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

by Jennifer Willows

  Marq poured Jed into his hotel room at one thirty and made his way to get his fix of Jamison. When he arrived and closed the back door of his condo, Marq began stripping his clothing. First, his shoes were kicked off at the door. Next, his jacket and pants were left in the kitchen. His shirt ended up in the doorway to the bedroom, leaving only his underwear. The modal briefs were discarded at the side of his bed, and his eyes roamed over the glistening skin displayed by his lover. She was wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else. She was modestly covered from the waist up, but the wet path of sex was on display and available to plunder. Marq quickly covered his cock with a condom from the bedside nightstand before slipping next to her. The moment he settled next to her, she began seeking his heat, shifting until they were plastered together.

  Marq decided to finish what she started for him and fitted her to him. He wasn’t able to see her face, but it didn’t matter as the house was dark from the late hours. Her skin was so soft, he couldn’t help but to linger over each touch of her flesh. His hands wanted the tactile pleasure of knowing every inch she had to offer. He could hear her breathing change, going from a slow rhythmic inhale to a lighter, shallower pant. He used one hand to draw her knees upright while the other was used to fit his throbbing cock to the slick slit made for him. Once they were aligned, he nudged her open and fed his length slowly, only using the cap of his cock inside her. Then he let his hands play over her again, wanting to please her enough to awaken in minute degrees. Then when she was cognizant, he was going to fuck her until they were both satisfied.

  “Wake up, Jamison, and throw that pussy back at me,” Marq whispered into the night, his mouth cocked just above the shell of her ear. Curls tickled his nose, and he knew some part of her heard. She rocked against him, taking more cock with every stroke her hips engaged backward.

  “What’s the magic word, Marques?” she finally responded back after several sizzling passes of tight snatch and hard cock. She sounded husky, as if still mired in sleep, and the sultry sounds made him harder than he thought possible.

  “It’s please, but I don’t have to ask for what belongs to me. Give me that pussy,” he whispered back before biting her ear and thrusting deeper.

  It didn’t take too long. Within five minutes, he was balls-deep and Jamison’s hips were whipping against his. The angle was somehow perfect to nudge her G-spot. Marq could feel the mass scrub over the head of his erection each time he passed over it. He used one arm to clasp her against him at her navel. The added pressure forced the firm sponge of the spot prominently outward, which made each pass of cock and cunt more nerve laden. Neither of them lasted long beyond that point before Marq let them drift off in a puddle their orgasms and sweat-slick skins made on the duvet.

  When Marq woke again, it was several hours later when Jamison left the bed. A quick squinty glance at the window let him know it was just after dawn, and Marq wanted to get his morning eyeful. He padded to the kitchen and started some coffee, even though he knew they were going back to sleep. It was their M.O. Jamison always woke at dawn and performed her morning acrobatics in front of the window. He always woke to watch her then fuck her. When they finished with the morning session of sizzling sex, he would give them both a breather when they both attempted to complete their respective miniature mountains of work for the day. He set them up a private chat room where they exchanged fantasies and daydreams throughout the hours. Sometimes they discussed their opposing political leanings, and other days they debated social issues. Each day spent conversing with her made him like her more. And for once, it wasn’t skin deep, as he truly liked her personality.

  But he could see that she saw their relationship as temporary. She refused to discuss the future at all. In fact, when he mentioned anything beyond their month together, she would change the subject adroitly. It was how they started, but he saw it could be more. So much more than what it was. Truthfully, he felt that with her he was twice the man that he was before. There was so much he was unconscious to. There were things he’d never paid any attention to before. He had never truly taken time to think about the plight of the homeless or the faults in the foster care system. Jamison had never passed a vagrant by without giving something. He didn’t pay any mind to the needs of African school children or the painful concept of female circumcision. He knew apartheid existed, but he never thought twice about it as it ended before he was an age to be socially attentive. He never thought about the debacle of health care in this day and age, or of animals being mistreated. Yet even with their varied opinions, the only issue they really ever found themselves fighting over was politics. Jamison was a staunch Democrat, and Marq, well, he was a card-carrying member of the Republican party. It was something that they couldn’t find any sort of common ground on.

  Their political diversity was so bad to the point where they watched their favorite political shows in different rooms of his condo. During a particularly heated debate between candidates, Jamison left his place sorely irritated with him. Although he did follow her, the argument led elsewhere and the sex was spine-tingling rough that night. He pressed her back to half the surfaces in her apartment, from the front door to the kitchen counter when they took a break for a drink. They fucked like two animals in heat that evening. So much so that the neighbors had to knock on the door twice to complain. As if he gave a damn. They wouldn’t be so irritable if they were doing as a good, loving couple should and fuck, too. Apparently they gave in to their base desires or stuffed cotton in their ears as no complaints were heard after the second knock. By the time they finished, neither of them saw the bed until the sun rose the next morning.

