Willows, Jennifer - A Harem of One [The Moreland Brothers 3] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Jennifer Willows

  “I know, Marq. I’m at home. Just give me half an hour.”

  “Too long, you’re supposed to be on my cock right now. Don’t make me come and get you.” She shivered at the thought. The neighbors were already giving her funny looks as it was after the last week. The glances Mrs. Terrell gave her were of jealousy. Mr. Terrell’s spoke of unrequited lust. If Marq fucked her senseless again, she wasn’t going to be responsible for what she said or did. “You get ten minutes. Every minute you use beyond that time you will be disciplined for.” She kicked into high gear, pulling her trash can out front, rushing inside to grab the bags of rubbish and recycling bin. She didn’t bother with clothes. Marq was a control freak when it came to wardrobe. He already told her they were burning her old garments in effigy. If she brought any of them around him, he just might do as he threatened and set fire to her closet.

  Even with the rush job, Jamison was five minutes late, but Marq had to know that was going to be the case. Heck, her house was ten minutes from the downtown condo he owned. There was no way she was going to make it in the time he allotted her. But when she walked in the door, the harsh glint in his eyes was enough to let her know she was dead wrong.

  “Take everything off and get in the shower.” His expression let her know not to pose any arguments with him, that it would be better to accede to his commands. She did promptly, undoing her cardigan and pants in short order, allowing the fabric to fall where it may. She walked toward the shower and removed the rest of her underclothes along the way.

  “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes. Don’t make me wait any longer than that.” He kissed her hungrily for long moments before walking away.

  Jamison flew through her shower, and no sooner than she stepped onto the plush rug with her towel did Marq open the door.

  “You’re early. I still had two minutes left.”

  “And that means? You were done, and I decided to come in.” He took her hand and padded back across the open space to a chaise lounge he’d moved to the middle of the living space. There was a projection screen lowered over the opposite wall, and she was nervous about the size. It was one thing to watch herself on a TV, but this massive screen turned the simple viewing into something more. She couldn’t define the trepidation she felt. It was just there in the background whether she liked it or not. Her only responsibility was to accept the feelings of fear. But Marq decided to be wicked and draw out her wait. He took the seat first, straddling the bench seat the chaise formed, and rolled a condom down his hard cock from a long strip lying on the nearby stone coffee table. When he was covered, he drew her down to sit on the erection and straddle his legs. The amazing glide of sopping snatch and indurate shaft was electric. She shook, and he groaned. She wanted so much more.

  He spoke long moments later when both their hearts seemed to slow down from their frenzied pacing. “We are going to eat first.”

  “Marq, please.” Her pussy was already rippling around his scalding hot pillar of cock. If he didn’t let the tight hold he had on their reins of motion go, she was going to spontaneously combust into a conflagration of need and fire.

  “Nuh-uh.” He waggled a finger in her face, his smirk seeming to say he enjoyed her hips begging his as they writhed against him helplessly. She couldn’t stop, though she tried in vain to still her squirming. Her only response was to bite her lip and close her eyes, hoping to calm down. A few heartbeats later felt something touch her lips, rubbing over the bowed curves of the upper before rasping the lower.

  “Open up.” Jamison complied, and the rich flavor of olives burst on her tongue. She opened her eyes and noticed the large plate filled with small finger foods and hors d’oeurves. She leaned over and plucked a miniature tart from the tray, offering him a bite, which he accepted with a grin as payment for the offering. He kissed the digits cradling the small treat before he took it from her and broke a piece from the bitten edge. He placed the morsel between her lips, and unable to resist, she licked his fingers clean of crumbs and pie filling. He grunted and rocked his hips, forcing the shaft inside her deeper. The sensation of his cock shuffling through the raw need of her pussy was enough to reignite the sparks their mutual stillness banked low, as if their hunger was a dying fire treated with bellows. He looked at war with himself for a moment, and she desperately hoped he would give in. She wanted to give in.

  “Are you hungry?” The face he made told her the answer was more precious than the cure for world hunger to him in this moment. It felt heady, the fact that she was even capable of keeping up with this man. His hungers didn’t match hers, but surpassed them. In fact they fed hers even as he devoured her whole.

