Cindersmellya: A Dark Comedy Fairytale Romance

by Alexis Angel

  More than just pleasing me, they’re pleasing me perfectly. As Sloane’s thrusts become faster, Drake starts working on my clit more furiously; it’s like there’s an unspoken bond between these two, one that they had no idea existed until now. In a sense, I’m the bridge between them. I just never knew that being a bridge could be this pleasurable.

  “I think I’m going to come,” I whisper, my voice thick from the effort I make to get the words out. I come one heartbeat later, my pussy tightening around Sloane’s cock like a vice. Feeling my inner walls closing in on him, he starts thrusting even faster; if my orgasm is an explosion, his thrusts are like gasoline.

  “Oh fuck, that’s it. So good,” I moan, my eyes rolling in their orbits as ecstasy rages through my veins, scorching all the nerve endings on the way. I’m moaning so loud now that it’s a surprise that the hotel manager hasn’t called the room yet, perhaps the other guests are too busy listening in to complain.

  I try and catch my breath, but both Drake and Sloane act fast, forbidding me from taking a break. Sloane makes me roll to the side and, grabbing me by the hips, he makes me go on all fours again, my ass turned to Drake.

  “Your turn,” he whispers at Drake, his cock twitching hard as the two of them lock eyes. Instead of just coming for me, though, Drake just remains frozen behind me, looking back at Sloane as if he were in a trance.

  Without saying a word, Sloane closes the distance between him and Drake. I look back over my shoulder in time to see Sloane curling his fingers around Drake’s cock, and guiding it home, only letting go when its tip is pressed between my drenched folds. My heart skips a beat as I watch him do it and I realize that, whatever there is between the three of us, we’re just getting started.

  Finally regaining consciousness, Drake grabs me by the waist and thrusts. His cock flies inside of me in a fraction of a second, straining against my inner walls on the way in and forcing me to unleash another wild scream of utter delight.

  Sloane shuts me up fast enough, though. He stands up in front of me and, grabbing his cock, he just shoves it inside my mouth. My scream dies in my throat and, allowing my wicked instinct to take over, I start sucking on him eagerly.

  I feel my skin prickling as his cock goes over my tongue; I can taste my pussy on his shaft, my fluids coating his flesh, and that just makes me lose all control. I thrust back as hard as I can, impaling myself on Drake’s cock, and then I move my body forward and allow Sloane’s cock to go all the way in. I keep on moving like this for what seems like forever, their cocks spit roasting in the most delirious way.

  A cloud of pleasure drifts over my mind, and I know that another violent orgasm is on its way. And it couldn’t be any other way, with them, every time I come is like rapture. More than just the physical, it’s a spiritual experience. Now, I’ve never been a fan of all that new-agey talk, but there’s simply no better way to describe what’s happening right now. Nirvana, Heaven, Enlightenment—I don’t care, call it whatever you want. I’m not picky.

  The urge to scream simply overpowers me and I pull my head back, taking Sloane’s cock out of my head. My scream is so loud that I’m waiting for the windows to shatter into a million fragments, but thank God, that doesn’t happen. What happens is that slight spasms take over my pussy, and a hurricane of pleasure whisks my rational mind away.

  “OH GOD!” I scream, long flames of ecstasy dancing in that hurricane, my soul dancing tap dancing to the rhythm of pleasure.

  Gritting my teeth, I hiss like a mad woman, my throat giving up on me. My muscles twitch and spasm erratically, and I feel beads of sweat dripping down from my forehead and plastering locks of hair to my face.

  I look up at Sloane with an exhausted grin on my face and, even though my muscles are late to respond, I somehow manage to extend my arm and grab his cock. I start stroking him furiously and, realizing that he’s close, I stop immediately. With my eyes never leaving his, I raise my hips and take Drake's cock from inside my pussy.

  “Come here,” I tell them both, climbing down from the bed and kneeling on the floor. They stand up, towering over me like two naked gods, and I do what both my mind and body beg me to; I reach for their cocks and, grabbing their shafts with an iron grip, I start stroking them as fast as I can.

