by Anna Lewis
A bar of soap appeared out of nowhere and all three bodies were soon slick with water and soapsuds. A brown hand—Andre’s—caressed Shelby’s breast and she gasped in delight. Another hand, this one light and white, moved to her other breast and tenderly toyed with her eager nipple.
“Andre,” Shelby gasped and one hand tightened on her supple breast. “Jackson,” she cried and the other hand pinched her tender nipple.
Shelby was pressed flush against Jackson, her face resting against his broad chest as she panted with pleasure. She could feel the eagerness of his cock, already recovered from her enthusiastic hand job, against the softness of her belly.
Behind her, Andre clung to her back, pulling her toward him and kissing small love bites down her shoulder. Every so often, he’d involuntarily jerk his hips toward her and Shelby would feel the eagerness of his erection grind against her ass.
She was balanced in this delicate purgatory. Everything was perfect, for the moment. But she couldn’t stay here forever. They all needed to make a choice and make it soon.
“Andre, Jackson,” she muttered. “I need you, I need both of you, I can’t, I don’t…”
Shelby didn’t know how to decide who got to fuck her first.
She felt a probing at her entrance and looked up to see Jackson smiling past her, looking instead at Andre. A slight turn of her head revealed that Andre was grinning right back at Jackson.
The finger between her legs slid inside of her, then she felt another movement, another finger slipping inside and she understood. Both of them were inside her right now.
“You don’t need to pick, baby,” Jackson whispered.
“We’ve got you,” Andre added.
Their fingers worked in tandem sliding in and out of Shelby with firm intensity. Someone—she wasn’t sure who—moved their thumb to her clit and started rubbing slow, soft circles.
She was close. She was so close now.
But Shelby wasn’t a taker, she was a giver. It wouldn’t be all right with her if she came and her boys didn’t.
“Jackson?” Shelby repeated. “Andre? What about you?”
“Shh, we’ve got this taken care of,” Andre whispered against her neck.
Shelby looked down and back. Andre had his cock in hand and was sliding his fist along the shaft in perfect rhythm with his finger inside of Shelby. If front of her, Jackson was jerking himself off, too, matching time to both Andre and Shelby.
It was too beautiful.
“I’m so close,” Shelby moaned, echoing Jackson’s words from earlier in the morning. “I’m so close, boys, I’m so, so close…”
She could feel the fire beginning to curl deep within her belly. Her orgasm was so close now, she could practically taste it, but it wasn’t quite there. She needed something else.
“Jackson!” she cried. “Andre! Say my name, please. Say name until you come.”
Both men sped up their thrusts as they murmured Shelby’s name, pressing the word into soft kisses onto her skin. “Shelby!” they cried, sometimes over-lapping, sometimes in unison. “Shelby!”
Finally, with a cry of infinite pleasure, Shelby felt her orgasm wash over her like the sea, hitting her with wave after wave of pleasure. A gasp sounded over her shoulder and she felt Andre go rigid behind her, then the hot splash as he came on her lower back.
Another gasp, and Jackson was coming, pulling Shelby’s mouth to his as he kissed her through his release.
The three of them stood there, letting the hot water wash over them. Jackson tightened his arms around Shelby, Andre did the same.
“So,” Jackson finally asked, his voice light and playful. “Are we going to have to fight over who you work for?”
“Nah,” Andre answered. “We’ve got pretty strict HR policies about sleeping with your coworkers.”
Jackson laughed. “Luckily, we don’t.”
“Actually, Mr. Archer, we do,” Shelby replied. It came as absolutely no surprise to her that Jackson Archer didn’t know anything at all about company policy. What was surprising to Shelby was that she didn’t care. Not even the littlest bit. “Although, I suppose we could have those rules changed.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Andre had to raise his voice to make himself heard clearly above the running water of the dual shower heads. “I’ve been thinking about creating a separate company to oversee all the sustainable energy components of my businesses.”
