by J. E. Taylor
I glance nervously in Joe’s direction and his gaze gives me pause. He licks his lips and loosens his tie. Grinning, he raises an eyebrow, his unspoken invitation as subtle as a brick in my face and I snap my gaze in your direction.
We stare at each other for a fraction of a second before you lean forward, putting your elbows on your knees. “I figured I’d kill two fantasies of yours with one stone. Ménage and mile high club. You game?”
I laugh and my eyes drift between you and Joe, both fine specimens of the male persuasion, and the thought of you both inside me shoots my temperature through the roof. My voice cracks as I answer. “How did you know he’d go for it?" I shot my thumb in Joe’s direction.
Joe chuckled and slid forward. “He knows I’ve had the hots for you for a while.” His hand brushes my knee and I inhale, enjoying the sensation of his fingertips against my skin.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and kneel on the floor in front of me, running your hands up my thighs. You push the hem of my dress higher, and pause as your hands cross my ass. A wicked grin surfaces. “You aren’t wearing any underwear.”
“No, I’m not.” My cheeks heat and I’m sure they are as crimson as my dress, which you slide over my head, leaving me with only my bra. I giggle as the nerves bundle in my stomach, but they disappear as both you and Joe begin your exploration of my body.
You unhook my bra, casting it aside, and each of you take a breast in your mouths. The sensation of tongues flicking my hard nipples brings a soft moan to my lips.
You take a breath, covering my lips with yours, and I open my mouth, welcoming your tongue to play with mine, mingling, rolling, tasting cinnamon until my breath pants with lust.
When the kiss breaks, you smile and shift, trailing kisses down my chest and abdomen, pulling me lower on the seat before burying your face into my pussy. “You’re so fucking wet,” you say and your fingers slide inside me.
Your tongue circles my clit and I moan, shifting my gaze to Joe.
His shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a sleek, hard chest, and I reach my fingers out, running them down his hot, smooth skin. He shifts and I can see his hard cock straining against the fabric of his dark chinos. I want to see, I want to touch, and I want to taste.
The urge drives my hand to his belt and I tug, licking my lips and meeting his lustful gaze.
Within a blink, he’s free from the fabric and kneeling next to my face, his cock intimidating in its length and girth before me. A drop of pre-cum glistens on his tip and he coats my lips with its salty stickiness. I open my mouth, swallowing him until I gag on his girth and he pulls back.
Your mouth is a fantastic tool, tangling with my clit, bringing me closer to the release of the molten lava pooled in my belly. The closer I get, the more you tease, dialing down your strokes until I want to scream, my moans of protest muffled by Joe’s cock fucking my mouth.
“Yeah, baby, suck harder,” Joe demands, and I comply, sucking with each stroke of his cock.
Your fingers are inside me, inside my pussy, inside my ass, plunging with the same veracity as your tongue and I leap over the hurdle. Hot juices flow from my pussy in spurts, my scream of ecstasy drowned by Joe’s cum flooding my mouth.
I swallow, gasping and sucking at the same time, my body trembling as you continue to play my pussy like a concert pianist, each chord reaching a higher crescendo.
You pull away from me at the same moment Joe leaves my mouth, and instead of fucking me like I want you to, you pull my face toward your erect cock.
“Don’t worry. We have plenty of time to fuck you, but before I do, I want that dirty mouth of yours to suck me dry.”
My pussy aches from the absence of your hands but as my mouth slides down your length, I feel fingers tracing my wet clit before sliding inside. First one finger, then two, and then three and I moan at the pressure.
You’ve got your hands buried in my hair, moving my head faster, in time with your hips, burying your cock balls deep into my mouth. I can feel the insane pulse of your desire against my lips and with each stroke, your breath locks in your chest for a moment before your noisy exhalation of praise.
Joe is not as gentle as you, and he stretches me with four fingers before plunging his fist inside my pussy. I cry out, but you’re too busy fucking my mouth with abandon, pushing farther and farther inside the hot wetness with the same intensity that Joe is fucking me with his fist.