  My hands move so fast they become a blur, and it doesn’t take long for both their cocks to start spasming against my fingers. “Cum for me,” I purr at them, anxious to feel their seed on my body, “cum all over me.”

  Sloane’s the first. A long strand of cum shoots out from his cock and I don’t even have the time to open my mouth; it hits me straight in the face. Drake follows a fraction of a second later, but this time my mouth’s already open wide, and his cock simply gushes a raging river of cum over my tongue.

  I keep on moving my hands back and forth over their shafts as they come, milking them until there’s not a single drop of semen inside their bodies. They spray their seed all over, warm cum dripping down my face and neck, its warmness hiking up the curve of my breasts and coating my hard nipples.

  “Fuck,” Sloane groans as his cock gives its final spasm, the last drops of cum dripping down from its tip and into my hand. I let go of their cocks and stand up, a sly look of mischief on my face.

  “Look at the mess you’ve made,” I whisper, grabbing my breasts and smearing their cum all over my naked chest.

  “Mess? I think you look just perfect,” Drake whispers right back at me. His hands dart to the nape of my neck and he pulls me into him, crushing his mouth on mine and slipping his tongue past my lips. I close my eyes as our tongues dance over a white blanket of cum, gooey strands glistening on our lips.

  Grabbing me by the hair, Drake pulls back and looking at me, he holds my head as Sloane leans in. I kiss my stepbrother as Drake holds me, both their seed blending inside my mouth as exhaustion finally starts taking over me.

  “See? We’re a family, we can share,” I say with a laugh, throwing myself on top of the bed and staring at the ceiling with a delighted smile.

  “I guess you’re right,” Sloane agrees, lying down by my side. Drake occupies the other side of the mattress and we just lie there in silence, the minutes passing by us as we enjoy each other’s company.

  For the first time ever, I actually feel like we’re family.

  A very wicked family, but a family nonetheless.

  Sloane

  Two fucking days.

  That's how long it's been and I feel like I've been in some sort of alternate fucking universe. Ever since what happened with Drake and Natalie went down, it's made me question so many of the things that I used to hold close to me.

  I'm sitting in my office right now, staring out the window.

  I haven't been so quiet and pensive in a long, long time.

  I think the last time that I was like this was when ... when Mom died?

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I need to get a fucking grip on this whole entire situation. I feel like I'm losing control.

  One moment I'm arguing with Drake. The next moment I'm fucking the same girl as him?

  One moment Natalie is with Drake. Then she's with me. Then she's with the both of us?

  And what the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I turned on thinking of sharing Natalie with my stepdad? What kind of fucked up family dynamic is this?

  This takes modern family to a whole new fucking level. Literally.

  But that's not the worst of it.

  Not by a long shot.

  See, almost every sizzling sinful moment of what happened between the three of us gets me hard. But what's starting to get my cock twitching uncontrollably is far, far worse.

  But it's so fucking hot it makes me not care where the fuck I am. To just whip out my dick and start jerking it till I cum is all I want to do when I think about it.

  What is it?

  The thought of not just having Natalie, but having Drake as well.

  That's right.

  I want to fuck my stepsister. And m
y stepdad. At the same fucking time.

  It's sick.

  It's fucking wrong.

  It's forbidden on so many levels.

  This is the kind of shit the Romans used to do. That had priests and scholars fear that the sun was going to fall out of the sky.

  It's like the demon of lust has nested in my soul. Corrupted me with wicked fucking thoughts.

  Don't roll your eyes at me, okay? That's entirely what it feels like.

  "I have Drake Carlton here to see you, Sloane," Cheryl's voice comes out across the intercom.

  What the fuck? Speak of the fucking devil.

  "Excuse me?" I answer back, my voice barely a croak.

  I can hear her pick up the phone at her desk as well.

  "Drake is waiting at reception. I just got the call," she says to me over the phone. "What should I do?"

