American Queen

by Sierra Simone

  So do I trust him?

  And do I feel safe?

  Yes.

  And yes.

  I lower my face from Ash’s. “No, Sir, there’s nothing I’d like to say.”

  From his couch, Embry exhales, a sound of relief or dread, I don’t know.

  “Good,” Ash says. “Then crawl.”

  I crawl. Keeping my head down, so I can’t see whether Embry is looking at me or not, and doing my best to keep my breathing even, I make my way over to Ash’s feet on my hands and knees. I should feel demeaned—it’s meant to demean, after all—but knowing that both men are affected by the sight of me slouching across the floor like a cat makes me feel strong. Sensuous. Female. There’s the air on my exposed cunt, the shirt riding up over my ass, the stray tendrils of hair hanging down around my face, and I can’t help it, it all makes me wetter. Hotter. Hungrier.

  Ash’s hand comes to rest on my head as I reach him. “Well done,” he says warmly, and I feel a flush of pleasure at his praise. “Up here,” he commands, patting his thigh.

  I manage not to look at Embry as I climb onto the couch, but I can hear him behind me, restless shifting and rustling fabric, as if he’s tugging at his bow tie as well.

  Ash takes my hips in his hands and sits me down so that I’m straddling his leg, my bare pussy flat against the hard muscles of his thigh, and I let out a low moan the minute my full weight settles on him. The pressure there is like gasoline to an already burning fire, and I have to force myself not to grind down against him.

  “I told you I’d take care of your orgasm tonight,” Ash says. “This is me taking care of it.”

  “Sir?”

  “Ride me, rub against me, whatever you need to do to come. But you have to be quiet, since I’ll be on the phone.”

  I can’t help it; I look over my shoulder back to Embry. His eyes are on my ass, where it rests against Ash’s thigh, and when he realizes I’m staring at him, he lifts his eyes and flushes with shame. I flush with shame too; I wanted to catch him watching me. I look back to Ash, who’s watching me closely, those clear green eyes missing nothing. The shame goes deeper than my cheeks, sinking down to my stomach.

  “Is this some kind of test?” I ask, my whispering voice trembling on the last word.

  “It’s not a test,” Ash replies. But he says nothing else, merely keeps looking at me with those searing, perceptive eyes.

  A ping of real alarm now. He’s watching me carefully, and Embry too, and does he suspect? That we have a history? Or only that we’re attracted to each other?

  “Sir,” I whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this in front of him. Come in front of him.”

  Even though I’ve done it a few times before…

  “I think you want to,” Ash replies. “Deep down, there’s a part of you that wants him to see you all flushed and tousled, that wants him to see how well you can obey me, how pretty that pussy is. Isn’t that right?”

  The tear is formed and spilling out from underneath my eyelashes before I can stop it. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” I mumble, looking down and away from his face. “I don’t want to displease you, I don’t want you to leave me. Over this.”

  “Oh, angel,” he says, voice soft. “You’ll never displease me. If this is too much, tell me. But if it’s not too much…then I want you to trust me.”

  I do trust you.

  I hesitate still, but then the phone rings, and Ash holds up a finger indicating I should be silent. I press my lips together as he reaches over to the phone and presses a button so that it picks up the call on speaker. “Colchester here.”

  Belvedere’s voice comes through. “Mr. President, I have our ambassador in Ukraine on the phone, and she’s on a non-secured line. May I put her through?”

  “Yes.”

  There’s a click, and then the voice of an older woman comes over the line. “Diana Cotter speaking.”

  “Hello, Diana,” Ash greets her. “I’m sorry for the unexpected call, but I wanted to touch base with you before the next couple days play out. We have someone here without a Need to Know, so we need to keep it light.”

  “Of course,” she says.

  Embry, Ash, and the ambassador start talking, Ash quickly explaining the need to feel out the current political climate around Carpathia. True to his word, Ash doesn’t delve into anything requiring high-level security clearance, but it’s still fascinating and I’m listening in with my eyes glued to the phone, when I feel a thumb against my clit, hard and rough, rubbing small circles against the swollen bud. In an instant, all the banked desire from the last week is there. All-consuming, obliterating past and present, obliterating the future, destroying everything that isn’t the painful ache in my cunt as I push into Ash’s touch.

