by Lane Hart
“Fucking,” he supplies with a grin, still hovering over me.
“Yes, while we were fucking, ah, well, Ford was watching.”
“No shit?” he asks. “I thought he was asleep.”
“Nope, he was definitely up, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” Ben mutters before rolling off of me. He flops over next to me, his eyes looking over at the empty doorway before he tilts his head to face me. “Did you want him to join us? If so, you should’ve just said something.”
When my mouth gapes open, Ben chuckles and reaches over with two fingers to close my jaw. “What? You’ve never been with two men before?”
“Um, no,” I reply.
Rolling to his side to prop his head up on his bent elbow, Ben says, “You should try it, especially if you like anal.”
“Oh, my God,” I groan as I cover my reddening face with both hands, unable to believe he said that and unable to stop myself from imagining how incredible it would feel to be sandwiched between two amazing men like Ben and Ford or Ben and Clarke. I have a harder time picturing Davis sharing me with anyone else.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Ben asks when he grabs one of my hands to pry it off my face.
“Maybe,” I admit. “You wouldn’t mind sharing me?”
“Why would I mind if I got to be with you at the same time? That’s all that matters to me. What we did was so good, I definitely want us to do it again. I think seeing you get fucked by Ford would be hot. God knows I need a lot of distractions, now that I’m sober again,” he says with an enormous grin, as one of his fingertips trails along the curve of my breasts and then circles my nipple several times.
“I’m so glad you’re staying sober,” I tell him when I roll to my side to face him. “You’re too good to go down into the gutter because of alcohol.”
“Thanks,” he replies, leaning forward to place a kiss on my nose.
“But I’ll have to get back to you on the threesome idea,” I say. “Especially with Ford.”
“Does that mean you would rather be with Clarke and me instead?” he asks. “Clarke is definitely an ass man.”
Again, my face warms, since I’m acutely aware of just how much he likes my ass.
“Possibly,” I reply. “Let me think about it.”
“Sure, baby,” he says. “Can I just ask why you would consider Clarke but not Ford?”
“It’s complicated,” I tell him without further explanation, hoping he’ll let it go. “Have you had threesomes before?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, without even having to think about it. “The two men kind and the two women kind.”
“Who was the other man?” I ask curiously. Can’t say I’m all that surprised he was with two women at the same time since he is a rock star.
“Ford,” he answers simply, as if it was obvious. “The groupies love him, and a few didn’t mind us sharing.”
“Do the other guys also share?” I ask in surprise.
“Clarke hasn’t before that I know of because he’s too damn shy. And Davis? Highly unlikely, since he would growl at the poor woman and scare her off before things got started.”
“What? He’s not that bad,” I say, playfully slapping his chest with a smile.
“Yeah, he is,” Ben responds. “And we lived together in close quarters for years, so I know that if his demeanor didn’t frighten women away, his giant cock would. That thing could seriously injure someone.”
Unwilling to tell him that I don’t mind Davis’s size, I clear my throat and say, “So, you like to be with two women?”
“Not really,” he answers, making me arch an eyebrow in disbelief. “I didn’t! I’ve tried it twice, and while it’s hot as fuck watching two women go at each other, that’s pretty much all there was to it since they enjoyed each other more. My cock could’ve been a dildo, and they would’ve had as much fun, maybe even more since my cock doesn’t vibrate.”
That makes a bark of laughter slip past my lips. The sound is cut off when Ben grabs my face to pull it toward his lips that cover mine. When he pulls back, he says, “Thanks for being with me. Not because I’m in a band or whatever else but because you wanted to help me overcome the craving.”
“You’re welcome,” I say as warmth fills my chest, thanks to his sweet words.
“Now I just have a craving for something else,” he adds, before he pulls me on top of him while we continue to kiss.
Chapter Nineteen
Clarke
It’s been over a week since Tess and I were together, and I can’t stop thinking about her. I assume that’s probably because I’m still staying in my childhood home with my family. You can only play board games and watch television for so long before you get antsy. Especially since I’m always fucking anxious as it is.
