Woman of the House: A Dark MMF Romance

by Abby Angel

  He grunts, struggling to get out from underneath me, and I watch as his mouth parts open, ever so slightly. The movement almost seems too delicate. Waves of lust and violence electrify my entire body and I feel my cock hardening on top of him. What's come over me? The sensation of it all causes me to grind my body into his, harder now. Can he feel my hardness in his thigh? I wonder. I fight the urge to bring my mouth to his … and then what? Kiss him? Bite him?

  All of these thoughts cease when as we wrestle, a chair is knocked over. The commotion reverberates throughout the office and we hear CJ run in.

  "What's going on?" she cries out, horror and confusion flooding her face. And behind her, a security guard runs in.

  He's overweight and red in the face, and I can't help but think he looks like an angry tomato.

  "Mr. Hardman, that's enough! We need you to leave this office immediately! Or we'll be forced to call the police," he shouts with as much authority as he can muster.

  I release my grip on Sloane, and we both part ways, standing up and brushing ourselves off. We're both breathing heavy, refusing to look at each other. Sloan clenches his jaw again, and without saying another word, he leaves my office just as quickly as he came.

  20

  Natalie

  This can’t be happening.

  Everything I’ve worked so hard for is at risk. My prototype, my company. All of it is on the line now.

  The moment I knew I had secured the investment I needed, I rolled all my profits into developing my flagship prototype. And now that the banks are retracting their financing, everything might go up in flames. Lovely.

  Fuck. What do I do?

  “Hey, you okay?” Sloane asks, sitting down on the couch by my side. There’s worry in his eyes as he looks at me, and I’m betting that I have an expression of pure shock on my face right now.

  “I can’t believe Drake would do this to me… I just can’t,” I start, balling my hands into fists as a blend of anger and sadness courses through my veins. First my mother, now this. “Not after all we’ve been through…” I whisper, feeling more betrayed than I've ever felt in my entire life. This hurts, it really does.

  “Fuck him, Natalie. Just fuck that guy,” Sloane says, placing his hand on top of mine and trying to force a smile. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll find a way to get you the money you need.”

  “Thank you.” I offer him a pale but genuine smile, even though his words offer nothing but hollow comfort. With the banks out of the equation, there’s no way Drake would secure the amount of money Dirty ‘Lil Angels needs right now. “Thank you for telling me about Drake … and thank you for being here,” I continue, squeezing his hand.

  My stepbrother might be an unrepentant asshole, but he’s so much more than just that. Under that tough surface there’s a caring man, one that’d go to the end of Earth just to protect the ones he loves.

  He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, smiling, and I feel a deep sadness taking over me. My brother was supposed to be the asshole, not my stepdad. And now look at me, betrayed by Drake and being comforted by Sloane.

  I know that my mother is involved in this somehow. This whole thing reeks of her. I just don’t know why Drake would take her side. He doesn’t love her, and their marriage was just a thing of convenience, the way I see it. So why? Why would he stab me in the back like this?

  “I know you’re thinking of him, ‘sis,” Sloane says, and I place my hand on top of his and close my eyes, allowing his deep serious voice to calm me down. “But you gotta let it go. We gotta let it go.”

  “Thank you,” I say again, looking into his eyes. I lean toward him and brush my lips against his, his scent and flavor blanketing my mind and easing all the worry floating there. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “I’ll always be here,” he says with a smile, and I can’t help but offer him a wide and genuine smile. He means what he has just said.

  “I know,” I whisper, taking my hands to his face and kissing him. My lips linger on his and, for a moment, we’re alone in the universe. I place one hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against my palm, and then he pulls me into him.

  Spreading my legs, I climb on top of him and straddle him. I reach for his crotch and flatten the palm of my hand there, feeling his cock harden steadily against my fingers. I press my forehead against his and, looking into his eyes, I unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly. He lifts his body a few inches from the couch, and that’s enough for me to push his boxers down and send them to his knees.