Both my mouth and my pussy throb and the pain in my crotch transforms into an orgasm that locks my breath in my lungs and tenses every muscle in my body. For once, I am glad a cock is in my mouth to muffle the scream.
Two more strokes of my mouth and you spurt your seed down my throat with the gusto of an avalanche.
Joe’s fist pulls out of my pussy and his cock plunges into me hard and fast, giving me little time to pull away from your spent penis. I catch a quick glance at your face and you’re busy watching me being fucked. The hunger in your eyes ignites me, and I focus on your flaccid member. Between my hand strokes and those of my mouth, you recover quickly.
“It’s my turn.” Your voice breaks through the grunts and Joe pulls out, allowing you to manipulate me onto your lap. Instead of plunging into my dripping pussy, you spread my cheeks and press your cock against my anus. For a moment, I tense, but your fingers are circling my clit and your lips are locked on my neck.
“Please, baby, I want to fuck your ass,” you whisper in my ear, your voice hoarse with passion.
“Well, since you’ve been so kind to arrange this little ménage on my behalf, who am I to deny you your fantasy?” My husky voice resonates through the cabin and your purr of delight sends shivers down my spine.
Pressure builds and you force your way into my ass. After the first blush of pain, I find the pressure another form of pleasure and I moan when you pull my legs back, plunging deep within me. Your hands wander to my breasts and I close my eyes, forgetting Joe is in the narrow space with us until his cock slides into my pussy.
My eyes snap open and I am sandwiched between you and Joe in a fuckfest that brings me to another plateau. Thankfully, Joe smothers my moan with his lips; his tongue explores my mouth with the same lust-filled frantic swipes as mine explores his.
You and Joe thrust at the same time, each stroke bringing another violent orgasm from my already trembling form. I’m panting with his tongue in my mouth and your hands squeezing my breasts. Both your bodies press against me, both your hearts beat as hard as mine, until all three of us freeze in unison in a giant orgasmic blast.
Joe is the first to uncouple from the bizarre union and he moves to the far side of the cabin, dressing quickly, even before his breathing returns to normal.
You are languid under me, and I turn my head toward you. Your lips find mine again and this time, the kiss is slow and sweet. “Holy shit,” you whisper as you break the kiss and wipe the stray strands of hair out of my face.
We smile and catch small kisses, letting our breath return to normal. You lean back with your hands resting on my waist, your eyes half open. A slight smile graces your lips.
“Holy shit is right,” I say and move my hips playfully in a circle. I don’t want this bliss to end.
A deep laugh rumbles from your chest. “We don’t have time.” You glance at your watch and I look out the window. We are over the Sound, which means we are only about fifteen minutes from our destination and the heavy swell of disappointment envelops me. With a sigh, I pull away, uncoupling from you, and slide across to the opposite bench where my clothing rests. I dress quickly and reach into my briefcase for the last article of clothing. Pulling a pair of underwear from the pocket washes your face with amusement. I smile and shrug, diverting my gaze to Joe’s closed eyes.
“I think we wiped him out.”
You glance in his direction and I catch a fragment of envy in your gaze before it returns to me.
“Oh—you want a nap now?” I tease. I’m energized by the encounter and I can tell by the dark circles
under your eyes that you are drained.
You pull up your pants, zipping and buttoning as you grin. “Yeah, a nap would be good right about now but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.” The clasps of both our seatbelts click in unison as we settle back on the seats and stare at each other.
I feel the wetness of their cum pooling in my panties and I shift at the warm flood, thankful that I lined the crotch with a panty-liner before I left the house. My thirst rages and I reach down and open the beverage drawer, grabbing two bottles of water. I hand you one and sit back. I crack mine open and drain half the cool beverage as the helicopter begins its descent.
You drink your water and raise your eyebrows along with the half-empty bottle. “Mile high club.”
