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

by Jennifer Willows

  Even his breaths were enough to add fuel to the orgasmic fire. His other hand had burrowed into her flesh. He had the digits fisted and pressed against her opening. The pressure there made her womb clench from the lack of being filled. She would take anything she could get at this point, and take anything he would give her. It wasn’t long before she felt herself lose all control, and she felt the pressure move from her slit, which wept with her copious juices to her anus. His fingers were slick and insistent. She had never been penetrated there before and until then would have claimed she wasn’t interested in it either. But the sensations were undeniably delicious and dark in a way that she had never thought to experience. She was free to revel in them because of her bonds and the lack of control they represented. It was only moments later that she felt the pressure change, and Marq’s fingers made entry.

  “Can I have you here?” he asked, but the question seemed more rhetorical than exculpatory. There was no answer she could give other than to nod her head once. “Good. When we are finished today, you will know that I own you, just as you own me.” His smile was mischievous, and his hair was tousled from the vigorous bout of oral pleasure he’d just bestowed on her.

  Marq had kept his fingers quiescent within her back entrance, but once she had the opportunity to nearly forget their presence, he began using them for devastation. At first he only probed her with a single digit, then the pressure changed and she felt another pussy-greased finger press against her to meet the first one. She felt her rectal regions clench in fear then loosen in excitement.

  “I need you to come for me one more time, and when you do, we can have a shower. After that I plan on filling every hole you have tonight and making up a few for my use.” The scandalous concept made her shiver in anticipation. “Mmm,” he groaned as he saw her helpless convulsions, “do that again.”

  “I can’t help it.” She gasped then groaned again as he twisted his fingers inside of her. He spread the manicured digits that probed her then curled them toward her pussy. The change in sensations left her needy inside, and she wished his cock would stab her deep while his fingers gyrated.

  “I know you can’t, and that’s how I like you. Helpless with lust and on fire for me.” She could only clench her hands into fists and clasp them together as if she prayed for surcease from the newly activated nerves that begged for more. Jamison wanted more of him, more from him, and more of everything. The need plagued her from all directions, and she was lost when he leaned over her and sucked one fat nipple between his lips as he drove his fingers as deep as they could go. One last tug from his mouth and she was in orbit. She couldn’t hold back her scream. It burst from her throat on its own and echoed around her, made the sound last forever. When she was cognizant of where she was again, Marq cradled her in his arms and stumbled to the shower. He sat her on the closed hood of the commode and tested the water, and only then did she realize her hands were free. Once the temperature was right, she saw him smile.

  “Come here.” He held one hand out to her, and she stood. But her legs were as wobbly as a newborn calf’s, and she swayed slightly before she could gain control of herself. He clasped her and brought her close. The marble tiled stall was a shower only and didn’t have a ledge, although it did have a handrail. She leaned against the wall and allowed the water to pellet her from several angles. Her eyes drifted closed only to open when she felt the sweep of a soap-laden sponge caress her skin. He washed every inch of her carefully and only stopped to have her turn around and even more gently washed her back. When he finished, he stepped away and let the water that rained over them rinse away his hard work. She wanted to return the favor, but before she could muster up the words to say what she wanted, he was already clean and in the process of drying off.

  Less than an hour later, they broke bread and the bed.

  It all started with downward dog.

  “I know it’s late, but can you do some yoga for me?”

  Jamison laughed. He had lost his mind. But she did some poses for him anyway. When she finagled herself into a balance pose, Marq snapped and snatched her up before she could finish. He kissed her even as he took over their pleasure. She found out the joys of anal pleasure just a few minutes later.

  Marq took his time preparing her. He started with his lips, trailed the salty skin with his tongue. Then he used his hands to map the damp flesh. When he reached her waist, he gave her a finger, tunneling the digit inside her rapidly weeping pussy. The fingers slurped inside her, and his face was one of a man satisfied with his position. His lips followed the digits, and she could hear him drinking from the well of her pussy fortified by his intruding hand. She met the fingers with her hips and wordlessly begged for more. But he held back, and she was gone enough to ask for it. Even with her pleas and demands, he continued teasing her.

