by Destiny Moon
“Did you doubt that?”
“No,” he said. “But I want to be the guy you arrive with and the guy you leave with. Always.”
He kissed me.
* * * *
The next morning, we started our drive home with Hunter at the wheel. I stared out at the beautiful New Mexico scenery, and just as I noticed a sign to a spectacular vista, Hunter pulled onto the shoulder, then into the parking lot.
Hunter undid his seat belt and leaned over to kiss me.
“Maya, I just want you to know that I respect you.”
I laughed, but he was serious.
“I mean it. I don’t ever want you to doubt that, which is why I’m telling you. And there’s something else, too, something I can’t wait any longer with.”
I looked at him. His eyes were so deep I thought I could drown in them if I wasn’t careful.
He took in a breath and exhaled with the dramatic flair of someone about to tell the whole truth. “I love you,” he said. “I’ve loved you since you first arrived, since the first time I saw you. I loved you on our first date and I loved you when you shut me out for those awful months. I loved you when you were too shy to kiss me, so shy you could barely take your sweater off, and I loved you last night when you were the hottest wench in all of New Mexico. Maybe this is all too old-fashioned for you, now that you’re a bone fide big city girl, but I want you to know that if you’re ever ready to think about marriage again, I’m your man.”
“Hunter,” I said. I couldn’t say anything else. Words escaped me. Instead I looked into his eyes.
“I’m your man, no matter what you want,” he said.
I said, “Yes.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
A Tale of Two Hotties
Destiny Moon
Excerpt
Chapter One
My boyfriend, Jon, was in the bedroom of our one-bedroom apartment with the door closed. He was already asleep since it was a weeknight and his shift as a firefighter began at the crack of dawn.
Bored, I sat in the living room and surfed the Internet, looking up cute animal videos and reading recipes of appetizers I might make on the weekend. I checked my email and noticed a little green light next to Clark’s name. I was surprised to see him up so late on a weeknight as well, and I had the impulse to instigate a quick chat.
I knew Jon would be sorry to miss this interaction with Clark, as he loved the fact that I had a part-time lover. He said it turned him on to know other men desired me and he liked Clark and got off on having him watch us now and then. Plus, unlike Jon, Clark was kinky, which made it easier to negotiate my having both relationships. Neither of them was troubled by what I did with the other, because everyone’s needs were met.
Feeling flirty, I opened a chat box. Clark and I hadn’t seen each other in nearly a month. His green light seemed like a signal sent just to me.
Alissa: What are you doing up so late?
Clark: Hoping you’d message me, of course.
Alissa: Good answer. You’re a gentleman.
Clark: I try, Mistress. I try. Forgive me. I did not ask if I could call you Mistress and since we haven’t spoken in some time, I don’t want to make assumptions.
Alissa: You may.
Clark: Thank you. How have you been? Are you seeing fluffy pink clouds these days or are you haunted by some darker skies?
How typical of Clark to delve into my life with his usual emotional depth. I signed off abruptly, leaving Clark hanging and, no doubt, wondering what had happened. I could always tell him later I meant it as punishment. He’d like that. Or I’d lie and say the Internet had crapped out. The truth was, as much as I liked Clark, in that moment, I wanted Jon.
Jon and I loved each other. When we’d first gotten together, Jon had said it was hot I already had a submissive male in my life, and he’d encouraged me to keep casually seeing Clark. I’d been seeing him for years. Not often—twice a month, maybe. Only for a couple of hours at a time, just long enough for us to get what we needed from each other. No hanging out in public. No meeting the family. No spending time with each other’s friends. It was simple. Clean. Respectful. Kinky.
It was incredible to get to have it all. Love me, love my Femme Domme side, I’d told Jon. Jon loved me, and he did respect my fetish for pushing men around, but he didn’t share the kink. He said he didn’t really understand and definitely would not be my slave but he was fine with me getting my needs met elsewhere.
After a couple of years of both relationships, I wondered if Jon would support my secret fantasy to go even further with Clark. My clit forced me to obsess over the idea. I pictured Jon fucking me while I pleasured Clark with my mouth. Then I visualized them switching.
Oh, heavens.
The image in my mind’s eye consumed me. It was fascinating, really. Clark and I had a sensual and kinky connection, but it wasn’t sexual by the standard definition. Yet recently, I found myself thinking about the most vanilla stuff imaginable, like what it’d be like if Clark fucked me. I trusted him. Jon trusted him. I suppose it was an emotional connection that had led me to having a kind of crush on Clark. But I didn’t even know if he liked me in that way—or whether he liked anyone in that way.
