by Lee Savino
I quiver a little as he draws my jeans down. His fingers brush the front of my panties and I almost snap my legs back together.
“Holy fuck.”
He squeezes my bottom and smacks it. “No swearing.”
“Yes, daddy.” If someone had told me a month ago I’d be getting sexed up on a couch by a hot guy and calling him daddy while he ordered me around, I would’ve assumed they were high. But now that I’ve surrendered, it’s working for me. The commands, the ‘daddy’ game, all of it.
Another rumble, more like a growl. His big hands cup my bottom, and strip off my panties with expert speed. Then he’s kneeling on the floor and propping my legs on his shoulders, splaying me open to his hot breath.
My head falls back as he nibbles up my thigh his big hands kneading my bottom.
“F…udge.” I scramble. “Fork. Funky nassar.”
“Shhhh. Let Daddy take of you.”
Oh yes. Oh, that’s hot.
My body melts into the couch. He teases me with little touches and his breath. I’m primed and ready. At the first lick, tingles shoot through me.
He slips a finger inside and stirs up more arousal. I can’t help but rock a little on his fingers, silently begging for more. His finger slips down and teases my bottom hole.
Record scratch. I raise my head. “What are you doing?”
“Shh, baby.” His finger, wet from my arousal, circles my back door. I don’t want it to feel good, but it does. “Trust me.”
“I…” My legs are quivering, useless. I feebly kick a little.
“Be still,” he says, and my body relaxes into the order. He holds me in thrall with a finger at my back entrance and thumb brushing my clit. His tongue takes another tour and little sounds escape my throat. My legs flex, electricity gathering at the base of my spine.
“Don’t come,” he raises his head long enough to warn.
“But—”
“No.”
It’s not fair. Every time he tells me not to come, my body slides a little closer. His fingers are magic, shooting sparks. His tongue dominates me until all I can think about is how great his cock will eventually feel. His cock—
My pussy clamps around his fingers. The arousal from all those nights he worked me up and didn’t let me get relief presses on me, threatening to come crashing down.
“You’re being so good for me.” His breath caresses my pussy between kisses and teasing licks. “You’re my good girl. You earned a reward.”
My orgasm is a bright light in the distance, rushing towards me, blinding. When it finally hits me, I’ll be wrecked.
He whispers right into my pussy, “Daddy’s gonna take care of you.”
I make a noise like “nuuuh.”
“Come, baby,” he orders, and my mind goes white. Far, far below, my body bucks and shudders.
He works me with his fingers and tongue, as I mewl and sigh, legs twitching, toes curling. Pleasure ebbs over me, sapping all my strength. As I lay there, panting, he kisses my thigh.
“Good girl.”
My head rolls on the pillow, and I fix on the hard bar pressing against his jeans. I reach for it and he catches my hand.
“Not tonight. This was all about you.”
I’m too spent to speak. He leaves, returns with a cloth and cleans me, then gathers me against him. I curl into his giant frame like I was fitted for it. Arms locked around me, smooth, warm muscle under my cheek. Large hands splayed over my back. The only thing out of place is the telltale ridge under my bottom. But I’ll think about that tomorrow.
This is just the beginning.
5
ROUND 2
“I have to text him every morning and wait for him to text back,” I complain to Sawyer, breaking another one of Auntie Jen’s cardinal rules of dating: when out with a guy, don’t talk about another guy. But these guys don’t follow Auntie Jen’s rules, so why should I?
“But you agreed to it,” he points out. “And you haven’t disobeyed.” His hair blows around his handsome face as he pulls into the beach lot. He parks and leans close. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He tucks a stray hair behind my ear and taps my nose before slipping from the car.
After my night with Bear, I almost cancelled the competition. He made me come in about two minutes—wasn’t that the point of all this? I could just give the winner trophy to Bear, so did we really need to continue?
The fact that I’d be crushed with disappointment shouldn’t be a factor. It’d only be worse if I played along for the whole month.