  “God yes.” For cock.

  “Me, too.” His expression spoke to his hunger for pussy. He picked up a remote from the table and pressed a series of buttons. When the keyed-in sequence was complete, the recessed lights dimmed and the jumbo-sized screen began to show video. The scene on the tape was one she remembered well.

  They had just walked into the cabin, a large house built into the face of the mountain, the structure seemed to be a nothing more than windows and ivy and melded into the area well enough that you had to be looking for the house to find it. The house was beautiful, but stark and overtly masculine, and seemed to be dominated by open space broken into groupings more appropriate for a moderate-sized tête-à-tête or gathering. The predominant colors in the space were greens and brown, reminiscent of earth and forest. She remembered asking him during the quick flight when they would begin taping. His response was that the recording would begin once he activated the cameras from his cell phone.

  Marq had put together a simple lunch, which ended up being eaten in bed. The meal was more European, with delicious cheeses, fruits, and baguettes eaten with fingers and plated on their nude bodies and spare flesh. When they had finished dining, she was starving for more.

  From their seated position, she could feel every inch of Marq’s cock leap inside her and, desperate for the silken glide of him, Jamison began to swivel her hips in an attempt to generate the delicious friction needed to make her come. Just the knowledge of what was going to occur on the big screen in front of her was enough to excite her in a way she never knew was possible. Even he seemed tense, as if he couldn’t wait to see it either. The scene progressed before her very eyes.

  The man on camera seemed larger than life and knelt before a beautiful, supine woman. Jamison couldn’t believe that she was the woman, except for the flashbacks of the same scenes in her mind. She could remember every word spoken and every caress given her skin before it flashed across the screen.

  The movie began to take an erotic turn when Marques had finished dining on the al fresco meal after he ate the final smidgeon of Brie wedged between her toes. He made his way back up her body, this time tasting her instead of the remnants of food as he went along. When he reached the apex of her thighs, his northward progression halted. She saw him take a deep breath as if he could inhale not just the scent of wet sex but the organ it came from as well. But instead of the fuck she desired greatly, he bathed her with a flat tongue, washing her natural moisture away and replacing it with his own. When he finally cleaned her, he blew soft puffs of air across the damp skin, dried her to a sticky finish. But he was watching her every move right now, and the idea of seeing herself this way with him was responsible for half of her arousal, and the other half was purely pleasure. Every time she craned her head to look at him, his eyes were on her.

  At the time the movie was filmed she could only see half of his face, but the expression that portion of him displayed was enough to ramp the sensations to a screaming vibrancy. The half she couldn’t see was even more wicked. She felt the smirk on his lips against her begging snatch. His eyes displayed a mirth that barely could be contained within the borders of eyelashes framing the expressive orbs. Her excitement was directly correlated to his enticing tongue, and for every frantic undulation her body made, his torso matched until they were one wave rolling in
sync. He finally stopped teasing and began pleasing as his tongue split the lips of her sex, driving her to a state near madness with tender flicks against the minute bud of erect clitoris crowning the apex of her pussy. His mouth was bliss. He nibbled her so gently with just enough pressure to send her heart racing and limbs shaking. Orgasms had never been so effortless, so divine, or so numerous in her life, let alone in her imagination. His hands folded beneath her lower spine to keep her locked against the seal his lips formed around her dew-laden slit. At that point all she knew was if he sucked once more—

  * * * *

  Marq watched Jamison’s face change expressions as he ate her pussy for the camera like it was his last meal. Indeed, it was the last sustenance to pass his lips that night. He was right before. She was explosive on camera. Her reactions were so raw, so untutored and unschooled that he got harder just thinking about the helpless expression on her face at the crucial moment. That very second her body would no longer let her deny her need to come. She always made a whimpering sound, accompanied by a shiver that roamed over her whole body as if she were cold. But she was always hot. No matter what time of day or night he was inside her, she was delicious and scalding inside. Not to mention she was so soft, near velvet in feel around him. Even right now she was quivering on his cock as she melted copiously against the seam of their conjoined hips. He bet if he pulled her away from her sticky sex there would be a puddle of her cooling juices beneath them.