At least I haven’t had any panic attacks since the massage, so I haven’t had to use my inhaler. Instead of worrying about putting together our album, I’ve been trying to figure out how to see Tess again.
I haven’t heard from her and don’t want to call her like the desperate pussy I am. While I know she’s staying with Ford and that I have plenty of reasons for dropping in to visit him and Ben, I feel like as soon as I walk through the door, my obsession with Tess will be obvious when I see her. So obvious that my tongue will loll out the side of my mouth and to the floor like one of those cartoon characters.
The thing is, I can’t figure out why I’m making such a big deal out of what we did. I’ve fucked several girls before, all passing flings with groupies that I quickly moved on from. Isn’t that what Tess and I decided that we would be? A fling? Fuck buddies?
I’ve never replayed random flings over and over in my head a million times after they happened. Or jerked off to them several times a day because just thinking about bending Tess over that table has me so worked up I need relief again. The releases I give myself are less satisfying than before I was with Tess. The woman has ruined me with one damn encounter on a massage table.
Picking up my phone, I cave and call Ford’s house.
“Hello?” Ford answers of course, sounding grumpy and sleepy all in that single word.
“Hey, man, were you sleeping?” I ask. It’s almost one o’clock in the afternoon, so I can’t imagine why he would still be in bed.
“Yes,” he grumbles. “I’ve been staying up all day and night writing.”
“No shit?” I ask with a grin, glad to hear that.
“Yeah. I’ll clean it up today, and maybe you can come by tonight and give the shit a look? Let me know if I’m delusional or actually making magic?”
“Sure, sounds good,” I say, happy to have an excuse to see Tess.
But I really don’t want to wait until later. Knowing Ford, he’ll probably go back to bed and sleep until the sun goes down.
That’s why, before we end the call, I ask, “Is Tess around?”
“Tess,” Ford repeats, sounding more awake.
“Yeah, you know, the record label woman staying in your house?” I tease.
He grumbles something I can’t make out before sighing and saying, “You’re a lucky bastard. You better fucking treat her like she’s more than a piece of ass, or I’ll kick yours.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask in confusion. Since when does Ford, the biggest playboy on the planet, start warning me not to use a woman?
“The last time Tess was with you, she came home upset. You made her sad,” he explains, causing the tightening in my chest that signals the start of a panic attack.
“What? Are you just screwing with me because you’re jealous?”
“No, man. She was hurt because she thinks you only want to fuck her and that you don’t give a shit about her.”
“We talked about it, and Tess said she was okay with keeping things casual,” I declare before feeling around in my pants pockets for my inhaler. Putting it between my lips, I take a puff to try and make my breaths come easier.
“Was that be
fore or after you had already made it clear that you didn’t want more?” Ford asks.
Damn. He’s right.
“I honestly thought she was fine with things,” I reply. “Let me talk to her.”
“Don’t fuck shit up with her,” he warns before he huffs and says, “Hold on.”
I hear him yell for Tess and then a moment later, her soft, feminine voice says, “Hello?”
“Hey,” I reply, smiling just at the sound of her voice. God, Ford’s right. I was a dick and I wish I could take back the whole conversation we had after the sex. “It’s Clarke,” I add, since we’ve only spoken once by phone. I should’ve called sooner instead of talking myself out of it.
“Oh, hi, Clarke,” she says, sounding a little upbeat, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
“Ford wants me to come over tonight and look at what he’s been writing,” I say to start with.
“Okay,” she replies, sounding sort of nervous and not very excited. Still, I persevere rather than hang up and give up like I usually would.
“I’d love to get out of the house now. Want to do something?” I ask her, hoping I didn’t screw things up so badly that she refuses.
“Ah, yeah. Sure,” she says, helping my breathing ease up more than the inhaler. “What did you have in mind?”
And shit, I haven’t thought that far ahead. Since telling her I need her again would be a dick move, only proving what I said at the spa, without thinking, I tell her, “Your choice.”
