A Question of Necessity

by Jess Dee

  Her orgasm slammed through her, sending her spiraling over the edge, tumbling and falling deeper and deeper into pleasure. His finger was merciless, playing, touching, caressing, drawing out her climax as his mouth licked her swollen folds.

  Pleasure like nothing she’d ever experienced slammed through her as she convulsed and shuddered and cried out.

  But even as her orgasm peaked and then ebbed, even as she collapsed, exhausted on the table, she knew it wasn’t enough, knew she wanted—needed—more.

  Jack was standing again, behind her, touching her. She couldn’t see, couldn’t open her eyes to look, didn’t have the energy.

  But he gave her what she needed. Gave her that something more. This time, when he breached her ass, it wasn’t with his fingers. No, this time, when he slid in, past her tight ring of muscle, it was with his cock.

  And this time he was relentless. Moving slowly, giving her time to adapt to his massive size, he drove his full length into her ass.

  As the remnants of her orgasm shuddered through her pussy, she instinctively clamped her ass muscles, trapping him inside, holding him, growing accustomed to his girth and to the shock of having him there. It hurt. But in a good way. In a shocking way. A carnal way. A filthy way.

  A way that had her pussy fluttering again in excitement, had her juices stirring.

  He withdrew, and pressed in once more, faster this time.

  She cried out, in pleasure and in pain, and he fucked her again. And again.

  “Mine, Claire Jones. You are mine. You have been since day one, and you will be ’til the end.”

  Oh, she was his alright. And she suspected he was correct. She had been since day one.

  His thighs were slippery with sweat. Hers were too, and as he drove into her, his rough, hair-covered skin slid against her smoother one.

  Full, so full, and still shivering from her orgasm. But this was it. This was that something more she’d needed. A compulsion to move with him, to rock her hips as he plunged inside her couldn’t be ignored.

  Jack ran his hand around her hip, and his finger found her clit, stroking it. There it was again, the climb to orgasm, the impulse to lose herself in the extreme passion of his fucking. To come with Jack Wilson. To become one with Jack Wilson.

  Claire’s pussy fluttered, clenched and exploded once more into orgasm.

  She screamed as she came, this climax more complete than the last, more whole. She didn’t need anything more than he gave her. Especially not when Jack cried out behind her, when he thrust one last time, deep and hard, and then came as well.

  Even through her own convulsions she could feel the way he pumped inside her, his movements still, but his shaft thumping within as he spurted. And spurted. Until he had nothing left. And then, as the last quivers of ecstasy rolled through her, he collapsed on top of her, squashing her into the table, and Claire knew their relationship had changed irrevocably.

  It was time to voice the words that had been screaming inside her head since he walked out the kitchen.

  She feared she might not have the strength or energy to project her voice, but she gave it her best shot. “I love you, Jack.”

  Jack heard. She knew because he jerked above her, as if hit by an electric shock. “Wh-what did you say?”

  “I said I love you too.”

  He was silent. Too silent. And for a heartbeat Claire feared she may have misheard him earlier. Perhaps he hadn’t professed to loving her after all.

  She dismissed the notion immediately. Whether he’d professed his love or not, Claire felt it with his every action, his every tender word, his every sensual kiss. And she’d felt it in his body as he’d made love to her tonight, claiming her completely, make her his.

  “You have nothing to say in response?” she asked.

  “Love sought is good…” She heard the smile in his voice. “But given unsought is better.”

  “That’s it?” she huffed. “I tell you I love you, and in return you…you quote Shakespeare?”

  He nuzzled her neck. “You forget Shakespeare has a quote for every occasion.”

  “Then could you maybe quote something that makes me feel loved in return?”

  “Ah, Miss Jones, maybe I could.”

  She waited expectantly, but no quote was forthcoming. Not only was a quote not forthcoming, but Jack withdrew from her. He climbed off her back and slipped off the table, disposing of the condom.

  Before Claire had a chance to object, he stood in front of her, his hands on the scarf he’d knotted to the chair. He untied it, freeing her. Claire shook her hands, letting the blood flow through to her arms.

  Jack kicked the chair out the way and knelt before her, so his eyes were level with hers. Then he smiled, and his dimple danced in his cheek.

  “You sure you’re ready to hear this?”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty sure.”

  “Can you promise not to threaten me with a lawsuit once I’ve said it?”

  Claire pretended to give it some thought. “I guess I can promise as much.”