“What are you talking about?” Shelby asked.
“Oh!” Jackson jumped in. “Actually, I was thinking about starting something similar—”
“You were, Mr. Archer?” Shelby said, then caught her mistake. “I mean, Jackson?”
Jackson smirked at her. “I was, actually, Ms. Stuart. But I definitely don’t have much time to run it. I mean, I’m super busy trying to deal with all the other business things I don’t understand, I probably wouldn’t have time to really run it properly.”
“I’m having the same problem, man,” Andre said. “I’d love to start up that company, but I definitely don’t have time to run it. Or search for a quality CEO to run it.”
Jackson grinned. “If only we knew someone super smart, and capable, and who has some pretty in-depth knowledge of our business dealings.”
“But who on earth could that person possibly be?” Andre said, sarcasm practically dripping.
Shelby knew exactly what they were up to.
“Okay, you two,” she said, swatting playfully at both men in the steamy shower. “I’ll run your damn company, if that’s what it takes.”
The men gave each other a wet high five over Shelby’s head, splashing her with droplets of hot water.
“But,” she continued, “I’m not going to be a pushover CEO. I’m going to be demanding—”
Both men nodded.
“I’m going to have to make some tough business decisions—”
They nodded again.
“And I’m positive that the three of us will probably need to have meetings. Lots and lots of meetings, if you get my meaning?”
Andre and Jackson nodded in unison. They definitely got her meaning.
THE END
= Bonus Book 8 of 11 =
Creatures of the Night
Scarlett had seen plenty of things over the past twenty-five years of her life and most of it didn't thrill her like it probably should have. After all, she lived in England. You couldn't walk twenty feet without tripping over something that had been built hundreds of years ago, even thousands of years, for example. What did surprise her was the fact that there was a man across the pub where she was enjoying her Friday night post-work beer who was very clearly staring at her. Scarlett liked to think she was pretty enough to attract men but she had had rotten luck with it ever since she was fifteen and started caring about them. Scarlett definitely didn't mind being looked at but she wasn't the only girl at the bar and there was no guarantee that it was her the man was looking at. That was until the bartender came over with a fresh drink (and Scarlett's favourite, at that) and told her it was from the gentlemen in the corner. Scarlett blushed as red as her name and tried not to look at him. But she couldn't help it.
He was good looking. Really good looking. It was darker in the corner he was sitting (as was the case with most pubs, especially the older ones that were small and cramped), but Scarlett could still make out his features. Messy black hair fell over the most shocking pair of blue eyes Scarlett had ever seen. His nose was long and aquiline, and his jaw solid. He had the mouth of an angel, full and soft and smirking just the smallest bit. Scarlett thought he would approach her, but he seemed as content to watch as she was. It was just a tad voyeuristic, but Scarlett doubted her drink was drugged as it had been served by the bartender. She pushed her old one aside and took a sip. Perfectly made. A sigh fell from her lips. She lifted her glass to the man, who raised his own back, but still made no move towards her. Maybe he was just feeling generous. It was a Friday after all. Maybe he'd just gotten a big promo
tion at work and felt like celebrating by buying someone he thought attractive a drink. If he found Scarlett attractive, of course. The way he was looking at her made it seem like he did.
A shiver ran down Scarlett's spine, violent enough to make her whole body shudder. The person sitting next to her gave her a funny look but didn't comment. Scarlett rolled her shoulders and ran a hand through her brown hair. She glanced at the guy again. His gaze had wandered elsewhere, but Scarlett had a feeling in her stomach that he was still interested in her. She hoped he wasn't a stalker. The bar was on a main street, though, and it wasn't that late. She doubted anyone would try to abduct her here.
When she was ready to go home the man was still sitting in the corner, drinking a large glass of what looked like water and looking at his cell phone. Scarlett approached him feeling a little nervous and cleared her throat to get his attention. He looked up and smiled when he saw it was her.