I tap my bottle to yours and the grin that forms on your face is contagious.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up.” I shake Joe’s knee and he blinks his eyes open, glancing around and running his fingers through his hair. For a moment, doubt lines his eyes as they bounce between us.
“Did...”
I smile. “Oh yeah, that wasn’t a dream.”
He actually blushes and inhales, looking out the window before he turns to you. “Thanks for sharing, man.”
You cast a quick look in my direction before offering a nod to Joe. “You know that was a one-time deal, right?”
I catch disappointment in his expression before he locks it down and nods. “That was the agreement.”
I raise my eyebrows at you.
“You weren’t the only one who made arrangements for this flight, babe.” You grin at me.
“You just wait till tonight.” I point at you but your grin is catching and I find myself smiling.
“Oh, I’m counting on that thought, but for now, you can’t smile at me like that in the meeting today.”
“Why not?”
“Because that smirk says we had a wild ride down here.”
I roll my eyes as the helicopter touches down. “Fine, but if the three of us are on the return trip together, can we have a repeat?”
“The three of us will not be together on the return trip,” you say.
Disappointment laces my mouth and I glance at Joe, recognizing the same feeling of letdown in his expression. But when I look back at your bright green eyes, I can’t help but smile assent. Lust comingles with love in your gaze and I realize just how lucky I am to have you in my life.
Moments later, we step onto the tarmac in downtown Manhattan and stroll in silence to our destination, stealing glances as we walk, barely suppressing the grins that play on our lips.
The End
The Raising
Empty.
That’s how I felt when they lowered Jacob into the ground.
Empty and lost.
My soulmate. Dead at thirty. Shot by a stray bullet.
A self-imposed detour off the jammed highway through the shady part of the city landed him six feet under and plastered his face over the local news channels. A national outcry against gang violence filled the airways and Jacob became the anti-gang, anti-gun, anti-violence group’s new poster boy.
A lot of good that did me.
No one stepped forward.
No one was ever caught.
No one cared that I lost my husband.
And now I have to find a way to continue without him. Even though every dreaming moment replays our lives, our love, our intimacy and I wake, reaching for him, whispering his name. When I realize he’s gone, pain shoots through me like a wrecking ball barreling through a brick wall and leaves me in pieces.
I met Jacob when we were young, and the moment his gaze met mine I lost my heart. My family scoffed at me when I told them I was going to marry Jacob someday. They said ten was too young to know what love was.
At sixteen, he drove to my house daily to pick me up for school, despite the laws. He didn’t want me on the bus with the overbearing football players, the ones who constantly tried to feel up the female population, especially those girls like me who were off the market. Honestly, I’d rather be breaking the law with Jacob than ride on that bus anyway.
At twenty, we attended Yale— he in pre-law, while I labored in pre-med—and we shared a little off-campus apartment, living off crackers and tomato soup. I loved every minute of those hectic days, especially the wild nights exploring each other’s bodies, awakening a shared sexual prowess that left me breathless.
On a beautiful spring day during our senior year, he laid a path of rose petals from our bedside out to the courtyard where we had planted a small tree. It was there he waited on his knee for me with the most perfect diamond ring. One he designed and paid for with a year’s worth of savings he set aside just for that purpose.
I still get butterflies when I think of that moment. His blue eyes shone as brightly as the diamond and his chestnut hair blew in the small breeze, his smile confident and vulnerable at the same time. He knew I’d say yes, but he still held his breath the moment after he asked, as if there was a possibility that I’d turn him down.
“Holly?”
The voice brought me back graveside and I sent a glare in the direction of my brother. Didn’t he understand that the past was the only thing keeping me sane at this moment?
Sure, I saw death every day in the hospital, in my operating room, but not in my home, not in my heart.
Not my Jacob.
