DontCallHerAngel

by Cara McKenna

  He went back, touching the knob, testing himself. Nothing.

  Then the difference struck him.

  A contractor or plumber or police officer coming to the house meant Rasul had to admit he needed another man—that there was a job that needed doing he couldn’t do himself. Weirdly enough, inviting Jeremy here was more akin to renting a floor sander. Rasul was still the man in charge, getting the job done. He smirked at this self-analytical epiphany and shook his head, knowing another chunk of his old culture had just been gobbled up by his ever-growing Westernism. He let the doorknob be. Time to head upstairs and resume responsibility for Emily’s pleasure, a worthy project only he could supervise.

  As he pushed the bedroom door in, he felt a jealous twinge to find his wife hand in hand with her guest on their bed. It would’ve been unnatural not to feel such a pang, so he merely acknowledged it and let it go.

  “You’re staying?” he asked Jeremy.

  The man nodded.

  Emily released his hand and shifted to sit on her heels, attentive. Surely just what she wanted…two willing men partially clothed, her naked, the room abuzz with the promise of yet-to-be-articulated scenarios and orders.

  Rasul’s body had thoroughly cooled during his absence, but desire stirred at the hungry glimmer in his wife’s eyes. She might hold this other man’s hand for a few minutes, but it was Rasul who held her body tight to his each night. It was he who’d given this fantasy to her. Another man with his background might think it repugnant even to stoop to pleasuring one’s wife with one’s mouth. To allow her to openly lust for another man and to invite that man here to enjoy her body… Rasul ought to be stoned. Except he cared nothing now for the values he’d been taught. He cared only about this woman and making sure she wanted for nothing, every wish granted by his hand. Control freak.

  He looked to Jeremy. Floor sander.

  He addressed the man, keeping his voice hard, accusing. “You liked watching?”

  A dip of Jeremy’s chin and a quiet, “Yes.”

  Rasul turned to Emily. “You still want him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Spread your legs,” he said to Jeremy.

  With a nervous glance at Emily, Jeremy obeyed.

  “Kneel in front of him,” Rasul told her.

  Emily nodded, slipping into obedience mode. She settled between Jeremy’s calves and Rasul walked to the side of the bed.

  “You want to touch him?”

  She nodded again.

  Rasul aimed a directive gaze at Jeremy and she scooted closer. She touched his belly first, then his chest. She stroked his thighs and hips, then slowly slid a hand between his legs to cup him. Their guest’s expression shifted, from hesitance to surrender.

  “Enjoy him.” Wallow, Rasul thought. Take this opportunity to be what everyone accused you of when you were young, and revel in it. It warmed him with both lust and a tiny sliver of anger. He knew better than anyone the past couldn’t be fixed, not even through vengeance and restitution, but he’d dedicate the rest of his life to making sure this woman collected as few new regrets as possible.

  As Emily made her slow exploration, the muscles in Jeremy’s arms flexed, his hands fisting the bedspread. His cock stiffened, filling his shorts, surely begging to be touched with more than the gentle caresses Emily was giving. Fine. Let him suffer.

  Rasul stepped close to stroke his wife’s hair. “What do you want with him?”

  She glanced up, biting her lip as she pondered the question. “I want whatever you want.”

  He liked that answer, knowing much of her pleasure stemmed from his taking charge. He turned to Jeremy. “Show her.”

  Obediently, he pushed his shorts down enough to free his erection. Emily continued to fondle his balls through the cotton, hungry eyes on the cock she’d been gifted for this extraordinary evening.

  “Let her watch you,” Rasul said.

  Jeremy stroked himself, slow and light, surely afraid of disobeying yet again that directive he’d been issued.

  “And don’t forget, you come last,” Rasul added, just to be sadistic. He cupped a hand over his own cock, rubbing until the chaotic emotions coursing through his body coalesced, turning wholly to lust. Emily’s gaze jumped between the two men’s hands, and her lips were flushed and parted, always a giveaway.

  “You want to taste him.”

  “Yeah,” she said softly.

  “Do you want that too?” he asked Jeremy.

