Diana Finds Ecstasy in the Big Easy (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Robin Gideon

  Diana looked at his erection, thinking it the most erotic thing she’d ever seen in her life. Never before had she thought of a man’s arousal being attractive, being something that was beautiful and erotic to look at—but she did now.

  She closed her eyes against the visual stimulation of Marcus’s erection. She couldn’t look at his cock and think with any semblance of rationality.

  I don’t crawl to men. Especially not when they tell me to do it as though they had some authority over me, like a prince over a peasant…or a Dom over a sub.

  She opened her eyes and looked upward. The sun was still high in the sky. A quick glance around told her that there were no boats nearby, but being out in the middle of the river meant that anyone with a telescope or binoculars would have a bird’s-eye view of her behavior.

  Slowly, she slid off the bench seat. She felt as though her body was a foreign object, capable of moving without any conscious thought of her own. Suddenly, Diana realized that she was on her hands and knees. When she felt the prickly synthetic carpet of the deck of the pontoon against her palms and her knees, she felt a sudden heat wave of embarrassment.

  If I stay low enough, no one on shore can see me.

  A momentary flash of elation went through her. She felt daring as never before. The sensation was exhilarating. And it frightened the hell out of her.

  She crawled on her hands and knees across the narrow space from the port side of the pontoon boat to the starboard side. She kept her gaze turned down, not sure if she was unwilling to look into the eyes of Marcus and William or if she was afraid to. They inspired in her a sexual exuberance that she’d never before experienced, but that didn’t necessarily mean that they respected her for her lack of restraint.

  The thought that she might become a source of humor to them sent a cold shiver up her spine. If there was anything in the world that Diana despised, it was being laughed at. Could anything be worse than being the unintentional source of amusement—and it’s first cousin, scorn?

  “She’s…” Marcus said, but then his sentence died away, and Diana’s heart stopped beating. “So awesome.”

  An incredible sense of relief swept through Diana. There was no sarcasm in Marcus’s tone. No condescension or anything that could in any way be considered demeaning. When he said “awesome,” he meant “awesome” with all its glorious connotations.

  She turned her gaze upward, allowed it to linger on his large, pale, visibly pulsating cock then travel to his face. His eyes were glassy with sexual hunger. It was everything Diana had hoped to see.

  “I want to suck your cock.”

  The words themselves were shocking, but to hear them in her own voice made the breath catch in her throat. It wasn’t the kind of sentence that had ever passed cavalierly from between her lips. She couldn’t remember ever actually saying such a lurid thing.

  But she meant it. She meant it now with more sincerity than anything she’d ever said. Ever.

  Marcus’s cock was iron hard. He put his thumb to the upper side of the shaft, right at the base, and pushed his cock so that it was at a ninety-degree angle to his body instead of hugging his belly. Diana felt her mouth water as though she were a starving woman looking at a delicious meal. In the past, giving blowjobs had never been something she particularly enjoyed unless she was wildly turned on by the foreplay, but with the deVille men, the usual rules of this game called “sexuality” were turned on their head. With them, she was always in a sexual fever. Her ability to say “no” had been reduced to approximately zero.

  Marcus spread his knees apart. The action apparently was both enticing and obscene. His cock, pale and pulsating, looked as though it was ready to explode.

  Don’t come too quickly. I want to suck you for a long, long time.

  She turned her gaze slowly up from his cock to his eyes. She knew, then, looking into his eyes, that Marcus wouldn’t come too quickly. He was a man of infinite sexual discipline and stamina. The sexual confidence that was so much a part of his soul was so evident.

  The thought that he might want to do more than just get a blowjob from her suddenly flashed across the surface of her mind, and she flinched and shut her eyes. She wasn’t ready for another alpha male in her sex life—at least not vaginally.