  When he spliced the tape from his house this morning, he was amazed. There was something about her. She was near astonishing in her sensuality and ability to transform under his hands. He had watched her come dozens of ways in the last eight hours, and one of his favorites was coming up next. Even though he wanted to watch the scene now, he had gone back to it several times earlier, and he wanted to see her initial reaction to the upcoming orgasm more than anything else.

  After his film doppelgänger had finished sampling every drop of syrup she had to offer, Marques lapped once more over her pussy and crawled up the bedding to face her on his side. She still shivered for him, needy and begging for breath. One hand crooked beneath her neck at place where her shoulders met the burnished column, and the other hand cupped over her gasping slash. He gave her one finger first, scrolling over the walls feeling each ripple of slick and sticky flesh. Once the first had explored each and inch of her, it was joined by a second finger retesting the inches forged by the initial entry. He looked her in the eye, the light brown near black from pleasure as he hooked the fingers speared inside her, searching for the secret spot that would make her go crazy. When he found the walnut-sized G-spot, he applied firm pressure, giving her a few seconds before using more on the untried area. He knew the instant she began to process his ministrations. Her hands clutched at her own belly as if she could touch the organs inside her under duress. The sensations were supposed to be uncomfortable at first, near painful due to the intensity of the caresses on her untouched flesh. He personally didn’t understand the feelings of course, but she looked near frightened of it and him.

  He remembered what he said to her. “It’s okay…relax. Let me make you feel good,” he whispered to her, their eyes still locked. Hers were wide and scared. They seemed to beg him for surcease.

  “It’s too strong…Ahh—” Her voice cut off from nowhere, a puppet without strings. He knew the sensations had begun to change. She went from clutching herself to clenching him. She could take more now, and he applied a touch more pressure against the erect gland beneath his fingers. Her spine left the mattress in a steep arch upward. Only her heels and head met its surface, and even the hand cupping the cervical vertebrae along her neck no longer touched the sheets either.

  “The film looks so good.” His voice broke the silence but not the ambiance, and Marq was amazed at how her mouth listed drunkenly open on the TV. She could have mocked an opera singer with her lips gaped to serenade him with her song born of pleasure. Yet, even with the comparison to Pavarotti, there was no sound, not even that of breath emitted past her lips. Every muscle she owned was taut as if she’d given everything she had to her senses, and he could see strain along the arc her body made beside him. Her orgasm was so amazingly erotic in a way that seeing a woman come had never been before.

  In the here and now, watching Jamison’s reaction to her exploitation before his camera was the single most pressing need he had. She seemed to be enraptured at her own visage and near coming on his lap, even though he hadn’t made but the single stroke inside the convulsing walls. Her eyes were wide open, pupils dilated to a fathomless, moss-ringed black pool filled with desires she couldn’t speak aloud. She looked hungry, and the longings he saw reflected his starvation back at him. The desire-laden gazes seemed to be a loop of continuous feedback barreling them deeper into sensual abandon. Her pussy easily recalled the map of his fingers from the weekend, and the nerve-laden bundle was palpable against his cock, seeming to beg for attention. She was milking him deliciously over and over in needy motions, her wet sex sticky enough to remind him of liquid soap as she frothed around his stiff cock. He was ready to burst himself, as if he hadn’t come numerous times today to the same footage playing now. There was something beyond sensual about the viewing as if he’d never seen himself have sex. But that was the crux of it. He’d seen plenty of sex, raw fucking, but never experienced lovemaking, and that was what was being displayed before him. It was the one thing he’d never seen on tape before, until his brother and sister-in-law showed him what he was missing with his episodes of porn-star fucks with his usual lovers.