  Grabbing his cock with my hand, I start stroking him softly, desire spreading its wings inside me. Instinct takes the steering wheel and, with my free hand, I grab my dress and hike it up to my waist. I flick my now wet thong to the side and guide his cock home, exhaling sharply as I feel its tip pushing its way past my pussy lips. Easing myself down, I only stop when his long inches are all inside of me, and then I throw both my arms over his shoulders.

  I rock my hips back and forth, taking my time as I build up a rhythm. Right now, there’s more than lust dictating my pace; I feel closer to Sloane, his kindness toward me making me almost desperate for his embrace.

  I thought that his body was engineered for fucking and not lovemaking. But I was wrong. Because right now we aren’t fucking; we’re making love. And it’s exactly what I needed now.

  In his arms, I forget about everything, all the worry drifting away like leaves carried by the autumn wind.

  Our bodies move in unison as if we are one, and we remain in silence just like that, our flesh making all the talk. Words are unnecessary; all I need is to feel him inside of me, his cock pulsing steadily as he rocks his hips against mine. He’s breathing hard, as hard as me, and the way he groans makes me close my eyes and smile. Yes, despite everything, I can still smile.

  As long as Sloane remains with me, I can be happy.

  Our rhythm grows fast and, thrusting harder, Sloane tangles his fingers in my hair and yanks on it, forcing me to throw my head back. He kisses my neck, nibbling at my tender skin, and then rolls over. Without taking his cock out of me, he lays me down on the couch and starts pistoning hard, his lips now locked on mine.

  I kiss him all the way into oblivion, my body tensing up like straight wire. I feel my inner walls tightening up around his cock and I pull back from his kiss, moaning as an orgasm shoots up from my pussy and spears my brain.

  “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” I urge him to keep going, still swaying my hips as he fucks me. I want him to go all the way, and he doesn’t need me to tell him that; he can read that in my eyes.

  “Fuck,” he groans, more to himself than to me, and then I feel his cock spasming violently inside my pussy. A second later, he starts gushing his warm seed into me, the ropes of muscles in his arms and chest bulging against his skin as pleasure takes over him. “Oh, fuck,” he repeats, his cock giving its final spasms inside of me, strands of cum dripping out of me and pooling on the couch underneath my body.

  Pulling his cock out of me, Sloane sits up on the couch, his head thrown back against the headrest as he tries to catch his breath. I sit up by his side and reach for his hand, gently squeezing it in mine. I look into his eyes, and what I see forces me to turn my thoughts into words.

  “You felt it too,” I whisper, pursing my lips as my heart calms down.

  “Yeah,” he admits in a low, sorrowful tone.

  As good as this was, sex without Drake simply isn’t the same; I know it, and he knows it. We’ve become three matching pieces and, now that one has gone rogue, we’re like an incomplete puzzle.

  “Fuck this,” Sloane says suddenly, going up to his feet and pulling his pants up. “Let’s get out of here. I know what we need right now.”

  I look at him and run my tongue between my lips, having no idea what could possibly make things better. It’s not like we can stroll into Drake’s office and force him to become the person we want (need) him to be.

  “And what’s that?” I ask him, and his
response makes my heart skip a beat. He grins and offers me his hand.

  “I know a place where we can forget about all this fucking bullshit,” he tells me.

  “Where?” I ask, but I already know the answer before he even opens up his mouth. There’s only one place we can go to right now.

  “We’re going to Python.”

  21

  Natalie

  “What the hell happened to Python?” I ask Sloane, looking at the cavernous main room we just stepped into. There are hundreds of people lounging there, drinks in their hands, and there’s a cheery atmosphere to the place. On the stage, three guys are dancing around a woman sitting on a chair, a crown propped up on her forehead; there’s a bachelorette party going on.

  But that’s normal. Python has always been a crazy place where anything can happen. I’ve never been a regular, I just visited once or twice, but the first thing you noticed when you walked in was that Python was a place where you had to leave all taboo and prejudice at the door. That remains the same, but the place is completely different.