  They would go to sleep, but it never lasted for long before one or both of them was groping the other. He woke at one point thumbing her breasts and another fingering her sex. She awakened him once with her mouth on his cock, putting the finest Dyson vacuum to shame. Even thinking about her lips framing his cock was enough to turn the fat slab of flesh between his legs into stone. Letting the thought go was hard, but if he didn’t want to walk around with blue balls until this afternoon, it was time to get himself together. They had a date at Makenzie’s tonight. Jamie didn’t know it, but he was going to be an integral part of her portrait tonight.

  Chapter Eight:

  You Make Me Feel…So Gone

  Jamison met Marq at his house, and they made fantastic timing to Makenzie and Charyn’s home. When they arrived, barely at the agreed-upon time, the couple appeared to be busy as Charyn opened the door with a sour look on his face.

  “Damn, you would have to pick now of all times to be punctual.” The middle Moreland brother was scantily clad, only bothering to put on a pair of thin silk lounging pants. The crumpled black fabric carried a suspiciously damp stain at the crotch, driving home the point made by the tented front seam.

  “Love you, too, big brother.” Marq’s smirk spoke to the fact that he liked interrupting the couple. The suspiciously innocent face he made belied the sarcasm in the words, not to mention what he said next confirmed his enjoyment of Charyn’s discomfort. “You two fuck too much anyway.”

  “I’ll show you what my fist feels like if you don’t—”

  Jamison thought it was best to stop the train on the tracks before it derailed horribly. “Umm, Charyn, where does Mak want me to go?”

  “Her studio is through here.” She followed him to the back of the house to a sunroom off the mudroom next to the kitchen.

  The room was spacious and built to catch all the light available during the day. But tonight the space was well lit with track lights and built-in wall sconces.

  “Do you want anything to drink or eat, Jamie?”

  “No thanks.” Her stomach was already in knots. How in the world was she getting ready to do this? But it was too late. There was no way Makenzie was going to let her weasel out now. Damn it.

  “What about me, little brother?”

  “You’re not a guest.” Charyn chuckled and pointed at the minifridge in th
e corner. Marques walked over to the wall cabinet and pulled down a pair of glasses. “But feel free to make yourself at home. Makenzie will be down in a bit.” He laughed again before he walked away, closing the small studio off to the rest of the house with the simple act of shutting the door upon his exit.

  Jamison felt slightly uncomfortable, as if her skin was too tight. The room carried a subtle note of simple luxury. Nothing seemed to be too good for Makenzie if her husband had his way. The room was a soothing shade of blue, almost periwinkle. Combine the rattan furniture with plump microfiber cushions and the room made the beach exposed to her view idyllic. The halls were faintly scented with sex. The married couple was always hungry for lovemaking. If they weren’t making the beast with two backs at any moment, they were trying to sneak away to do it somewhere. Apparently the drive for spontaneous sex ran in the family. It seemed the three brothers all had a bit of freak in them.

  Jamie took a seat on the long sofa positioned along the wall and waited. Marq sat in front of her in a luxurious woven wingback chair made to seat a man of his height comfortably. He leaned in and held out a glass of an unknown drink for her. The beverage held a scant handful of ice, and the frozen crystals already melted a series of ripples over the surface of the pale amber liquid. She took a sip and licked her lips. The drink was really good. Very mellow and intoxicating. It took a bit to get her drunk, and she’d never seen the point of wasting her money or time on alcohol. Marq just watched her with a look she couldn’t describe. There was a lusty note she quickly deciphered, but there was something else there that she couldn’t pinpoint held in his eyes. It disconcerted her, enough to the point she couldn’t hold the weight of his eyes on her flesh any longer, and she looked away. But even the drink couldn’t deflect his eyes roving her. She could feel him. When Makenzie finally came downstairs fifteen minutes later, Jamison was near ready to give in to the searing demands of Marq’s gaze. He never said a word, but then again, he didn’t need to.

  “Jamie, why haven’t you stripped yet and put on your robe?”

  “Huh?”

  “Marq should have told you already. I gave him the details when we spoke on the phone.”

  “Uh, no. Not that detail at least.”

  “Well? Now you know. So go into the bathroom and change please. By the way, you can have your panties on beneath the robe.”

  “Gee thanks.” She made sure her tone held a note of sarcasm. Makenzie decided to ignore her, as there was no retort to her unusually brusque tone.

  Jamison found herself in a small sea-foam-green bathroom just off the kitchen. When she stripped her basic T-shirt and jeans off, she found herself incredibly nervous. There was no way she could do this, could she? But in the few moments she took for self-reflection, no answer came to her, even as she belted the robe over the band of tattoo that put her in this mess in the first place. There was time for a quick mountain pose and a handful of deep breaths before a knock at the door broke her already fragile concentration.

  “Are you okay with this, Jamison?” It was Marq’s perfectly crisp baritone speaking to the through the door. His voice gave her the confidence to finish what she started, and she opened the door to the scrutiny of his gaze. She must have passed muster as he merely stepped to the side and allowed her to pass. He placed one hand at her back, and she let him escort her back to the artist’s den.

  Makenzie looked at the two of them together and seemed to make a quick decision.

  “Marq, I know I said that I just wanted you for inspiration, but…can you pose with her?” Jamison felt poleaxed. She was already going to be nude, and now this?