  I pause for a long moment.

  Two weeks ago, I would've told Cheryl to send him the fuck back. I would have nothing to fucking say to that man.

  But that was then.

  Things are a lot different now.

  "Send him in," I say into the intercom and then hang up.

  What could Drake want? It must be something important. Important enough for him to come up to Midtown all the way from Wall Street.

  The door to my office opens and Drake Carlton walks in.

  He looks at me, as if he's walking into the lair of an enemy.

  But that look fades just as quickly as I see it. And come on, I think I need to cut him some slack on that one. What happened between us two days ago has probably changed things for him too.

  "I've never seen your new office," Drake says, by way of greeting. "The view is definitely nicer than what I have downtown," he finishes.

  Drake walks to the window and looks out.

  I know he didn't come here to look at the view, but I'm also not a fucking caveman, okay? I have some tact.

  No, instead of saying anything as fucking trite as 'Well, you came all this way for the view' or some bullshit like that, I stay silent.

  Instead, as a sign of giving him a chance, I get up from my chair and walk around my desk.

  There. We're on a bit more even footing now.

  I head next to Drake and stand next to him at the window.

  We're just looking down on the streets of Midtown, right? So why the fuck is my cock twitching?

  Do I want to fuck Drake right here?

  I mean don't get me wrong. I'm not gay. I think I proved that to you pretty conclusively the other day with Natalie.

  But just because I'm not gay doesn't mean that I can't appreciate man meat.

  And if I have to be honest, I'll be the first to admit to you that Drake Carlton is a remarkable specimen of man. He has a great fucking body. He's got the confidence of--

  "I want to talk to you about two days ago," Drake says, turning to me and not wasting any more words. "You know I didn't come all the way up here to look down at the view with you. But I appreciate that you didn't rush me, Sloane," Drake says.

  I decide to just stare at him and let him continue.

  "We've had our differences, you and I," Drake says. "But what happened the other day has taken this to a whole different level."

  Well, that's the understatement of the fucking century.

  I sigh, and gesture toward the sofa next to the window. Drake nods and sits down. I sit on the leather chair across from the sofa.

  "We've been at each other's throats for a long time, Drake," I say to him, and he nods. "I think I'm a fucking venture capitalist because I hated you."

  "There's a lot of anger to go around, Sloane," Drake says to me. "I made my share of mistakes."

  And that's when it fucking hits me.

  You know how sometimes you're just sitting there or talking to someone and they say or do something and it's a stupid insignificant thing, but it sort of puts everything into fucking perspective?

  Scientists and behavioral psychologists call it an epiphany.

  I call it an 'oh shit' moment.

  And that's just what Drake has done to me right now.

  See, he made mistakes. He just admitted he made mistakes.

  "Drake," I say slowly. He looks at me. "You made a lot of mistakes."

  Drake nods his head. He doesn't grimace, but he's quiet.

  "I want you to know, I loved Meredith," he says to me. "I loved your mother with all my fucking heart."

  I don't say anything.

  "After she died, I don't know what happened, but I should've never married Linda," he says to me. "I know you didn't approve, but I didn't care."

  It's not that I didn't approve.

  Fuck.

  Could it be that I didn't want to share?

  Did I maybe want Drake to myself?

  "I can't fault you now for marrying Linda, man," I say to him. "Otherwise, I would've never met Natalie."

  That makes us both pause.

  Natalie Vanderhill.

  The girl with the beautiful face. The gorgeous fucking body. That tight heart-shaped ass. Those slender legs. That flat stomach. Those luscious tits.

  And the dirtiest fucking mind I've ever seen in a woman.

  "Natalie is...special," Drake says, choosing his words. I understand where my stepdad is coming from. It's a loaded fucking subject. "Hell, she's the reason we're in this room today talking to each other as civilized people."

  "When you married Linda, there was a lot of hurt," I tell Drake, going back to my epiphany. I think I almost have it to put into words.

