by Brit M.
The intensity was like nothing she'd ever experienced—Adrian's hands pawing and clutching at her while he moaned against her chest, his mouth moving over her breasts. His teeth found her nipple and closed, softly at first but then harder, until she let loose a small scream for him, afraid to arch or shift because she didn't think she could take any more of the sweet starburst of pain. He switched to suckling as soon as she thought she couldn't stand it any longer, easing the ache and sending rushes of ecstasy down her body.
All of that heat and pleasure coalesced in her belly; the edges of his teeth always finding her flesh, the way he jolted and moaned when Paul slammed into him again, fucking him hard, his dick inside her, moving in long thrusts that seemed to stroke every inch of her insides. Paul was watching them, his mouth a tight line of effort as he guided the dance of their movements, sweat glistening on his brow. His muscled chest and abs flexed with each thrust. He was better, so much better, than any of the movies she'd watched. He was real.
“Oh, please,” she begged, her voice tight and breathless from the constriction of the position they had her in.
Her climax teased close and heavy but her hands were locked around Adrian's shoulders and the tight press of her knees near her ears, there was no way for her to give herself that last push over the edge. Just a little more was all she needed, and she wanted it so badly. Her fingers scrabbled at his back, more red marks raised on the pale skin.
Paul, his eyes narrowed and a smirk taking over his lips, found the solution. He wrapped a hand in Adrian's loose hair and yanked as he rose up on his knees, drawing Adrian with him so they were both kneeling, Adrian practically howling. The sudden release of pressure on her chest as her legs unfolded with them made her gasp, and the change in angle—Adrian's cock suddenly moving up instead of just in—made her scream. She came with another cry, weaker and breathless, grabbing at the pillows as her pussy clenched tight and she shuddered, breaking with the pleasure and the consuming waves of it.
As soon as she was finished Adrian slipped out of her and Paul bent him backwards in a sharp arch, driving deeper and harder inside him, where they were joined visible through their spread legs as he reached down and cupped his hand over Adrian's balls, lifting them. All so she could watch. It was too much, the sight of their bodies locked together, and she pressed a hand between her legs. She was wet, burning hot, and she pushed her fingers inside herself up to the knuckle with a gasp.
Adrian was too far gone to watch, shivering and groaning as he fucked himself up and down on Paul's cock, but Paul wasn't, and his eyes were a heady weight on her as she filled herself with her fingers. Paul stripped the condom off of Adrian, shoved him forward, and pushed him down with an arm across his shoulders.
Marissa was awe-stricken and painfully aroused as she watched him come just from that, the rough handling. He reached down and stroked himself through it, gasping and panting, but she'd seen him start to climax without a touch. He'd been so hot at being thrown around, manhandled. It made her hot, too. She wanted to test Paul's strength that way herself, let him toss her around the bed and drag her where he wanted her. Adrian was handsome and lovely, but Paul was masculine.
The sight of his face as he came inside his partner was enough to drive her into a third, smaller orgasm. He bit his bottom lip, eyelids fluttering closed, and drove himself in hard in a few small, tight thrusts. Adrian groaned, weak and fucked-out, his face pressed to the covers. She slipped her fingers free, slick with her own juices, and trembled as she watched Paul draw slowly out of Adrian.
They collapsed next to her in a sweaty, sticky tumble. She heaved a breath, back aching and thighs feeling the strain of the position they'd been in. The tub looked very inviting.
“Bath?” she whispered.
Her voice was wrecked and rough, but Adrian's, “Oh, give me a minute, darlings,” was even more raw.
Marissa relaxed between them, her toes touching Adrian's calf and Paul's hand finding her hip. In the circle of caresses, bracketed by their bodies, she felt like she never had before—truly, unabashedly free.
God, I love it, she thought.
How was she ever going to go back to normal sex after this?
