by Sam Mariano
That’s all the direction I need. I crawl forward and climb between his legs, grabbing that much loved cock he’s handling and close my own fingers around the base. I look up and hold his gaze as I open wide and take his head into my mouth, shallow at first, using my lips and enjoying the salty taste of him. God, I love the way he looks at me. He looks at me like I’m his everything, the very blood moving through his veins, the only reason he wakes up in the morning, the only person he could ever imagine going to sleep next to at night. He fills me up in every single way—and breaks me down in the playful, sexy ways we both enjoy.
Overcome with a burst of love, I lavish all that feeling on his cock. I’m already giving and giving, but he wants more. Shoving his fingers through my hair, he grabs a fistful and pushes more of himself into my throat. I struggle to take him all, not prepared for the push, but I meet my husband’s greed with generosity. The more he takes, the more I want to give him.
His roaring desire always feeds mine. He consumes me, and I happily burn up with him every single night.
As I suck Sebastian, my gaze darts over to Griff. He’s watching me, so his hot gaze lands on mine as soon as I look his way. While I’ve been pleasuring my husband, Griff must have been undressing; now he’s naked as he strokes his big cock and gets it ready for me.
I moan around Sebastian’s cock, throbbing with need. He grips my hair harder, uses my mouth more roughly.
“You can play with his cock soon,” my husband assures me.
I massage his balls, taking him more eagerly in response.
A moment later, he yanks me off him and gives me a little push toward Griff. “His turn,” Sebastian says.
I catch myself and crawl between Griff’s legs. He’s glaring over at Seb, probably for the push, so I grab his cock and steal his attention. I lick my way along his length, then hold his gaze while I run my tongue over his head, then take it deep in my mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” he says, working his fingers into my hair so much more gently than Sebastian did. Reverently.
His tenderness makes my heart kick up a couple beats. I close my eyes and do my best to pay it back, stroking him, sucking him, worshiping every inch of his cock with my mouth.
I wouldn’t stop, but Sebastian grabs my hair and pulls me off. He’s in a rough mood tonight. I like it, but Griff doesn’t, so I wish he would’ve saved it for when it’s just us.
He drags me back and pushes me down on the floor.
“Hey, knock it the fuck off,” Griff says.
“Don’t start with me,” Sebastian says.
“Griff,” I say, my stomach fluttering with nerves. I reach a hand out to him like I want him, and even though he still tosses a look of annoyance at my husband, he joins me on the floor. I offer him a little smile and rub his side.
“Take her mouth,” Sebastian directs, pushing my legs apart and climbing between them.
“Like this?” Griff asks, mildly surprised. “She’s on her back. She’ll have no control.”
“I know,” Sebastian states, like that’s the point.
I let my hand drift down to Griff’s thigh and I caress it, coaxing him nearer. Coaxing him to follow Sebastian’s orders. “Take my mouth, Griff. Please.”
Muttering a low oath, he stares at me for another moment before ultimately giving in and climbing on top of me. My brain works to keep up with my body and Seb’s directions, but pinned down like this, my body is throwing off some mixed signals. Sebastian pins me down from time to time and I love it, but I’ve never been dominated like this before. I’ve never had two men pinning me to the ground, leaving me literally no control over anything. With Sebastian being in a weird mood and Griff quick to fight, though, I put my big girl panties on and brace a hand on one of the large, muscular thighs pinning me to my living room floor.
“Are you sure about this?” Griff asks.
Instead of answering, I reach for his cock and stroke it until he pushes it toward my mouth. I open my mouth for him in silent invitation.
“Don’t take it easy on her,” Sebastian says. “Make her take every fucking inch of you.”
As if I’m not wet enough, he has to go and say a thing like that.
He’s not going to start fucking me until Griff does, so I moan around Griff’s cock, sucking the tip until the temptation is too much and he plunges forward. A litany of tiny moan-like sounds slip out of me, then my husband powers forth and buries his cock inside my pussy. I cry out and Griff tries to pause but I grab his thigh, silently begging him not to.
