by Mari Carr
She must have made a sound, because Weston turned, looking at her. “Rose…”
There was a thunk and they both looked at Marek. He’d folded the couch out to form a bed. It was wider than a twin, but not as big as a double. He stepped back, then motioned for them to rise. They did, stepping toward the back of the plane, where there was four feet of clear space between the end of the couch-bed and the bathroom.
Marek pulled out the other couch. When he was done, there was a wall-to-wall bed.
Weston and Rose exchanged a look, then faced Marek, who was standing on the other side. He toed off his shoes, then walked across the bed to join them on the far side.
“So we’re, uh, having sex then?” Weston asked.
“Not necessarily.” Marek looked at Rose. “How are your ribs?”
She hadn’t even through about them. “They’re fine. Must have been a bruise, not a crack.”
Marek inclined his head. “May I?”
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure what he was asking permission to do. She was curious, and still aroused.
Marek cupped her shoulders. “Rose, you need to take back your power.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you’re in charge. Weston is going to obey your commands. He’ll do whatever you say.”
Rose looked at Weston, whose eyebrows went up in surprise, but then he nodded. And he smiled.
He was smiling as if that wasn’t terrifying. As if being told you had to obey another person’s commands wasn’t soul-wrenchingly dehumanizing.
It was possible, just barely possible, that she was projecting.
“And you?” she asked Marek.
“I’ll obey if you’d like. Or I can act as your bodyguard. I want you to feel safe.”
“I wouldn’t hurt her,” Weston protested hotly.
“I know that.” Marek’s tone was matter-of-fact, not placating, and Weston’s shoulders relaxed.
Rose pulled her hand from Marek’s, but not because she was rejecting his idea or his touch.
She looked at Weston. “Take off your shirt.”
Weston flashed her a grin, then yanked it over his head with more enthusiasm than grace.
Rose looked at Marek. “You too.”
Marek also smiled, and took off his shirt by pulling at it from the back. They were smiling. They were excited, not terrified.
Her mind raced with the possibilities of what she could do. For a horrifying moment, some part of her wanted to take the belt from around Marek’s waist and use it. To beat them until they too were afraid, the way she had been so many times before.
She pushed back the dark, cruel thoughts. “Now the pants.”
In turn, each man stripped off his pants. Weston was naked beneath, while Marek wore black boxer briefs that hugged his thighs and ass.
Weston’s cock was semi-erect. He stood unashamedly naked. She glanced once more at the scars that marred the right side of his body, both from the burn and the surgeries that followed. Her heart bled for the young man he’d been, so noble and determined to save her, only to be struck down in such a vicious way by his own parents.
But the time for mourning had passed. She needed to live this moment as if there were no past, no future.
“Take off your underwear,” she told Marek. “I want you naked.”
Marek shucked his underwear, revealing his semi-erect cock.
Rose paused, unsure what to do next. Asking them to take off their clothes had been easy enough, but now that they were naked—both taller and stronger than her, clearly dominant men—she was having to fight the urge to drop to her knees. Last night she’d been able to just enjoy, but she’d been so emotionally and physically exhausted that it had been like acting in a dream. A wonderful dream.
This was a new day, and bright sunlight spilled in the plane’s windows.
Silence stretched to the point of being awkward. Marek grabbed his underwear and slid it back on, then slipped around behind her, his chest against her back, his hands settling lightly on her hips. “I’m here. I’m with you. You’re in control, Rose. I’ll help you.”
Rose reached down and pressed his hands more firmly against her hips. “Don’t let me kneel.”
“I won’t,” he murmured. Then Marek proved that for all his good manners and upstanding bearing, he had the soul of a sexual deviant. “What do you want him to do? You could have him stroke his cock until he’s ready to come but then order him to stop. You could make him kneel and watch as you take your clothes off, piece by piece.”
Rose’s nipples hardened inside her shirt. Holy shit. Having Marek at her back, whispering naughty things while Wes stood in front of her, naked and ready, was hot.
“Stroke yourself,” Rose told Weston.
His eyes blazed with desire as he curled the fingers of his right hand around his shaft, rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb.
“Make your cock hard for me,” Rose added, her nipples diamond hard inside her bra.
Weston let out a little groan, and Marek’s cock pressed against her ass. Weston kept stroking, his heavy-lidded gaze focused on her.
“Do you want to touch me?” Rose purred.
“Yes,” Weston ground out.
She laid her fingers over Marek’s hands and guided them up her sides, sliding them under her jacket until his forefingers rested just under the swell of her breasts.
Weston squeezed his cock hard, his breathing labored.
“Do you like this? Do you like seeing him touch me?” Rose hadn’t meant to ask that second question, because the answer could mean this whole scene came to a grinding halt.
“Yes, Brown Eyes, yes. I want—” He clamped his lips together to stop himself from speaking.
“What do you want?”
Wes shook his head. “This is about what you want.”
“And what if I want to watch you touch Marek?”
There was only the briefest pause before he said, “Then I will.”
Rose shook her head. “I won’t make you, either of you, do anything you don’t want.” Her words came out fierce and hard.
