She purred, “Will we try the Two Ball?”
They had noted a menu item called “Two Ball in the Corner Pocket” but had no idea what it was. Since there had been a pool table on the bordello property, they conjectured that it had something to do with that, and had just invented a new description for it. Willow knew it would involve penetration, and she had never felt Steffen’s cock inside her. Now, she was eager. She found if she raised one knee toward the ceiling and balanced herself on the rail by wedging her heel there, she could reach around and tickle the root of Steffen’s cock with her fingertips. In his eagerness, Amadeo had unsheathed his lover’s cock, but was generously directing it toward Willow.
Amadeo answered for Steffen. “Two ball her,” he urged. “Right into the corner pocket.”
At the moment Steffen slid his prick into her wet pussy, Willow gasped. She had just remembered. If she was the roastee and Steffen was penetrating her vaginally, she would have to take Amadeo’s member into her mouth.
Dear God. As if Steffen alone isn’t enough.
But her boyfriend encouraged her. “There,” he said soothingly, seating himself deep inside her as though he had all the time in the world. She heard him slap Amadeo’s ass as the cowboy clambered onto the rail, straddling her. When she opened her eyes, she was face-to-face with a long, hard dick that emanated the scent of leather. “There. You can handle us both at the same time.”
* * * *
Of course, Steffen had been dying to slide his prick up the sultry motel owner’s pussy. He just hadn’t expected to be doing it so soon, without much warning. It just all came together at once when she’d pulled him up from the kitchen floor, suggesting they reenact Two Ball in the Corner Pocket. Before he’d had a chance to whip out a condom he’d been carrying in his wallet, boom. His dick had a mind of its own, and he had penetrated Willow.
He’d been suspecting he was in love with her since the moment he’s first seen her in her office. Steffen hadn’t wanted to fall in love again. He’d been in love with the two women he’d imagine he would marry, and look how that had turned out. No. It was much better to just casually hook up with women, leaving if he started to feel anything for them.
This time, though, he was going to see it through. Maybe it was the interesting addition of Amadeo the horny cowboy that was encouraging Steffen to stick around. It had turned Steffen on beyond belief to realize he was being idolized by someone who had longed to suck his tool since perving on him taking a shower decades ago. Who didn’t like being idolized? And his passionate feelings for Amadeo went beyond the physical. He had a genuine respect for the brutal, straightforward rancher. It didn’t hurt that he knew Amadeo looked at him with desire, but even just sharing a meal with the guy was enjoyable. Steffen was bringing Amadeo around to his way of thinking about architecture, too. He wanted to look at Amadeo’s ranch house with fresh eyes. It had been built in the fifties with walls of glass, incorporating a few existing boulders as well.
Now Steffen took a rest, seated inside her, waiting for Amadeo to position himself. Almost idly, he tried out the ankle shackle Carl had bolted to the table. Perfect. Willow purred with pleasure when he buckled the leather strap around her ankle. His cock twitched deep inside her as Amadeo straddled her, kneeling on the table’s bed. She leaned back on the cloth on her palms, and Steffen had the perfect view of Amadeo’s shapely ass as he waggled his delicious cock in Willow’s face.
Steffen was torn about allowing his woman to suck Amadeo’s cock. But he would have to face it eventually if he wanted to keep playing with both of them. He could, of course, be that sort of Dom who didn’t allow play between the other two. Willow would tire of that, no doubt, and Amadeo would become frustrated as well. No, he had to allow Amadeo to insert that velvety cock between Willow’s plush lips. There was really no “allowing” going on at all. It was just going to happen.
As Amadeo gyrated his prick into Willow’s mouth, Steffen slapped the ass that was presented to him. He barely had to move at all inside Willow in order to feel on the verge of coming, so he distracted himself. Gripping the muscular mounds of Amadeo’s ass, Steffen parted them and buried his face. If he reached his tongue out as far as possible, he could lap away at Amadeo’s perineum. Yes, he could even suck on it, the balls swaying near his chin, his mouth close to Willow’s.