  The man’s eyes flickered shut. “Yeah.”

  “You give your guest what he wants.”

  Emily nodded then leaned in close, resting on one elbow as her other hand wrapped around this near-stranger’s cock. Rasul moved closer as well, touching her soft hair once more as he stroked himself through his briefs.

  “Does he smell different than me?”

  She nodded.

  “Does he taste different?”

  A loaded, breathy hum escaped her lips, just before she brought them down to graze Jeremy’s head.

  Such a strange sight… The lust wavered and Rasul felt disembodied, fumbling for a handful of breaths to recognize her or this room or himself, letting this happen. An unfamiliar man’s groans rising from their bed. Wrong but somehow fascinating. He was tossed in a sea of conflicting instincts. Jealousy and fear hovered at the surface, but they were shallow. Deeper and more intense were less expected feelings, desire and surprise, but deepest of all, pride. This woman, with her needs and wants and courage, was his, and this scary thing she wanted so much, he was offering it to her. The cock she was sucking might as well be his. He’d given her this.

  “You like this gift I’ve let you enjoy?” he murmured, softening his tone.

  She eased her mouth from Jeremy to meet Rasul’s eyes. “Very much.”

  “Good. You deserve it.”

  He wanted her to have no doubt that she was allowed to enjoy all of this, but enough tenderness, he decided.

  He shoved his underwear down and got to his knees behind her on the mattress. Sliding two fingers inside her pussy, he suppressed a groan of his own. He wished he knew better how not to suppress such things…but she’d trained so many other habits out of him, surely that one would follow, one day. For now, she could enjoy the sounds of Jeremy’s suffering.

  He held her hip tightly and guided himself to her lips with the other hand. Fuck, so warm. Still wet from what had gone on before, from two men. He slid inside deep and fast, but held her still so as not to disrupt what she was doing to Jeremy. The time for reassurance and awe had past. Now he’d be the maestro and make this man into Emily’s every fantasy.

  * * * * *

  “Hold her hair.”

  Before Jeremy even obeyed, Rasul’s order had Emily’s desire spiking. She felt uncertain fingers tangle in her long hair.

  “Rough.”

  She gasped around Jeremy’s cock as he did as commanded, that callous tug shifting everything that was happening. Rasul held her in place with an impossibly strong grip, not allowing her hips to jolt even as his thrusts turned aggressive. A hot haze fell over her, a lust that felt like drunkenness.

  “Guide her.”

  The pleasure spiked again as Jeremy hesitantly urged her to take him deeper. He moaned, the needy sound giving Emily chills. She imagined his view, if he had his eyes open. Surely an intimidating sight, watching Rasul fuck while he was in barbarian mode, but Jeremy stayed hard as iron in her mouth. She hadn’t done this with a new man since…well, since Rasul had been new. Back when he’d been all hesitance with her, viewing every mildly creative sex act as degrading to one or both of them. Thank goodness she’d converted him on all those notions. She was no angel and she didn’t want to be treated like one.

  Jeremy tasted different. Slightly sweeter, she thought—very fitting. He was easier to suck, not as thick as her husband. Circumcised as well, and just generally more…American-feeling. Curiously nostalgic and wholesome. His uncertainty made her recall the misadventures of her youth, fumbli
ng around on couches and in backseats, figuring out what sex was supposed to feel like. The sensation made her long for the mirror, to see Rasul with all his differences again, dark eyes and skin, self-control. She pulled her head back and Jeremy released her hair. She freed her mouth and turned to Rasul to mutter, “I want to see you.”

  “Do you?” came the cold reply. Rasul took her hard and fast for a dozen beats, rough enough for his skin to smack hers with each thrust. “It’s not enough I let you have two men, you want to see us both as well?”

  “Yeah,” she huffed, voice stilted by the impact.

  “Spoiled.” Mean or not, there was a fondest in his tone. “Very well. In fact, I’ll give you more than that.”

  He pulled out and slapped her hip, a signal she knew well. She turned over, heart thumping with curiosity, just a taste of apprehension.