When I texted Sawyer that I had a good time, he responded, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
I couldn’t call things off after that. I was too intrigued.
Sawyer pauses a moment in front of the car, hand shielding his eyes as he looks over the beach, and I study him. He picked me up in his dirty Jeep, blond hair tousled from the windy ride. Flip flops, board shorts hanging off his lean hips, and no shirt. He’s not as big as Bear, but who is? Sawyer’s body is a tanned masterpiece, his chest and abs a perfect wall of muscle. He should be running down the beach with a bikini model, Baywatch style. Not here with me.
“Evie,” Sawyer calls. I blink and realize he’s holding my door open.
“Sorry,” I take his hand and scramble out. He’s just like Bear—opening my door. He buckled me in earlier, too.
“You got that look,” he says.
“What look?”
“The one Bear talks about. You’re thinking shit about yourself.”
“What? Am not,” I lie automatically. I can’t believe they talk about me. It makes me nervous and excited at the same time.
“Can’t lie to me.” He grabs a blanket and hands me a large water bottle. “Bear’s super good at this intuitive stuff. He should open up a shrink office next to the body shop. People can get their heads fixed with their oil change.”
“What, really?” I imagine Bear manning a lemonade stand with a sign: Psychiatric Help, five cents.
“Oh yeah,” Sawyer says. “All those guys getting fancy rims or racing stripes are just insecure about relating to women. Or something.” He shrugs. “He loves helping people through their problems. Next to fixing and pimping cars, it’s his favorite project.”
Ah. Great. So I’m a project. “So what about me?” I ask breezily. “Do I have daddy issues?”
He grins. “You do now. You okay with that term?”
I shrug. “Do you like it?”
“Not as much as Bear. But yeah, it works for me.” He holds out his hand. “Ready?”
I take it. I’ll be all right. I’m dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. A sports bra.
“No bikini?” he asks.
I shrug. He grins and shakes his head. If he tells Bear, I’ll probably end up on another shopping trip.
“So why’d you bring me here?” I look down the beach. A few women are lying out, gleaming with oil. One waves to Sawyer and I turn away before I see his response.
“Ever been surfing?” he asks.
“No... we’re not going to do that, are we?”
He chuckles. “Maybe next time. You’d look great in a wetsuit.”
I roll my eyes.
“Come on. I wanna show you something.”
We head down past the pier. The beach gets more and more deserted the closer we get to the bluffs. When we get there, we start to climb, taking long draws on the water bottle as the sun beats down.
We reach an overlook and stop to take in the view, passing the water bottle back and forth.
“It’s a wildlife sanctuary.” Sawyer nods to the abandoned stretch of beach between two cliffs. White birds dot the sands.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Sawyers says, and pulls me against him, back to front. His hands go to my waist and smooth up and down. “The way you curve… fuck. This t-shirt is a crime.”
Biting my lip, I step away. I tug off the shirt and face him only wearing my sports bra. “Better?”
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“Fuck yes.” He comes in close again, head slanted for a kiss.
Our lips meet and it’s all sweet and delicate, a camera-ready kiss with the ocean and sky as the backdrop. Then his tongue starts to toy with me, and I answer the challenge, dueling slyly as the world fades away. My hands take the opportunity to slide over his sleek muscle, exploring the flex of his arms as he tugs me close, the rise and fall of his chest and back as he makes promises with his mouth only his body can keep.
Someone coughs and we jerk apart. A skinny man stares at us, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He’s holding binoculars.
“What the fuck, man?” Sawyer barks, and the man jumps, almost dropping the binoculars. He looks mortified.
“Birdwatching. Sorry,” he scuttles away.
“Fuck,” Sawyer mutters again but makes no move to touch me until the guy is out of sight. I giggle.
“You think it’s funny?” There’s a dangerous glint in Sawyer’s eyes. He maneuvers me back behind a boulder, out of sight.
