by Liz Crowe
No, this seduction was Michael’s way of getting him to be the VP of physical security for Enwright Security. Michael just wanted to be near everyone he loved. Graeme thought he might accept. Why not? He’d spent the last eight weeks designing the division, working with Michael and Lizzie, learning about the private side of keeping people safe. He brought his cop sensibilities and his knowledge of law enforcement to a new arena. He was excited by the challenge.
Tonight he would tell Michael and Lizzie that he was staying: in their lives, in their home, in their business. It would be a commitment, and one they’d been waiting for. He’d been the one to hold back, unsure of his physical abilities, unsure of his future. He knew now that this was the only place he wanted to be.
Michael and Lizzie had taken care of him. Their love had brought him back to health far faster than the doctors predicted. Graeme was ready to do a little taking care of them now. Michael wasn’t the only one who could seduce. He’d planned to seduce Michael all those months ago. Now it was time to finish the job and his Lizzie would help.
*****
Michael returned late from the office. He’d planned to leave earlier, but Liz had dropped off some critical updates later in the day than he’d expected. It was complex work and with the added complication of having the whole package translated into Japanese, he didn’t blame her for running a bit late. Since he was leaving for Tokyo in the morning to deliver and sign the new contract, he’d stayed to make his final review.
Although everything leading up to the house looked normal, the interior lights that usually blazed in the foyer were set to dim. He set his keys in the tray on the table next to the door and found a note.
Dear Michael,
We’ve cancelled dinner in the dining room.
You need to come to us if you want to eat.
It was unsigned, but that didn’t matter. Even if he hadn’t recognized Lizzie’s neat handwriting, he knew he was in for a treat.
He walked into his bedroom to find it glowing softly with candlelight. There was a platter of fresh fruits and cheese on the table in the alcove next to a chilled bottle of champagne. So they were celebrating tonight. He took that to mean Graeme’s doctor visit had gone well. He popped a strawberry in his mouth and poured a flute of champagne, then followed the sound of the Jacuzzi into the master bathroom.
It was a sight to take his breath away.
Graeme was leaning back in one of the seats, chest deep in bubbling water with Lizzie on top of him. Her head was arched back in pleasure as his mouth clamped down on one of her breasts. Michael kicked his shoes off and climbed onto the counter to watch. It was a beautiful scene.
Graeme lifted her onto his cock, and Lizzie let out little gasps of pleasure as he filled her. Together they moved slowly, Graeme’s hips thrusting upward, her hips rocking to meet him. Slick hands slid over wet skin, murmurs of pleasure, rhythm steady. He knew their bodies so well, sensed the pending release, and his breath quickened with theirs.
“Oh, I’m coming,” Lizzie cried out, as if the suddenness of her orgasm surprised her.
Graeme said nothing, just moaned, his face full of concentration, holding his release as long as he could. Then with two quick thrusts, Michael knew Graeme was coming, too.
When Graeme’s lust-filled gaze met his in invitation, Michael undressed and joined them in the tub. Arms pulled him in close, then Lizzie was kissing him, her mouth sweet as her tongue lazily met his. He loved the languid movements of her body after an orgasm. Then Graeme’s mouth was on his, and there was nothing gentle in his kiss. Heat and fire, Graeme was possessive, hungry, demanding.
He groaned with desire into Graeme’s mouth, already hard. Everyone shifted place in the large Jacuzzi and he found himself between his two lovers. He rarely let himself be between them, he so loved giving them both pleasure. Tonight it seemed they had other plans. They began to wash and caress him, working together to make him feel loved.
“You’re always giving, Michael. Not tonight. Tonight you’re going to take. You’re going to take all the love we have to give. You’re going to take me, and when your cock is inside my pussy, you’re going to take Graeme’s cock inside your ass. We are claiming you tonight, Michael Enwright. You’re ours.”
A thrill passed through him at her words, and his heart thudded in his chest. They pulled him from the tub and gently dried him before leading him to the bed.
“On your back,” Graeme directed.
They worked in tandem, mouths licking and nipping at his skin. Their hands were everywhere and soon, slippery oil was spread across his chest and down his legs. Lizzie straddled his waist and worked at his arms and chest. Her small but strong hands worked the oil into his skin. She pinched the hard nub of his nipples and his hips bucked in pleasure. When she leaned down to kiss him, her breasts were pressed against his chest and the oil spread to her, the slick friction was intoxicating.
Down below, Graeme massaged first one leg and then the other. His grip was firm as he wrapped his big hands around Michael’s calf and slowly slid it upward. He knew from personal experience just how overwhelming it was to have two pairs of hands spreading the oil, the promise of what was to come filling his mind. Once he had thoroughly massaged the front of both legs, he gave a nudge.
“Turn over.”
He climbed between Michael’s thighs and started at the calves again. His hands gripped powerfully built legs, slow, deliberate strokes, pressing into the muscles. He felt the surrender as Michael spread his legs further, giving him access. He spread the oil over the cheeks of Michael’s ass, taking his time, before he finally began to stroke the crease between his cheeks. It wasn’t the first time he’d been here with his fingers, but he’d never before prepared Michael’s ass to take his cock.