  “I know you want everything,” she whispered, looking him directly in the eyes as she knelt between his wide-spread knees, his cock so close she could smell its musky aroma and almost taste its virility, “but I can’t give everything to you. But you’ll be satisfied. I’ll satisfy you.” She closed her eyes briefly then looked directly into his eyes again. “I promise.”

  She put her hands on his thighs, never turning her gaze away. Then, slowly, while never breaking eye contact, she brought her moist lips to the head of his cock and then let the tip of her tongue caress its velvety surface.

  Chapter 8

  Geary wished like a son of a bitch that he didn’t smoke as much as he did, but wishing for change to happen was one hell of a lot different than actually making that change happen. He picked up the pack of Lucky Strikes from his desk, along with the cheap, plastic butane lighter, and turned in his swivel chair toward the windows overlooking the Lower Mississippi River. He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke deeply into his lungs then held it there for several seconds, almost as though he was smoking marijuana. When he exhaled, he did so slowly. His theory was that if he held the smoke in his lungs longer, then he wouldn’t smoke as many cigarettes. The theory didn’t match up with reality, which annoyed the living shit out of him.

  If it weren’t for Lucky Strikes, I wouldn’t smoke at all. He knew he was conveniently ignoring the fact that when his unfiltered Lucky Strikes weren’t available he smoked any cigarette he could get his hands on. Old Man deVille’s just a figurehead. William is really the one running the show. As soon as the right people know that the Old Man’s just a shadow of the man he used to be, the whole company will be vulnerable, and that’s when I’ll make my move.

  Geary took another inhale. This Lucky was tasting really good.

  DeVille Enterprises will be mine soon. I’ve worked for it. I’ve earned it. The fact that the goddamn sons are standing in my way just proves that they shouldn’t be there in the first place. They’ve inherited their status whereas I’ve earned mine. If I’ve got to muscle them out, it’s only because they don’t deserve their status in the first place.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a few seconds to compose his thoughts and to control his temper. Whenever he thought about the deVilles, and how undeserving they were of the riches that had been bestowed upon them, he always felt his blood pressure begin to rise to dangerous levels and his stomach acid ratchet up to volcanic levels.

  Whatever bad things happen to the deVilles happens because the world is a just place, and sooner or later everyone gets what they deserve. You can’t cheat karma. The deVilles have outrun karma for a long time, but soon—very soon—I’ll make sure that karma gets justice. They’ll all get what they deserve.

  There were still a few things that Geary hadn’t ironed out regarding his takeover of DeVille Enterprises. They were minor things, details that might be important but weren’t necessarily critical to make on a moment’s notice. Measure twice, cut once, was his motto.

  The Old Man wasn’t in a position to adequately fight him, but the Old Man’s children most certainly were. And once Geary made his move to take over the company, he was certain they would attack him with every resource and weapon they had.

  But would it be enough? So much of the power of Pierre deVille was the connections the Old Man had with politicians and other “major players” in the business community. Would the Old Man’s kids be able to keep those divergent power players in place should the patriarch be suddenly shown to be nothing more than the ghost of the man he used to be?

  There was a brief knock at the door, and then it opened. Geary’s assistant stuck her head into the room, sniffed, then frowned and made a face of disgu
st.

  “You’re not supposed to smoke in here.”

  “It’s my fucking office, and I’ll smoke if I want to,” Geary replied. “If you want to work somewhere else, you most certainly can. If you want to continue working here, you’ll be a shitload more careful about who you criticize.”

  He watched the blood drain from her face. He didn’t smile, but he wanted to. Geary knew in his soul that he’d just heard the last criticism from his administrative assistant. If she didn’t like to breathe his second-hand smoke, then she could find a job where her boss didn’t smoke.

  “There’s a call for you, sir, but you’ve turned your ringer off.” She gave the appearance of someone who was trying to smile, but she never managed to make the expression appear even marginally genuine. “It’s regarding the O’Toole deal.”

  “Is it the CEO on the line?”

  “Not yet. It’s his assistant.”