Weston looked at her, his hand still on his cock. “I know you wouldn’t.”
Marek’s fingers flexed against her rib cage, reminding her he was there.
“And what if I want Marek to touch you?” she asked.
Wes’s eyes widened before his hand started stroking again. “As you wish.”
Rose’s heart clenched, and she wondered if he remembered the night they’d stayed up watching The Princess Bride.
“Take your hand off your cock,” she told Weston. Then to Marek, “I want you to stroke him.”
Marek stepped out from behind her and went to Weston. He laid his hand on Weston’s shoulder, trailing his knuckles down Wes’s chest and abdomen until his fist bumped his cock.
Weston closed his eyes, his head falling back. Marek wrapped his fingers lightly around the hard length of cock, stroking up and down in sure motions.
Rose watched, her whole body tingling with arousal. Weston’s head tipped forward, his eyes opening. His gaze met Marek’s and then, with a little growl, he grabbed Marek by the back of the head and kissed him.
Rose blinked in surprise, then blinked again as a shiver of pleasure racked her. If she was asked to label herself, she’d call herself pansexual—as a serious submissive, she’d been part of just about any pairing even the kinkiest person could imagine. But she’d never reacted this way to seeing two men together.
Probably because this wasn’t just two random male submissives ordered to put on a show for the crowd. These were her men.
Don’t be stupid. At the end of this, if you’re lucky, you might have a few weeks with Weston before you have to pay for your crimes. And Marek is better than you, better than both of you.
Shoving that thought aside with an effort of will, she shucked her jacket. It was warm, too warm, on the plane.
They broke the kiss, and Marek kept working We
ston’s cock.
“It’s…it’s been too long. I can’t last,” Weston growled.
“Don’t let him come, Marek.”
Marek used his thumb and forefinger to grip the root of Weston’s cock, pinching down.
Weston grunted out, “Thanks.”
“Marek, take off your boxers.” Rose watched him as she tried to think of what else she should make them do.
With a start, she realized that she didn’t have to wait. This wasn’t a BDSM scene, where the play could last hours before any penetrative sex occurred. This could be fast and hard if she wanted. Or if could be slow and sweet.
Slow and sweet sounded nice, but she needed their hands on her. Now.
“Undress me.”
They moved in sync, as if they’d rehearsed. Marek dropped to his knees, reaching for her shoes. Weston raised her hands, kissed his way up her wrist and forearm to her sleeve before grasping the hem of her shirt and working it up.
Marek had her boots and socks off in record time, then started on the button of her jeans, even as Weston drew the shirt up and off, leaving her wearing a black satin bra.
When she had gone to buy the underwear, she’d defiantly picked up a plain white cotton one, only to try it on and find it too heavy and restrictive. Realizing she might not have been missing anything, she went for a black satin bra, since lace ones didn’t look good under T-shirts.
Marek pulled her pants off, exposing the matching black satin thong.
Both men leaned back, looking her over, head to foot. It didn’t feel like they were inspecting a piece of property—she knew what that felt like. Instead, they were appreciating her, almost worshiping her with their gazes.
Feeling bold, she reached out and tangled her fingers in Marek’s dark hair and Weston’s honey-brown locks. She drew Marek’s face to her crotch, rubbing her satin-covered sex against his nose and lips. She pulled Weston to her breasts, lifting her chest slightly so her hard nipples rubbed against his cheek.
Weston groaned and then sucked her breast into his mouth, his saliva quickly soaking through the bra. Then his teeth scraped her nipple and she arched up, the muscles of her arm tensing as she tightened her hold on him.
Marek hooked a hand under her left leg and drew it up over his shoulder. When he pressed his face against her pussy, she could feel the heat of his breath, the rigid line of his teeth.
Weston yanked on her bra, pulling it down so her breasts popped out. Then his mouth closed on her, hot and wet, and sucked on her nipple. Exquisite pleasure pulsed through her, her pussy clenching in response. Marek pulled her panties to the side, and she felt cold air and warm breath against her.
She waited, breathless, for Marek to touch her with his lips. Weston’s free hand grasped the nipple he wasn’t sucking and she arched her body into them. Marek, the son of a bitch, moved back, keeping a finger’s width between his mouth and her pussy.
Rose gritted her teeth as Weston pinched and twisted her nipple, sending another wave of white-hot sensation through her.
“Put your mouth on me,” she gasped. “Now. Lick my clit. And I want your fingers inside me.”
Weston growled and lifted his head from her breast, even as Marek parted her with two fingers and licked from the entrance of her body to her clit. His tongue felt cool against her hot, hot flesh. She clenched and almost cried out when the broad flat of his tongue stroked her clit.
Weston sealed his mouth over hers, cupping the back of her head with his hand. It was a dominant action, claiming her mouth, and for a moment Rose wavered, but then Marek’s tongue stroked through her pussy again, and she remembered that he was acting on her orders. That she was in control here.
And even if she faltered and shut down, slipping into her submissive head space in reaction to Weston, Marek was there.
Rose yanked on Weston’s hair, breaking the kiss. She met his gaze, saw the first flickers of concern appear in his expression. Before he could fall out of the moment, she took his mouth, parting her lips against his and licking the seam of his mouth.
