Shades of Submission: Fifty by Fifty #1: Billionaire Romance Boxed Set

by Hunter, Adriana

  She leaned into his shoulder. For once he wasn’t wearing workout clothes, but a crisp white shirt and khakis. He smelled heavenly, like detergent and a masculine soap. “I had sex with Mia on a stage while she got gangbanged.”

  He sucked in a breath. “Now, that’s something.”

  She felt the tension in his arms and chest. Maybe she’d gone too far, beyond even his open mindedness.

  “Did any of them hurt you?” he asked.

  He thought she’d had sex with them too? She pulled away to look up into those gray eyes, noticing for the first time little creases around them. He was tired.

  “None of them laid a hand on me, well, one dripped wax on me, but Mia had to be hurting. She was tied up, twice, and then the men came...”

  She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. The visual was both exciting and upsetting. All those men watching. Mia nodding to one, then another, then taking the one who came for Syria. She sucked in a breath.

  “Shhhhh.” He stroked her hair. “You’re all right. It’s fine. New things are frightening.” The tension moved out of him, and Syria felt certain it was because she hadn’t actually had sex with anyone else, and that he cared. Despite what he kept saying about keeping the relationship open, he wanted her for himself.

  She reached for his jaw and ran a finger along the stubble. Never clean shaven, this boy. “You’ve done something to me,” she said quietly. This was a risk, maybe a bigger one than getting on stage with Mia. “I just want you. What have you done to me?”

  He jingled some of the bells on her wrap. “I don’t know, but you’ve done it to me too. Damn nuisance, only wanting one girl in an occupation like mine.”

  He slid their bodies sideways so that they were lying on the sofa. “I think about you all the time.”

  “I do too.” Her heart was hammering. All these new experiences, so many opportunities, and now she would fall in freaking love, now she would crave monogamy? “Why is that? When we have so many choices?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s see if we can remember.” He untied the jingling belt and laid it on the floor. Syria wore only a work out bra and spandex shorts. He teased the heavy elastic band over her breasts. “I think I found two reasons right here.” He mouthed a nipple, suckling, his hand already moving to the waist of her shorts.

  She tugged at his buttons, dying to feel his skin against hers, to see those incredible abdominals and the heat of his belly.

  “I can’t take this.” He stood up and took off his clothes so fast they were just a blur of color. When his erection popped from his boxers, she reached for it, pulling him close, and enclosed her mouth over it, licking the precum from the tip, rolling her hands under his balls.

  This felt right. All the things she’d done and felt in the last weeks were fun, but this was different. Sex with Tyson engaged so much more than her clit and her desire, but a need that rocked her even before they touched. Something opened inside her, making the pleasure penetrate more deeply than just her body.

  He tugged the workout bra the rest of the way over her head. Now they were free to explore everything, and he shifted neatly around to lie over her. He pressed his face between her legs while she still worked him from below.

  Syria pushed on his rib cage to keep him at just the right distance, matching the rhythm he was setting against her folds. She was tightening against him already, so alive and alert and feeling everything.

  His muscles twitched in her mouth and now she knew he really was saving himself for her, having so much less control than that first time, now that his partners weren’t regular, just when he came to her.

  This thrilled her and she wanted to cry again — so much emotion lately — but he sensed something had shifted and pulled away, turning around to a more traditional position, pulling her knees up. “You’ve caught me, Syria,” he said. He rubbed his thumb along her face, tracing a tear that had managed to escape. “I’m not even sure how to go without you.”

  “We’ll figure something out,” she said. “We’ll find a way.”

  He slid inside her then, the whole length, and she cried out immediately. He filled her completely, and everything about it felt exactly right, his elbows braced by her head, the pressure and weight of him over her. And the long, slow strokes, so vanilla, and still, just the right thing. There would be time for more bondage, and crazy play, and toys, and maybe even extra partners, like Mia or Sam. But for now, she had him, just him, and it was perfect.

