Heat: Curvy First Times (Three on One BDSM Book 1)

by Q. Zayne

  “Thanks, sexy Gia.” Tyrone gave me a kiss on the cheek and padded out after Lyle, moving light for such a big man.

  “You’re sure you want to stick with me?” Buck helped make me comfortable on a dry spot and pulled a pillow over for me.

  “I’m sure.” I traced his chest tats with my fingers, glad he stayed close to me, one big arm still cradling me close.

  “Good girl.” He gave me a long kiss, unhurried, and with full confidence that he owned me. “Are you alright? You took one hell of a hard initiation. I’m proud of you. You made us all real happy. That’s what I like. Tell me the truth now, everything feel okay?”

  I nodded, so dizzy from his kiss I couldn’t find words. I took some breaths. The room stopped tilting.

  “Will you carry me to the bathroom? I don’t think I want to try the walking thing yet.”

  Buck chuckled and picked me up. “Smart girl. I wouldn’t mind watching you crawl, but it’s late and you’ve been so good, I’m happy to give you a ride.”

  “You already gave me one hell of a ride, you big bruiser.”

  He lifted me up and took me to the bathroom. Like a gentleman, he gave me privacy while I took care of myself and made sure I really was all right. Some cherry juice, as if I needed proof that my man busted me open. Everything was A-OK.

  Buck was right there when I turned the doorknob. He scooped me back up in his inked python arms and set me down on the bed like I was the most precious load he ever hauled.

  I might become just that when he had his baby growing inside me. My hand stole to my belly. Had he knocked me up already?

  “Let’s get some sleep. I have a feeling my friends are going to want seconds in the morning. I want you to give them an enthusiastic ride before we all hit the road. This is a good time for you to start calling me master. Do you understand, girl?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good girl. I’m so pleased with how you performed your initiation. You’re mine now, Gia.”

  He stroked my head. I clung to his muscular body, breathing his man scent, practically purring. In the morning, all three of them were going to make me their fuck toy again. Just like the girl in the movie. While they used me, I existed only as holes for their pleasure.

  It felt so good to be completely free. Buck owned me for the duration of the ride, and his owning me was the greatest freedom I knew. I wanted a long, long ride.

  “I’m keeping you for a long ride, Gia. I’m thinking for the long haul.” His face looked dreamy, as blissful as I felt.

  Yeah, my man was a mind reader.

  He pulled the sheets up and held me in his arms.

  I snuggled into his chest, happy and fulfilled.

  The End

  BAD BOYS BAND

  BBW & Alpha Rocker Menage

  My Rough First Time

  Slingshot Panties

  JET STALKED CLOSER and closer. His black hair whipped in the wind, his eyes bored at me, intense as a vampire’s. His leather pants hugged his lean hips like a second skin. His hip bones jutted out and his shining black pubes curled along his happy trail from his deep navel to where his long, muscular torso disappeared into his tight pants. I spread my legs wide to catch a breeze. Swaying on my platform sandals, I held onto my friends to keep from falling over in the concert crush. We stood so close to the stage I felt the heat from the lights. My favorite black lace panties squished as I shimmied to his voice.

  His song got to me; every word Jet sang went right between my legs.

  My favorite band, the best band in the world, finished playing their second encore. The rush and let down left me breathless. This was the boy band all the girls at college wanted to see. The best of them all, the sexiest, most talented, most panties-melting hot group of boy musicians anywhere, ever. I’d scored the tickets on a radio call-in. They were more mature than some of the all-guy bands, 19 to 23, with Jet the oldest of them. Every one of the guys looked scorching hot. With my BFF Charmaine and our friend Nita, I’d pushed our way up front. I jumped and screamed so much during the concert I was sore and hoarse.

  We just called them the BBs, the Bad Boys. That’s not the real name of their band, but you’ll understand why I can’t tell you that, and Bad Boys fits. You know the kind, smoldering looks, sex-you voices, those hands moving on their instruments in the way that tells you they can take you apart. One look, one touch and you’re gone.

  I’d looked up the word incendiary. They can make any girl catch fire and burn up. Hot, hot, bad boys.