“A little.”
“You like an audience?”
I shrug. “Isn’t that why you brought me up here? To get a thrill?”
“Fuck me,” he comes at me again. “You naughty, naughty girl.”
“You’re supposed to make me come,” I whisper as he kisses my mouth, my neck, the hinge of my jaw.
“What about these?” he tugs at my shorts.
“What about them?”
He smiles slyly as his hands dip under the waistband of my shorts. “What color is your underwear?”
“Why don’t you ask Bear?” I sass back. “He chose them.”
“Fuck me,” Sawyer groans. “I wanna be your daddy. Call me Daddy, too.”
“Okay, Daddy Two.” I hold up two fingers. “If you want to be number one, you gotta earn it.” It is a competition. I figure the more competitive these guys get, the more I win.
“Naughty,” he growls, and tugs at my shorts. “Lose these.”
“What if Mr. Birdwatcher comes back?”
Sawyer raises a wicked eyebrow.
I lean back against the rock, realizing his body will block any sight of me.
“All right,” I whisper, and let him remove my shorts.
“Blue,” he says at the sight of my hip huggers.
“Like your eyes,” I tell him, and get a smile.
“They almost look like bikini bottoms.” He eyes me up and down and I realize I’m essentially wearing a bathing suit.
He bundles up my shorts and t-shirt and pretends to toss them out over the cliff.
“No!” I cry, tackling him. We wrestle a moment and my clothes end up draped on a nearby bush. Sawyer holds my wrists.
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
His teeth flash white as he laughs. “Come on, baby. Live a little.”
I sigh. “All right, yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Fuck, that is hot. Come here and let daddy take care of you.”
He arranges me near the overlook, my back to his front, facing the ocean. We’re just behind the boulders, so anyone coming up the path can’t see our bodies. If a birdwatcher returns, it’ll look like we’re just taking in the view, cuddling like a couple with Sawyer’s arms around me. They won't see his hand down my panties.
One long finger stirs against my sweet spot. “You like this?”
“The view? Oh yes, it’s nice.”
His chuckle gusts in my ear. I gently grind my bottom against him in response to the swirl of his fingers.
“Just relax. I’ve got you.” Sawyer kisses my neck and sucks a little. I sigh, letting my head rest against his chest. He sucks harder. My knees buckle and he takes my weight, holding me up.
“Bear doesn’t allow you to come without asking permission.”
“That’s... right,” I marshal my thoughts against the distracting flutter of his fingers.
“So, what would you do if I stopped?” His finger stills.
My breath hisses. “I’d be upset.”
His jaw moves along my cheek. “How upset?”
“Really mad.”
“But you couldn’t do anything about it.” His arms flex around me.
“You gonna keep me up here forever?” A seagull swoops below us, hovering over the breaking waves.
“Maybe. What will you do if I let you go?”
“I’ll find that birdwatcher guy,” I answer tartly. His finger makes a tiny movement and my body strains towards his touch. “Maybe he’ll make me come.”
“Or you’ll go get yourself off.”
“Good idea.” I try to move my hips and his arms clamp down, keeping me still.
“Maybe I should tie you up.” My body clenches. Sawyer feels it. “You like that? Bear was right.”
“What?”
“You need someone else to take control.”
“No.”
“Yep. That’s what you need to get off.”
I slump a little. He’s right. “So?”
“So it’s up to me if you get off right now.”
“Sawyer,” I start to whine.
“Ask nicely.”
“Please, daddy,” I say in a breathy, Marilyn Monroe voice. “Make me come?”
“Good girl. I’ll think about it.”
I squirm and he holds me tighter, his arms like iron bands. Arousal flows through me, hot and liquid, pooling at my core. My pussy pulses under the weight. His finger flutters against my clit, increasing the pressure.
“Keep that up and I’ll come,” I inform him breathlessly.
