Sinfully Theirs: Naughty Nookie Part I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  “Nothing, Jake.”

  My voice is pathetic. A whimper. Even as I berate myself, Jake’s husky chuckle makes me glad for the meek and mild retort. It’s turned him on.

  “You must have done something.”

  “Oh, she did. She got me all hot and bothered and then… just stopped.”

  Outraged, because that was a lie, I jerk backward to glare at Zane and say as much, “That’s a lie. When was that?”

  “At ten this morning.”

  His retort is smug and so is the cast of his features. His mouth is pursed in a cocky line, one that tells me, no matter what, I won’t win. I can be just as stubborn. “That’s not true. That early in the morning, I was asleep. You were too.”

  “Not when you started moaning and rubbing yourself against me.”

  My cheeks heat up. “I didn’t do that.”

  “And you started whimpering, ‘Jake, please, please, yes, yes.’”

  “I didn’t say that.” I pause, my brow furling into a scowl. “Did I?”

  Unsure now, I watch as he grins. “Yeah, you did. Quite the dream you were having, Mona. You were doing quite a lot of mona-ing.”

  Jake groans at the pun and the sound is so crystal clear, it’s like he’s in the room with us.

  “That was terrible, Zane. Almost as bad as what she did to you this morning. I think she definitely needs to make it up to you.”

  My bottom lip sticks out.

  “Oh, she’s pouting and looking stubborn.”

  Jake tuts. “Now that isn’t fair, Mona. You were naughty and I know how hard you can make a guy, how painful it can be… I really think you need to make it up to him.”

  I want to squeak, ‘Me? Make a guy so hard it’s painful? Are you delusional?’

  But rather than waste my breath, I utter another thanks to the rose-colored-glasses-dispensing God and suck in some air. “How would Zane like me to make it up to him?”

  “Good answer, Mona,” Jake retorts. “But I think I’ll reply for him.” His voice is directed at Zane now. “Is she still at the window?”

  “Yeah, but she’s glaring at me, so she isn’t flush against the glass.”

  “Get back in position, Mona. But kneel down.”

  With little delay, I do as he says. A part of me is still dazed at the idea of being thought of as some kind of sex goddess. And the rest of me, well, that’s just ready to be fucked.

  “Zane, can you stand close to where she is? Can she suck your cock?”

  My eyes dart up to look at the leeway with the ceiling, with a bit of contortion, he could probably do it. Zane is too tall for his own good.

  “Yeah.” There’s a considerable deepening to his voice now. His arousal is as clear and easy to acknowledge as the view out of the window.

  “Good. Mona’s punishment is that she isn’t allowed to cum, but she’s got to make sure you do.”

  The idea of having a zealously appreciated orgasm denied from me doesn’t fill me with glee. But whatever these guys are up to is seriously turning the pair on. Because Jake’s voice has turned to molten silk, and when that happens, he’s aroused.

  The two men are polar opposite.

  Zane’s tone is like gravel.

  Jake’s like liquid gold.

  And the idea of pleasing two men who give me such pleasure fills me with, well, pleasure.

  Maybe that’s not very twenty-first-century feminist thinking, but who cares?

  I’ve played the female independence role and it isn’t that much fun.

  This, on the other hand, is.

  “Nothing to say, Mona? No complaints?”

  It’s almost amusing to hear the disappointment at that lack, but I hide a smile and remain silent. Because of that, I hear Zane padding toward me, hear his feet scrambling on to the wooden baseboards underneath my knees and then, he’s there.

  His cock and the phone are right in my face.

  Jake’s heavy-lidded gaze is looking at me. Thousands of miles may separate us, but at this moment, he’s here. With us.

  And I like that.

  It comforts me.

  I can only see his head and shoulders, but I can see the motions of his right arm and know he’s jacking off.

  Without a moment’s delay, I turn my head upwards and look at Zane’s hunched position. Hiding my amusement at his position, I dive on to his cock and the sound of both men hissing is music to my ears.

  I love that cock.