  He pushes back, hard, giving my clit a light pinch that sends my eyes rolling back into my head. He does it again for good measure and I gasp, clapping my hand over my mouth once I realize my mistake, eyes darting back to the phone.

  Ash arches an eyebrow at me—a can you keep quiet eyebrow—and I nod, a little frantically, desperate for him to keep doing what he’s doing. His thumb rubs steadily, the rhythm never breaking as he and Embry talk about border agreements and the UN and the Carpathian president, and I find myself rocking into his touch, squirming down onto his thigh to increase the pressure. His thumb stops as he leans over to end his phone call, but I keep rocking, tilting forward so that I’m rubbing my clit directly against his leg. It’s so shameful, so obscene and immodest, to be driven to the point that I don’t care that I’m rubbing against Ash’s leg like a dog in heat. That I don’t care that Embry is watching me debase myself so much, act so mindlessly carnal. There’s only the need, and if this is the only way I’m allowed to slake the need, then I’m fucking doing it.

  Ash sits back, watching me with his elbow on the arm of the sofa and his head braced against his forefinger and his thumb. The erection tenting his slacks is massive, all the more erotic for the expensive tuxedo that frames it, but Ash’s face is perfectly controlled. Only the pulse beating at the side of his neck betrays his excitement. “Does that feel good?” he asks calmly as I grind against him.

  “Yes,” I pant.

  A sharp slap on my ass. I jolt and moan.

  “Yes, Sir,” I try again.

  “Good. My thigh is all you get right now. If you behave, you can earn more. My mouth maybe. Would you like that?”

  My shudder is all the answer he needs. He looks past me to Embry. “She’s a good girl, isn’t she, Embry?”

  His friend’s voice is hoarse when he answers. “Yes.”

  Ash looks at his friend, his finger rubbing at his forehead. “Do you still want to go, Embry?”

  Once again, Embry takes a long time to answer, but when he does, it’s definitive. “No. I want to stay.”

  A smile curls Ash’s mouth. “I thought so. Would you like to see more of her? Maybe without the shirt?”

  There’s a pause, a pause that seems to last forever, and in that pause I hear five years’ worth of agony.

  “Yes,” Embry finally replies.

  Ash looks back to me, and while there’s not satisfaction in his face necessarily, there is something else. Confirmation, maybe. Like it wasn’t what Embry said but how he said it that told Ash what he needed to know. “You heard the Vice President,” Ash says, running a finger down the placket of the shirt. “Take it off.”

  Even in my need-to-come haze, I hesitate. “Can…can you take it off, please?”

  “No.”

  He’s going to make me do it. Just like the crawling. Each step of tonight is a crossroads—past what, I don’t know—but Ash is making sure that I’m the one taking each step. That I’m acutely aware of my own role in this.

  I meet his eyes, every pleading, angry thought written on my face, and I feel his hand slide up my thigh and give it a reassuring squeeze. His eyes are so clear and so green, his pupils dilated into huge black pools of hunger. He doesn’t say anything
, doesn’t push, but keeps his eyes on mine, his hand gentle and sweet on my thigh.

  He’s giving me a chance to safe out. One word, and I could end this misery for all three of us.

  But oh God, I can’t bear to. Sometimes misery is better. Sometimes the forbidden fruit is just too sweet not to bite.

  I lift my hands and begin unbuttoning the shirt, and both men exhale simultaneously. I should hate the rush of power that gives me, the rush of lust, but I don’t. It feels right. As right as kneeling, as right as crawling. As right as standing before a class or thumbing through books older than the college I teach at. Like I was born for it.

  I take my time, not to be intentionally seductive, but because my hands are shaking so much that each button is a struggle. It’s worth it though, when I finally tug the shirt free from my shoulders and I see Ash’s control almost break. He shifts underneath me, his hand squeezing my thigh so hard I know I’ll bruise, and he bites his lower lip.

  “Touch your tits,” he orders after he regains his composure. “Slide your hands over them and then pull on your nipples. Yes, like that. Fuck.”