“I just wanted to say cheers for the drink,” Scarlett said. “I really appreciated it. I do have a question, though.”
“Are you going to ask why I bought it for you?” the man replied in a low voice as smooth as silk that made Scarlett's knees go weak. She passed it off as a belated effect of the booze; she was a little bit tipsy after all.
“No,” she replied. “I wanted to ask what made you order that particular drink.”
“You look like that particular kind of girl,” the man replied. He grinned, wolfishly, showing strong, white teeth. “My name is Hunter.”
“Scarlett. Jones.”
“It's nice to meet you, Scarlett Jones. Do you come here often?”
“That's a terrible pick up line,” Scarlett replied and Hunter laughed. “No, I don't usually drink.”
“That's a shame,” Hunter said. “You're the most interesting thing that's walked in here in a long time.”
Scarlett's stomach warmed and her chest tightened. “Maybe I'll have to stop by more often.”
“Maybe you will.” Scarlett could have sworn that when he smiled again she saw two sharp teeth. “Have a good night, yeah?” Scarlett blinked, feeling like she was almost in a trance, and lightly shook her head to clear it.
“Thanks,” she said. “You too.” She turned and walked through the tight, short corridor to the front door and out into the cold, shuddering. She rolled her shoulder and glanced behind her. The door had swung shut automatically but she could have sworn that she could still feel Hunter staring at her. She flagged down a cab to take her home, preferring to pay for a fare rather than deal with the Friday night bus crowd. As it was the back of the cab reeked of alcohol. It reminded her of nights when she'd be out with her friends and get so wasted that she could remember anything when she woke up the next morning, somehow having managed to get into her own bed and not someone else's.
Scarlett lived in a nicer part of town, on a street with a row of identical-looking houses differing only in the colour of the front door and the state of the front garden. When she had first moved there she used to get confused and more than once had tried to get into the wrong building but now, a year later, she could find her way home with her eyes closed. This particular block of buildings had been converted into flats sometime after WWII. Scarlett lived on the second floor, right between someone who blared music downstairs and someone who frequently had very loud sex, with what seemed to be a different woman every time. She'd learned to live with it. Previous noise complaints hadn't achieved anything anyway.
When she stepped inside it was surprisingly quiet, but considering how early it still was for a Friday she figured that both her neighbors were still out on the town. She went about her normal night time routine, thinking about her encounter in the bar. As much as she fantasized about guys being attracted to her, she didn't really want to date anyone. Her last relationship had been a mess, and being exclusive had meant surprisingly a lot of drama. It had been exhausting. Right now she was happy being single, or so she liked to tell herself.
She paused at the kitchen counter pouring a glass of water to counteract the extra drink she had had. Her life suddenly seemed mundane. Not that long ago she would have been out on a Friday until the break of dawn Saturday morning, bar hopping and laughing and causing all kinds of trouble, and then spend all of Saturday sleeping off her hangover before dragging herself to her shitty part-time job the next day still exhausted and achy. Now she was asleep by eleven most nights no matter if it was a weekend or not. She had a more serious job now, with no Sunday shifts, and she had cut back on alcohol. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had stayed and sat with Hunter. Would he have tempted her into a night of booze and debauchery? More importantly, why was she still thinking about him? All he had done was buy her a drink. Plenty of guys had done that for her before. No, it was something else. He had a pull to him, one that made Scarlett want to turn around, walk out the door and take a cab right back to the bar.
She didn't. But that didn't mean she didn't want to.
***
The next day she lounged around the house in her pyjamas almost in a daze, unable to stop thinking about previous night, wondering if Hunter would be there again tonight. Sometimes she went out on Saturday nights but usually she was so tired from doing errands that she just wanted to crash out on the sofa and watch TV. Tonight, though, she could feel a strong desire to be out of the house burning in the pit of her stomach. That's what she claimed to herself it was, at least, and not a hope that if she went back to the bar that Hunter would be there again, and that he would buy her another drink or let her sit with him.