Weston sighed or growled, she couldn’t tell which, and then slid his tongue into her mouth.
Marek chose that moment to slip one finger into her pussy.
Rose broke the kiss. “Bed, bed, bed.”
Weston stooped and wrapped his left arm around her ass, picking her up and taking two steps back. Marek jumped to his feet and then onto the bed. Weston turned, toppling her out of his arms and into Marek’s.
She needed them.
Needed needed needed.
Rose lay back and, without ceremony, spread her legs, knees bent. She raised her arms above her head, grabbing onto the opposite side of the bed.
“Wes. I want you in me.”
Weston slid between her legs, braced his elbows alongside her ribs, then shifted his hips. The head of his cock stabbed against her inner thigh before sliding into position. Rose gasped as the plum-like head opened her folds, bumping against her clit before sliding down the valley of her pussy to the entrance of her body.
He held still, though she could see the strain in the muscles of his shoulders.
Weston looked down at her, hair falling over his forehead. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
It was the same thing he’d said all those years ago, when they’d first had sex. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she’d been terrified.
She wasn’t a girl anymore and wasn’t frightened. “You won’t hurt me.”
“I already have.” He turned his face to the left, so she could no longer see his good eye.
And that was where it might have fallen apart, if not for Marek.
“Then let’s heal the hurt,” Marek said. He was kneeling on the bed, erect cock prominent and attractive in that way cocks were only when a woman was aroused. He put a hand on Weston’s back, stroking him gently.
“You can touch him.” With his other hand, Marek reached out and tugged on Rose’s wrists.
It wasn’t until he said it that she realized she’d instinctively taken an appropriate submissive position, behaving as if there were restraints on her hands, though there were none except the ones burned into her mind.
Marek guided her arms around Weston, her arms curled over his shoulders, drawing him down until his chest brushed her nipples.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Always,” Weston replied.
Then he slid into her, his cock long and thick, filling her, pressing against her inner walls, forcing her body to yield to him.
Rose gasped, arched her hips, and came. That moment of penetration, so pure and intense, had her clenching down around him. It wasn’t the teeth-gritted leg-cramping orgasm that came from a vibrator, or the muscle-shaking relief of an orgasm long denied after hours of teasing.
This was like being lifted by the swell of a wave, rising higher, higher until it crested and she crashed down.
Weston nuzzled her cheek then started to rock in and out in a lazy fashion.
With his cheek pressed to hers, he didn’t see her wicked smile.
“Stop,” she said.
He froze. “Did I hurt you? I thought you came.”
“I did. Marek’s turn. You can watch.”
His nostrils flared in response, and she thought she’d made a mistake. But Weston slid his cock out of her and rolled off her onto his side, propping his head on his hand.
Rose turned to Marek. “I want you inside me.”
Marek looked rather serious as he slid between her legs. Weston grabbed the leg closest to him and lifted it, sliding it over his hip and opening her even wider.
Rose shivered with arousal.
Marek braced himself on his hands rather than his elbows, leaving his impressive chest bare. For her viewing pleasure.
Then he adjusted his knees, and his cock slid into her. Rose reached up to grab Marek’s shoulder with one hand, and the other tangled in Weston’s hair as he lay beside her. She arched her hips, taking him in another half inch. It felt go
od. It felt right.
Rose watched Marek from beneath her lashes. Spots of color marked his lower cheeks and neck as he started to thrust. She could feel Weston’s cock jumping and jerking in reaction to the sight of Marek’s cock disappearing into her pussy.
This was good. No, it was better than good. This was something she’d never really had before—a mix of gang-bang kink and tenderness.
Marek pumped for a few minutes then stopped. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off.” His voice was rougher than she’d ever heard it. As if this was his evil twin. She liked his evil twin.
She wanted this evil twin to keep fucking her.
But as hot as it was to have them taking turns, she wanted to have them both.
“Stop,” she said.
Marek immediately stopped. And that was the hottest thing that had happened so far.
“I want it to be all of us, together.”
“How?” Marek asked.
She applied gentle pressure to his shoulder and he slid out of her body, standing beside the bed. Rose rolled to the side, then gestured to the middle. “Wes, you lie there. On your back.”
Weston scooted over and lay on his back, blue eye tracking her movements. Rose knelt astride him. She ran her hands down his chest to his cock, holding it as she inched up into position. He raised his hands to her breasts, then hesitated.
“Play with my nipples,” she demanded. “I want you to pinch and twist and pull.”
With his cock in her hand, she could feel exactly what effect her words had on him. His hands closed over her breasts, first kneading them, then sliding his fingers to her nipples, twisting and pinching. Rose arched her back in pleasure and sank down on his cock.
When her ass hit his thighs, she stopped, wiggling a little, just for fun. Then she looked over at Marek.
“Have you had anal sex before?” she asked.
He might have blushed. “Uh, yes, but we don’t have any lube or a plug for preparation.”
“Stop being such a Boy Scout and get over here and fuck my ass.”
“Language,” he said reflexively.
Between her legs, Weston vibrated with laughter.