He had an idea. Licking a finger, he inserted the first knuckle up Amadeo’s asshole. Steffen found that he could tickle the slick anus while sucking on the perineum. If Amadeo was anything like him, he’d soon be driven over the edge of bliss. That would shorten the amount of time Amadeo was fucking his girlfriend’s mouth.
Amadeo, as the only person with his mouth not full, was able to groan and shiver with delight. “That’s perfect,” he moaned. “Willow, keep sucking my dick. We’re gonna spit roast you till you’re tender and juicy, hear? Steffen’s gonna give you a nice cream pie. His dick’s nice and fat and hefty, isn’t it? Use your tongue, mistress. Put your tongue into it. Ah!”
Steffen swelled with pride when he obviously found Amadeo’s prostate. He’d never finger-banged another man before. But he knew where he liked to be massaged, and he found that spot inside Amadeo. Stroking the slick gland, Steffen murmured to Willow, “You’re doing good. Feel my cock about to explode inside of you? You’re doing good, sweetie. You feel so nice and tight around my cock, you voluptuous minx. You’re taking two men at once and doing a good job.” Remembering her Daytona Beach fantasy, he added, “My finger stroking Amadeo’s ass is going to help him come quicker in your mouth. Get ready. Get ready for a big cowboy load—ah!”
It was Steffen who was taken by surprise. The blissful shivers that had been coaxing his penis on toward orgasm finally came to a head. As Amadeo’s anus clamped down around his massaging finger, Steffen found his cock rupturing in ecstasy deep inside Willow’s heat. With her shackled ankles up on the rails like that he could wedge his cockhead up against her cervix. He saw she was able to swallow all of Amadeo’s load, unlike the time he had flooded her little mouth. Amadeo’s ass muscles flexed as he drained himself inside the sweet girl’s mouth.
Steffen’s entire body quivered like a mass of jelly. His legs even began giving out, although Willow held herself up on the pool table. As much as he hated to, he had to withdraw. He staggered to the kitchenette to wash his hands, casting glances at the burly cowboy who was still fucking his girlfriend’s mouth.
“Hey.” Steffen slapped the athletic ass. Then again, harder. “Out. Give the poor girl a rest.” He unbuckled the shackles as Amadeo finally pulled his dripping dick from her mouth. Steffen slowly helped one of her feet to touch the ground, then the other, as she panted from her exertion. He knew about aftercare from living with that Domme—and hanging around the Racquet Club. They had to let Willow down slowly.
“Ah.” She smiled weakly. “I’m fine.”
“Are you all right? Here, pull down your pretty dress and sit on this couch.”
“I have to go pee.”
“All right. Go pee.” He helped her as though she was infirm, and she shut the bathroom door. Buckling his jeans around his hips, he went to stand by Amadeo. He was at a plate glass window allowing the sun to bathe his naked torso, chuckling at a couple of workers who were looking at them oddly.
Amadeo said, “Did Willow order those blinds yet? We might want to just get some from Home Depot just to install them faster. Way to go on the Cream Pie, bro. Eiffel Tower!” He high-fived Steffen. It wasn’t a true Eiffel Tower, though, when the woman was in the bathroom.
“Yeah, well.” Steffen cleared his throat. “I feel kind of guilty about that. Going bareback and all. It’s pretty insensitive of me not to roll on a rubber. I had one. I just suddenly got carried away.”
Amadeo shrugged. “You love her,” he stated, matter-of-factly.
How did Amadeo know that? Steffen regarded his lover. “I think I do, yeah. Do you love her?”
Amadeo’s eyes sparkled. “I think I do, yeah.”
“Right. You’re such a competitive bastard. We’ll soon see which one of us she loves the most.”
“You’re on,” agreed Steffen, as Willow emerged from the bathroom.
Chapter Eleven
Willow worried.
After her medical dilemmas when married to Matt, she was almost entirely certain she couldn’t get pregnant again. Still, it was foolish to tempt fate like that. Fucking without a rubber! What was I thinking?
Still, since when were men expected to take control over that aspect of sex? Since never. Women who relied on men to handle birth control wound up in dire straits. She had been lax figuring out some sort of protection—probably because she was 99 percent certain she couldn’t get pregnant again.
