by Tia Siren
Pleasure coursed from my mouth and my pussy as the two men moved, somehow in sync. Tongue twirling, dick sliding, teasing me long and slow. I was already at the edge.
When they paused, a low groan escaped me.
“Which one?” Mark asked, as he slid out of me.
“Which one?” Jake repeated as he slid into me.
Now the men had switched roles. It was Jake jamming his hard rod in between my slick legs, while Mark’s mouth danced up and down my neck. He kissed and nibbled me to ecstasy, while Jake’s dick had my whole body trembling with what was to come. Faster and faster his dick plowed me, my slower and deeper Mark’s lips and teeth continued their assault. Yet all of it, was still in some sort of rhythm. Jake got one breast and Mark got the other. Oh fuck, it felt incredibly good. Too good. Already I was howling, while grunts and moans were spilling out of their mouths.
In and out, more and more. Bites and kisses, deeper and harder, faster now until they were shaking, or maybe that was me. Jake’s hands had found my backside, and were fondling and feeling the flesh. My whole body was a thrum of building pleasure—my pussy, my ass, my nipples, my neck—everywhere and back again. No longer was I on the edge—I was over it. More and more, and—oh, fuck yes—more. Jake slapped my ass just as he slammed into me hard. I came just as they did, all three of us in one howling, wet, throbbing explosion.
My whole body exploded with light, joy and pleasure like never before, and I could hear them say it once again, in unison, “Which one?”
That was when I woke up. Swearing, I withdrew my wet sticky hand. Falling asleep while touching myself, seriously? The dream got even crazier, once I slept.
One thing was for sure, clearly evident in both my wakeful fantasy and my dream. I still didn’t know which one I wanted more.
Chapter 5
Mark
Look at that ass. Come on, concentrate, Mark.
I took a breath and returned my gaze to the operating table in front of me. A woman’s chest opened up wasn’t exactly a nice view, but we had an operation to do. While breast augmentations aren’t the most complex surgery, they aren’t so easy that you can do them without looking and paying attention, either.
So no more side glances at Brooke and her scrubs, remembering the tight heather grey pencil skirt she’d changed out of for the surgery. Nope.
“Pass the implant, please,” I told Brooke.
Seconds later she was by my side, her sterile gloves handing me the silicone gel mound.
“Me too,” Jake said, from beside me.
I tried to keep my attention on placing the implant properly, while Brooke handed Jake the matching implant.
“Thanks,” he said, “Hey, you look great today. I really liked that skirt.”
My gaze shot up to see Brooke’s face flushing a pleased red while Jake smiled at her.
I cleared my throat, and he glanced away, then back with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, duty calls.”
As he returned his attention to the implant he was placing, I called to Brooke, “Hey, nice skirt. Wonder if they make pencil skirt scrubs.”
She giggled, while Jake rolled his eyes.
“Okay, lothario, how about we concentrate on the surgery here.”
“Speak for yourself, Mr. Skirt Connoisseur,” I jeered back, although I returned my gaze to the implant before me.
An hour or so later, Jake and I exchanged a victorious smile.
As usual, we high-fived, although Jake couldn’t meet my eye as usual. Instead, his gaze went to Brooke. She was wheeling the newly-implanted woman out into the recovery area of the hospital.
“Lunch?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Pablo’s?”
He shook his head.
“Let’s try something nicer for a change.”
Inwardly, I smirked, but said nothing. No need to wonder what caused this sudden change of lunch taste.
A little while later, we’d all finished up and gotten changed, and the three of us met up in the hospital lobby.
“As tempting as hospital cafeteria food is, Mark and I were thinking of going for something a bit nicer,” Jake said, his eager gaze going to Brooke, “What do you say?”
“That sounds great to me,” Brooke said, with a grin.
“Marble Table is just a block away. You have to try their oysters,” Jake said.
Brooke made a face.
“I don’t know about oysters, but I have heard good things about that place, so I’m game.”
As we left the building and made our way down the crowded street, I was abnormally silent. My mind was too busy churning over the happenings of the morning to make any sort of meaningful contribution to the discussion.