  To start with, it’s not even in the same building. And while the old Python was just one floor, this one seems to have taken over a whole building, like some office tower, except instead of having floors packed with pencil pushers, they’re packed with horny women.

  “The owner, Austin, got married,” Drake tells me offhandedly, his eyes wandering over the place as he tries to look for an empty booth—not an easy task.

  “So?”

  “He married Destiny, the one with the club on Broadway. They decided to expand, I guess, and they kicked it up a notch.”

  “Yeah, that’s for sure,” I whisper, looking around the place completely in awe. Jesus, this place is like heaven on Earth. The old Python was completely amazing, but the new one just blows it out of the water.

  “Sloane!” I hear a voice cry out, and I turn on my heels to see a man in a tailored Armani walk toward us. He’s a few inches taller than Sloane, and he looks as ripped as my stepbrother. And these eyes… Jesus, just looking at him makes my insides clench up.

  “Austin!” My brother greets him and shakes his hand, clapping his arm. Austin? The owner? “It’s been a long time, man.”

  “Yeah, too long. And this is…?” Austin asks, turning to me.

  “She’s my… uh, she’s my sister. Well, stepsister. We’re not blood related, you know?” Sloane stammers, but Austin just smiles at that.

  “I see. Nice to meet you,” he shakes my hand, and then winks. “Remember, you’re at home in Python. Real life problems stay at the door. Here, let me hook you up with a decent place.”

  He leads us to a secluded place in the room, a luxury booth in the VIP area. Austin explains to us that Python doesn’t really have a VIP area, everyone is a VIP in here, but he reserves these booths for personal friends.

  “Have fun,” he says with a wink, and then disappears back into the crowd. But not before whispering something into Sloane’s ear.

  “You didn’t tell me that you knew him,” I whisper at him as a waiter comes to grab our order. Sloane simply shrugs.

  “I met him through Drake. They’re good friends, and Austin’s a cool guy.”

  “What was he telling you just now?” I ask him, curiosity getting the best of me.

  “Well… I called him before we came here. He was just telling me that everything’s ready,” he flashes me his grin, and I feel my heart tightening up inside my chest. A surprise? At Python? Oh, God. “If you feel up to it, of course.”

  “Of course I am,” I find myself saying even though I have no idea about what Sloane prepared for me. But it doesn’t matter; I trust him and, right now, all I want to do is forget about the mess Drake puts us in.

  We go though a few cocktails—well, Sloane went for the whisky—and watch the men dance on the stage, the atmosphere in this place making me feel more and more relaxed with each passing second. No wonder the place is packed, this is amazing.

  A shirtless ripped waiter comes to our booth again, but instead of taking the empty glasses and taking another order, he just nods at Sloane.

  “We’re up,” Sloane whispers, getting up from his seat and offering me his hand. I go up to my feet, take his hand in mine, and that’s when the lights go out. I stand there in the darkness, having no idea about what’s going to happen, and then a single spotlight focus on me and Sloane.

  He leads the way toward the stage, and my heart skips a beat when I realize what we’re about to do. Oh God, what have I agreed to?

  We climb the narrow stairs that lead to the stage and, the moment I step there, the spotlight around us widens and a barely audible music starts coming from the overhead speakers.

  “Have you ever done this before?” I ask him, having no idea what this really is. I’ve heard rumors about what happens when you go on stage at Python, but I don’t really know the specifics.

  “Never,” he says, grinning, and closes the distance between us, both his hands going to my hips. “But there’s always a first time.”

  “Yeah,” I nod, a knot in my stomach. I always thought of myself as wild and adventurous, but right now, being on stage in front of hundreds of people is making my knees grow weak. “Let’s do this,” I say nonetheless, ready to embark on a trip to the unknown.

  “Let’s do it,” he repeats after me, his voice blending with the anxious drumming coming from the speakers. The music starts slow and it’s barely audible, but it keeps on growing in a frantic crescendo, and my heart starts beating at that same rhythm.