“Better not or you’ll be punished.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
All this talk of punishment gives me a thrill. “What is it with you and Bear denying me?” I pout. “You’re supposed to be doing the opposite.”
“This is more fun.” He slides his fingers in my folds, and pleasure pulses through me. I pant, pressing against his hand to get the stimulation I need.
“Please,” I beg.
“What will I get if I let you?”
“Points. All the points.”
“Tempting,” he murmurs in my ear. “I do want to win.” His voice hardens as he commands, “I’m your number one daddy. Say it.”
“You’re number one. Daddy... I can’t—” My body moves restlessly against him. The vast ocean vista before me blurs.
“Kiss me,” he commands and angles my head toward him. We’re Jack and Rose on the bow of the Titanic. His mouth dominates me, his tongue thrusting until my pussy squeezes in sympathy, begging silently to be filled. I writhe against him, little noises breaking from my throat. Every last thought leaves my brain, helpless against the onslaught. The world falls away.
“Come, Evie,” Sawyer breaks the kiss long enough to give the order. My cries break against the rocks below. Sawyer kisses me again as a flock of birds startle and fly in an undulating curve over the surf.
“I hear you need a bikini,” Bear says when I traipse into Ballers after work the next day. We all agreed to meet and hang out.
I glare at Sawyer. “You have a big mouth,”
“The better to eat you with, my dear,” the blond winks.
Bear leans into my space. “Do we need another trip to Victoria’s Secret?”
“No.” Not another. The first trip, I nearly died.
“Evie,” he strokes the back of my neck in a way that makes me shiver. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
I raise a brow.
“Bear has a hot tub,” Sawyer says, setting a drink in front of me.
“Do you?” I swivel to face the big man and his arms slip around me. It feels so good.
“Mhm,” he rumbles.
“Then I’ll just have to get a bathing suit.” The world really is ending if I just volunteered to go shopping for swimwear.
“You won’t regret it.” Sawyer grabs my hand and plants a kiss on my knuckles. So chivalrou
s. Then he licks them. Unf.
Laughing, he drops my hand. Bear rests a hand on my back as Sawyer and I continue to flirt. The night unspools easily, me and them and them and me. What shape does our relationship make? What sort of geometry? A triangle, a circle around me with them in orbit—or do I orbit around them?
I lean back in my seat as Bear and Sawyer face the screens, arguing over some sport thing. I sip my drink and ponder, and I’m not the only one.
A woman in a suit leans down the bar in my direction, wide-eyed. Her gaze flicks from Bear’s heights to Sawyer’s blond crown. And me, I’m the valley between them. “Are you with… both of them?”
I grimace. “It’s... complicated.”
“Why is it complicated?” Mina asks late that night.
“Me and two guys? Um, hello.”
“So? You have enough orifices.”
I sputter.
“Besides, you’re overdue for a good fuck.”
“Mina!”
“What?” Her voice is gilt with innocence. I know better. There’s no innocence, just sin. “One of the guys you dated couldn’t even find your vagina.”
I grimaced, remembering. “He kept thrusting against my perineum.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. That is not an entry point, dude.”
“Maybe you really are a virgin. Are you sure you’ve had sex?”
“Stop it.”
“You stop overthinking things. You’re making up for lost time.”
“Maybe.” I bite my lip.
“Are you worried that you’re a slut? Because the ‘slut’ is a patriarchal construct to keep women from owning their sexuality. Punish women for behaving in a way that men do, behavior men are rewarded for.”
“Right. Um, I’m not worried I’m a slut. I’m worried that I’m not worried... when I should be worried.”
“My head hurts.”
“Mine too.”
“Why should you be worried?”
“I don’t know,” I hedge, even though I do. Because this situation, this competition, this relationship isn’t going to last. I heave a sigh and check the time. “Crap, I’ve got to go. It’s late.”
“Whatever.” Mina isn’t impressed by my avoidance tactics.