  “When the CEO’s on the line, let me know. If he thinks I’m going to wait on hold for him, he’s out of his mind.” Geary smiled, and this time it was genuine. “He’s trying to pull a power play, but I’m not going to put up with it.” His smiled broadened. “He’s such a buffoon. When I crush him, when I destroy him, it’ll be an act of mercy.”

  His secretary had a faint look of horror on her face.

  Geary was quite pleased with himself…on several levels.

  * * * *

  Julie adjusted the binoculars so that she could see the subject of her intense curiosity a bit more clearly. In the pit of her stomach was an awful awareness that something was wrong.

  She tried to not think too much about what that something was, but whenever she tried to turn her attention elsewhere, she found herself unable to distract her thoughts. What was happening couldn’t be good, and it was happening more than a hundred yards away.

  Diana’s to blame. She took the binoculars away from her eyes and adjusted the focus once again. Everyone thinks she’s such an innocent princess, but if they only knew what kind of a backstabber she can be, her reputation wouldn’t be so sugary-sweet. I’ll let everyone know—on the sly, of course—just what a bitch she really is.

  It took several seconds for her to find the pontoon boat in the binoculars, but once she did, the breath caught in her chest, and for a moment she wondered whether her heart would stop.

  She could see the head and shoulders of Marcus. He was sitting on the pontoon boat, his arms outstretched, resting on the padded bench he sat on. A bottle of beer rested in his right hand. His older brother, William, was standing a few feet away, looking down at him. Julie could see that he was smiling and saying something while there was a smile on his lips.

  Diana was nowhere to be seen.

  At first, Julie felt a sense of elation. She didn’t want Diana anywhere near any of the deVille brothers. She intended to have one of them for herself, and the share of that family fortune would be enough to make her happy for the rest of her life. Possibly so happy she was even content, though that particular emotion was something she’d never really experienced in “real life.”

  Except Diana had been on the pontoon boat when she’d looked at it earlier. And since the boat hadn’t gone ashore since the last time that she’d spied on it, then either the men had thrown Diana overboard—the notion didn’t exactly cause Julie to feel anything that anyone would consider remorse—or Diana was somewhere on the boat that Julie couldn’t see.

  She can’t hide. She peered even more intently through the binoculars. She can’t have gone below deck because there is no below deck.

  William sat down next to his brother on the bench seat, and it was then that Gregg saw something that made the blood that flowed through her veins turn to ice water.

  A dark head of hair, barely visible, was bobbing between Marcus’s wide-spread thighs. The hair was as black as a raven’s wing—precisely the same color as Diana’s hair.

  “Fuck,” Julie said, the softly spoken word coming out in the same manner and tone that a woman made when unexpectedly punched in the stomach.

  And then she watched as Diana, on her knees on the deck of the pontoon boat, shifted her position toward William. He sat on the bench next to his twin brother. Her head disappeared from view, but Julie didn’t have to actually see what was happening to know what was happening.

  That lousy slut’s giving blowjobs to both Marcus and William. Her emotions were in a fury. The bitch! The lousy, rotten bitch! She’s not satisfied giving one deVille a blowjob. She’s got to get her hooks into two of them!

  The injustice of never having sucked the cock of even one of the deVille men, nor having had access to any of their vast wealth, while Diana seemed to have opened the door to at least half of the clan’s extraordinary coffers was an affront that was almost too much to bear.

  Vague thoughts of drowning Diana flittered through Julie’s consciousness. Then she realized that there wasn’t a chance in hell of her ever being in the same room with Diana while she was taking a bath, so the odds of her drowning the vile bitch were pretty dim.

  What about poisoning?

  Julie smiled. Poisoning was something she could do.

  Except she knew nothing about actually killing another person. Sure, she could put a metaphorical knife in someone’s back, but putting a real knife in someone’s back…well, that was something rather different now, wasn’t it?