Chunks of conversation replayed in my head, flashes of images: Brooke’s face flushed with laughter as she found the latest addition to our surgery survival kit—a Brooke-labelled rubber duck with pretty eyelashes; Brooke poking me in the side after I’d poked her; Brooke laughing too hard at a joke Jake had made.
“Great, it’s the old Marlin Street boys.”
Jake’s annoyed voice snapped me to attention.
“Shit. Lunchtime on a Thursday?” I asked.
I followed his gaze to a pack of young men with lifted phones, smart-looking spectacles and clean-shaven, innocuous-looking face. Innocuous unless you knew better, of course.
“That them?” Brooke asked in an undertone, indicating the pack as they passed by.
“Yep,” I said.
“They don’t look that bad.”
Jake laughed darkly.
“Yeah, famous last words. They’re the reason Mark and I usually avoid this street. Those guys are literally piranhas—they’ll tear you apart if there’s a good story in it.”
“But don’t you worry about that,” I said, draping my arm around Brooke in a protective gesture. “Stick with us and you’ll be safe.”
Jake rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, sure. More like stay away from us and you’ll be safe. How many times have we been in there this past year?”
“I dunno,” I said, “Maybe four or five. Anyways, that was only because I was dating that C-list actress for a few weeks, Calista Something.”
I directed a reassuring smile toward Brooke.
“Anyway, Jake’s exaggerating. Sure, they’ll pounce on anything that so much as sniffs of a clickbait or front-page story, but that’s just their job. Leave them alone, don’t do anything outrageous, and they’ll probably leave you alone.”
Brooke nodded silently. Seeing her dismayed face, Jake tried doing damage control.
“Yeah. I mean, thankfully you’ll probably never grace their pages, so you have nothing to worry about.”
Again, a silent half-hearted nod.
By now we’d arrived at Marble Table. As soon as she saw us, the hostess, Madeleine, gave us a pretty smile, then said, “Right this way, gentlemen.”
I winked at Brooke. By now, Jake and I were regulars here, so we always got the best service.
The hostess sat us at what Brooke coyly noted was a marble table. Soon, Stella came by to leave waters, and take our drink orders. Once she had left, I turned to Brooke, who was sitting beside Jake.
“So,” I said, my gaze boring into her, “You’ve been working with us for a few days now.”
“Yes,” Brooke said, her eyes widening slightly with concern.
“So you can probably say who you like best by now then,” I said, casually.
“Oh Jesus, Mark, are you twelve? Don’t be stupid,” Jake snapped, clearly annoyed.
“No, really though,” I said, not peeling my gaze off of her for an instant. “I mean, if it’s that difficult, then you don’t have to pick one for everything overall—just like who’s the better doctor, better boss, better … man.”
Brooke’s anxious glance went to me then to Jake, who looked downright pissed.
“Seriously dude, we’re just trying to have a nice meal here, is it really the time?”
“Now seems a better time than during surgery.”
Jake didn’t comment on that. Now, Brooke’s long-lashed hazel eyes were off to the side, thinking.
“How about we wait and see, at least until the first week is over?”
“Sounds good to me,” I replied, “While we’re at it, we should all go out tomorrow. Natalia is an old girlfriend of mine, she works at Gebraldine and will give us all the discounted alcohol we could want.”
“Wow, Gebraldine,” Brooke said, her eyes sparkling with interest, “You must have been a good boyfriend.”
Jake and I shared a laugh at that one.
“Not exactly,” I admitted, “Unless you call breaking up with her for her sister being a good boyfriend.”
Now Brooke was eyeing me with shock, while I felt embarrassment ripple through me.
“So why would she give you cheap drinks then?”
I shrugged.
“I think she misses the old times. I’d feel bad, but it’s such a great venue. Nice girl and pretty, but we just never really clicked.”
Brooke nodded, resting her chin on her hands.
“It can be really hard to find someone you click with.”
Now it was my shocked gaze studying her. It was ludicrous to think that someone as hot and personable as Brooke would have trouble finding someone to click with, but then again—
“Here are your drinks,” the waitress drawled, plopping our reverse pyramid glasses down in front of us.
“Have you decided what you’d like?”
“Yes,” I said. “Brooke and I will be splitting the—”
“Hey,” Jake said, cutting me off, “Brooke was going to split a plate with me.”