Fuck me, Griff. Just fuck me.
Sebastian knows the score. There’s nothing tentative about the force behind his thrusts, no reluctance as he buries his massive cock inside me again and again. I’m dizzy with pleasure, pinned helplessly and used as roughly as they want to use me.
Pleasure whips through me like a live wire, with the force of Sebastian’s thrusts, the invasion of Griff’s cock moving in and out of my throat. I don’t know how I can bear this much pleasure, and then Griff starts playing with my tits. His blunt thumbs pinch my nipple and I groan.
“Oh, fuck,” he says lowly, his baser instincts pushing him to thrust deeper, harder—to think of his pleasure instead of mine.
“You like this, sweetheart?” Sebastian asks.
I moan helplessly, sucking Griff’s cock harder so he can groan my approval for me.
Sebastian chuckles lowly, pumping his hips forward and pounding into me again. “I’ll take that as a yes. Good. Suck him harder. Get him off. I want him to pour his cum down your throat, sweetheart.”
My fingers dig into Griff’s thighs as he talks. I stroke Griff with my tongue, holding onto his thigh with one hand, grabbing his ass with the other and pulling him closer. I want to please my husband, I want to please Griff—it’s a bonus that pleasing Griff pleases Sebastian.
“Fuck, Moira,” Griff says, eyes closed as he runs his fingers through my hair. “Your mouth is pure magic, baby.”
His words send a rush right through me. I climb higher and higher as he grips my head and gets lost in me, in the pleasure I bring him, cresting when he groans and empties himself down my throat, just like Sebastian told him to.
Griff climbs off me and collapses on the floor beside me.
Now I can focus on my husband. He wastes no time taking over as my sole user, the sole provider of my pleasure. He pushes my legs high and fucks me harder, having more freedom now to twist and move me however he wants. My heart feels so full as he hovers over me, his blue eyes boring into mine. I can’t help reaching up a hand and caressing his beautiful jawline.
“I love you, Sebastian.”
Sparing me a tender little smile, he assures me, “I love you, too. More than anything.”
He fills me up with his love and his cock until I’m full to bursting. Until my pussy clenches around him and I cry out, clinging to his powerful body as he thrusts through my orgasm and growls through his own.
I’m weak as he comes down on top of me, but I wrap my arms and legs around him, keeping him close. I bury my face in his shoulder and close my eyes, peppering his skin with soft little kisses, telling him without words how much I adore him. How happy he makes me. He already knows, but I’ll never tire of expressing it.
Whatever put him in such a rough mood, I must have drained it out of him. Now he moves onto the floor beside me and wraps his arm around me, pulling me close.
“Damn,” Griff finally says.
I grin. “Seconded.”
“I’m glad you both enjoyed my production,” Sebastian states, somewhat smugly.
“Best producer ever,” I assure him, snuggling even closer.
For a few minutes, I lie there with Sebastian, but I don’t want Griff to feel left out, so eventually I roll over so I’m on the ground between them.
Sated and boneless, I lie there and stare up at the vaulted ceiling. “Man, you guys really will go to any length to get out of watching Audrey Hepburn, won’t you?”
Griff r
eaches over and gives my arm a little rub. “I’ll give you a raincheck.”
“We can watch it tomorrow night,” Sebastian agrees. “We’ll all be home; it’ll be like old times.”
“Except you’re not allowed to hog Moira,” Griff adds.
“I’m going to make steak and loaded baked potatoes for dinner,” I inform them.
“As long as we have all the important stuff figured out,” Griff remarks, wryly.
I turn my head to give him a playful glare. “Hey, I have to keep you beasts healthy and fed so you have the energy to keep up with my sexual appetites.”
“And you do a wonderful job,” Sebastian assures me.
“Thank you,” I say. “At least someone appreciates me.”
“Hey, now,” Griff says, scowling. “I appreciate you.”
