Indecent...Proposal

by Jane O'Reilly

  ‘I would have thought you of all people would understand,’ he says. ‘Don’t you get tired of it, Amber? Of people never seeing beyond what’s on the outside? Of them treating you like you’re easy? Don’t you want something more than lust?’

  ‘I am easy.’ Easy for him, anyway. He moves over me, lowers his head and sucks one nipple deep into his mouth, and I feel the familiar pull, deep in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ he says, nuzzling my breast before moving to the other one. ‘You’re not easy at all.’

  But before I can ask him what he means by that, before I can argue, his mouth is on mine and I’m coming all over his hand.

  Chapter Nine

  And so it goes, for the rest of the day. I talk dirty, Scott gets hard. And the dirtier I talk, the more he likes it. The man is a spunk machine. By the time it gets dark, I’ve run out of filthy things to say, but I want to keep this going with Scott. I want to keep pushing him. That’s how I end up calling Lucas and inviting him round.

  It’s what Scott wants, after all. I saw how hot it made him when I talked about it. If he wants to make things a little kinky, I’m OK with that. I like kinky, and I can’t deny that it’s exciting, the thought that I’m going to be fucked by both of them. Just thinking about it makes me squirm. I’m not the third party in this scenario, the gatecrasher. I’m at the very centre of it, the goddess in my own naughty sex game, and I can make them do whatever I want, and I want everything.

  I buzz Lucas up and open the door wearing nothing but my heels and one of Scott’s ties. Knotted round my neck, it hangs between my breasts, leaving me naked and somehow not at the same time. My nipples are tight, exposed, and after a day of Scott’s rough mouth and hands, a dark, sensitive red. I stroke one of them with my fingers, watching as desire sharpens Lucas’s face. ‘You understand why you’re here?’

  ‘Yes,’ he says. He sounds so eager.

  ‘Lucas, you dirty fucker,’ I say, and he smiles that shy smile. I’d forgotten how attractive he is, how much fun, how he makes me feel absolutely nothing at all. And I need to feel nothing right now. I want this to be about sex and nothing more, because I’m a casual sex kind of girl. I am not the falling in love kind of girl. I learn from my mistakes. I don’t repeat them. And as Scott Smithson has turned out to be all about the kink, I am not even going to contemplate falling in love with him. ‘Come on in,’ I say.

  Lucas follows me through into the living room. Scott’s place is pretty nice, I have to admit, and I can see Lucas taking in the modern furniture, the expensively pale carpet, the heap of man gadgets in front of the impressively big TV. Scott is out on the balcony, a glass of wine in his hand. He doesn’t turn when I bring Lucas through.

  That’s fine with me. I’m making the rules here, after all, even if I’m not sure what the rules are yet. I do know that it will all be a lot easier if we’re a little tanked though, so I pull Lucas through into the kitchen and pour him a glass of Scott’s red.

  I watch as he takes a sip. Then I tell him to drop his pants. He does it without hesitation, kicking off his boots and then stripping out of his jeans. He’s got a hard on already. ‘Nice,’ I tell him, as I reach down and run my hand along the length. ‘Very nice.’

  I decide that a little warm up is in order, so I lead him back through into the living room and settle myself into Scott’s black leather armchair. The leather is soft, worn in places, imprinted with the shape of his body, and when I close my eyes I can smell Scott on it. He’s still out on the balcony with his back to us, a thin white T-shirt stretched over his shoulders, his jeans battered, his feet bare.

  I could feel something for him if I let myself. I know I could. But that would be stupid and I am not stupid and anyway, I have Lucas right in front of me. I straighten up in the chair and beckon him forwards. He moves slowly towards me, until he’s close enough for me to grab his arse and pull him closer still. I rest the inside of my knees against the outside of his bare legs, then I lean forwards and take him deep into my mouth. Scott wouldn’t let me do this to him, so I’m damn well going to do it to Lucas. Sucking cock makes me wet. It always has.

  I take him right to the back of my throat, hold him there, then I pull forwards to the tip and suck, hard. I work him with my tongue, my hand, gasping in my greed, wanting to take more of him. I take him to the back of my throat again, until tears sting my eyes and I’m gasping for air.