  “And you swear not to change your mind, even if I break out in song after?”

  She grimaced. “Can you maybe save the song for another time, so you don’t ruin the moment completely?”

  It was Jack’s turn to give her request some thought. “Okay then. But just this once, you understand?”

  She sighed dramatically. “Okay then. Just this once.”

  His eyes lit up. “Well then Miss Jones, I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say…I love you.”

  Three Questions Series

  If you enjoyed A Question of Necessity, and you want to know how the Three Questions series began, please turn the page for information about A Question of Trust.

  A Question of Trust

  Copyright © 2016 Jess Dee

  How do you choose between love and honor?

  * * *

  Three Questions, Book 1

  * * *

  Madeline Jones is having the time of her life with Gabriel Carter, a man who fulfills every one of her sexual fantasies. She’s sure it can’t get any better than this…until Gabe introduces her to his best friend.

  * * *

  When Connor Regan enters the mix, sparks fly. Suddenly Maddie wants more than just Gabe, she wants Connor, too. The two men seem happy to oblige.

  But threesomes have a way of getting complicated. Hearts can be broken. Although Gabe and Connor play by a strict set of rules designed to minimize the damage, true love does not always adhere to the guidelines.

  * * *

  Sometimes, to fulfill the dream of having the love of a lifetime, even the most comprehensive codes of trust and honor have to be challenged.

  * * *

  Warning: This book contains spicy sex scenes, uninhibited voyeurism, anal play, m-f-m passion, oh yeah, and a new sandwich recipe.

  * * *

  (Please note: This book has been previously published.)

  A Question of Trust: An Excerpt

  “Did you do it, baby?” Gabe coaxed and Maddie began to shake. From guilt and from lust and from the simple task of watching Gabe. “Did you kiss Connor?”

  “I…” Could she do it? Could she tell him the truth? “I… Yes. I kissed him.”

  Gabe grew harder under her perplexed stare. “And?” His voice was a low growl.

  “And wh…what?” He wasn’t angry? He’d honestly expected her to go through with it?

  “And are you?”

  Her heart hammered. “Am I what?”

  “You know what?”

  She hung her head. In shame? In embarrassment? “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  Sweet Lord, he was making her say it. Heat crept into her cheeks. “Yes, I’m wet.”

  He growled. “Wetter than you get when I kiss you?”

  She couldn’t answer that one directly. Wouldn’t. “I’m wet, Gabe. Very wet.”

  “C’mon here, baby,” he demanded. “Let me see.”


  With legs heavy as lead and with anticipation thrumming through her, she put one foot in front of the other.

  “Wait.”

  This was it. The anger was coming. The resentment. He’d stopped her. Now he’d make her leave. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t stand to see the rejection in his eyes.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Startled, she snuck a peak at him. Gabe’s eyes were smoky, his lips parted. His hand rested in his lap, his fingers wrapped around his cock. She’d kissed Connor, told Gabe about it—and Gabe was turned on.

  Maddie took a breath, the first one to reach her lungs since Gabe had spoken. He liked the idea of her kissing Connor.

  “Remove your shirt first.”

  She obeyed, undoing each button one by one before letting the blouse drop to the floor. Loathe as she was to admit it, she liked the idea of kissing Connor too.

  “Now your bra.”

  She reached behind her back and unhooked the straps. The bra slipped off and her breasts swung free, heavier than usual, more needy.

  Gabe watched each move, nodding. His gaze took in her breasts, her belly and dropped lower.

  “More,” he said and she stripped off her jeans.

  Where the hell had her inhibitions gone? What had happened to the Maddie who was shy to show her body to men? Who could only picture the too-large breasts and the too-round butt? The soft, fleshy belly and the ample thighs? Where was she and who was this new woman? This woman who found even the cover of her panties too conservative? Who was the Maddie who could kiss her lover’s best friend and then return to her lover dripping with desire for another man?

  Who was she?

  “All of it,” Gabe rasped and Maddie ditched the panties.

  He tugged at his cock. “Now, come here and let me see what Regan did to you. Let me see if he has the power to make your pussy as wet as I can.”

  Her stomach clenched with desire. Maddie closed the space between them, climbed on the bed and knelt before her lover. The old Maddie was gone. The woman she presented to Gabe was sensual and hot and uninhibited. The woman she presented to him was wet. Dripping. With lust for her lover—and for her lover’s best friend.