  It was the end of the concert, and I couldn’t stand it. It couldn’t be over, it couldn’t! But they were bowing after their second encore. The last notes of Baby and the Band still throbbed through me. They raised their hands, bowing together, saying goodnight. The light made their blowing hair and sweating muscles glow. Bright spots accented their chests, pale except for the Black drummer’s. Clarke’s skin looked darker than the night. The guys wore muscle Ts or shirts with the sleeves ripped off, showing their lean or buff bodies. So sexy, all of them. They waved to us, showing their gleaming teeth. Every one of them had perfect, white teeth. No, not yet, don’t let it be over yet, don’t let it ever be over. I wanted so much more.

  Yeah, I was a fan.

  Jet walked away from his band mates. He kept coming right at me. It was the best birthday of my life, my 19th, with Jet heading right for the edge of the stage. He’d be close enough to touch. I had to touch him. I had to.

  “Lift me up!” I yelled to my friends, moving my lips big and pointing up till they got it. They lifted me, tottering. I was the biggest of the three of us and felt guilty, but I needed to get closer to Jet. Charmaine and Nita strained to lift me higher. Some tall guy saw my frantic signals and pitched in, hefting me from my waist and getting me a lot higher than my friends could. I’d never been held by an older guy like that but I couldn’t even focus on it, all I could think about was the BB’s front man. Getting closer and closer!

  Jet strode down the stage in his tight leather pants, his smooth torso shining, hair gleaming. He had a wicked look on his sexy, kissable face. He took a bow right in front of me, so close I reached out and grazed his black hair with my fingertips.

  Oh! Oh, I touched Jet. Happy birthday to me!

  He smiled that slow, smoldering smile with his smoky eyes looking right at me like some demon loose from hell. I couldn’t let him get away. I had to make him really see me.

  Reaching below the beefy arms of the guy holding me, I contorted my legs and whipped off my panties. I used them like a slingshot—whap.

  I hit Jet right in the face with them. They were soaked. If there hadn’t been so much squealing and clapping I bet they would have made a splat.

  Oh, hell. I meant to get his attention, not splat his face.

  He grabbed them in his fast spider fingers and looked right at me.

  I couldn’t read his look. So intense. I stared back at his scary eyes.

  He nodded at someone, a sharp move with his dimpled chin. A couple big bruisers came and took me by my arms.

  “Stay out of this,” one of them barked. “Let go of her.” My heart pounded as four big hands pulled me out of the stranger’s arms and carried me away through the crowd like I was light as cotton candy.

  It happened so fast I lost sight of Charmaine and Nita. Screams erupted around me. I couldn’t even react, just treaded air while the two massive bouncers lifted me away around the stage to the back.

  Was I in trouble? Were they going to charge me with assault or something? My stomach flip flopped. Was Jet mad? I didn’t know what was going to happen.

  Even if Charmaine and Nita saw where they were taking me, they wouldn’t be able to get through the crowd to help. I was completely on my own, and I was trapped by the four biggest hands I’d ever felt. These guys looked like TV wrestling producers were probably after them.

  What happened to people who hit rock stars? It was only my panties, but still, I threw something at Jet and hit him. That was majo
r. And he’d set security on me. Was I totally fucked?

  After all the years I was in a hurry to grow up and be of age, now at 19, the potential consequences sunk in. It wouldn’t be like the one time I landed in juvie. If I got in trouble now, they wouldn’t call my parents. They might put me in jail. And they’d try me as an adult.

  And they’d find that dumb ass shoplifting arrest, idiotic five-finger lingerie spree I did on a dare that got me a criminal record. This could be bad.

  I tried to talk to the guy closest to my mouth.

  “Please, put me down.” My voice squeaked. They had me in such a firm grip, I couldn’t even try to tap one of them on the shoulder. The noise from the crowd stayed at a solid roar, like massive waves that keep crashing into the beach. People stomped around us, trying for another encore. Even if I screamed into their ears, I didn’t think they’d hear me. I kept moving my feet, trying to gain traction, but I couldn’t even touch the ground. It was the most helpless I ever felt in my life.