  He sped up, his eyes squeezed shut. Syria felt him getting close and let herself go, opening wide, the orgasm blossoming low and spiraling higher. He groaned and let loose in her and she’d been wound so tight that the release was like coming free of the bindings, the spreader bar hitting the floor, the ropes in coils around you, blissful and light.

  The emotion rushed through her so damn hard that she burst into heavy sobs. Tyson pulled her in close and yet the weeping went on, coming not from her eyes, but deep inside.

  He rocked her, smoothing her hair. “We’re here baby, we’re here.”

  Syria quieted in degrees. Nothing she’d ever experienced came close to that. A cry-gasm? She thought it was a myth, a joke, a punch line. But it was real, this expulsion of emotion along with release.

  Tyson pulled her up on his lap, still inside her, strong arms encircling her completely.

  This journey had only begun. They’d figure things out. And maybe she’d even take Tyson to India. Find her dad with him by her side. This is what she’d been waiting for all along. Someone to shake her up, make her move. This was going to work.

  5: Santa on Screen

  A few days later Syria pushed away from her desk, only to bump her chair against a stack of boxes holding images and photo books ready to be packaged to deliver to her clients.

  She needed an assistant, but really, only the busy season right before Christmas required help. The other eleven months of the year, she didn’t have enough work to pay someone else.

  She’d muddle through.

  Her back muscles protested as she stretched her arms toward the ceiling, trying to work out a kink from sitting too long at her computer as she airbrushed women to perfection. Tyson’s unexpected visit seemed like a dream now, but they had spent all their time in bed and she’d gotten way behind on her work.

  Syria moved aside the boxes and padded through the house to the bedroom. She could not get further behind. For one, these were gifts. But Tyson was due back the week before Christmas, and she couldn’t let her work interfere with the little time they carved out together when he was in town.

  She sighed at the clock. Midmorning and she still wore her clothes from yesterday. She really needed a schedule now that the actual photo shoots were done and only the retouching work remained. Without the ballast of a work routine, her days and nights were becoming a blur.

  Her phone chimed, and she picked it up absently. “Coming over!” chirped a perky message from Mia, surrounded by text hearts and smilies.

  Mia never actually asked if she could visit. She just announced it. Probably time for a break anyway.

  Syria headed for the shower. Inside the spray, Syria debated between hurrying up to finish before Mia arrived, or slowing down for a repeat performance of their last shower together, which had ended in Syria’s introduction to fisting. But Mia had her moods, so Syria rushed, wrapping a towel around herself just as she heard Mia opening the front door.

  “Are you naked?” Mia burst into the bedroom. “I like you best naked!”

  Syria stepped out the bathroom and stopped short at Mia’s outfit, a perfectly sheer body suit that hid nothing, but instead drew attention to her nipples and bare, waxed crease with sparkling red swirls that encircled key areas.

  “Oh, don’t miss this part.” Mia whirled around, and dual red spirals accentuated each of her butt cheeks.

  “AND, there’s a bonus feature.” Mia bent over, hands to the ground. As her ass rose in the air, she fingered a perfect hole, well fort
ified to avoid tearing, that enabled easy access. “So I can wear this during the act.”

  Syria’s blood started beating just seeing Mia in this position. She stepped forward and pressed her hand against the opening, slipping her finger into the warm, waiting flesh. Mia dropped her head. “See, that’s exactly why I wanted this one.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I know a girl who makes them.” Mia bent further down, walking her head back between her ankles and reaching for the bottom edge of Syria’s towel. “I think this needs to go,” she said and tugged it off.

  “You contortionists are a tricky lot,” Syria said.

  “I can reach all the right places.” She backed up through her legs again and slowly rose up.

  Syria kept her fingers in place as Mia stood, feeling the adjustment of her body around their connection, and the shift of the fabric as it stretched and moved.

  “So you just came over here to show me this?” Syria asked, slipping her finger more deeply inside.

  Mia faced away still, but moved with Syria’s fingers. “I knew you couldn’t resist.” She exhaled and bent forward, bracing her hands on her knees. “You’re too easy.”