  With the only part of me open for business, my mouth, I suckle and tease and please. I lave it with my tongue, suck and bite, nibble and kiss. And the harder it gets, the more vocal Zane is. And in the background, I can hear a faint slap-slap as Jake jerks off.

  My pussy is wet, almost as molten as the liquid gold of Jake’s voice. I want to touch it, rub my clit and let myself cum but I don’t. Zane won’t leave me hanging—I just have to be patient.

  Accepting Zane’s shaft into my mouth, I suck down hard and feel the pinch of his fingers in my hair. He pulls and urges me forward and in a move I never expected, he starts to move my head, forcing it into a rhythm, making me take him deeper than I’m comfortable with.

  My eyes start to water, my gag reflex starts to protest, and I do gag as his glans brush the back of my throat. He pulls out, strings of saliva joining me to him. I want to protest, am on the brink of doing so, when Jake grunts out, “That’s so fucking hot, Mona. Take him, take him as deep as you can. Love him like I would.”

  While I know I could stop this, I don’t want to. At the same time, nor do I appreciate this scene. The only truth lies in the sopping, gushing, creaming mess of my cunt.

  My body speaks for itself, even if my mind is confused as fuck.

  I let Jake’s words urge me on and try and take as much as I can of Zane’s cock, but he’s too big and the tears that come aren’t from discomfort but from disappointment. Refusing to concede defeat, I let him fuck my mouth and remove one of my hands from the glass to grab his balls. Rolling them together in my hand, I feel triumphant as his hips jerk faster and a groan echoes through the room.

  Wishing I could use my other hand, but thanks to my position against the glass, I can’t, I focus on swallowing, on stopping from gagging whenever he goes too close to comfort to the back of my throat.

  In tangent to my squeezing and manipulating hand, his thrusts continue their increase in speed. And then, it’s there. His cum, splashing against the back of my throat. To Jake’s urging, “Swallow it all, Mona. Swallow every drop.” I comply with little difficulty, not understanding why Marina finds this act so distasteful.

  And in the background, I hear Jake’s increased pace of breathing, the low grunts and groans that I’ve become accustomed to, and then, silence.

  He’s come too.

  Everyone’s got their rocks off apart from me.

  After that ordeal, now I’m getting impatient.

  When Zane pulls out, his cock limp now but still huge, I stare up at him and the tenderness in his eyes is such a huge contrast to his forcefulness of earlier that I’m slightly stunned.

  “Tell Jake good night.”

  In parrot fashion, I do as bid, my eyes still on Zane. But at the last minute, before the phone is removed from my hold, I focus on Jake and whisper, “I love you.”

  Without waiting for a reply, I peel myself away from the glass and do what I wanted to do earlier —run to the bed. Pulling off the duvet, I wrap myself in it like a huge holiday gift and listen as Zane whispers the same to Jake.

  I have a feeling those words haven’t been shared since Paris, when both guys admitted their love for one another in the midst of what could have been a break up argument.

  Touched, I swallow but still taste the salty cum at the back of my throat. Focused on that, I don’t notice Zane disconnecting the call and moving toward me.

  “Thank you for that, Mona,” he whispers and turns me around to face him, for I’d been showing him my back.

  Through the summer duvet, I feel the t
ight clasp of his embrace and snuggle into him, whispering, “You’re welcome.”

  “Did you like that?” he asks cautiously.

  I hedge, “I didn’t dislike it.”

  His chuckle tickles my ear and just as I’m about to rebuke him, a knock sounds at the door.

  The pair of us grimace at the noise, but he pulls away from me and leaps into action. Quickly tugging me out of the duvet, he grabs my hand and helps me into the bed, joining me in a second and covering us with the material. He then shouts, “Come in.”

  A maid, dressed in an honest to God black dress and pinny that screams French maid as well as offsetting her café au lait skin perfectly, steps in with a breakfast tray.

  Feeling like something out of a TV show, I watch as she lays it on a small table without a peep of sound escaping her lips. With a bob of a curtsy, she disappears and Zane jumps up as soon as the door closes behind her.