  There was a moment when he removed his fingers that she was sure he would give her what she asked for. But he didn’t, and in fact she felt him tease the skin between her anal opening and pussy mouth. She felt pressure on the taut skin then his digits steadily rubbed the area in circles. When his head lowered again, she felt the hot press of tongue, but not on her clit, where it was heavily anticipated. Instead his mouth made its way to her virgin cavity and gave the clenched muscles there a wet French kiss. He licked the area in circular, bathing strokes that relaxed her and forced her tight all at once. The fisted muscle group gasped as if it needed air, and he used the inhalation to press forward.

  First, he probed her with his sex-juiced tongue, then with a smooth finger. His lips sucked around the wrinkled skin, and he made a smooth invasion to the palm with the single finger. Before she had a chance to process the unique sensation he added a second finger then a third, and changed the way her senses worked. She felt upside down or inside out. Jamison wasn’t sure which described her needs best. But her desires unfolded before her eyes, and she grew to crave the idea of his cock where his fingers speared her. Before long his tongue sought the muscles that spasmed around the intrusion and lapped over the elastic ring formed around him. The dual sensations were enough to destroy all of her prior hesitation. She jerked and keened before she screamed his name.

  “Oh Jesus, Marq!”

  “Mmm, that sounds better.”

  He kept at it, and she was left to beg for his cock. “Please, Marq, just take it.”

  He apparently agreed as she felt the press of his thick cockhead against her pussy. His initial thrust was rough and near angry in violence, but it was exactly what she needed. Marq only used her wet snatch as a well to bathe his cock with juices. He didn’t fuck her aside from the handful of thrusts he popped her hips with. She could hear the wet slurp of cock and cunt amid their heavy breaths and slap of hips. When he pulled away from the grip of her pussy, his cock pressed against the ring of sensitized muscles now stretched for his use.

  “Push back against me, Jamie, baby.” She did as requested and pushed her hips back to meet his. But it wasn’t enough to make headway, and she found that she needed to flex her rectal muscles to allow him entry. The sensation was akin to a swallow, but below instead of using her throat. The head entered first with a slight pop and massive pressure, but she continued to expand herself and bore down with the press of cock instead of her innate desire to fight against it. After several minutes of pressure and release, he had steadily tunneled his way inside of her. He was seated to the hilt, and she could feel how her pussy longed for the same treatment, how the wet snatch had a mind of its own. Her pussy fluttered rapidly, and she could no longer hold back her desire to be filled in all ways at once. She slid her own hand to her needy sheath and toggled her clit for a few moments before she gave herself a single finger to quell some of the ache she felt. It wasn’t enough, and she slipped another finger to match the first. But Marq smacked her thrusting hand with his fingertips.

  “Let me handle that for you. Rub your clit for me.” She did as he asked, and her snatch clenched tight at her exit. But the spasmed muscle gro
ups were reintroduced to the stretch of his fingers, and the extra length and thickness of the digits was enough to satisfy the pain of being left unfilled. It was perfect. Her hands rocked her own clit in circles, and then the motion became jerky and less rhythmic as Marq began to use his cock in a series of deep and slow strokes. His digits were capable of devastation on their own, but when coupled with his cock, she was ready to lose her mind. She could count on one hand the number of times she was driven mad with cock lust, and all were with Marq. But the orgasm bearing down on her was in a class of its own somehow. She was nearly there, but when Marq took one leg and propped it over the opposite shoulder, the ripples of the peak couldn’t be held back for any reason for even another instant.