  He shifts again, that erection looking so mouthwatering even inside his pants, and I want it. I want it in my mouth, I want it in my pussy. I want to ride it until my legs shake, I want it so deep inside me that I can’t feel anything else. When will we have sex? Surely tonight. Surely he can’t bear to wait any longer, because I know I can’t. I started birth control the moment we started seeing each other so we wouldn’t have to wait a moment longer than we had to.

  “What is it, angel?” he asks, eyes lifting from where my hands are on my breasts to my face.

  I don’t answer right away, and he gives me a light pinch on the ass. “You can always answer me honestly, Greer. I won’t ask if I don’t want to know.”

  “I want your cock,” I blurt. “I want to be fucked by it. Please. Please fuck me. Please, Sir.”

  His eyes glow with something like amusement, but his voice returns to the nonchalance of earlier. “My cock is a privilege, angel. Being fucked is a privilege. And all privileges have to be earned.”

  I must visibly deflate at this, because he strokes my arm. “When I take your pussy, it’s going to be special. We only get one first time together, and I know exactly when I want that to be.”

  “What’s wrong with right now?” I whine.

  That earns me another swift smack on the ass. “Turn around and face Embry. He wants to see those gorgeous tits of yours. He wants to see your face when you come.”

  I’m past protesting, past hesitating. I can blame it on the lust, blame it on Ash and my submission, but the real reason is both simpler and more complicated than either of those. The answer is I want to. I want Embry to see me. And whether it’s a test or a gift, Ash is giving it to us.

  When I flip myself around so I’m facing Embry, a change comes over the room. It’s no longer Embry as the outsider. Now Embry and I are looking at each other, my breasts and my cunt on display for him, my pleasure a performance for his pleasure. And underneath me, I feel waves of power and desire rolling off Ash, as if controlling Embry as well as me arouses a different side of his dominance. As if watching me perform for Embry is more erotic than when I perform for him alone.

  The phone rings again, and Ash tells me, “Get to work,” before he answers the phone. And then he picks up, and he’s talking and Embry is talking too—albeit in a choked, forced voice—and I start grinding against Ash’s leg, my eyes on Ash’s friend the entire time. As he watches and attempts to talk along with Ash, I slide my hands up my stomach to my breasts, squeezing them hard, the way he squeezed them that night in Chicago. The way he touched me like he’d never get to touch a woman again. His eyes follow my hands, his teeth digging deep into his lip, and when I start fucking Ash’s thigh again, his hand curls into a fist on his knee.

  I imagine I’m fucking him, I imagine I’m fucking Ash, I imagine I’m fucking both of them. I imagine them fucking each other, I imagine all three of us in a tangle of sweat and thrusting, all barriers stripped away, every hot inch and sweet hole available without question.

  And it’s this final image that sets the gears of my climax whirring, spinning tighter and tighter until I can feel it poised in front of my womb, a ticking thing ready to explode. My hands drop down to Ash’s knee for balance as I lean forward, drop my head, and chase the orgasm I’ve been waiting for all week. I hear the phone call end, and through the tendrils of hair hanging down around my face, I see Embry sitting on the edge of the sofa, that fist unclenching and clenching over and over again.

  “Give it to me,” Ash says. “To us.”

  And so I do. I press hard against Ash and ride the swell as I rub against him, crying out as I feel the wick light and the bomb detonate deep inside my womb. Shudders radiate out, pulsing quakes as I tremble on top of Ash’s thigh, as I pant and gasp and continue rubbing myself against him to milk every last ounce of pleasure out of this. It goes on and on, all the pent-up longing from this week, all the angst over Embry, just adding fuel to the fire. And when I do finally stop moving, my body wrung out, I become aware of Ash’s hands in my hair, tugging my head back.

  “That was beautiful, angel, but we’re not done yet,” he informs me. With his hands moving to my waist, he lifts me and sets me on the ground, so that I’m kneeling in front of him. There’s a large wet stain on his tuxedo pants where I sat. A stain that I left.

  “Look at what you did.”

  I cast my eyes around for something to clean him with, but he stops me with a hand fisted in my hair. He guides my mouth to his leg. “Lick it clean.”