  What if I hired someone to kill her? She thought about this a moment, then shook her head. Fuck, I can’t afford my shoe budget! How in hell could I afford a professional assassin?

  I can suck cock with the best of them. She was making an assessment of her skills in the logical manner that she preferred. But every time I’ve given blowjobs to get something in exchange, the agreement has always been one-sided. I suck cock and get nothing in return other than a bad taste in my mouth.

  With a conscious effort, Julie turned her thoughts outward instead of inward.

  An instant later, she wished she hadn’t. She was just in time to watch as Diana, still on her knees, switched her attention from William back to Marcus.

  Both men were in a slouched position, obviously relaxed, their faces turned upward toward the sun. They were being treated like debauched despots demand to be treated, handsome princes expect being treated, and gorgeous gentlemen hope to be treated.

  That bitch has really put her hooks in them. The thought appalled Julie.

  She wished, with all her heart and soul, that she was the one on her knees, giving blowjobs to two of the most handsome—and more importantly, wealthy—men in Louisiana.

  I’m going to destroy that cunt, if it’s the last thing I do.

  * * * *

  Diana settled slowly onto her knees on the deck of the pontoon. She’d felt the outdoor all-purpose synthetic carpet beneath her bare knees before. In fact, she’d felt it a thousand times. This boat was like a second home to her, and nothing about it was foreign to her. But this time, as she settled on her knees and felt the scratchy texture of the outdoor carpet, she was kneeling between two very handsome, very powerful, very alluring men. This time, she wasn’t on her knees because she was piloting the boat and doing something helpful for the clients who had chosen her father to be a fishing guide. Oh, no, the reason for her being on her knees wasn’t nearly so professional. She was on her knees for nothing less than giving pleasure and the thrill she felt at giving pleasure to the deVille twins.

  And the reason she was doing it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they were rich men who had employed her father because of his encyclopedic knowledge of Lake Eau Claire so that they could catch fish that were arguably considered to be the most delicious on the planet.

  Diana was on her knees between these two men because they were sitting on the port side bench of her pontoon with their polo shorts open. And each man was sporting an erection that any man on Earth would be proud to claim as his own—and any woman would be happy to pleasure herself with.

  And I’ve got two of them. Wi
th the thought came a certain sense of amazement. Two gorgeous deVilles. The twins! And I’ve got them all to myself.

  For a moment she felt a little selfish, but then she forced the emotion away like a bad habit. She’d been neglected and/or in self-denial long enough, she decided, to behave a bit selfishly at an unprecedented time like this.

  Diana slowly reached her hands out, wrapping her fingers around Marcus’s shaft then William’s. She’d never been in a ménage a trois before, and she certainly hadn’t planned on being in one on this golden afternoon, but with William and Marcus, doing this seemed so…natural. It was something more than raw lust. These were the kind of men who could make a woman feel safe and protected and yet vulnerable as hell. They could perform the magic of making her feel powerful…and yet submissive. And most strangely of all, they could make her aware those dichotomous sensations at precisely the same time.

  She’d never before dreamed that such abilities were possible for men. Though she hadn’t ever admitted it to any man—but to several of her girlfriends—she always considered the masculine sex somewhat slow-witted, boorish, and infinitely horny, though only occasionally being sexually exciting. They always wanted sex, but they so seldom could inspire sex.

  Subsequently, Diana had the feeling—which sometimes bordered on paranoia—that she could incite sex but only from men she wasn’t really willing, or even marginally inclined, to have sex with.

  But the deVille men had rewritten the rules regarding her libido. They made her want to do things that she’d never done before. They made her want to do things she’d never even thought of doing before. She considered that a skill that bordered on magic.

  Such a gift I’ve been given. She squeezed her fingers more tightly around the shaft of William’s cock and suspected she looked at it in much the same way that a starving woman would look at a perfectly cooked filet mignon—as delicious a meal as any carnivore could dream of, especially one who was starving for such a feast.