  Hesitantly, Sloane reaches for me, his fingers trailing up my arms all the way to my shoulders, and then he grabs the straps of my dress. I bite on my lower lip and nod, and he slides the straps down my arms, tugging on my dress until it’s bunched up around my waist.

  Then, the music reaches its climax, drums and strings joining forces, and Sloane matches that wildness with one sudden movement. He hooks his fingers on my dress and pushes on it violently, sending it down to my legs. I step out of it and stand there under the spotlight, wearing only my matching black lace thong and bra.

  Turning toward the crowd, Sloane offers the wild pack of horny women one of his million dollar smiles and grabs the collar of his shirt. He tugs on it harshly and all the buttons pop out at once, flying straight off the stage. I can almost feel the humidity in the room rising as the women gaze at Sloane’s bare chest, completely in awe with the cords of ripped muscles moving under his skin. Yeah, enjoy the show, I think to myself, but Sloane’s all mine.

  I take one step toward him and press my chest against his back, my hands going around his torso. I slide the palm of my hands down his chest, going over the curves of his abs, and then I grab his belt. Unbuckling it slowly, I then take it out of its loop in one quick movement. Grabbing his zipper, I pull down his fly and peer over Sloane’s shoulder at the women in the first row. Their eyes are wide and anxious, and their mouths are hanging open as they notice the baseball bat hiding under Sloane’s boxer briefs.

  Nibbling at his neck, I send his pants down his legs and he does the rest, kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants and boxers. Finally, he turns on his heels to face me, and his hands go back to my waist.

  “Nervous?” he asks me, lust flaring up behind his eyes.

  “Not enough to stop,” I admit, shivering as I feel the tip of his fingers going over my spine. He grabs the clasp of my bra and unhooks it; pushing the straps down my arms, I sigh heavily as my hard nipples meet the cool air in the room.

  Leaning into me, Sloane brushes his lips softly against mine and I surrender to his kiss. His hands are on my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pulls me into him; our bodies are pressed tight, and I feel his cock straining against boxers and pulsing against my inner thigh. I’m of half a mind to simply yank his boxers out, push him to the floor and jump on him right now. But we’re putting on a show; I have to be patient.

  I hear a rattling metallic sound, and I pull back from Sloane ju
st in time to see two long chains descending from the ceiling. They’re a few feet apart, and from their ends dangle a pair of handcuffs.

  Ready to submit entirely, I spread my arms to the side. Smiling, Sloane grabs the handcuffs and closes them around my wrists with a click. I move my arms, testing the hold of the chains, and I bite on my lower lip as I realize that I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Which is exactly what I want.

  Tugging on a rope a few feet apart from the chains, Sloane makes the chains go lower and I go down to my knees, my arms raised over my head now.

  “TAKE IT OFF!” a woman screams from the crowd, and dozens of similar shouts erupt everywhere across the room. Chuckling to himself, Sloane turns to face the crowd once more, and walks close to the edge of the stage.

  “YOU WANT ME NAKED?” he asks the crowd, his deep voice making my insides tingle. He hooks his thumbs on the sides of his boxer briefs and every single woman in the place goes mad, a chant of take it off, take it off! booming over the music. And that’s exactly what he does; with one single movement, he sends his boxers flying down his legs, his cock springing free like a steel rod.

  Now they really go crazy. A few bouncers gather right in front of the stage, stopping the craziest one from making a run toward Sloane. Still on my knees, I hold my breath as he turns to me, his hard cock throbbing.

  He walks up to me and, looking into my eyes, places both his hands on top of my head. I close my eyes and open my mouth, ready to have him in me; one second after that I feel the tip of his cock brushing over my lips, and so I just open my mouth even wider and gobble it all up.

  I push my mouth down his shaft as fast as I can, his long inches rolling over my tongue until his cock is pressed tight against the back of my throat. Tangling his fingers in my hair, Sloane holds me in place and starts to thrust, moving his cock in and out of my mouth at a steady pace. He starts gently, but it doesn’t take him long to build a rhythm.