He spread the oil around the tight ring of muscles, then pressed his thumb inside. Michael’s breath hitched at the invasion, and Lizzie continued to sooth his back muscles. When Graeme felt him relax again, he pulled back at his hips with his free hand.
“Scoot back some, Michael. Raise up for me.”
Lizzie immediately shifted herself around so that she was leaning against the headboard, spread in front of Michael’s face. He lowered his mouth to her pussy.
Graeme worked at Michael’s anus until both thumbs slid easily. When he reached for more lube, it was Lizzie’s signal to slip underneath Michael. She guided his massive erection inside, and he began to pump his hips, filling her slowly. She met Graeme’s gaze over Michael’s shoulder. They were ready.
“Hold still a minute, Michael. Just relax.”
He knew Michael would experience discomfort, but the pleasure to follow would be exquisite. He held the tip of his cock to Michael’s opening and pressed.
Michael groaned, and Graeme nearly shot his load at the grip of his hot canal.
“Shh, it’s okay. Breathe through it,” Lizzie said. Then she pulled Michael into a searing kiss designed to take his mind from the invasion of the big cock filling him.
Graeme gripped his hips and pushed forward slowly until he was balls deep in the man he loved. Their woman was looking up at them, tears shimmering in her eyes. It was a defining moment in their relationship. They were destined to be together forever.
“I love you,” Graeme whispered to both of them. “We’ll never be separated again.”
He began to move, and Michael moved with him. Lizzie’s legs came up and wrapped around their hips. The loving was slow as Graeme took Michael to the edge then backed him off, again and again, his own cock throbbing with the effort. Finally, he couldn’t hold back. He leaned forward, and his hips pistoned, thrusting into Michael, whose cock filled Lizzie. They came together, with moans and yells and curses, before they all collapsed in a pile on the bed.
Michael immediately shifted, apparently realizing that for a moment all of their weight had come down on Lizzie. He slipped from her as Graeme withdrew from him, amid another round of moans. Graeme went into the bathroom and returned w
ith a warm washcloth. He cleaned Lizzie, then Michael, before two pairs of hands stilled him.
“Did you mean it?” Michael asked, his voice still husky with the pleasure, his eyes full of hope. “Will you stay with us forever?”
Graeme’s heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest. It was what he wanted, what he’d wanted since the first night Lizzie and Michael had stayed in his cabin. He’d thought to seduce them both. It hadn’t exactly turned out that way. Lizzie had seemed to know from the start that she wanted both of the men in her life forever. Michael had been skittish about taking a male lover but had never held back the feelings that were growing between them. Was he really ready do this? Give up law enforcement and the closet it had thrown him into?
He looked at his lovers. Lizzie on the bed between them, so small and creamy white next to Michael’s glorious golden tan. To wake up every morning surrounded by their love, to fall asleep each night cradled in their arms. How could a man ask for more?
“I mean it. We’ll all be together, forever.”
~~The End~~
About The Author
I’m a coffee-drinking, book-loving certifiable crazy woman who lives on waterfront property in Arizona because I always wanted to be an oxymoron.
The truth is, I started writing the day after Christmas in 2008, because I had a crazy dream, and from that moment on, Elena McFarland and the Highland Destiny series owned me. About 200,000 words into the series, I decided to see what this thing called publishing was all about. I learned about agents and queries, traditional and small press publishing, editors and cover art, and finally… *insert deep breath here*
A little thing Amazon introduced in 2007 called the Kindle caught fire and the world of self-publishing changed for ever. I truly enjoy being an author-publisher and keeping control of my babies from start to finish. I think most indie published authors who take their jobs seriously are really just control freaks.
I write erotic romance, most often about love many might consider outside the lines: Gay Romance, Polyamory and Menage, and even *gasp* Interspecies with vampires and werewolves. I know—crazy, right?
So why do I like writing erotic romance? I like to push beyond traditional boundaries. I like characters who grow and evolve—who will question his or her sexual boundaries and push past artificial limits.
I am fortunate enough to work at writing and publishing full-time, and when the stars align and I hold my mouth just right, I manage to publish 10-15 novels and novellas a year.
Connect with Laura
Website: http://lauraharner.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LauraHarnerAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LauraHarner
Man On, Black Jack Gentlemen, Book 1
by
Liz Crowe
To all professional athletes
who struggle with their sexual identities
for the sake of their sport.
Chapter One
Nicolas stared out the airplane window as the last view of his beloved Valencia faded beneath him. Shifting in his seat to accommodate his extra-long legs, he accidentally knocked into his seatmate, a striking brunette woman who shot him a nasty look before doing a double take.
He sighed and ignored her. She had obviously flunked Body Language 101. Her attempt to give him a nice cleavage view despite his clear signals to leave him the hell alone grated on his frayed nerves. He clenched his eyes shut, determined to make it all the way to the States without speaking a word to anyone.
The plane shuddered and made terrifying noises as it rose into the air. He nearly leapt out of his skin at the touch of her palm on his unknowingly white-knuckled grip of the seat arm. But he gave her a weak smile and forced himself to relax. Running a hand over his days-old stubble, he took a breath and closed his eyes again, praying the sheer force of his will could maintain the aircraft’s ability to stay aloft.