  Syria withdrew her fingers and spanked Mia lightly on her red sparkled butt. “I don’t like being predictable.”

  Mia whirled around. “Oh no, I could never call you that.”

  Syria’s phone lit up and started the opening chords to “Santa Baby.”

  Mia hopped onto the bed. “That must be sweetcheeks!” She picked up the phone. “It’s requesting a video chat.”

  Syria reached for the phone, but Mia pushed it away. “Let’s see how well Tyson knows you.” She got up on her knees and slid the phone between her legs.

  “It’s going to be blurry!”

  “All the better to challenge him with!” Mia said. “Now shhh!” She hit the “accept chat” button.

  “That’s not Syria!” Tyson said immediately. “Whose lovely pussy is in my baby’s bed?” He laughed. “Must be Mia!”

  Mia slid the phone along the bedspread. “Tyson, you are the only boy I know who can identify a girl by her blowhole.”

  Syria peeked over her shoulder. Tyson was shirtless, his broad chest and strong arms filling the screen. She couldn’t see the rest. “It was Mia’s idea.”

  “I can guess,” Tyson said. “Mia is always crazy.”

  “Crazy?” Mia picked up the phone again, pressing it against her folds. “Lick this!”

  Tyson’s laugh was deep. “You’re going to smudge Syria’s screen!”

  Mia yanked the phone away. “Okay, yeah. Sorry.” She tried wiping the screen on her outfit, but it was the wrong sort of material.

  “Are you girls naked?” Tyson asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  Syria glanced down. She’d forgotten Mia had stolen her towel. “No. Mia’s wearing some bizarre contortionist outfit with a conveniently placed opening.”

  “Pull back, let me see.”

  Syria took the phone, cleaning it off with her towel, and angled it at Mia.

  “That’s nice,” Tyson said. “Now do I get to see my love?”

  “Give me that,” Mia said, and took the phone. “I’ll narrate.”

  She pointed the phone at Syria’s feet. “First, her sweet toes. Too bad you can’t be sucking them.” She angled the screen up a bit. “Then those ankles that could make a nun look sexy.”

  She sat down, aiming the screen at Syria’s legs. “Then those great gams. Shapely calves, cute knees, perfect thighs.”

  “Up a little,” Tyson said. “I can’t take it.”

  “Hold your horses,” Mia said.

  Syria tried not to blush. In the weeks she’d known Tyson and Mia, she’d gone way beyond something as simple as getting naked on the phone. But sometimes things like this still felt new.

  “Turn around, Syria. Can’t make it too easy on him.”

  Syria spun to face away.

  “Now there is that sweet ass,” Mia said. “Don’t you want to spread those cheeks? I know I do.”

  Syria felt her face burn. Crazy, feeling shy at THIS late date. But she was never on display. Even when she and Mia had been on stage, taking off their clothes, there had been so much else going on, other places to look.

  “Now give it to him slowly, Syria,” Mia said. “Come around with antici—pation.”

  Syria crossed her arms over her chest and took mincing little steps to come back around.

  “Oh! She’s shy, Tyson!” Mia crowed. “You’re not getting a peek of this!”

  Tyson faced her on the screen, away from Mia. His arms were crossed over his chest. “How about if I show you this?” He picked up his phone, angling it down to reveal his naked belly and the turgid cock.

  Syria lifted her hands over her head, letting her breasts bounce.

  “You got it!” Mia shouted. She turned the phone back around to her, but apparently Tyson had the camera back on his face, because she said, “I don’t have to ask what you showed her!”

  “Give her a little something, Mia, if she wants it,” Tyson said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

  Syria felt the blood rush between her legs. She’d always hoped they’d do something like this once they started video chatting. She’d had sex with Mia many times, with Tyson’s encouragement, but never for him.

  “You don’t have to ask me twice.” Mia set the phone on the side table, angling it at the center of the bed. “On your back, wench!” she said, affecting her pirate speak that matched the act that she and her husband performed on weekends, both the public comedy skits, and the private sex shows.