  When he looked away from Jamison’s slack face to the screen on the other side of the room, the scene had changed and now he was inside sopping sheath. His hips were grinding away so hard inside her, he looked like a condemned man having his last fuck. The same way she was near frantic on his cock now, her hips rolled and her spongy snatch chugged at his cock in thick vaginal swallows the way a frat boy drinks beer. Her mouth was agape, and the only intelligible words to leave her lips were “please,” “more,” or “fuck.” Her pussy seemed endless, as if she could swallow every inch the way her throat would later in their home video. With each of swivel of hips, she grew wetter, until he thought he was drowning in her. Plus, she was so tight around him, like she had been barely used and her pussy sucked him in a vacuum-tight seal. It was completely possible she could suction him dry to a husk with her drenched slit when they were done, and he would love every second of it. Before she could lure him from his purpose, he uprooted her and sat her on the chaise.

  “Why?” Her brows were drawn together, with a look stunned and upset, the plaintive tone in her voice giving away her need.

  “Get on all fours, Jamie.” He sounded gruff even to himself, but it couldn’t be helped. Every ounce of blood he had presently was in his cock. She scurried to the floor, kneeling beside the table where he met her, too impatient to do anything more than clutch her hips and quickly tunnel his way back into her sodden pussy. If she wanted to fuck, he’d give her what she pleaded for. He took control of every thrust, even as he was out of control of himself. She needed to see what she did to him, and he leaned over her back to cover her thoroughly. One arm wrapped around her belly, the other ratcheted beneath her chin and forced her head up.

  “Keep those eyes open for me. Watch it happen. Watch us.” He couldn’t look in her eyes, and that was the only disadvantage of their position. But there were too many amenities to change their current arrangement of limbs. He could watch every inch of her flesh shudder when he thrust deeper and could see the agonizing clench of muscles along her frame. Then he could roam his hands over every inch of flesh she possessed. He assumed she complied as her squirming grew exponentially, though the way he held her captive wouldn’t permit more than the frantic shudders that rolled between them. Soon enough, the frenzy that over took her was too much to sustain. Somehow, she took over even though she was imprisoned. He was the one in prison, her walls manipulating enough to ke
ep him caged behind bars. She was gasping for every breath she took, and he knew that he held her too tight. He just couldn’t let her go.

  When he looked up, it was no better. Onscreen their toes were curled, her big toes wrapped over the small ones. His small toes clenched the ball of his foot and the big one stuck straight out. Vanity made him lift up and look behind him, and sure enough her feet were contorted into a fist of gnarled digits. The kinked up phalanges made him grow harder, and he looked away, lest he lose what little sense of self he had left, but it was too late. Jamison had found her pleasure and rippled around him harder, still begging for more. The way she shook as she screamed gave no quarter, ceded nothing, and demanded he give all. The orgasm crept upward, started at the tips of every extremity, and radiated inward before he imploded. His was light-headed and if he wasn’t a grown man, would admit he felt faint. He disengaged the clutch he’d employed on her, but refused to remove his cock. She listed drunkenly to the side, and he let her, following her to the rug to lie on their sides. When he glanced back to the big screen, both of them had come and were lingering in the mired mess of the bed. How appropriate.

  It was long moments and a nap later, he woke to find himself hard and still inside her enthralling heat ready for more. But there were more important things to do, namely feed her again, and they needed to get in the bed. He was too damn old to fuck and sleep on the floor anymore. That was best left in his twenties where those types of discomforts belonged. But with Jamison, the sated sleep after sex was the best postcoital nap in his life, and he’d slept on satin with numerous others.

  Chapter Seven:

  I See Naked People

  The first night Marq left her alone was later in the week. That Thursday, he had a meeting with his brothers and a few cronies from work. Jamison had a girls’ night with Mak tonight, to go out for dinner and drinks. She spent more time than usual primping. He normally chose her outfits. But she felt confident in the shiny black leggings she paired with a bright blue off-the-shoulder tunic-length T-shirt. Her hair was left simple, just its usual mass of natural curls held from her face with a sheer scarf. She wasn’t one for jewelry, but the catch-all rule he’d given her was earrings and at least one bracelet, so that was what she did, sliding on a silver wrist cuff, and a set of wide hoops went in her ears at the last minute. She still had time and decided to watch some TV, or at least pretend like she was while she updated her scheduled blog. This time she was doing a throwback movie, as she called it.