“Which movie is this?” Sebastian asks, glancing at the television.
“Charade. It’s good. If we ever get through it without having sex and missing half the movie, you guys will like it.”
“Doubt it,” Griff volunteers.
“Plus, if it can’t keep us from fucking you for an hour and a half, it can’t be that good,” Sebastian adds.
“Either way, though, it sounds like a good night,” Griff surmises.
27
Sebastian
Carrie sits on the edge of her desk, hands clasped in her lap, staring us down.
Griff told me we needed to come in and talk to her today. Obviously I know we don’t, that I’ve already handled this situation, but since no one else can know that, I have to keep up appearances. Consequently, here I sit, burning time and money at this inane appointment.
I glance at the watch on my wrist, subtly checking the time.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carrie says, dramatically. “Are we boring you?”
Lifting my eyebrows as I glance up at her, I say, “Hey, it’s not my divorce.”
Cutting a look at Griff, then back at me, she says, “I maintain that I would prefer seeing Griff alone about his marriage, you alone about yours.”
“I have no need to see you about my marriage,” I inform her. “My marriage is fine. Glorious. The people writing cards for Hallmark vomit thinking about how happy my marriage is. Only his needs to be dealt with.”
Unmoved, she states, “There are things that need to be discussed that I can’t say in front of you. Having both of you as clients… there could be a conflict of interest down the road, and I’m only going to be able to represent one of you.”
Since she’s tiptoeing around the elephant in the room, I call it out. “Is this because Griff is fucking Moira?”
My hardass lawyer’s jaw gapes open and for the first time since I’ve met her, she looks as shocked as a schoolgirl. Her wide-eyed gaze jumps to Griff.
“He knows,” Griff verifies. “It’s not an affair. I told you I wasn’t having an affair.”
“I don’t understand,” she says, slowly.
“We decided a marriage for each of us was too much work; we’re just going to double team one and really knock it out of the park,” I tell her.
Griff smirks, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t take such pleasure in this.”
Eh, it’s kind of fun to shock people. I don’t care. “The point is, we can all stop dancing around like fucking ballerinas. I’m never going to need a divorce, especially not because of this. We’re all on the same side here. I know you wanted Moira to come in, but she’s not available today. I would prefer she not have to come in at all.”
Struggling to keep up with what she’s just learned, Carrie’s brow furrows in thought and she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, hell, guys. I mean, your prenup’s shot to shit. If you’re sleeping with Moira, whether Seb knows or not, you violated your own damn clause.”
I nod, ready to hurry this along. “All right, so what’s next?”
“They’re going to find proof of the affair,” she says. “People always think they’re careful, but they always leave dirt somewhere.”
“Wasn’t an affair,” I correct.
“It looks like an affair. Doesn’t matter what it is. Fight to uphold the prenup, Moira gets called in.”
“So the prenup gets thrown out,” I say, firmly.
“I’m not sure you get it, Seb. You guys… You’re both going to lose because of the way you split your business. This is not good.”
“All right, so why don’t we hold off another week,” I tell her. “I’m going to talk to Moira—she’s not available this week, anyway—and we’ll figure out the financials. Let’s just hold off. We’ll take the weekend. Ashley’s not pushing for the divorce anyway.”
“She will be if she finds out about this,” Carrie states. “Cha-ching. She’ll sign those papers so fast your head will spin if she knows the prenup’s tossed. Oh, Griff.” She sighs, burying her face in her hands. “You’re not even going to be able to afford me when this is over.”
“He’ll be fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”
Looking up and wagging her finger between us, she asks, “How does this work? Are you two…?”
“We’re not here to fill up your spank back, Carrie. Unless we get a discount for that,” I add, half-jokingly.
“We’re not pieces of meat,” Griff agrees. “God.”
I grin.
Carrie shakes her head at both of us. “Well, you assholes are in rare form. Men in your positions shouldn’t—” She stops and snorts. “Your positions. Sorry.”
“You’re 12,” I inform her.