  "But that hurt wasn't because I thought you were forgetting about Mom," I tell him. He's nodding, and looking at me now. "That hurt was because I thought you were forgetting about me."

  "I wasn't close to even trying to be a good dad, Sloane," Drake says shaking his head.

  "That's not it," I say to him and Drake looks at me.

  What is that in his eyes?

  He's my stepdad. All it can be is concern.

  "I think, yeah, I needed a father," I tell Drake slowly. "But I think I was jealous of Linda because she was going to be your lover."

  Drake is quiet.

  And that's the fucking rub, isn't it.

  I was jealous of my stepmom, not because I didn't want a new family coming in.

  Because on some deeper level, I was attracted to my stepdad.

  It's been an attraction that I haven't been able to reconcile all this fucking time.

  So what did I do instead?

  I lashed out. I got angry. I built walls. I never settled on one woman.

  So much to tell Drake about. And looking at him, I see he hasn't turned away in shock or disgust anymore. He's smiling; it's an open fucking invitation.

  We're going to finally bury the fucking hatchet. We're going to--

  The phone interrupts my thinking.

  "Mr. Hardman," Cheryl says with professionalism in her voice. "The investors are here to go over the final details on the investment of Dirty Lil' Angels. They're in the South Conference Room."

  Fuck. This is a real meeting.

  Drake understands though that we've had a fucking breakthrough. He gets up.

  "Let's grab some dinner," he says. "The three of us. We have a lot of talk about."

  I get up. We shake hands. A bit awkwardly. And then he's out the door.

  And I'm in a whole new world. Every last thing I knew has fucking changed.

  I honestly need a breather, to be honest.

  A meeting with some bankers is just what I need to get my focus back.

  Why don't you go see what Natalie is up to?

  Natalie

  “Open the door, I know you’re there,” I hear my mom say from the hallway, the footsteps of her pacing back and forth like a caged lioness reaching me like a bad omen. Maybe if I just remain silent she’ll give up and go away.

  “I can see your shadow from under the door, you know?” she continues triumphantly, and finally stops pacing.

  Sigh. I guess I
can’t avoid her, right? She’s my mom, I know, but after that fight at The Oak Room I’m in no mood to see her. Ah, screw this.

  Surrendering, I open up the door and there she is, hands on her hips and a frown on her face. “I can’t believe you’re avoiding your own mother, Natalie. That’s so below you,” she tells me, walking inside the apartment while she shakes her head in disapproval.

  “Well, maybe that’s because my own mother is trying to force me to destroy my company,” I shoot right back, closing the door and preparing for another fight.

  “Sell your company. Not destroy. It’s totally different,” she replies in a condescending tone, as if I was still five years old and she was explaining to me why playing with the poor kids isn’t proper. “Honey, think it through. You own a sex toy company. What kind of career is this? You have a degree in finance.”

  “I know what kind of company I have, and I also know what I graduated in, mom. But this is my life.”

  “Sweetie, please. I’m just trying to help you, really. Get rid of this awful company of yours, get a proper job—like I know you can—and once I’m mayor it’ll all payoff. I’ll pull some strings for you and set you up for life.”

  Her words are full of honey, and the lines around her eyes seem to have gained a soft, and almost kind, quality. Linda, the actress—please give this woman an Oscar. Her words might be honey, but trust me, her intent is vinegar.

  “No.”

  “Be rational about this, Natalie,” she continues sweetly, reaching for me and taking my hand in hers. “You’re my daughter. Forget about my bid for mayor, I’m just thinking of you right now. You’ve proved whatever it is you want to prove, haven’t you? You have money; you have success. Wouldn’t it be nice to be respected as well?”

  For a fraction of a second I almost believe her. Perhaps she really wants what’s best for me. Perhaps she isn’t thinking of herself and her ambitions right now, and she’s really worried about me in that twisted way of hers. But no, I can’t let her sink her hooks in me. She’s trying to play me, but I won’t allow it; if there’s one thing I inherited from her, it's that I’m stubborn.