  I saw the door before we reached it. The center of so many dreams and fantasies, the gateway to the backstage. They were taking me backstage! But was there an interrogation room back there, or a holding cell? Were they going to call the police? Maybe if I talked sweet to them they’d let me off with a warning.

  Was it assault? They wouldn’t want that in the media would they? ‘Jet, Lead Singer of the Bad Boys Hit by a Wet Panties Sling Shot, Assailant in Custody.’ People would laugh. Once in a while I felt glad I was a girl, even though a lot of the time it seemed a pretty raw deal. But when it came to the prospect of an assault charge, people would crack up if they saw me standing next to Jet. I’m 5-foot-2 when I stand up real straight, big and curvy, and people tell me I have a real sweet smile like a cherub. I’m big on top, big on the bottom, and while I walk a lot, no one’s going to mistake me for a ninja or a roller derby girl. Some assailant. I could just imagine the trial.

  “No, sir, mister judge sir, I did not attack that man.’ Though I certainly thought about it a lot. Attacking in a good way, a real good way, or better yet, Jet pinning me under him, his hair falling against my face, his mouth —.

  One of the security guys opened the sacred doors to the backstage and they muscled me into the dark. I didn’t resist. On the other hand, maybe this was how the big guys got their jollies, kidnapping groupies.

  But no, I saw Jet signal them. They were under his orders, not doing this for themselves.

  Finally, they set me down. I wobbled on my favorite platforms, trying to get my sea legs. I wore my tallest ones, hoping Jet would see me. He saw me, alright.

  Standing on my own after being carried by Biff and Boff was like coming ashore after being on a boat. One of the big guys steadied me and I didn’t mind. I felt ready to fall over. The shock of being carried away, and then being backstage. Wow. And that wild moment of my panties smacking Jet right in his face. His scary-gorgeous face. He was probably still smelling my wet pussy!

  I took a breath and looked up at my captors. Way up. Now that I stood at my regular height, with my eye-level below their hunky chests, I saw how massive they were: wide and tall. Mutants. Bulging muscles everywhere and tell-tale zits; with that much steroid use, I bet their boy bits shrank.

  I kept the smirk off my face. They were scary-big everywhere that showed, with arms bigger than my thighs. Damn.

  Took a breath. Had to keep this in perspective. I didn’t do anything so bad. Girls had been throwing panties at bands for decades, at least as far back as The Beatles, and that was back in the 60s! They couldn’t lock me up for that, could they? Or worse, 86 me from BB concerts for life. No, no way.

  The guys just looked at me. That was the scary thing.

  “Can I go now?” I asked politely. The door helped cut some of the noise, but I still had to shout. They didn’t move. “I’m really sorry. I just got carried away. I didn’t mean any harm. It’s my birthday! I have to get back to my friends before they freak out. Please let me go, pretty please?” I couldn’t help the pleading tone. I just wanted them to let me go. I wanted to find Charmaine and Nita and get back to celebrating. We’d talk about what I did and it would all be okay.

  It had to be okay.

  “It’s her birthday, Rog.” The guy’s voice sounded higher than I expected.

  “Oh, that’s good.” His partner chuckled. “Right this way, birthday girl. You’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

  He motioned for me to proceed him into the dark. I didn’t want to go.

  “Please let me go.”

  The guys looked at each other. Their brows rose so high they looked like caterpillars about to crawl up their shaved skulls.

  “Wow. Not sure how many thousands of girls there are outside that door who would give fucking anything to be on this side of it, and we get the one who wants out of backstage and back to the crowd of girls who will never get back here.”

  The other one bent down with his ham hands spread over his meaty thighs that threatened to bust out of his threadbare jeans. He looked into my face.

  “Do you want to disappoint Jet?”

  “Disappoint…Jet?” I couldn’t put it together.

  The guys looked at each other.

  “Maybe we should take her back? If she’s slow or something, like mentally defective, there could be problems, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, but Jet said this one.”

  “Still, we don’t want no trouble.” The first one took my arm.