Chapter Seven
The tub filled quickly from the two spouts, hot water steaming up the mirrors all around its inset tile area in the bedroom. The door to the bathroom was closed, Adrian was cleaning up inside, and Paul crouched on his heels near the tub to test the water. He flicked droplets of it off his fingertips and stood, unabashedly nude and sculpted like the statue of a god. Marissa slid off of the bed, her inner thighs sore and her stomach muscles tight. A soak would loosen up the aches that had started to set in her body from the active—she might even call it athletic—sex.
“It's pretty hot,” Paul said as she came over.
He put one hand on the small of her back, bare skin on bare skin still like an electric shock despite her loose-limbed satiation. She leaned into the touch, resting the side of her body against the length of his as his arm gathered her into a half-hug. His fingers played up and down her side, halting just under her breasts, then switching direction to sweep down to her hip. Her skin tingled.
“I don't mind,” she said. “I'm a little sore.”
The bathroom door opened and Adrian came out, flicking the light off. He had a lazy grin on his face, his pale body still flushed pink in patches where hands had gripped him and mouths had bitten. He turned mid-stride to show the scratches down the length of his back, raised welts of red that hadn't quite broken the skin. Marissa frowned.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughed, pressing up against them in a hug of his own, trapping her in the middle of their naked, warm bodies. “In the best way. Are you all right, too?”
His fingers found marks on her that she could catalogue by the way they ached: the bruise of a bite he'd re-inflicted on her throat, a palm-shaped red mark that lingered on her hip where he'd gripped her.
“Yes,” she said, nearly groaning. Despite and perhaps because of the little hurts, she felt like she'd had the best sex of her life. And there would be more.
“Tub,” Paul suggested.
Marissa sat on the edge of the tile and dipped her feet in, hissing at the scalding heat. After a moment, it was bearable, and she wiggled the rest of the way in. The small shelf seats let her rest with her chin above water and her legs floating, hot water working out all the aches and pains in her joints. She sighed. Next to her, Paul stepped in, sloshing hot water over her neck. Adrian dipped his toes first, made a pleased noise, and took a seat across from her at the far side of the tub.
“You're so pale,” she commented, watching his body turn pink in the heat of the water. Everything seemed to turn his skin colors, the slightest pressure or desire bringing up a blush.
“I know,” he said, smiling. “I can't tan at all. I think I don't have enough melanin or something.”
She hummed understanding and closed her eyes, resting her head on the rim of the tub. For a moment it was a content, happy silence as they all settled and relaxed, enjoying the huge tub. Paul's foot brushed hers and she cracked one eye, tilting her head to look at him. He smiled broadly. She was surprised she didn't feel more self conscious, sitting naked in the bath with them, but then again, they'd just had fantastic sex. Her own comfort in her body was perhaps the biggest shock. She felt good. Just good, not weird or awkward. Paul's gentle, firm guidance of the wilder Adrian and her inexperience made her feel safe and taken care of.
Which made her think of the way Adrian had moaned and cried out as Paul took him from behind, his pace, his body, his hips setting the pace for both of the people underneath him. What was it like, she wondered, to be in the middle like that? Fucking somebody else while being taken, at once dominant and submissive, receiving and giving?
The heat of the water hid the blush she was sure would have taken over her face at the intensity of the thought, and her imagining of it. S
he'd never wanted to be a boy, but for the moment, it seemed intriguing. Maybe it was the comment about strap-ons Adrian had made, or maybe it was watching them in real life, feeling them intimately above her while they had sex.
“What's it feel like?” she asked Adrian, hearing the husky tint of her own voice and unable to hide it. “You know—to—”
“You've never had anal sex?” he asked, sitting up a little straighter.
“No.”
Paul made a curious, aroused-sounding noise. She raised an eyebrow at him, but Adrian was scooting closer to her in the bath until they were side by side. The tub seemed smaller with them so close to her. Paul brushed a hair out of her face and looked back at Adrian. His grin was definitely what she would call wicked.
“Have you ever even fooled around that way?” Paul asked.