Eyebrows rising, she says, “Not according to my present thoughts. I’m just saying. Who’s the bottom?”
“He would obviously be the bottom,” I state.
“What? Like hell I would,” Griff replies.
“I sure as hell wouldn’t. I don’t have it in me to be a bottom.”
“Maybe you’d have it in you if you let Griff be the top,” Carries fires back.
I roll my eyes. “Are we done here?”
“In all seriousness, if you ever do get divorced now, Moira’s fucked. Of course, after Griff’s divorce you guys are going to lose half your fucking money anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
Of course Griff climbs up on his white stallion and demands, “What do you mean, Moira’s fucked?”
“Sebastian has the non-idiot version of an infidelity clause. Wife cheats, she gets nothing. Husband cheats, no penalty. If she’s fucking you, she invalidated the generous terms we gave her. She doesn’t get shit.”
“This is irrelevant,” I state.
“I don’t like that,” Griff states. “You should change that. That’s not fair. She isn’t cheating.”
“We’re not getting a fucking divorce,” I state, beginning to lose my patience. “I’m not going to pay to change terms in a prenup that will never come up in a divorce I’m never going to file for. Jesus Christ. Are we done? I want to go home.”
Griff and Carrie talk for a couple more minutes about shit that’s never going to matter, but since I can’t volunteer that information, I don’t say anything. Might as well burn a few more minutes of billable time—this will all be over with soon enough, and we won’t have to do this shit anymore.
After shaking hands and agreeing to meetings no one will need to have next week, Griff and I leave.
As we walk down the corridor outside Carrie’s office, he tells me, “Well, that was weird.”
I slap him on the back. “It’s almost over. Hang in there, buddy.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then a little lower he mutters, “It’s gonna be expensive.”
“We’ll make more money,” I say, simply. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something that popped up on my radar. Remember that retail space I had my eye on? Price went down. We should drive by on the way home; I’ll show it to you. I want to buy it while it’s cheap. We can rent it out and make a killing.”
Staring at me, he says, “Did you not hear Carrie? This isn’t the time
to expand, Seb. We’re going to have to hustle our asses off to come out of this without losing what we’ve already got.”
“We’ll be fine,” I tell him. “Even splitting half with Ashley, selling your house should turn a decent profit. Things have a way of working out.”
Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, he demands, “Why aren’t you stressing about this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. Money means too much to you; you shouldn’t be this calm about potentially losing so much of it.”
This is the annoying part. Donovan assured me he’d get this taken care of quickly, but he hasn’t let me know a specific day yet, and I wish he would. Until the little bitch is dealt with, I have to pretend to be worried about her enough to allay suspicions, and I don’t fucking feel like it. My life is damn near perfect right now. I’ve got everything, Griff’s got everything, and Moira’s got everything. Everyone I love is happy, and I want to enjoy it.
But no. I have to fake it like this loose end is going to unravel my life instead of get snipped off like all greedy fucking loose ends should.
Since I can’t say that to Griff, I just smile at him. “Just looking forward to that steak Moira’s making us for dinner, I guess.”
“No one’s this cheerful because of some meat,” Griff states.
Laughter shoots out of me as I push the elevator button. “Tell that to Moira.”
I start to get stressed when Monday rolls around and I still haven’t heard from Donovan. My stress levels rise on Wednesday when Ashley’s lawyer scores big.
The waiter from the date Griff took Moira on is willing to testify for Ashley. Given the way Griff’s head hangs when he hears the news, that must be really bad.
“We’re fucked,” he said, staring at the ground.
But we’re not supposed to be fucked. I paid good fucking money—even with that supposed discount—to make sure we weren’t fucked. I always keep a large store of cash in the house in case of emergency, and right now, I’m cleaned out. Gave every last wrapper full of cash to Donovan trusting he would handle this. It was absolutely worth the investment if the problem went away, but if the hitman I hired doesn’t deliver, I can’t exactly call the Better Business Bureau about it.