  And then I slide a sideways glance at Scott out on the balcony, and realise that he’s watching. His fingers are cradling his half-full glass as he leans back against the railing, his face in shadow. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. The thrill of it is electric.

  I slide my tongue over the end of Lucas’s cock, under the foreskin, down to his balls and around those too, and then I lift my hand and beckon Scott closer. He wanted to participate, after all, and I want to know what it’s like to have two men please me. And it does please me, as Scott slides open the balcony door and moves into the room. The thin curtains blow gently in the breeze, and the air rushes over my bare skin, caressing my already sensitised flesh. I gasp as the cold catches my nipples, making them tighten even further. ‘Warm me up,’ I say to Lucas, as I lie back in the chair and arch my back. ‘I’m cold.’

  He starts with my breasts, his hands stroking my flesh, then he sinks to his knees and moves lower, exploring me, nuzzling my stomach, dipping his tongue into the hollow of my belly button. I close my eyes as his hands find my hips and he moves lower still, pushing his face into my pussy.

  He’s not Scott.

  The thought snaps into my head, unwanted, unexpected. Of course he’s not Scott. But he’s got me off like this before, and there’s nothing wrong with the way his warm tongue is sliding over my clit. I focus on that, wriggle deeper into the chair as Lucas puts his hands under my bottom and tilts my hips, changing the angle, spreading me wider, letting him taste all of me.

  And then I feel hands on my breasts, big, warm, strong hands that cup my cold flesh as if it belongs to them, somehow. I grip the edges of the chair. The sensation overwhelms me. I have hands on my bottom, a tongue in my pussy, hands on my tits. It is everything I thought it would be, except that it is so much more.

  ‘Amber.’ I know that it’s Scott. ‘Open your eyes.’

  This time, I obey. His gaze locks on mine, those pale blue eyes almost black. Then he kneels down next to the chair, lowers his head and opens his mouth over my swollen left breast. He teases the tip with his tongue, then his teeth, and I feel the delicious pull between my tits and my pussy.

  Then Scott wraps a hand around the tie that trails down between my breasts, his tie, and pulls me forward. He pulls me until our mouths almost touch, until I’m completely at his mercy. ‘Is this what you want?’ He searches my face for a long, quiet moment.

  ‘Fuck, yes,’ I say. ‘Now stop fucking around and kiss me.’

  His mouth crashes into mine and he lets me taste him, lets me have my way. Lucas’s tongue in my pussy, Scott’s tongue in my mouth, both of them intent on my pleasure. It was never this way with Victoria and Paul. I always felt like an accessory to their desire, like a toy they liked to use in their games, and I am never, ever going to be made to feel that way again.

  This is all about me, about what I want. I dig my hand into Scott’s hair as he feasts on me, then sink my fingers into the thin cotton of his T-shirt and pull at it. He doesn’t need any more prompting than that. He breaks the contact but only for a moment, reaching behind his head to pull the T-shirt off in that way men do, and then I have my hands on his skin. I can feel the play of muscle across his shoulders, the biceps that are like rock.

  I wish he was mine. That thought comes crashing into me, taking me by surprise, but when it settles, it feels as if it has always been there. It shouldn’t be there, and yet it is, and there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it, because Scott is touching me, and god, I want that. I’ll do anything to
have that. Anything. I can feel the wave of obsession rising in me, and this time I don’t try to fight it. ‘Fuck me,’ I say to him. I dig my hands into his hair. ‘God, I want you. Fuck me.’

  ‘If that’s what you want,’ he says. He shoves a hand in his pocket and pulls out a condom, then unfastens his trousers, pulls out his cock and tugs the rubber on. Then he kicks his jeans all the way off and turns me over in the chair, so that my back is facing him. He smoothes a hand along the length of my spine, then slips it between my bum cheeks.

  Surely he’s not going to…oh, but he is. I feel the cold splash of what I quickly realise is lube, and then he’s stroking me there. I know I told him this was what I wanted, but I didn’t expect him to actually do it. I’ve slept with other men who’ve ventured this way, so to speak, but I’ve always stopped them. It always felt like a line I wasn’t prepared to cross.