“Not really,” she said. Now she did feel a little pulse of embarrassment, but it wasn't bad; the interest she had in the direction of the conversation eased it. “But I'm not a guy. You have a reason to do it. Every girl's magazine I've ever read is always touting the prostate and being a good girlfriend by introducing your boyfriend to his.”
Paul chuckled, his thumb rubbing the back of her neck. “It can still be good for a woman. You read women's magazines?”
“In waiting rooms, when I'm bored,” she said. “They always seem kind of ridiculous.”
“That sounds more like you,” he replied.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I get the impression that you don't have a lot of patience for things that are below your level,” he said.
She frowned a little. “I'm not stuck up, if that's what you mean.”
“No, I mean you're smart, and it shows,” he said. “You don't act like you're twelve, and most of the women I've met who use fashion magazines like a bible do.”
“Thanks, I think,” she said.
“He likes intelligence,” Adrian commented, drawing their attention to him. “I think he has a fetish for competence.”
Paul shrugged, and that knowing smile flickered between them again, catching her in the middle. The hesitation she felt—should she speak, interrupt them?—passed as Paul reached out for the soap and the folded washcloths at the edge of the bath. Adrian's hand found hers under the water and she jumped a little as he squeezed. His smile had become inscrutable as their eyes met, and she wound their fingers together. The moment of tenderness had her heart in her throat, almost painful as he planted a small, chaste kiss on her cheek.
“Stand up,” he murmured.
She did, planting her feet in the middle of the tub and standing between them. The water still reached mid-thigh, less hot than before but her skin still prickled with cold where it was exposed to the air. Her nipples peaked into tight buds almost immediately. She stood with her hands to her sides, not covering anything, and Paul gathered her in closer. He kissed the curve of her hip.
“May I wash you?” he asked.
“Okay,” she said, softly.
No one had done this for her, either, but she didn't feel quite like sharing that, not when the mood had changed from ferociously sexual to sweet and sensual. It would be almost too emotional a confession to say that no one she'd slept with had ever wanted to take baths with her, cared enough to wash her clean after they'd made love. A pain clenched in her chest.
The look that passed between the men again made her wonder if they somehow guessed, and that it was what made her arms rise to cover herself. Adrian caught her wrists mid-motion and pulled them down with a shushing noise, holding her still while Paul lathered the soap in the soft-looking rag. The first touch of it on her damp stomach had her closing her eyes, tilting her head back.
This, Marissa wanted to simply enjoy while she could have it.
Adrian let her go a moment later and she shifted to stand closer to Paul, between his knees. The rag made silky, slippery circles up her torso, gentle over her sensitive nipples and swirling in a delicate pattern between and below her breasts. Paul didn't miss anything, kneeling up to wash her shoulders and neck, the brief tickle of the cloth under her arms and down her sides. She shifted with the touch of his hands, her breath heavy with something more like emotion than desire, and let him give her back the same treatment. His touch was firmer over muscle and he kneaded her through the cloth while he washed her, massaging and cleaning all at once.
Her breath came in a sudden gasp as he ran the cloth between her legs, so delicate there, then over her buttocks. The washcloth hit the water with a wet slap as his bare hands grasped her ass and rubbed in wide circles, alternating pressure as he spread the soap between hard squeezes and soft petting. She swayed on her feet.
It was Adrian who eased her into the water to rinse, onto her knees in the middle of the tub, his smaller, longer fingers swiping over her body under the water. She let her eyes flutter open, convinced the dampness on her lashes was water from the bath, and drank in the sight of them with her, droplets of moisture on their arms as they held her and helped her back onto the seat between them.
“I missed your legs,” Paul said quietly. “But there's a shower in the other bathroom. Later?”
“Okay,” she said. Her voice came out weak and thready.
Paul gathered her into his arms, and tipped her chin up so she would meet his eyes. The intensity there was almost too much but she couldn't look away. Her chest felt tight, restricted. It was just the water pressure, surely. Adrian's hands smoothed up and down her back, soothing.
“Thank you,” Paul said.