We’d met years ago online and our connection had revolved around foot worship since the beginning. Now there was a fetish for me. In fact, I think most women would have that fetish if they were to be honest. Was there anything more wonderful than having one’s feet massaged and caressed? I used to tease Clark that he ought to open up a pedicure operation. He’d put all the other estheticians out of business.
But he said most customers would not take kindly to his services. He was probably right. He loved to kiss my feet—at a salon, that’d be awkward. And he was no good with nail polish. I made him try once, thinking I’d save myself the expense of a professional treatment. It didn’t work out. His skills weren’t lacquering and buffing, but still I’d argue nobody did foot care like Clark did. I was one lucky girl.
* * * *
The next night Clark was online again. His green light beckoned me, like I was Gatsby pining for Daisy. I did everything to resist, telling myself if I started to chat with him more often, it’d turn into a real relationship—the sort we’d agreed to avoid.
I flossed. I painted my toenails, checking back sporadically, hoping he had signed off. My toes didn’t look good with this shade of orangey-red. I took it off with a cold cotton ball doused with acetone then reached for the color I loved—a deep, dark red, the color of velvet seats in old Victorian theaters.
The distraction of transforming my toes was a relief, but I stopped before applying polish. The green light was still on, tormenting me. I felt like it was playing with fire to be aware of what my body wanted, but afraid to express it. Clark, being the sort of fellow he was, had a way of getting me to confess all my secrets. It was part of his allure—the intoxicating attention he’d lavish on me.
Did I have the confidence to tell him I wanted to get fucked by two guys at once? That I wanted him—a self-identified slave—to put aside his submissive nature for a moment to give me what I really wanted from him—a hard fuck? Would I even be able to get those words out? And why—even as a fully accomplished adult—was I so scared to admit what I longed for?
I thought about society’s programming, about how my parents raised me to be a good girl, about all the times I’d had sex in the missionary position in my life—not because I liked it but because it felt expected—how it had only been in the past few years, since meeting Clark and Jon, that I’d finally learned to communicate my desires. At thirty-one, I knew that if I was going to have the best sex of my life, I’d have to put on my big girl knickers, take a deep breath and ask for what I wanted. But how?
Jon was open-minded, but still… He’d been brought up in a conservative family with traditional values, much like I had been. Somehow we’d managed to build this incredibly solid foundation, in spite of coming from
families that didn’t talk much. He’d recently told me he genuinely enjoyed watching Clark pleasure me the times we’d had him over, but I couldn’t help but wonder whether it made him feel safe that Clark and I had never had any genital contact at all. It was a straight-up foot worship scenario. I got delightful foot rubs and Clark got to give them to me.
Jon liked to watch and he told me he wanted to fuck me while Clark watched. But so far, that was the extent of it. I didn’t have a clue how to bring up with either one of them that I wanted to go further. They were both such gentlemen that they wouldn’t push the issue with me, and I didn’t know if it was something they’d both be into. I wanted to tell Clark my feelings for him had deepened, but I didn’t know exactly how.
I broke down and messaged him.
Alissa: Do you ever miss me when we’re not together?
Clark: All the time.
Alissa: For real?
Clark: Would I lie to you, Mistress? Would you rather I call you Alissa right now? Do you need a friend?
Alissa: Can you tell?
Clark: Spill it.
Alissa: I miss you. I’m thinking about you.
Clark: I’m thinking of you as well. When do I get to see you again?
Alissa: How about I come over this weekend. Tea first? Maybe Jon can come too?
Clark: Sure. You can see my new place.
Memories seeped into my consciousness, and desire consumed me. Clark provided me with something that didn’t interest Jon. He worshiped me in a way Jon simply couldn’t. Jon wasn’t hardwired that way. I knew I wanted to marry Jon. My parents loved him. My friends loved him. He was the man I wanted to be with. But even after just a couple of weeks apart, I missed Clark’s hands on my feet. I missed his lips kissing my toes, his deep dark eyes looking up at me in awe. I missed how beautiful I felt after seeing him.
Emotionally, I found my relationships with my two hotties confusing, because society seemed to dictate ‘this or that’, not ‘this and that’. In some ways it felt selfish to ask for more than the conventional monogamous connection. I was blessed to have two men who were happy to oblige me, so I wrestled with the concept of asking for more.
Jon emerged from the bedroom dressed in his plaid boxers and oversized black T-shirt. I was instantly aroused when I looked at him and glad he was still awake. It was long past his bedtime.
“What are you doing?” he wanted to know.
“Not much,” I said. “Just a little instant messaging.”