  “Ahh-fuc-ugh.” She wasn’t anywhere near coherent, even in her own mind. She couldn’t even see anymore and every sound around her seemed so far away. Marq hadn’t come yet. He seemed as if he was ready to jump out of his skin. His face was one of concentration. His teeth clenched, and his strong jaw ticked as if he ground the molars to dust. She had to see him come, and she said the only thing she could think of.

  “Marq, please fuck my ass!” He looked at her closely, as if he needed to see how serious she was. Her expression must have pleased him somehow, as he only hesitated for the split second he’d used to roam her visage. When he sprang into action, the previous peak seemed inconsequential in comparison to the free fall she was flung headfirst into. He reamed her ass with more vehemence than she ever imagined was possible. Every nerve she owned stood up and begged to add fuel to the fire. Her skin screamed with a chorus of confusion. She felt the sheets rustle against her back, and the hair on her arms stood straight and sent her senses into a frenzy with each gust of air that roamed her flesh. She could feel so much in the moment, but she was separate from everything except his cock and the tunnel it penetrated with verve. His cock was the only tether that held her to the here and now. Otherwise she was sure that she would have drifted away like a balloon in the slippery hands of a child. He nearly punished her with every stroke, and she found that she flung herself against him unknowingly, their hips crashed together as if cymbals in a symphony for two. She could feel the earth move. When she looked around her, the dust settled. She saw the mattress now rested on the ground and the headboard sported a major crack down the middle. But even the broken bed didn’t perturb him, and he kept at her, dug his cock within her ass until she pleaded with him to come.

  “It’s so tight, Jamie, baby, I don’t want to stop.”

  How could she argue with that? The dark sensations were deepened by the exquisite fit and their natural chemistry. When he finally let go of his seed, both were replete and sated beyond anything she’d ever known in life.

  “How the hell did we break the bed?” It was a rhetorical question, but even though she was there, Jamison still had no idea how it happened. He was inside her, and she begged him for more. After that, she heard a creak then a crack, and then they were several feet lower than they started out in the massive four poster bed.

  “Well, that’s what happens when you beg me to fuck you. You get fucked.” She could believe it. If all it took was a simple, “Fuck my ass, Marq,” to break a bed, then she might find herself sleeping on floors. But as long as he was next to her, it didn’t matter. There was enough money that getting a new bed was easy as a snap. As a matter of fact, Levin’s did have a really nice wrought iron set with a lifetime warranty on it. And the frame sported dovetail lockings that would be sure to keep this from happening again. She was going to lose her deposit for certain. But even that was okay. Marq would just have to reimburse her.

  The next morning, Jamison awoke ready to talk, and Marq seemed to understand. She didn’t have her morning session in the bank of windows overlooking the trees and terrain. He didn’t roll her over for their usual bout of love in the early morning. He made them breakfast, which was carried to the hot tub, and they cuddled together with her cradled in front of him. He fed her odd tidbits of the breakfast he prepared for them, Belgian waffles topped with pecan apple maple syrup and fresh espresso. He was too patient, and she felt the words flow naturally as if she were in thought.

  “Marq, you don’t know about my history, but I nearly killed a man.” She couldn’t look at him, only ahead of her into the trees, but she felt his heartbeat speed up. Even though she had to rip the scab from the years old wound, the pain wasn’t fresh, and just a mere echo of what it used to be. The moment had arrived for all of her sins to meet the light of day. “I grew up in foster care, and the years I spent there were less than kind. Not to me, or the other children around me. I remember days where I dreamed of having my dad come back to me. He loved me, and everything he did was to take the best possible care of me. But looking back on it, I didn’t appreciate him the way that I should have. I used to be so ashamed. Dad was a simple man, and he didn’t see the need for fripperies and fashionable clothes. I didn’t either, until I got a bit older and girls around me stopped liking me. They laughed at my hair or what I wore, and played mean tricks.” Jamison paused to take a much needed breath. Her heart beat a furious pace, and her palms prickled with nervous sweat.