“It's nothing,” she whispered back, shifting to free her chin and bury her face against his shoulder.
She was sure they were looking at each other over her back, but for now, it was okay. They could have their couple-looks, because they were wonderfully sweet and open. She would try not to be the least bit jealous, and it helped that she couldn't untangle whom she liked the most. Whom to be jealous of, when both halves of the couple made your heart pound?
“If this is too much,” Paul murmured into her hair, above her ear. “Say so. I won't judge you.”
“Me, neither,” Adrian said. He was hushed, soft-spoken, so unlike his usual self that it almost made her raise her head. “I've told you, I was big into the scene before Paul and I settled down. Sometimes the feelings run too high with certain people, you know? It's not your fault if it happens.”
“No,” she said. She was proud that she didn't sniffle. “I'm not sad. I promise.”
“It's just a lot, isn't it?” Adrian said, still stroking.
“Yes,” she said.
“Was he the first one to ever bathe you like that?” he asked.
It took her a moment to respond. “Yes.”
“All right,” Adrian said. “Why don't we finish washing off and get out of the bath? We can watch a movie on the TV and cuddle. Sound good?”
“I thought—” she started, then didn't know what to say.
“It's a weekend, sweetheart,” Paul said, stealing Adrian's little petname. “Not all of it can possibly be used for sex.”
She laughed, then, and felt a bit freer, enough to lift her head and meet his eyes again. It was true, she wasn't—upset. Or sad. It was a lot to take in, though, their doubled attention and the obvious love flowing between them. She'd never—
“I've never loved anyone like you two love each other,” she whispered into the quiet, almost immediately wishing she could take it back, but it was too late.
Paul's expression went soft and warm. She looked down again, found herself glancing over her shoulder to see Adrian matching the emotion in the other man's face.
“Yeah,” Adrian said. “He's a great guy.”
“Let's get in bed,” Paul said, and it didn't sound hot. Just comforting.
She climbed out of the tub first, a bit more self conscious now as she bent to pick up a dry towel and began patting herself off. She'd brought pajamas, but she wasn't sure if she was intended to wear clothes or not. Would they think s
he didn't want them seeing her naked if she got dressed? It wasn't that. She did want clothes, for the time being, until they came off again as they inevitably would.
While Adrian and Paul scrubbed themselves quickly in the bath, Marissa wrapped the towel around her body and padded over the plush carpet to her suitcase. She laid it out and unzipped it, snagging the small pair of cotton shorts and tank top she planned on sleeping in. The towel dropped to the floor and, with her back still to them, she stepped into the shorts. The cotton was smooth and cool on her bare skin. The tank top, too, felt divine and warmed her a bit. The room was slightly too cold to be without clothes.
Turning back to the men, though, she was aware of how the pajamas might look, because Adrian's smile held a shadow of hunger. She looked at herself in the mirrors behind them and saw her breasts, full and round under the cotton, with nipples pressing against the thin fabric. The shorts clung obscenely to her curves. Her own breath caught, seeing herself reflected there and imagining how they must see it. She'd never considered her body particularly bombshell before, but for the moment, the slight softness at her middle only rounded into her hips, and the thickness of her thighs was another addition to her curvy frame.
Looking at herself that way—sexual, sensual, wanted—was startling. She ducked her head, mulling over the picture frozen behind her eyes, and crawled onto the huge bed as Paul stood in the tub and helped Adrian up. They dried each other perfunctorily, more concerned with petting than drying. Again, the sight of them together stole Marissa's breath. They didn't just match in beautiful counterpoints; they seemed perfect for each other in every way.
Adrian found his way over to her while Paul went into the bathroom and closed the door. He paused long enough to grab a pair of soft, fuzzy sleep pants out of his suitcase. They were well worn, silky-soft against her legs, when he lay next to her and cuddled her in close. His eyes were half closed as he met her gaze, a pleased, tired smile spreading over his still kiss-swollen lips. She pressed a quick peck to them, unable to resist the allure. His smile widened.