“Sounds good,” she replies. “Give me a few minutes to get ready, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Great, Tess. See you soon,” I say.
Before I end the call, she blurts out, “Wear sweatpants or shorts!”
…
Tessa
It had been more than a week since I had seen Clarke before he called. Not that I hadn’t been thinking about him, because I have. Ever since Ben mentioned having a threesome with Clarke, it’s pretty much all I’ve thought about, except for the nights I went to see Davis, and the other nights when Ben is in my bed. I still can’t believe that I’ve slept with three of the guys, or that it’s starting to become a routine with two of them.
For the past four nights, Ben and I don’t even discuss the fact that he’ll be coming to bed with me. And we don’t always have sex. Three of the four nights, we fell asleep cuddling. And Davis, well, we always end up in his bed when I visit, but the time we spend wrapped up in each other’s arms gets a little longer each time before some type of panic takes over and he has to flee. I don’t even take it personally anymore, since I know that he’s making an effort to try and hold me afterward.
Once I’m dressed and ready to go out with Clarke, I pull up the local yoga studios on my phone and find out when a class is scheduled for this afternoon. There’s one at three, so that should work out perfectly. Clarke holds a lot of anxiety and tension inside of him, so hopefully he’ll enjoy our activity, and it’ll relieve some stress.
I’m already thinking of another activity that relieves stress when he answers his front door.
“Hey,” Clarke says with a huge grin on his boyishly handsome face. “Want to come in for a minute?”
“Ah, yeah, sure,” I reply, since we have about half an hour to spare before the class.
“My mom was pissed when I didn’t invite you in and introduce you the other day, so I promised I would today,” he says as he walks through the house, with me trailing along behind him.
He wants me to meet his parents? Holy shit. What am I supposed to say? Hi, Clarke’s mom. I’m the woman from the record label supervising their new album. Oh, and the woman he bent over a massage table and thoroughly scandalized.
“Mom, Tess is here,” Clarke calls out before we step into a large kitchen, where a middle-aged woman with his same blonde hair that sweeps her shoulders, is in an apron using a spatula to lift cookies from a pan to a plate. It’s like a scene right out of a fifties sitcom.
“Oh, hi there, Tess!” she says when she drops the spatula to come around and hug me. Tight, like a boa constrictor.
“Um, hi.” I barely manage to squeak out those two words before she loosens her grip.
“Thank you for finally bringing my boy home!” she says.
“That wasn’t really me. The band decided…”
“Oh, Clarke told me all about it. You were able to cancel the tour, which is wonderful. I didn’t think I would see him again for months!”
“Mom can’t come to the concerts, but she watches the videos,” Clarke explains.
“He’s right. I have an awful fear of crowds,” his mom tells me, with a wince. “I’ve wanted to see him perform, but the best I could ever do was watch them in Ford’s garage. I’m an awful mother.”
“No, you’re not. Don’t say that,” Clarke chastises her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s an illness, just like my anxiety, so it’s not your fault.”
“I just hate that I can’t be there,” she tells him, placing her hand over his and giving it a squeeze. “And I’m sorry you inherited my mental health issues.”
“I also inherited your good looks,” he says with a grin, giving her a quick kiss on her cheek that makes her smile.
“At least there’s that,” she agrees. “Now you two kids go out and have fun. Will you be back tonight?’ she asks, making me freeze and look to Clarke. Does she think he may sleep over with me? Jeez, I need to get a grip. It’s not like we’re teenagers. We’re both consenting adults…
“Not sure,” Clarke tells her. “I’m going over to Ford’s later, to work on some songs. That could go late, so I may just crash with him, he has plenty of rooms.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow then,” she says with a wave, as I follow Clarke out the door and to my rental car.
“My mom likes you,” Clarke comments on the sidewalk.
“What? How do you know? I barely said anything. Besides, I’m guessing that your mother likes everyone.”