  “I had been begging him to buy me a particular pair of shoes that all of the cool kids wore. But he was a janitor in the mornings at school and worked in an ice plant in the evenings, and money was a tightly held commodity. To make a long story short, he finally gave in to my demands and was coming back from the mall with the prized Keds when he was killed in car accident. After he died, I was bounced from one foster house to another before I finally ended up with a nice couple. The father was a deacon in the church and a mechanic. His wife taught Sunday school and kindergarten. They were so nice at first, and I hoped to stay there until I turned eighteen. I only had about fifteen months until then, so it didn’t seem impossible. One day when I came home I found the father had an unusual afternoon off. He attempted to rape me, and I stabbed him in the back with a knitting needle. He nearly died that day, and I would have been a murderer in deed and not just in thought. The state paid me hush money after a lengthy trial. That’s where the money you invested came from.” Marq never spoke and merely held her against him. But for all of the calm his posture behind her exuded, his heartbeat was that of a hummingbird, and she could imagine the organ beat so profusely it bruised his ribs.

  “That’s not your fault, Jamison. Almost every child reaches a stage where they give their parents a hard time. In fact, it’s called puberty. You know that you’re not a murderer. Any person that attacks children should die alone somewhere in a brutal manner. Children are made to be loved and protected, not used or abused. If anything, I feel angry for you, and I wish he were still alive so I could pay him back for what he tried to do to you.”

  “So I take that to mean you already knew.”

  “I found out a few days ago, but yes, I knew it.” He wouldn’t let her pull away. Marq held her as close as he could to him, even though she made a halfhearted attempt to move.

  “But, Marq, knowing all that, why me?”

  “What do you mean why you? Why do I love you?” She nodded once.

  “Well, why not you? You are intelligent, which is a major turn-on by the way, and the way your mind works makes me hard. You are mysterious without trying to be. You are so sensual and open for me. I love the fact that you are independent and that, despite bad circumstances that would make a grown man fall to his knees, you persevered and thrived. Plus, you are a beautiful woman, and I plan on taking you off of the market so no other man can claim you. And let’s not forget that you are oh-so flexible.”

  “Marq, the circumstances that make up my life are not pretty, and I don’t understand the family dynamic. I don’t know if I can be what you deserve.”

  “All I want is for you to be who you are already. The only changes you’ve made in the month we were together were superficial and had no bearing on how I saw you as a person beneath the skin. I’m not asking for a cookie cutter fami
ly. My last name isn’t Beaver or Brady. We don’t have to be the Huxstables or anyone else. We just have to be who we are and know that we can be perfect for each other. We deserve to be happy together.”

  What could she say to that? Not a damn thing. It had been many years since anyone loved her for her and not as a cash cow for a stipend or tax deduction or a thing to be used until sapped of any value and cast aside. If she had the sense god gave a bird, she’d take this incredible man up on his offer and toss her hesitations to the four corners of the world. Why not? She’d watched her friends fall head over heels while she remained apart and alone. With Marq, she’d belong to him and vice versa, and nothing or no one else had to matter.

  Jamison did catch her flight, but the destination ended up being different than she planned on, and Marq was right beside her. She vehemently refused to allow him to upgrade her seat, and Marq was forced to not only endure the indignities of commercial flight again, but he was forced to ride in hobo style, as he called it, in coach-class seats. She didn’t make him, but he let her know that in no uncertain terms were they going to be separated any more than they already had. So she ended up with a passel of complaints the whole way. But even with his petulant attitude about their seating, they spent each flight side by side, held hands, and gazed in each other’s eyes at erratically placed moments.

  It wasn’t her fault the man in front of them on the first connection decided to have chili pre-flight, and even the terrible smell of his gas wasn’t enough to tarnish the shine of being with Marq. Nor was she responsible for the guy across from them on the second connection. The tow-headed male carried a duffel bag full of ginseng root and talked about his plans for his wife when he got to her nonstop. But even that was okay with her, as she had a multitude of plans for her man when they landed as well.