  “I’m okay with that.” His face said he was at any rate. He looked, for lack of a better word, intrigued.

  “Just shuck down to your undies, and I will take the two of you through a series of poses and see what is most natural for the look I want.”

  Marq had no sense of modesty, as he began disrobing on the spot. He was just as bad he was in his home and discarded the clothes where he stood with no care about the expensive fabric he treated with such disdain. By the time he was finished, Jamie moved to pick the clothes up from the floor. She hated a mess. But Makenzie halted her and began to treat her models as Barbie dolls. If it wasn’t, “lay here,” then Mak was telling them to act natural. What the hell does that mean anyway? It was not like she could pretend that Makenzie was nowhere around. Finally disgruntled after the tenth position change, Jamison was through with the position Makenzie was currently directing her into. For now she was poised over Marq’s prone form on the couch and propped onto her forearms. It was a normal enough pose except for the fact that they were not alone. It seemed too sensual by far, but with her scattered curls and robe, there wasn’t much to see. But she could feel everything.

  She could sense the thin leash Marq was holding himself to. His entire body was rock hard beneath her, and the sculpted form was the lumpiest mattress she’d ever used. He was alluring even as she tried to push sensuality of the scene away from her mind, or at least scurry the sensations to the back of her thoughts. It wasn’t working. She wanted him. As in right now, and if he didn’t have what appeared to be an excess of self-control left, he’d be inside her now. His cock was in a perfect position for entry due to the differences in their height. Every few moments he would rock his hips, barely nudging her pussy open through the spandex of her tanga panties. Then the next motion would have him retreating, and she knew her underwear was near ruined. The spandex felt nearly like a second skin and, instead of diluting the sensations, heightened each instead. His rocking beneath her was more rhythmic now, better timed, and perfectly devastating. She could hear the rough scrape of pencil on paper, the scratch of sound a beat Marq followed to a tee.

  It was too much to handle. She had to come, or rather she was going to, it seemed, whether or not she was ready for it. Now instead of pressure against the opening of her soaked snatch, there was a stealthy, sex sticky invasion forged by the head of his fat cock. The intrusion was followed by retreat, and then she felt his fingers grasp the ribbons woven at the side seam, tugging her underwear taut. The slickened crotch of the panties gave and slipped sideways, trapped in the supple joint of her inner thigh. This time when he returned his cock to nudge her opening they were skin to skin. His eyes asked questions she couldn’t answer. Not now, or with a clear head. She closed her eyes and nodded against the rasp of his jaw.

  It seemed as if she was struck dumb, and at this point there was nothing to say anyway.

  The moment she started actively seeking more of Marq than the teasing press of cockhead, everything stopped. The first thing she noticed was Marq’s unnatural stillness. Then she heard silence, no scratching niggling her in the background.

  “Ahem, let’s take a half hour.” Jamison bolted upright. She had almost fucked Marq in her friend’s presence. She felt waves of embarrassed heat wash over her, and with her bright coloring, the flushed skin was definitely going to be noticed. She dropped her head, and Marq propped up on his forearms, looking at Makenzie. The artist was trying in vain to be worldly enough to ignore the white elephant in the room. But the heat coming from her and Marq was palpable in the closed off space. No sooner than Makenzie stood than the door opened.

  “Damn it, Makenzie, nowhere in the discussion about tonight did we agree Marq was getting naked.” Charyn’s voice shattered the calm, but his wife smiled and seemed to enjoy the display of temper.

  “Hush, boo, he has on his boxers.”

  “That’s still too close to nude for my liking.”

  Jamison could see the spark between the married pair burn back to life with a single glance. Maybe it had never gone out. But she did know the couple was probably going to make love. Makenzie took her husband’s hand and closed the door behind her. Moments later a far-off cry confirmed her suspicions. But her attention was brought back to the matter at hand when Marq probed her slick sex with several delicious inches of cock stretching the ring of nerves on entry. God
he was so good at that, and the feel of him unadulterated was sublime. There was so much more to enjoy, as if the freshly bared inches were electrified. She knew her lips were gaped open awkwardly, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that now. If she swallowed a fly, did that mean she was no longer vegetarian? By the time he’d speared her with half of his cock, she didn’t give a damn about catching flies or anything else. In fact, she decided that any insects would be considered protein and left it at that.

  Marq made short work of the scanty robe shielding her skin from him, untangling the waist tie and slipping the garment from her shoulders where he let the fabric fall into a pool around their hips. It didn’t take much to get her going. The next moments were filled with hot thrusts and groans of need. God she was on fire. Sex had never felt so amazing. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she realized that she had never had sex unprotected either. But even knowing that, the chemistry between her and Marq was too much to deny. It was so strong, and she refused to deny herself every sparkling taste of him available. He was such a guilty pleasure. Every sinful taste of him she got only made her craving for more worse. He was drug she couldn’t get satisfaction from, no matter how much she had. It was never enough to quench her thirst for more. Her ruminations were nipped in the bud quickly when Marq gave a savage punch of hips, and all thoughts left her.