces and looking to sow some wild oats. Meanwhile, I'm on the other end of things, ready to find someone to settle down with. Never in a million years did I think I'd still be single at this age. But here I am, spending my nights on the sofa having regular threesomes with Ben and Jerry because all the guys I meet are players or losers.

  Just thinking about opening the dating app on my phone makes me want to groan, but then I remind myself that I'm not the sit and wait for it to come to me type of girl. If I'm not proactive about dating, I'll probably be single forever. And surely, I am not the only decent, honest, romance-seeking person on the app. Surely, there's someone else out there looking for love.

  I grab my phone and make my way to the sofa in the living room, practically tipping over from sexual frustration when I toss myself down onto it. Damn those guys for getting me all worked up. At least, they motivated me to give this dating thing another try. I've been in give-up mode for the past few days after a less than promising date with a recovering alcoholic who thought he could charm me by telling me how much of an asshole he is. That guy actually wanted to see me again, but I've never been one to chase after bad boys. Life is full of enough drama without knowingly piling someone else's crap on top of my own.

  I open up the app and sigh as the first image pops up. My finger is already in swipe to Dislike mode. Dud. Dud. Dud. He's kinda cute. Let's give him a Like and see what happens. Dud. Dud.

  Holy shit.

  My spine straightens, catapulting me into perfect posture as I gaze down at the screen, my eyes flitting from the picture to the distance from me that this Adonis—these Adonises—live. Less than one mile.

  It can't be.

  My brain rewinds to a few minutes ago when I was staring out my second story window at my neighbors. I zoom in, trying to capture the details of their faces. There is no doubt in my mind. I'm looking at a picture of them. Both of them. Sitting at a bar, dressed in business suits, smiling at the camera.

  I scroll through the rest of the photos trying to figure out which one the profile belongs to. Oddly, every single photo is of both of them. There's no indication that the profile belongs to one or the other.

  I glance at the name on the profile and smirk. 2Much4You. Pla
yers, the both of them. A screen name like that screams obvious. At least, I know they're not gay now. Or that one of them isn't gay. Though with all of the bro-dum going on in the pictures, one can't help but wonder. Maybe they're brothers. Like, legitimate brothers. One thing is for certain, though, they're definitely attached at the hip.

  Curiously, I scroll down to the space designated for their profile description. A soft huff leaves my lips as I find it empty. Typical. So many guys on this app don't even bother. Proof again that they're only looking to get laid.

  I squeeze my thighs together, a devious thought corrupting my brain. The image of me sandwiched between them is pleasant. And just looking at them turns me on. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for me to tap the Like button and see what comes of it.

  My finger hovers over the button for a few seconds, my mind going wild with possibilities. Then reality kicks in. If they don't respond or Like me back, not only will my confidence be crushed, but I'll also become paranoid and probably try to avoid them. The thought of being trapped in my house while one or both of them are out in their garage is less than appealing.

  The mischievous smirk I was wearing dips into a frown, and I close the app with a sigh. Maybe that one semi-cute guy that I Liked will get back to me. That's the best I can hope for right now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GARETH

  “Stop dawdling.”

  I turn just in time to get blasted in the face by the water hose. Devlin is grinning at me, but I'm just annoyed.

  “Such gratitude you show me for helping to wash your car.” I roll my eyes at him.

  “I am being grateful. It's hot. I thought you could use some cooling off.” He smirks before tossing the hose down and getting back to work scrubbing the trunk of his car.

  “I think we're being spied on.” I quickly gesture over my shoulder with my thumb, trying to keep my hand low so that our Peeping Tom doesn't notice.