Tears blurred my vision and I swallowed. I stared at the small mound of dirt next to the hole. Dirt I was expected to sprinkle over the shimmering cherry casket. Like an out-of-body experience, my slight form crouched down, scooped up a handful of dirt, and scattered it over the casket in a jerking fling. The noise, like thunder in my ears, unlocked the sobs in my chest and I fell to my knees, unable to stand. My brother leaned down, placed his hand under my elbow and helped me to my feet before he led me back to the head of the funeral procession.
He sat with me in the black limousine; he held my hand and said nothing as I shook. Silent tears distorted my vision and I closed my eyes, refusing to acknowledge the devastation in my soul.
“SAVE MY SON AND I’LL help you find your soul mate.” The gypsy woman still clasped her teenager’s bloody hand as she staggered next to the rushing gurney.
I bit down on my initial response, knowing she wouldn’t like the sarcasm that crawled up my spine at the mention of my soul mate. “I’ll do my best, ma’am,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to save this child. The steering wheel crushed his chest; his blood pressure was dangerously low and his pulse erratic. I exchanged a glance with Sandra, my favorite operating room nurse, and she gave me her usual reassuring smile before she closed the doors on the boy’s worried mother.
I hadn’t been able to pull out a miracle since Jacob died in my operating room three months ago and this looked like another lost cause. Opening his chest confirmed my suspicions. His ribs looked like someone had taken a steel mallet and pounded them to pieces and one of the slivers nicked the kid’s heart. It didn’t pierce it, but it left enough of a gouge to cause bruising. The heart was not an organ that responded well to bruising. By the grace of God, the kid survived surgery and remained stable through the setting of his fractured ribs.
I peeled off my scrubs and crossed to the waiting room. The gypsy stood, the material of her dress swirling around her like a wisp of smoke as she crossed to me with a gleam in her eye. A gleam as if she knew I patched up her kid, knew he made it through surgery.
I offered her a smile, the kind I reserve for those exhausting cases that still lay on the brink of death. “Your son made it through surgery, but I don’t expect him to regain consciousness for a few hours.” If ever.
“I knew you would be able to save him—”
I interrupted her with a quick hand gesture, universal for stop. “He isn’t out of danger yet. He’ll be under observation for the next twenty-four hours. After that, the danger is reduced, but understand—your son is still in critical condition.”
Her eyes, so full of hope, shot to my soul, and I flashed back to the moment I thought Jacob would make it. That swell of hope filled me, too, but it died just as surely as Jacob did. I gave a nod and turned before my throat closed, and my eyes betrayed me, filling with tears at the thought of Jacob. I made my way to the call room.
Aggravation aimed at the mist covering my vision ripped through me, and I blinked the unwanted tears away. I hate public displays of grief and this wasn’t the time or place to fall apart, especially not in front of a patient’s mother. I closed the door and scanned the empty room. My gaze fell on the cot and I stumbled toward it, collapsing stomach first. I buried my face in my crossed arms. Whether I wanted them to or not, the tears came, and I cried from exhaustion, cried for the child fighting for his life, and cried for my Jacob until I fell into the void.
JACOB’S HANDS SLID along the curve of my thigh and created ripples of anticipation through my skin—his touch ignited the feral storm of lust in my soul. His lips followed the same path—fiery hot kisses that left a trail of chilling cold behind—and I shivered. An evil chuckle filled the dark room—illuminating my instincts and I knew what he had in mind even before the sash clasped my hands behind my back.
Tonight’s menu included some light bondage, which made the chill in the room evaporate. Satin covered my eyes and after he secured the knot, his light and smooth fingers toyed with me; they traced lines close to the erotic zones but not quite there. No, he wanted me to beg tonight and beg I most certainly would.
“Jacob, stop teasing me!” I cried after his third pass brushed my pussy.
“Do I need to gag you too?” His haunted breath whispered in my ear. He flicked his tongue, caught my lobe and sucked it between his lips.
“No, I just need you to stop teasing and do something.” My voice shook with desire and I knew the husky quality turned him on.