Nicco hated flying. He had gotten used to it as a member of three different European football teams and, for one brief shining moment, the Spanish national team. But he certainly never enjoyed it.
“Whew,” the woman sighed and stretched her arms out, bumping up against his shoulder. No accident, he knew. “Glad that part’s over.” Her accent screamed American, but her chic dark suit and olive-hued skin spoke equally of “Latina”.
“Huh,” he grunted and stuck ear buds in his ears in an effort to ward off any further conversational gambits, not in the mood for flirting, explanations, or small talk. He was Nicolas Garza, former star attacking midfielder for Real Madrid, Deportivo, and most recently Valencia. And now well on his way to utter soccer ignominy as part of a startup team in the United States, in bloody Detroit of all places. Essentially, he’d been forced into retirement and resented every cocky asshole of a rising superstar who’d jostled him out of his position.
Harsh rap music filled the space between his ears as he gazed out into the increasingly blue sky. Nicco put his aching forehead against the small window. Images rushed at him, jumbled, like a movie stuck on fast forward. Voices he never wanted to hear again berated him, still.
His agent, his erstwhile ex-wife, his own mother, all of them yelling at him in various stages of pissed off at his seeming inability to control himself, to stay out of trouble. Nicco winced, recalling the exact moment his big-time agent handed him over to one of the agency minions with a disapproving frown. Which hurt way worse than the moment the lovely, expensive, ex-Mrs. Garza heaved an empty wine bottle at him, nailing him in the temple, then stomped out yelling curses and promises about her attorney and alimony.
He sighed and kept staring out the window. She’d made good on all of it, but he was shed of her, thank the blessed virgin.
Nicco closed his eyes and let the curse-riddled rap shove out the one voice he wanted to hear so badly he could feel it deep in his gut, like an insatiable hunger. A memory floated across his unsuspecting brain, making him gasp and clench his hands into fists. A dark face, handsome beyond imagining, soft full lips, an impish smile and sparkling deep brown eyes—all of it, the complete package of his beloved, sexy, Leandro. The man who’d proven to him what it meant to feel, to go beyond the raw physicality of sex and connect on a deeper level.
“Shit,” he muttered, a familiar burn firing up behind his eyes. He pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose as agony bloomed in his chest.
They’d been together nearly six months, truly together. Nicco wanted to come out, to claim the man in public, while Leandro cautioned against it. They were both highly paid European soccer stars in the spotlight. Despite attitude advances in some pro sports regarding gay team members, soccer seemed to be the last bastion of homophobia.
Nicco had plenty of experience, sexually speaking—maybe too much—before Leandro burst into his world. He rarely turned down a new opportunity, and one of his favorite positions had been right between a lovely, sexy woman and the hard, lean muscular body of a man. No big deal, he’d thought. My business how and with whom I get off. He’d been proven very wrong about that, among other things.
The plane bumped, jouncing Nicco’s head against the window and sending a fresh jolt of visceral terror through him. But at least Leandro’s face was forced out of his mind for a brief moment. He bent over his knees, determined not to panic and leap up to pace the aisle, or puke. But both felt fairly imminent. So he focused downward, saying his “Hail Marys” in preparation for the no doubt impending plummet into the ocean.
“Hey.” The girl he’d been ignoring touched his shoulder. “You okay? Want some water?”
Her hand dropped to his thigh. He stared at its well-manicured tastefulness, complete with a silver band on her left ring finger. His gaze traveled up her bare, toned arm, followed the slim line of her neck to her jaw and lingered over her full lips.
What the fuck? Why not?
He’d do anything to ease the knot of frustrated anger in his chest. Besides, sex relieved his stress—it was a well-known fact and something he
’d embraced as a much younger man. He’d actually pondered seeing a professional about it—this near constant requirement for physical connection.
He allowed a smile to light his face and covered her hand with his, giving it a squeeze, shifting his thigh slightly so her palm slipped a little farther down into what could be considered a fairly intimate caress. His body tingled in a distracting way, bringing a hint of legitimacy to his grin. She met it halfway and tugged the blanket she’d had tucked around her bare knees across his lap. He shifted the armrest between them up and out of the way never removing his gaze from hers.
Stop, Nicco. Remember, you were going to leave this behind. All the random hookups and bullshit that ruined your marriage and your relationship with Leandro.
Ironically, it had been his ex-wife who’d broken the news flash to the panting press. Nicco Garza was maricon, el homosexual, and had been for years. Nicco shook his head at the memory of her flawless body, perfect face, and evil mind. The damn woman had participated in her fair share of three-ways with him and women and other men. She’d watched him get blown by both sexes. Observed him fucking a woman while simultaneously getting ass-fucked by a guy.
Jesu save him from hypocritical, jealous, vindictive bitches. But no one had saved him. His reputation truly suffered once she figured out that Leandro, a member of a rival team, ten years younger than Nicco, had captured his heart, shoving her out of the picture once and for all.