  Syria tried to lay back with poise, but Mia pushed her down, no more getting her flat before she spread Syria’s knees. “You looking for something like this?” Mia dipped her face to Syria’s mound, flicking her tongue in the folds.

  Syria bucked upward, so hot at the contact while Tyson watched that she thought she would burst into orgasm instantly.

  Tyson said, “Oh, yes,” but Syria couldn’t sit up to see what he was doing, as sparks were shooting up her body.

  Mia was rough this time, exaggerating for the camera, and Syria sank into the new sensations of getting her nipple pinched while Mia sucked hard at her clit, drawing the flesh deep into her mouth. Mia’s free hand kept Syria’s leg up and out of the way, presumably to ensure Tyson could see every scintillating detail. She began to feel the juices dripping down from Mia’s mouth, the wetness slipping into her ass. The tension built, and her hips moved rhythmically with Mia’s thrusting hands and mouth.

  Mia pulled away. “Can you make her come this fast, Tyson?”

  Syria wondered only briefly what she meant, since she wasn’t anywhere near at the moment, then suddenly Mia had her fingers everywhere, in her pussy, in her ass, and her mouth was pulsing against her clit.

  She felt jerked up by a string, the orgasm pulling at her belly, then it flashed out across her body like a shock wave. She might have screamed, as her ears started ringing as she came down, her pelvis lowering back to the bed. She hadn’t realized it had gone airborne.

  “That was spectacular,” Tyson said.

  Syria covered her face with her arm, feeling uncertain about everything that had just happened. She’d always had Tyson more or less to herself, although they had never pledged any sort of monogamy.

  “You going to spooge that screen?” Mia asked. “I haven’t seen that cock of yours in ages.”

  Syria tried to let go of any sort of jealousy, but still, it rose up all the same that Mia could claim any part of what she loved so well. She stayed on the bed, trying to work out how to arrange these complex relationships in her mind, Mia, Tyson, herself, the men who’d seen her have sex on stage, even the boy back home she’d stripped for at Tyson’s urging. Maybe she was more traditional that she was trying to be.

  The silence lingered, and Syria suspected they were both looking at her.

  “I’m going to go find something to wet
my whistle,” Mia said. “Show Syria how much you miss her.” Mia patted Syria’s leg affectionately and withdrew, moving swiftly through the house.

  “You okay?” Tyson asked.

  Syria still didn’t move her arm. This was sort of impossible, wasn’t it? Fun, but how could it go on? She was an Oklahoma girl who hadn’t even had sex until she was twenty. She knew nothing about polyamory or alternative lifestyles or how to undo a quarter century of Bible belt upbringing. Or if she should.

  “Syria. Hey. Look at me.”

  She let her arm fall on the bed and turned her head to the video. Suddenly this seemed ridiculous. Tyson was in Seattle. She was having sex with some girl just to titillate him. She jerked at the bedspread and brought it around her body.

  Tyson was holding the camera close now, framing his face. The stubble across his angled jaw was longer than usual and his gray eyes were on the blue side today, probably picking up something in the room. She’d never seen his place. Probably never would. She couldn’t afford to fly up there and he made no mention of bringing her. Maybe he even lived with someone, several someones. She didn’t know anything and was too scared to ask.

  “Damn it, I wish I could hold you in my arms right now. What got to you?” He looked stricken. “I shouldn’t have encouraged Mia. She likes to show off.”

  Syria couldn’t find any words. She just shrugged.

  “Hey. You were amazing. You’re like my dream girl.”

  Syria hugged the bedspread closer to her.

  “I am surrounded every day by all these overeager women, using me to make them feel something they know is missing. And here YOU are, exactly the thing we’re all looking for.”

  Syria shook her head. “I’m not anything.”

  “Yes, you are! You’re wide open to the things around you, willing to try anything. Open to love and friendship and sex and fun. It’s an amazing thing to see. You’re living life on full throttle. Do you know how hard that is to do? And how many wish they could do it?”

  “You’re so far away,” Syria managed to get out. “I am only this way because of you.”