  Rasul moved to the end of the bed and grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the edge and letting her legs dangle over the side. Being yanked across the covers made her back burn from the friction, her breath knocked out from the surprise. As she sat up, he seemed tall and dark and new to her, exactly as she’d hoped. She ached for an order to touch his hovering cock, still glistening from her.

  “You,” he barked at Jeremy. “Get a condom on.” He nodded to where Emily knew the box to be waiting on the bedside table. She felt Jeremy’s weight shifting the mattress behind her and the room went dim for a few moments as his body blocked the low lamp light. Her breath turned short at the thought that she was about to get her most selfish wish—the two of them. Taking turns, maybe, watching her from so close by, both looming above, making her feel small. She looked at Rasul’s face, his eyes on whatever Jeremy was up to behind her.

  “Come here,” Rasul said.

  The light returned as Jeremy rounded the bed, standing before Emily. She admired his bare body beside Rasul’s more familiar one, a shiver rushing through her and making the room feel suddenly cold.

  “Stroke,” Rasul ordered.

  Both men took their cocks in hand and another shiver chilled Emily. Unless she craned her neck to look at their faces, there was an anonymity to these bodies. Two ominous, strong men, biding their time, hungry to use her. This was her fantasy, this very moment. Rasul reached out his free hand to palm her breast, spreading warmth through her middle.

  He stepped between her legs, knocking them wider with his knees. Their bed was high and he barely had to stoop to bring his erection level with her pussy. Pleasure zapped her as he stroked her lips and clit with the head of his cock. Again, that drunken feeling, leaving her breathless and dim-witted. She raised her chin to gaze at Jeremy, finding his mouth open, eyes lust-glazed.

  The forceful push of Rasul’s cock drew her attention between them. She loved this view, his dark length disappearing inside her, stomach muscles flexing. She touched his abdomen as he went deeper.

  “Come closer,” he ordered Jeremy.

  He did as he was told, the men’s hips nearly touching—a wall of masculine energy that intimidated and aroused her equally.

  “Keep stroking.”

  Jeremy’s hand intensified from slow, grazing caresses to rougher pulls. The smell of latex reinforced the unlikely nostalgia of the atmosphere, and all the differences between who these two men were to her.

  “Let her hear you,” Rasul murmured, sounding uncharacteristically distracted. Emily glanced up to catch his eye and there it was, that look. A glimmer of helplessness like she saw there just before he came. Somehow, that hint of vulnerability thrilled her more than the perfection of his usual tough-guy act.

  Jeremy did as he was told, and the soft groans and sighs he made in time with his strokes raised the heat and tension in Emily’s body.

  “You want her?” Rasul asked, the bite back in his voice.

  “Yes.”

  After a dozen rough thrusts, Rasul pulled away. He stepped just next to Emily’s knee and Jeremy took the hint, moving into position between her thighs. She gasped softly as Rasul put his hand to the back of Jeremy’s neck, as one might hold a dog while commanding it to stay. Jeremy froze.

  Don’t rush, she wanted to beg. This might be the one moment in the rest of her life when she’d feel another man push inside her for the first time, and she wanted to savor it.

  “Slowly,” Rasul ordered, giving voice to her unspoken plea.

  Jeremy was beyond obedient. He stared down at her a long time, masturbating once more, breathing deeply. It was impossible to know if this was the tease of a cruel lover or the hesitance of a man on the verge of throwing himself from a cliff. Finally, Jeremy bent his knees and brought his cock close, close enough to trace her swollen lips with his sheathed head.

  “Jeremy.”

  A tiny groan, then, “Emily.”

  With the gentlest flex of his hips, he pushed inside, if barely. Her hands flew to his ribs and his warm palms cupped her shoulders. Another thrust and she welcomed him deeper, another inch, another thrust, until he was all the way in, so close their bellies touched. She looked up, and the sight of her husband’s hand still clamped to Jeremy’s neck made her dizzy.

  “Tell me how to be,” he whispered.