When she came out of the bathroom, Steffen immediately picked up on her change of mood. Maybe it was because she instantly headed for the wet bar and started making gin gimlets. He came up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? That was an amazing session. And we tested out the ankle shackles. They work fine.”
Steffen elbowed her aside. “Let me. I need to provide you with aftercare, not the other way around. I feel like an ass. I had a rubber in my wallet and suddenly things just got away from me. I need to apologize.”
So he had thought about protection. Willow’s heart melted. She stroked his arm. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” she said truthfully. “I doubt I can get pregnant, anyway. Oh, I don’t need lime juice in mine.”
“Then it’s just a martini.” Steffen handed her the cocktail glass anyway. “Here. Eat these chocolates, too. You need the sugar. What’s this about not being able to get pregnant?”
She sipped and hugged herself. She looked sideways out a window. Workers kept peering inside. She needed to get a move on installing those blinds. “Oh, when I was married before, I had a miscarriage. There were some complications. No big deal, really, but a doctor told me more than likely I probably couldn’t conceive again.”
Suddenly Amadeo was standing there too. “’No big deal’? A miscarriage is a big deal.” Willow had forgotten—Amadeo was a rancher. He knew about this sort of thing. “How far along were you?”
Willow shrugged. “Twenty weeks.”
Amadeo’s mouth was agape. “Twenty weeks? Hell, that’s almost a viable baby.” He wiped his face with his hand. “Oh, jeez. I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t need me to rustle up any bad memories.”
Willow patted Amadeo’s arm, too. “It’s all right. You didn’t know. That actually wasn’t even the bad part. I think the really bad part was that the baby had already been dead inside of me, but I had to wait and go into the hospital to deliver it.”
“They had to induce labor,” Amadeo intoned.
“Right.” Willow hadn’t talked about this incident in ages. Not since she’d described it and its aftermath to Jaclyn about four months ago. “It was a ‘delayed miscarriage.’ The entire placenta wasn’t expelled, so I had complications—oh, God, I don’t want to squidge you out.”
“No one’s squidged out,” Steffen insisted. “I had a girlfriend have a miscarriage once. I think it’s why we broke up, when I’d thought we were going to get married. She could never feel the same about me again and sort of withdrew. I didn’t understand it.”
“Exactly!” Willow pointed at Steffen with her cocktail glass. “I withdrew afterward, not just from Matt but from everything. I never went back to my job, for example.”
“It’s devastating,” Steffen agreed. “Men tend to move on in life and not dwell on things—to sort of ignore things—and women want to mull it over and digest it. We don’t understand each other.”
“Right. Well, not only did Matt not understand it, he became so angry at me for withdrawing. He just raged about everything, and then he withdrew from me.” It wasn’t Willow’s intention to sob about her first husband to her current lovers. There was nothing more unattractive than someone with unresolved issues from a prior relationship. So she gulped her drink, and the glass was soon empty.
Steffen said, “That sounds like what happened with me and my ex. I didn’t understand her, so it was painful to be around her. I thought maybe she blamed me for the miscarriage in some way. Like maybe I had bad genes, or maybe we shouldn’t have fucked so hard.” He stroked Willow’s cheek, and she realized her face was wet.
What? Am I crying? What the fuck? How embarrassing. She tried to laugh it off. “Well, don’t compare yourself to my ex, Steffen. You’re nothing alike. He responded by never coming home, fucking other bimbos, and losing himself in drugs and partying.”
“Well.” Steffen shrugged. “I can’t say my reaction was completely different. Maybe minus the drugs.”
“Oh, there’s not even a vague comparison. Believe you me, Steffen.” Willow went to the table and rooted around in her giant bag. She didn’t know what she was looking for—a nonexistent cigarette, maybe—but she knew she didn’t like Steffen comparing himself to Matt. She understood that he was trying to stand up for the male side of the equation, to admit culpability in the age-old war between the sexes, but Matt had just been a horribly immature asshole who had been doing bimbos and drugs before she’d even gotten pregnant.