“She does,” he agrees when he comes around to open the driver’s door for me to climb inside. “But she loves you because I told her you’re the reason we’re back in town for the next few months.”
“That’s not exactly true,” I point out when I sit down in the car.
“Yeah, it is,” he says, one hand resting on the door as he stands in front of me. “You’re also the reason that Ford is writing again. And I’m certain that Ben’s stayed sober because you refuse to let him slip up.”
Blushing at his kind words, I rest my hands on the steering wheel and remind him, “I’m just doing my job.”
“No, you’re not,” he replies instantly, with a smile so intense it could melt the panties right off of me if I were standing up. “You care about us.”
Ugh, he’s right. I do care about these men, all four of them in a very similar way, despite how different they all are. I love Davis’s grumpy yet sensitive side; Ben’s humor and sweet embraces; the way Ford is brave enough to pour his heart into the words on a page. And Clarke, well, I love that he wanted to introduce me to his mother, so that I could see exactly where his fear and anxiety comes from. He doesn’t just worry about the band or their future. He worries about everything because of a mental illness. I want to help him let go of that fear, even if it’s just for a few minutes, like when we were on the massage table.
The passenger door shuts, startling me out of my thoughts before I even realized Clarke had shut my door and climbed inside next to me.
“So where are we going?” he asks.
“Yoga,” I answer.
“Yoga? Really?” Rubbing his fingers over the light blond scruff on his chin, he says, “Huh, never tried that before.”
“You don’t want to do it, do you?” I ask with a cringe.
“I’ll give it a try for you,” he agrees, when he reaches over and squeezes my thigh through my cotton leggings. Just that touch is all it takes for my panties to grow damp. Jeez, I’m losing my mind and becoming a nymphomaniac. Gues
s that’s what happens when you spend your days and nights surrounded by sexy rock stars.
Once I’m able to compose myself, I drive us over to the yoga studio and park in the mostly empty lot. Guess normal people are still working this time of day.
“Ready?” I ask, turning off the engine and pulling out the keys.
I’m unfastening my seatbelt when Clarke says, “Just a second.”
He grabs my arm when I reach for my door, tugging me back toward him, close enough for his mouth to capture mine in a hot, wet kiss that sets my skin on fire. As soon as I overcome the shock, I drop my keys to cup his face and kiss him back, our tongues dueling for dominance and neither of us ready to concede. It’s so good that I can’t help but whimper into his mouth, begging for more.
“I was just gonna kiss you to show you how much I missed you,” Clarke says against my lips. “But now…”
“Don’t stop,” I warn him. “I need more.” Our mouths pick up where we left off, and my pussy starts to throb incessantly with need.
The kiss goes on for so long I lose track of time, forget where we are, and everything else in the world.
“Let me take care of you. Take your pants off and come over here,” he instructs as he lets me go to pull the lever and slide his seat back as far as it will go.
My hands automatically obey him. I lift my hips to push my leggings and panties down my legs, remove my shoes and then my bottoms, before I climb over the console to straddle Clarke’s lap.
“Jesus,” he mutters, staring at my pussy while I sit there on him, wearing nothing from the waist down. He lifts his hand and rubs two fingers over my slit, making me gasp toward the roof of the car and shiver. “Are you always this wet and ready?” Clarke asks, while his fingers continue to glide over my sensitive flesh.
“Yes,” I answer, since it seems to be my permanent state over the last few weeks. It’s like my vagina knows that it’s surrounded by sexy men who all need a warm place to hide their cocks, and it’s volunteering itself to fill that role as often as needed.
“Fuck, I need you,” Clarke says before he tugs the V-neck of my loose cotton tee down to put his mouth on my nipple that’s covered by my sports bra. Unable to get what he needs from that direction, he raises the bottom of my shirt and attacks from underneath, pushing the snug fitting material up to my neck to free my breasts and suck on them. All I can do is grind down against his fingers that are now pumping in and out of my pussy, and run my fingers through the sides of his short hair while his mouth and hand works me over.