  I close my eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the deliberate humiliation, the dehumanization of it, overwhelmed by the way I respond to it like it’s a warm blanket on a cold night. I want to wrap myself in it, burrow into it and never leave. Nothing is more natural than this, nothing has ever been as close to what I dreamed about as a teenage girl. Whatever happens between Embry, Ash, and me after tonight will just have to happen, because I don’t want to stop.

  I open my eyes and begin licking at his pants, feeling like a cat and even more like one when Ash puts a firm hand between my shoulder blades and presses me down so that I’m on all fours. The air is cool on my swollen cunt, revealing every single fold and curve where I’m wet, and with a tremor, I realize Ash has posed me like this so Embry can see my sex on display. I wish I could see his face or hear his voice. I wish I could tell if he liked what he saw, if he also remembers that night in Chicago when he crawled down the bed and ate me like a starving man at a feast.

  As I’m licking up the traces of myself, Ash says to Embry, “You’re hard.”

  Embry doesn’t speak, but he must nod, because then Ash says, “Pull it out. Show Greer what she’s done to you.”

  Ash doesn’t have to tell me to look or force me to turn my head. My heart pounds a beat so strong I feel it in my cunt as I turn to see Embry with his shaking hands on his fly. I recognize the misery in his face immediately. The misery of wanting something so badly even though you know it’s wrong. Even though you think it might be a trap. Yet here we are, unwilling to stop, however dangerous it might be.

  There’s a furrow in Embry’s elegant forehead, as if he’s concentrating as he slowly unfastens his pants and reaches inside. Then I see the tip of him—the dusky, flared cap with a bead of moisture at the slit—and I lick my lips, thinking of Chicago. Remembering the way that cock invaded me and claimed me. Tore me and fucked me.

  Embry sees me lick my lips, and his head drops back against the sofa with a moan.

  “All of it, Embry,” Ash admonishes. “You show us all of it.”

  With a couple of quick, jerky movements, Embry shoves his pants farther down his hips so that all eight hard inches are exposed. His balls are high and tight, like he’s already close to losing it, and when he puts his thumb at his root and slowly pushes his cock towards us so that it points straight to the ceiling, I see the muscles tensing
in his stomach and thighs.

  He’s breathing fast, his eyes on Ash as he keeps himself displayed for us. “Like that?”

  I’m surprised at the huskiness in Ash’s voice as he answers. “Yeah. Just like that.”

  But by the time I’ve swiveled my head back to Ash to study his face, his control has returned and his attention is on me again. He looks at my face as he addresses Embry. “Wasn’t I so nice to let Greer come like that?”

  “Yes,” Embry responds after a pained second.

  “Shouldn’t she thank me?” Ash runs a finger along my jaw as he stares at me. I shiver under his caress. “Wouldn’t that be polite?”

  A breath. “Yes.”

  “How should she thank me, Embry? With her mouth? With her hands?”

  “I—” A heavy breath. “With her mouth. She should thank you with her mouth.”

  “I like that idea very much,” Ash agrees. “Put my dick inside your mouth, angel. Show me your gratitude.”

  Oh, thank God. I attack his groin with so much enthusiasm that he chuckles, but the laughter dies in his throat the minute I get my hands on the erection I’ve been craving all night. I waste no time in sucking him; I pull him into my mouth right away, taking him as deep as I can go, swallowing against his crown as it brushes the back of my throat.

  “Oh, fuck me,” Ash groans, his large hand sliding through my hair and resting on the back of my head. “Yes, angel, just like that. Holy shit.”

  “What…what does it feel like?” Embry asks.

  “Hot. Wet. Her lipstick is smearing around my base. Shit,” he swears as I start sucking up and down as fast as I can. “She so fucking eager. Look at this.”

  “I am,” Embry answers softly.

  I brace my hands on Ash’s thighs, loving the hard feel of the muscle under my hands, the tensing and straining that reveals what his stoic face doesn’t. I’m oblivious to everything—my tits bouncing and my hair coming undone—as I focus on my one goal: thanking Ash. I go back to the deep, long pulls, letting him fuck my throat, and that unravels him. Within only two or three minutes, he’s taken control from me, gripping my head with both his hands and fucking up into my mouth, letting me breathe on every other thrust. I’m gasping, tears smudging my cheeks, and there’s drool, but Ash doesn’t care.