Over at the bar, Amadeo said, “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, bro. Not the kind of bonding women want after a good fucking.”
Willow waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all right, Amadeo. I’m not much for any sappy bonding, anyway.”
Amadeo came toward the table. “It’s not so much the sappy bonding, but you probably don’t know that after a kink session it’s a good idea to come down slowly. Aftercare, it’s called.”
Willow scoffed. She wanted to be as callous and unfeeling as men always seemed to be. “That wasn’t much of a kink session. Hardly anyone got spanked, and only my ankles were shackled to the table.”
Amadeo smiled crookedly. “Believe me, Willow. You might think you’re fine, but you might find yourself sobbing in an hour or two if you don’t let us care for you.”
“Ha,” said Willow. “If there’s any sobbing it’s because you two clods were congratulating each other with an Eiffel Tower while I was in the bathroom.” She said it lightly, and was really only slightly annoyed having overheard them high-fiving over their sex act, but she slung her bag over her shoulder and picked up her laptop.
“Whoa, now!” said Steffen, coming toward her with palms out like a crossing guard. “Willow, don’t leave. Amadeo is right—you need aftercare whether you know it or not. I’ve seen women leave the club seeming fine, then get discovered crying in their cars hours later in the parking lot.”
Now Willow truly was miffed. “Enough with your damned women in clubs, Steffen!” she cried harshly. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to hear about your sleazy past? Just because you’re a man you think it’s incredibly fun and funny, but guess what? Most women don’t agree.”
As she sailed out the door—wondering if she should slam it for a grand exit—she heard Amadeo saying, “See, bro? She’s already sub-dropping. I’m going after her.”
Willow twirled around on the walkway and called breezily, “I’m fine, Amadeo. I’m just going to go out front to check on the sign installation. I’ll get Carl or whoever to go pick up the venetian blinds at Home Depot.”
The last thing she heard was Steffen standing at the door telling Amadeo, “Maybe this is her way after sex. Maybe she withdraws and wants to hide.”
He’s right about that.
* * * *
Willow decided to accompany Carl to pick up the blinds. Afterwards she actually had to stop by City Hall to attend to some permit bullshit. Seeing Steffen’s coworkers milling about so studiously sent a fresh surge of love rushing through Willow’s chest.
Yes, love. She’d been suspecting for awhile now that she was falling in love with the Chief Building Inspector, but
she had tried to block it from her thoughts. She didn’t want to repeat the sappy, mindless sort of slavish “love” she had experienced with Matt—the sort of obsession that ruined one’s sleep and made one change their toenail polish color. She had suffered for years wondering and anguishing over every word of Matt’s, every nonsensical, assholish, immature word. If that was love, she didn’t need it. She needed to sleep once in awhile.
Willow was also leery of Steffen’s womanizing history. Shouldn’t she suspect any man who reached the age of forty without being at least divorced? He must have some fear of intimacy. Sure, he was gorgeous and chiseled—he could get away with it. And what man wouldn’t get away with whatever he could, for as long as possible? A man would be a moron not to take advantage of it.
Yet Willow could muster no respect for that sort of superficial womanizing user. Did she only imagine she loved Steffen for his chiseled Teutonic looks? That made her equally superficial.
She knew it went beneath the surface, her passionate feelings for him. It wasn’t just his seductive grin, his erotic, tapered fingers, his natural oaky scent. Willow sincerely loved Steffen’s gadabout Army history, his football playing, his yoga. She even loved his abstinence from red meat, although eating it was one of her true thrills left in life. She shared his interest in giant, fluffy dogs, botany, dinosaur skeletons, country music, and the televised guilty pleasures of men flailing about in swamps. Willow adored his laugh, his messy work truck, and his modern architecture. In fact, there wasn’t one aspect of Steffen Jung that annoyed her.
Aside from his handy way with the ladies. How could she ever compete with the hordes of slender Palm Springs party women, all waiting in line to hand Steffen their phone number? She would feel insecure forever next to them.
The Sublime Miss Paige (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 11