  Wondering if I’ve just entered the twilight zone, I watch as Zane pours us both a coffee from the silver pot and then picks up a piece of paper. The instant he reads it, a grim smile pops on to his mouth.

  I don’t want to add to the apparently bad news he’s just read, but I can’t help it. “Why didn’t you thank her? Hell, come to think of it, why didn’t I?”

  Zane’s eyes are troubled as he looks up from the note and over to me. His reply is almost absent-minded, “Mother won’t stand for it. I’ve learnt over the years to treat the staff like they’re not there. She has this horror that father or I will take a fancy to one of them and if she sees us even be pleasant, they lose their jobs the instant she can find a reasonable excuse for it.”

  Well, there you have it. In a nutshell why I’m not going to like Zane’s mother.

  That combined with the lack of recognition of the maid as a real human being has any arousal from earlier slipping away like water through my fingers.

  As it is, that might be a good thing.

  I think Zane and Jake were serious about not letting me cum.

  Bastards.

  My sulkiness adds grit to my tone. “Since I’m not a lesbian, the same can’t be said for me. I won’t treat them like they’re not here. I’m ashamed that I didn’t thank her now.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mona. You’re already persona non grata so that won’t make the family dislike you anymore.”

  To say I’m astonished is like saying that it comes as a shock the Earth is round. “Well, thanks for that, Zane. You just made me feel a whole hell of a lot better.”

  He dumps the note and walks over to the bed with the two coffee cups in his hand. His grin is rueful. “Honesty hurts, Mona. But it’s the truth. Don’t go in there expecting to be liked. Even if I’d married the woman Mother wanted, she would have still found fault. She’s that kind of woman.”

  “A bitch?” I don’t care if he finds that offensive. Or an insult. She sounds it. And I’m friends with Marina, for God’s sake. She’s a huge bitch, but she’s warm and open, too. She’s capable of love, not just hate.

  “Yeah, I guess you could call her that.” He pulls a face as he hands me the coffee. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. Whatever this weekend will be, happy isn’t one of them.”

  “Well, no one could say that you were being too optimistic.”

  Zane snorts. “Never does you any good to be anything but realistic where my family is concerned. Once upon a time, I’d have forgiven them anything. But when you’re cast out…” He grimaces. “The rules change.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I think I might just go insane here, Jake.”

  Despite the deadly seriousness of my tone, or maybe because of it, Jake’s snigger has me glaring out the window and toward the rolling, manicured lawns. In the distance, like something out of a novel, the branches of a blossom tree sway in the wind, discarding its petals and denuding itself into the river meandering beside it.

  This place is just one mass of contradictions.

  Outwardly perfect, and inwardly rotten.

  Glaring out of the library window, a room I’ve taken as my escape in this madhouse, I stare at another tree, a willow as it dances as a whole to the rhythm of the wind.

  Behind me, what seems like thousands of first editions run along cedar-lined shelves, from floor to ceiling so much so that the room is naturally soundproofed.

  A huge desk, polished but scarred with centuries of use has a banker’s lamp spreading light along the scratched surface. Directly opposite, a circle of leather Chesterfield armchairs arc around a Delft-tile decorated fireplace. Black, cast iron in mount, the watery yet stark blue contrasts the burgundy red leather seats.

  It’s a comforting room, but not enough to take away the poison in this place.

  “Why? Has Zane still not scratched that particular itch?”

  Surprised by the answer, a giggle pops out. A giggle. Christ, what these guys do to me. Especially when I’m feeling pretty down. And that’s kind of an understatement. I can’t wait to go home. To be with Jake and Zane, away from these horrible, toxic people.

  “No. I’d be more than insane if Zane hadn’t let me come by now, Jake.” Rueful, I sigh and watch the willow waving in the wind. That, at least, is free. Whereas I’m feeling very, very trapped.

  His chuckle has my cheeks flushing with blood. “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you? What’s it been—three days?”

  At some point in our relationship, Zane accused me of the same. And I admit it, I am. Greedy as hell. “Hey, after a lifetime of orgasm starvation, you try and cope with a smorgasbord of climaxes.”