  Oh, wow, he was going to take me back out there. It was finally getting through to me that Jet signaled the guys to take me backstage—and I wasn’t in trouble. I was too shocked to put together what was going on, didn’t want to dare to hope, but now I didn’t want them to let me go.

  “Wait! I’m not slow. I’m fine. I aced my tests for college. Graduated high school with a B+ average. I want to be here!”

  The first guy’s smile was like the sun breaking through storm heads. He looked innocent as a baby.

  “Now that’s more like it. That’s what I like to see backstage, an eager girl. Come on, now.” He gestured again, as though in a hurry to get me on the move before I could change my mind.

  I bet he didn’t date and thought all girls were crazy. I didn’t care what he thought of me. It was my birthday and I was backstage at the Bad Boys concert.

  Jet asked for me! Squee! I hustled into the dark on my platforms. Yeah, I was eager.

  The bouncers hustled me out a private exit and right into the BB’s tour bus. I felt too excited to speak or think. I could smell them in the bus, bad boy musk surrounding me. The big guys left me there, but I was sure they stayed right outside.

  I freshened up in the surprisingly spacious bathroom, peeking at all their hair products, the brushes with strands of their hair. Okay, I took some of their hair and stuck it in my pocket. Who wouldn’t?

  I went back to the sleeping area and looked around. Some bus. Huge and comfy, with plush carpet, captain’s chairs and that gigantic bed. Talk about fantasy fulfillment! When I thought about them at night, I’d picture them on that bed. Wow. This was where the hottest band ever spent their time on the road! Charmaine and Nita were not going to believe this!

  The black hoodie on the foot of the huge bed had to be Jet’s. I was sure of it. I wondered if he’d give it to me if I asked real sweet. I sprawled at the foot of the bed and buried my face in it. Mmmmmm. Such a deep, masculine scent. Jet.

  I imagined being in his arms, him rocking me, saying, ‘I love you, baby.’ I was so gone in the sweetness, I was slow to react to the sounds around me. It was them. The BBs. They surrounded me. In the dim bus, they filled the whole space. Their tall, strong bodies with their wiry energy, music still pouring off of them like strands of color, overwhelmed me. I smelled leather and lust.

  Jet stepped right up to me. He smiled that slow, smoldering smile. Incendiary, yeah. The man burned me. I became suddenly conscious of my short skirt barely covering my bare, round ass. Oh no. I’d thr
own my panties in his face and I was bare-assed with my face in his hoodie!

  The smile lit his eyes like flames flickering deep in his beautifully shaped skull. The man could be the demon or vampire I often imagined taking me, taking me away forever. Yes. Turn me, make me yours forever, you sexy bad ass. Bad, bad boy. Show me how bad you can be. Even in the dark, I figured they could see my blush. I buried my burning face back in his hoodie. No chance of hiding what I’d been doing.

  “Don’t be afraid. That was quite a shot with your wet panties.”

  I shook, his low-pitched voice rousing a primal fear. No one knew where I was. Why say don’t be afraid unless there was something to be afraid of?

  I scrambled to my knees, facing them all.

  What was I doing?

  I got up and bolted for the door.

  They laughed, all of them laughing in tune like it was a performance. Did they mean to humiliate me? They couldn’t really want me. What was this?

  I stopped at the door, swaying on my platforms. I turned to face them. Whatever this was, I wasn’t going to run away. The bouncer was right. Thousands of girls, countless girls all over the world, not just the ones leaving the concert, wanted to be right where I was. If I left, I’d never forgive myself. I’d always wonder what I’d missed. I wasn’t sure I could stand what was about to come—I was afraid of being horribly disappointed and shamed. But it was my birthday. And I knew what I wanted for my birthday more than anything. My heart surged with a crazy hope that my deepest dream might happen in that bus… I had to find out.

  “Good girl. You want to stay with us. Enjoy some rocking on our bus.” Jet fingered my panties out of the pocket of his leather jacket. His chest gleamed pale in a flash of light at the edge of a window. He held the panties up and swung them side to side like a metronome.