  I don’t stop Scott. Not when he gently slides a finger over that sensitive spot. Not when he applies pressure and that finger gently slides inside me. Not when he replaces that finger with the broad head of his very hard cock and that pressure increases. ‘Easy,’ he tells me, as I grip the edge of the recliner. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

  Yes you are, I think to myself. But not in the way you think. That first slow thrust of his cock into my arse feels strange, intrusive, downright rude and so fucking horny that for a minute, I can’t breathe.

  ‘Touch yourself,’ Scott says softly, his hands warm on my back. ‘It’ll make it easier for you. Go on.’

  I can sense Lucas nearby, watching me, but I don’t look at him. I grip the edge of the recliner tighter, then I slip a hand between my legs, just as Scott instructed me to do. I guess I’m not the first woman he’s had kinky sex with, as he clearly knows plenty about it. He doesn’t rush, holding me steady as he slowly fucks into me, each thrust a little deeper than the one before. I don’t know what I expected from this, but it wasn’t this intense feeling of pleasure, this sense of calm, this sense of decadence, of…intimacy.

  His hands caress my hips, my thighs as I twist my shoulders and glance back at him. I’m still stroking myself, my clit a tight, slippery little bud beneath my fingers. ‘Scott,’ I say, my voice high and strange. ‘Oh, god, Scott.’ I lift my hand and rest it on top of his. His fingers part, letting mine slide in between them as he continues to fuck my arse in that same slow rhythm.

  I’m slippery with sweat and desire, excited beyond belief, and I can feel the first sparks of my orgasm starting to fire deep inside my empty pussy, and it’s Scott who is giving this to me. Scott who is driving me towards a pleasure unlike anything else I’ve experienced. And it’s then that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am not having casual sex any more. I’m not sure I was ever having casual sex with him. This is more, so much more than that. He is more.

  I know that’s why I have always hated him so much.

  I squeeze my fingers together, trapping his, and I arch my back, letting him fuck me deeper, harder, wanting all of him, wanting him to understand what this is. ‘Make me come,’ I tell him. ‘Fuck my arse, Scott. Make me come.’

  His gaze meets mine, and for a moment I think that he understands. That he’s in this as much as I am, and that’s why he has always hated me too.

  But then he looks at Lucas. ‘Get your cock in her mouth,’ Scott says to him.

  I feel my whole body go tense. Lucas grins at him, then at me. He moves closer, gripping the base of his erection with one hand, the other settling on my shoulder.

  It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s better this way. Better to stop the ridiculous thought that there might be something more between me and Scott and remember what I got them both here for.

  So they could fuck me silly. There is a definite wicked appeal to having Lucas’s cock in my mouth and Scott’s in my arse. So I open my mouth and suck him in. He tastes sweet and horny, and the way he rolls his hips tells me that he’s about ready to blow.

  And I have to admit that I like it. I like having the two of them at my command. I rub my clit harder, losing myself in the moment, or at least trying to. It worked with Paul and Victoria. I’m sure it will work now. I don’t need anything meaningful, not when I can have sex like this with no strings attached.

  But maybe I’m not as good at this as I thought, or maybe it’s because out of nowhere, a damn tear breaks free and makes its way down my cheek, but Scott pulls out of me. ‘Stop,’ he says, and I don’t know if he’s talking to me or to Lucas, but Lucas backs off. Scott sits me upright in his chair, tips my face up to meet his. ‘Amber,’ he says. ‘Amber, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I lie through my teeth. ‘Why would anything be wrong?’ I look at Lucas. ‘Why have you stopped? Get back over here.’

  But Lucas is pulling on his jeans and glancing warily between me and Scott. ‘I’m sorry, Amber,’ he says. ‘I really like you and it’s been fun, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why not?’ He is out of the room and slamming the front door before I get an answer to that question. And then it’s just me and Scott. I pull off my heels and get to my feet, too furious to deal with them right now.

  Scott is naked and erect and staring at me with cold fire in his eyes. ‘What the fuck was that about?’ I yell at him. I snatch up his T-shirt and pull it on, but it doesn’t make me feel any less exposed. I sink my fingers into the knot of his tie and work it free, then yank it off.