  “Should I ask for a minute by minute account?”

  Phrased as a question, it was nevertheless a statement. “Think tongue, pussy, licking, and clit. Your imagination is good enough to get by on the rest.”

  Jake’s sigh is heartfelt. “Spoilsport.” He grunts and then reverts to my original topic, “I take it I’m lucky to never have met them? Parents from hell?”

  “Lucky’s an understatement. But our boy’s doing us proud. No matter how many snide comments there are, no matter how many times they dig, he just lets it go over his head. I don’t know how. Christ, I’ve got a sore tongue from having to bite it so many times.”

  Jake hums under his breath, the sound one of understanding. “Do you know why you’ve been summoned, aside from what Caroline told us?”

  “No. I’ve yet to meet Daddy Jefferson-Matthews, can you believe? It’s like something out of a tacky serial, Jake. He’s locked up behind these huge double doors like some kind of reclusive millionaire. Howard Hughes has nothing on this guy.”

  “If that’s my father you’re talking about, slut, then you’d better watch your words.”

  Even though I can’t see him and know that he will only just have made out what Caroline said, I know Jake’s bristling. “You tell that fucking stick to go and eat a decent meal.”

  Keeping the phone close to my ear, I turn away from the window and stare at Caroline who is standing in the doorway. In my politest tone, I bite out, “This is a private conversation. But then, in this house, I doubt that exists. I’ve already caught you eavesdropping once, Caroline. Imagine what mommy would say to that.”

  My mockery has her back stiffening as I’d intended.

  Even though he’s out of favor, the way Lucinda Jefferson-Matthews treats Zane is a thousand times better than the way she treats her daughters.

  She’s obviously one of those women who does not appreciate girl children.

  She’s hard on Caroline, Lucille and Faye. In fact, she’s downright mean. She pulls them up on their social mishaps in public, talks to them like they’re idiots and she would love nothing better than to completely slaughter Caro, as the family call her, for daring to be caught eavesdropping.

  And yes, take note of that phrasing.

  She wouldn’t be reprimanded for eavesdropping. Simply for being caught.

  It’s a wonder Zane isn’t more fucked up than he already is. How the hel
l he has any honor at all is a miracle.

  I have to wonder if Theodore Harold Jefferson-Matthews shares the same morals as his cat of a wife.

  For the most part, I’ve been blessed. To Lucinda, I’m scum. As such, I should, just like the staff, be ignored.

  I gather that during the interview between mother and son on that first evening, Zane shared my role in his life with her.

  Or some of the minor details.

  He must have done.

  Otherwise, I’d probably be eating in the kitchen.

  Although the fact that we’re sharing a bedroom obviously clarifies the situation somewhat.

  I get the feeling she’d prefer for her son to be fucking one of the maids than to be with a woman like me. After all, her staff will undoubtedly be vetted, whereas I’m an unknown quantity. For all that, she leaves me alone. Probably to save herself from infection. But I can deal with that. She isn’t the kind of person whose company I can miss.

  In fact, not one member of Zane’s family is nice.

  I prefer the staff. They don’t talk to me, don’t really acknowledge me, but I still prefer the maids and the butler.

  Says a lot, doesn’t it?

  “I do not eavesdrop. If you happen to be in a room and I’m just passing, then it isn’t my fault if your voice is too loud.”

  “Great reasoning there, Caroline. Great guilt dispersal. We both know what you were doing when Zane and I were in the library.”

  I ignore Jake’s, “That sounds interesting. What were you doing?”

  And continue, “You were listening in on a private conversation. Something that has nothing to do with you and is part of our private lives.”

  “I’m not surprised it’s private with a filthy little secret like the one you’ve got.”

  Shit.

  That Caroline was raising this subject to me confirms that it was her who spread the information around the town after her visit.

  In fact, the irony is, that we’d been discussing if Bayling Cove would be a safe haven for our relationship. With people already shunning us, Zane had pointed out that it might be wise to move to a city for anonymity.

  “What secret, Caroline? I’m not in the eighth-grade. I don’t have secrets.”