I glared at him.
“Is it the honey barbeque foie gras? It’s what this place is famous for, you know.”
“Actually, it is,” he replied curtly.
I threw up my hands.
“Whatever.”
As he recited what they were having, I snaked my foot along the floor in the direction of Brooke.
“Sir?”
Everyone was looking at me expectantly.
“I’ll have the foie gras too please,” I grumbled.
Once she’d left, I closed in. When my foot nudged Brooke, she sent me a surprised look, but said nothing. I assumed an innocent expression, as my foot rubbed against hers, snaking higher and higher up her leg.
Until our meals arrived, I let her and Jake chat easily. I was the one who had my foot stroking up her leg, after all. Once our meals were there and we got to eating, I felt something nudge my foot as it made its way down.
Jake and my gazes met in understanding. I smirked. Jake responded by sweeping his foie gras right into Brooke’s pink parted lips, then wiping off a smudge of sauce with his finger.
I chowed down my foie gras as fast as I could, ignoring him. This was far from over.
After work, Jake approached me. Brooke had left for the day, while Deidre was, of course, staying late to deal with God-only-knows what.
“Hey man, want to go for a drink?” he asked.
For a second, I scanned his face suspiciously. But his dark eyes were filled with a genuine good humor, so I agreed.
At the bar of the Marble Table, Jake bought us two beers. After we’d clinked them and taken a big swig, he spoke.
“So, about Brooke—”
“I want her,” I cut in, before he could say anything.
He frowned.
“So do I.”
I lifted my drink to him then took another gulp.
“Quite the dilemma we have here then.”
Hurt registered in Jake’s eyes.
“I invited you here to talk this over, not to tell you that this is war.”
Guilt panged at me, and I nodded.
“Shit. Sorry. You’re right. I just—this has never happened before.”
Jake nodded too, running a hand through his curly hair.
“I know, but I don’t want it to be the last time.”
“Huh?” I asked, and he waved his hand.
“Forget that, it came out weird,” he said “What I wanted to say is that you’re my best friend, Mark. And not just because you’re the second most badass surgeon I know.”
I rolled my eyes, holding back my own cocky grin.
“Yeah, and you’re the second most badass surgeon I know too, old buddy.”
Jake grinned, putting his arm around me so he could pat my shoulder.
“Seriously though, man. You’ve gotten me through some big stuff. Through all the craziness of the University and then Med School. Then that shit-storm when Mary left. You’re my best friend, I don’t want anything to come between us.”
He had his hand out now on the table. I took it and clasped it warmly.
“I don’t want anything to come between us, either. I’m sorry I’ve been being an idiot about all this.”
Jake smiled wryly.
“We’ve all been an idiot about the new girl.”
We chuckled together. Even Deidre had taken time out of her harried ineffective phone-answering to chat with Brooke about where she got her outfits. We’d already had a few patients comment on how good she was—and one who asked for her number. I told him to go fuck himself, after which, Jake apologized profusely and explained that it was against company policy and all.
“Anyway,” Jake said, his hand still in mine, “I think we should shake on it, don’t you? Bros before hoes, as they say.”
I grinned and nodded. Funny that we’d never had to use that quote until now.
“Bros before hoes,” I repeated.
Although after, as we left the Marble Table, I realized that neither of us had said that the other couldn’t go for her. Nor had either of us offered to step back. Bros before hoes—yeah right.
***
END OF SAMPLE
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It’s so wrong, but I want to f*ck my best friend’s daughter.
I’m her dad’s best friend.
Older. More experienced.
I know I shouldn’t be watching her.
Staring at her soft, innocent curves and perky breasts.
My hard on is epic.
I want to slide it deep into her tight wetness until I hit home.
Make her scream over and over again.
How the hell am I supposed to control myself when I find her in my bed?
Naked and touching herself. Moaning my f*cking name.
It's so beyond wrong, and I should know better.
But her dad doesn’t have to know.
Copyright © 2018 Candy Stone and Tia Siren.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. While, as in all fiction, the literary perceptions and insights are based on life experiences and conclusions drawn from research, all names, characters, places and specific instances are products of the au
thor’s imagination and used fictitiously. No actual reference to any real person, living or dead, is intended or inferred.