  ‘All you had to say was that you didn’t want it,’ he says quietly.

  I throw the tie at him. It drifts to the floor only a couple of feet in front of me, so I pick up my shoes and throw those instead. They hit their target. Well, one of them does. The other one hits the middle of his widescreen TV. Scott doesn’t even flinch. He stopped it. I can’t believe that he stopped it.

  If he hadn’t, we’d still be at it, the three of us. Scott would still be fucking me and I’d still be sucking Lucas off and I would be over this stupid thing I have for Scott, I know I would. But instead, Scott had to question me, to question what I was doing, to ruin it. ‘Of course I wanted it!’ I yell at him. ‘It was exactly what I wanted.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ he says shortly.

  ‘Don’t be stupid.’ I stare at him then, fury boiling up inside me. ‘You’re the one who stopped it.’ He’s so beautiful, so very there, so completely distant from me. Why couldn’t he just let it be what it was? ‘Not me. So stop trying to make out that you were doing me a favour.’

  ‘What did you expect me to do?’ he asks. ‘You were crying.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ he says. ‘I saw you. Why can’t you just be honest, Amber? Why can’t you just say that it was a mistake?’

  ‘Who says it was a mistake?’ I walk closer to him. I can see the damp curl of dark hair on his broad chest, the faint indent in his chin, the tiny scar on his forehead. All the tiny, intimate details of his body, things I had never noticed about him before. Things I don’t want to notice now, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

  ‘I used to think you were brave,’ he says. ‘I always admired the way you went after what you wanted, the way you never gave a damn what anyone else thought. But you’re not brave at all.’ He shakes his head, and I swear when he looks down at me, he looks a little sad. ‘You’re a coward.’

  ‘No, I’m not!’

  ‘Then tell me what the hell that was really about.’

  I stare up at him, so tall, so strong, and the urge to tell him the truth almost overwhelms me, but I force it down, force it back. I have to. ‘It was about sex,’ I say coldly. ‘Until you ruined it all.’

  Chapter Ten

  So that’s how I come to find myself walking home alone, barefoot, my heels in my hand. I scrambled out of the flat before Scott had a chance to get dressed and, if I’m honest, walking isn’t an accurate description of what I’m doing. Running would be closer to the truth. I don’t want anyone to see me, don’t want anyone to know, and the sooner
I’m back inside the safety of my flat, the better. Plus I wouldn’t put it past Scott to follow me, and I really don’t want to see him right now. I don’t want to see him ever again.

  He’s already seen far too much. If I had just held it together, just closed my eyes when he told Lucas to put his cock in my mouth, we would have carried on. We would probably still be at it now. But no. I had to mess it up.

  It’s funny, really. I didn’t cry over Paul. Not one single tear. But I’m ready to howl myself into a snot-addled mess over Scott Smithson, who I don’t even like, except that I do. I like him a lot. He’s smart and interesting, and he’s not too serious at all, not really, not once you get past the smug exterior. I don’t think he even means to be smug, he just comes across that way. And hell, why shouldn’t he be smug? He’s smart and interesting and he fucks like a god.

  The problem is, I am none of those things. Oh, I’m good in bed. But I’m not particularly smart, or particularly interesting. Eventually Scott was going to figure that out, and then he’d move on to someone else, just like Paul did. If I’d had any sense, I would have stuck with Lucas and never got involved with Scott.

  But I didn’t. Because I wanted Scott so badly that I just couldn’t resist. That thought starts the tears in earnest. I give up trying to hold them back. Probably just as well that I’m at the front door to my building, then. I reach for my keys and it’s only then that I realise that I’ve forgotten my bag. And my keys are in my bag, together with everything else. Lipstick, Tampax, credit cards, phone. The entire life of Amber Jones wrapped up in quilted leather. Shit. I was in such a hurry to get away, to spare myself from having to hold it together in front of Scott while I picked up my stuff that I walked out without it. How stupid can you get?

  Which basically leaves me with three options. Go back to Scott’s. Nope. Not happening. Not now, not ever. Oh, I know I’ll have to get my stuff back from him at some point, but Royal Mail deliver. I don’t have to see him.