He walked into the kitchen, poured himself a glass of soymilk and drank it at the sink.
“Who are you chatting with?” he asked.
“Clark,” I said. I looked at him to decipher his reaction.
“Oh yeah? Maybe we should have him over again soon,” he said, with a hint of a smile.
“We were just talking about maybe the two of us going over to his place this weekend. Are you up for it?” I raised my eyebrow and looked at his crotch, hoping to get a laugh. I did.
“I’m up just thinking about it,” Jon said, approaching me where I sat on the living room sofa, cross-legged. There was a bulge in his boxers. Instinctively, I was drawn to it, staring. He had only to come near me with a semi-erection and I was tempted. That was the kind of power his cock had over me. I rubbed my cheek against the fabric of his boxers, then playfully ran my fingers lightly over his chest and down toward the goods.
“Tell Clark to get on Skype,” Jon said in a suggestive tone.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked. Ever the innocent good girl, I was.
I turned my attention to the screen. There was a message waiting.
Clark: Are you still there?
Me: Jon came into the living room. He wants you to sign into Skype.
Clark: Done.
Just then, Clark’s face popped up in the corner of the screen and I made it bigger.
“Hey man,” Jon said. “We’d love to come over this weekend. Thanks for the invite.”
At the time it seemed odd to me that Jon didn’t sit down to look in the camera. In fact, all that was visible from that angle was my face and Jon’s boxers. I wondered if that was the idea.
“Cool, man. It’d be good to see you,” Clark said.
Jon looked down at me suggestively and winked then spoke directly to Clark. “You want to see a little more of us right now?”
“You know I do,” Clark said. He smiled at me and leaned forward.
I looked at Jon. I couldn’t quite believe what he was hinting at. We’d never been naughty on Skype before, though we had once talked about the idea of it. I said I thought it’d be hot to find some random stranger on some sex site and cam for them, but this was Clark. It was even better. I wanted Jon to know I was into it, so I licked my lips. Jon’s thumbs hooked into the waistline of his boxers and in seconds he had them off. Then he stood in front of the camera facing me, giving Clark a profile view. I knew exactly what to do.
I gave a flirty wink to Clark and took Jon in my mouth. Slowly, slowly, I took him deeper and deeper until I held him completely in my mouth. I looked up at him and when our eyes met, I nearly came right there. It was so hot how he had sprung this scenario on me. How had he read my mind? How had they both?
I slowly pulled back, revealing Jon’s huge cock. Jon thrust into me again. He held my face in his hands, careful not to block Clark’s view, as he started to fuck my mouth. I could hear Clark moan, but I was only looking up at Jon. It was so intense, this experience. I sucked Jon’s cock with everything I had, wanting to show him just how much I loved this. He let out a gasp as he filled my mouth.
“Oh my God,” Clark murmured, and I wondered if he was touching himself as he was watching us. How could he resist? I was so wet.
Jon held onto my jaw as he pulled out and he turned my head to face Clark.
“Show him,” Jon commanded.
I opened my mouth.
“Look,” Jon said. “What a good girl she is, don’t you think?”
Clark nodded. “The best.”
I swallowed, and Jon, spent, sat down next to me. He gave me a deep, loving kiss. Then he got up.
“So you two make the plan,” he said. “I’m off to bed. Good night.”
He walked away. What a stud. I loved him so much in that moment—the incredible ease between us, the way he took what he needed from me with a playful elegance that left me utterly speechless. When he was halfway down the hall, he turned back.
“If you come to bed in the next fifteen minutes, I’m gonna lick your pussy until you cry out for mercy,” he said. “But I do have an early morning and you just tired me right out, so you better hurry.”
He flashed his sexy smile and I was so wet, so desperate for his tongue, I knew it was time to wrap things up with Clark.
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About the Author
Romance heroines have saved my sanity numerous times through break-ups and life changes. I find escaping into a romance both soothing and revitalizing—and even better when there are some steamy scenes to tantalize the imagination.
For most of my adult life, I’ve concentrated on carving out a serious career, but a number of love-hungry, sassy characters keep taking over my mind, insisting that I daydream, live vicariously through them and tell their stories. Watching these women emerge on the page gives me a different sort of satisfaction than I get from my day job. It is a joy to share them with readers.
I live in a tiny apartment in a crowded city and I like to think there is something romantic about this. I did manage to find my soul mate here.
Email: [email protected]
Destiny loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
Also by Destiny Moon
All I Ever Wanted
Worth the Wait
A Tale of Two Hotties
Perfect on Paper
ve Uninhibited