  When Rasul didn’t answer, Emily realized the question was hers to answer. “You’ve thought about me before? Being with me this way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then be however you imagined. Be whatever way you are in your fantasies.”

  Above her, in her periphery, she sensed Jeremy looking to Rasul. The latter man’s hand fell away and whatever exchange their faces made gave Jeremy the permission to say, “Lie back on the bed.”

  He pulled out and Emily scooted back to lie down with her head against the pillows. Jeremy followed, crawling until his body was above hers and his thighs pushed hers wide.

  He took her in a way she hadn’t anticipated—fast and confident.

  Their faces were level once more and he kissed her, messy and needy and wonderful. For a minute or two she got lost in him, and in this taste of an alternate dimension where he could perhaps have been her husband, or a man like him. Perhaps merely a fond one-night stand. She reveled in his newness, the fascinating imperfection of their union after years with a man who had her every nuance memorized and mastered. A shadow passed over them as Rasul stood at the bedside, tight fist stroking his dark cock. The sight jolted her.

  “Him,” she said to Jeremy.

  With a groan, he withdrew, moving to her side to let Rasul take over. Both men were humming with an energy that matched the exact pitch ringing through her own body. Rasul fucked her hard, lacking much of his usual self-possession. Above her, he let loose a deep, rumbling moan, the sexiest sound she’d ever heard him make. It seemed to signal danger, a nearing of his release. After only a minute—milliseconds for a man who could normally screw hard for an hour without tiring—he withdrew to kneel at her side.

  “Fuck her,” he said to Jeremy. His drill sergeant voice was back, but as shallow as she’d ever heard it.

  Jeremy took over again, only given a moment to find his pace before Rasul shifted the tone once more. “Fuck her,” he repeated. He put a hand on Jeremy’s lower back, and all at once the man transformed.

  Jeremy’s grunts were harsh and his thrusts sped to match them—probably speeding to match whatever directives Rasul’s hand was issuing. Emily hugged her thighs tight to his hips, welcoming him deeper. She stroked his sides to feel the muscles working.

  “Good?” Rasul asked her.

  She studied the smug look on her husband’s face, loving it. “Good,” she agreed.

  Rasul moved his hand to Jeremy’s head in a flash, grasping his hair. “You hear that? What my wife thinks of your fucking?”

  “Good,” Jeremy muttered, voice diminished by intimidation or arousal.

  Rasul gave him a shake. “You think that’s good enough for my wife?”

  Jeremy shut his eyes. “No.”

  “I invite you here, let you enjoy her body, and all you can do is ‘go
od’?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Useless,” Rasul murmured. Finally, he let go of Jeremy’s head. “On your back.”

  Emily could hear in Jeremy’s shallow breathing that he was nervous. Still, his cock stayed hard, and she mourned its loss as he pulled away to lie on his back as ordered.

  “Fuck him.”

  Her limbs were shaking as she straddled Jeremy’s hips, but he slid inside easily, nearly familiar. She leaned forward, bracing her hands beside his shoulders and adjusting the angle. The difference between his body and Rasul’s felt starker in this position…narrower in the waist and trunk, smoother and cooler to the touch. But different was exciting. Different was the entire point of this evening.

  “You feel nice,” she told him quietly.

  “I want to please you,” he said, clearly meant for both of them to hear.

  “Lemme find what I like then you follow my lead.”

  Jeremy shut his eyes and she realized, intimidated or not, he was as hard as he’d been before, who knew how close to the edge.

  “Take him,” Rasul said. “Use him.”

  She shivered at that. Normally she liked the idea of being the one who was used, but she could explore the reverse. She took his cock deep then drew herself off slowly. Jeremy sucked a pained breath through his nose. She felt the warm, familiar weight of Rasul’s palm on her back, encouraging.

  “You like your gift?”

  “Yeah.” She savored the slow sensation of Jeremy’s penetration as she moved her hips. He began to mirror her movements, small thrusts punctuating the motions she dictated. Rasul’s hands also followed the action, something sensual in the way he massaged her skin, something reverential. For two or more minutes Rasul let them find their way before asserting himself once again.

  “Back up.”