So it was that she found herself getting dressed up for a night out. It was the same old routine; try on three different outfits, then put them all away and choose something completely different and spend almost half an hour on her make-up and hair. She took the bus back into town since it was too cold to walk, especially in heels. When she arrived, she stood outside the bar smoking a cigarette and hoping it would calm her nerves. She'd gone halfway through another before she worked up the courage to go inside. It was crowded and loud and dark despite the lights everywhere, but that was what you got when you drank at an old bar instead of a newer one. Despite the tight confines of the interior, it was still Scarlett's choice. She went straight up to the bar to order a drink to start off the night and tried not to act like she was waiting for someone. She felt awkward drinking alone, though, and hunched over the bar.
A waft of cold air blew into the building as the door opened and closed. Scarlett shivered. She was about to give up when she suddenly felt eyes on her. Her shoulders stiffened but she didn't look up. Half a minute later someone slid onto the empty seat next to her. The stranger's woody, familiar scent filled Scarlett's nose, over the alcohol and cigarette smoke.
“Fancy seeing you here again,” Hunter said. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“I've already got a drink,” Scarlett replied. She forced herself to sit up straight and look over at him. The only thing about him that was different was his clothes. He gave her a close-mouthed smile.
“Then can I buy you another?” he asked.
Scarlett pushed her shoulders back just a bit, making herself feel taller. “Yeah,” she said. “I reckon you can.”
“What'll you have?” Hunter asked.
“Just a rum and coke for now,” Scarlett replied before sipping from her pint of beer. “Gotta start the night off slow. Been a long time since I've been out drinking.”
“A pretty thing like you?” Hunter asked as he flagged down the bartender. “I don't believe it. Rum and coke for the lady, please, and the house beer for me.”
“Well I used to,” Scarlett replied, feeling like she needed to justify her lifestyle. “I just got older, that's all. Not in school any more.”
“Doesn't mean you have to stop living.”
“Is that what you do?” Scarlett asked.
“As best I can,” Hunter replied easily.
“What do you do, though?” Scarlett asked, letting her
curiosity roam free. “Your job, I mean. I do management work.”
“A little bit of everything,” Hunter replied. “Mostly a lot of housework. Seems I've got an eye for landscaping. Contractors hire me out when they're building add-ons, homeowners ask me to redo their gardens. Things like that.”
“So you like flowers, then?” Scarlett asked.
“I like all of nature,” Hunter replied. “I've always felt connected to it. Just lucky enough there's a market for it.”
“I bet it pays well,” Scarlett said.
Hunter chuckled and showed his teeth in a smile. “It's not bad, yeah,” he said. The bartender brought them their drinks then moved on. “At the risk of sounding cliché, do you come here often? I don't think I ever saw you before last night.”
“I'm usually here after work for a drink on Fridays,” Scarlett said, “but earlier. I came later last night. Inventory issue.”
“Well, I'm glad it kept you,” Hunter said. “Otherwise I don't think we would have had the chance to meet.” Scarlett blushed and took a drink to try and hide it. The stools were close, and Hunter's shoulder brushed against hers every so often when he shifted in his seat. She tried to pretend the heat in her body was from the alcohol. Hunter spoke again. “What made you come back?”
“I don't know,” Scarlett replied honestly. “I think I just wanted to see you again. Is that a bad thing?”
Hunter chuckled softly. “That's the opposite of a bad thing,” he said. “In fact I'd say that's a very good thing.” He leaned in close and Scarlett backed away, though not without difficulty.
“I don't do one night stands,” she said.
Hunter shrugged and immediately sat up straight in his seat. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “In that case, could I ask you out on a date?”
“Why?” Scarlett asked. “You don't know anything about me.”
“That's the point of a date,” Hunter said, amused. “How about tomorrow night, at seven, for dinner?”