  Gabe reached out and ran his hand between her legs, ran his fingers between her drenched folds. She bucked at the glorious sensation.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. “You are wet.” He slipped his finger inside her, and pumped his cock a little faster. “Did Regan do this to you, baby? Did he get you this excited?”

  She’d come too far to lie to him now. “Yes. Connor did this to me. His kiss…it made me hot.” She lowered her eyes, then lifted them again. “He had an erection, Gabe. He was hard as a rock.”

  “Did you make him hard?” Gabe’s voice sounded scratchy.

  “Yes.”

  “Did he make you wet?”

  She whimpered. Thoughts of Connor’s mouth, of his hard dick pressed against her belly, were still making her wet. And frustrated. She needed relief, needed something to take the ache and the want and the hunger away. “Very. Very, very wet.”

  His kiss had made her more than wet. It had made her, quite unexpectedly, yearn for something permanent, something long lasting. Something more than just sex.

  Gabe slipped another finger in, reminding her that, for now, sex would do just fine, thank you very much. Her slick entry offered no resistance and she rocked on his hand, desperate to get him deeper, to feel him move inside her.

  “It’s not just Connor, Gabe. I’m this wet because of you too, because you turn me on, you make me hot.” Oh crap, did he ever make her hot. There might not be visions of wedding dresses and white picket fences with Gabe, but there sure were images of frenzied sex and wild orgasms. “Because I know you’re about to fuck me, and I can’t wait. Not one more minute.”

  Gabe pulled his fingers out and plunged them back inside her. At the same time, he rubbed her clit with his thumb. He kept up the sensual assault as he got to his knees. “Be honest, baby. Be very honest now. Is it me you want to fuck—or Connor?”

  Maddie was past even questioning her need to tell him the truth. Gabe’s fingers had her so far beyond the point of sanity she was seconds away from coming. She answered without thinking.

  -------------

  * * *

  For more information about A Question of Trust, and for links to buy the book, please visit Jess’s website.

  Sunday Night Dinner Club

  Have you read Jess’s Sunday Night Dinner Club series? If not, read on for a peak into the first book:

  Party Of Three

  Copyright © 2014 Jess Dee

  * * *

  Two men, one woman and a whole menu of opportunities.

  * * *

  Sunday Night Dinner Club, Book 1

  When Spencer Allen arranges an impromptu date with Chelsea Holden, the beautiful restaurant owner he’s lusted after for months, he discovers an unexpected obstacle in his quest for true love—his best mate.

  * * *

  Levi Barret’s always been reluctant to give his heart to one woman, until Chelsea catches his attention. Now he’s finding it difficult to think of anyone else.

  * * *

  Levi’s interest in Chelsea could spell the end of a lifelong friendship…or the beginning of a whole new relationship.

  * * *

  Warning: Be sure to keep a safe distance from the oven. When things heat up in this kitchen, sparks are going to fly.

  Party of Three: An Excerpt

  “We have a problem.”

  Levi gaped at Spencer standing at his front door in the middle of the night. “And we can’t wait until tomorrow morning to discuss it? A time when I’m not working?”

  Not that he was getting any constructive writing done. His head was too damn full of a beautiful, vexing restaurant owner and her desire for not one but two men.

  “Hell, no.” Spencer grimaced. “This can’t wait.” He shoved past Levi and walked into his house. “See, I’ve just had the best sex of my whole life. Seriously. The. Best. Sex. Ever. And guess who she was thinking about the entire time I fucked her?”

  Levi sucked in a breath, pushed the door closed and followed Spencer into his lounge room.

  Spencer turned to point at him. “You. That’s who.”

  He ignored the obvious accusation, zoning in on the important shit. “You slept with Chelsea?” The question made Levi want to punch his best mate in the face.

  “No. Sleep would imply that after I fucked her we lay together, closed our eyes and got some rest. But the second I tried, she started talking about you. You, for fuck sake. My balls are still twitching, and she’s telling me how God damn crazy she is about you.”

  Oh, they didn’t have a problem. They had two.

  The first one being if Spencer mentioned fucking Chelsea one more time, Levi was going to hurt him. Yeah, his mate might be taller than him. Stronger too. But the spare oar to Levi’s kayak was in the garage, and he wasn’t above retrieving and using it to shut Spencer up.

  The second problem? “I’m crazy ’bout her too.” Levi’s lips were pursed so tightly he had trouble speaking. “Told you as much last night.”

  “Yeah? Well you might have thought about saying something before I made plans to see her tonight.”

  “I might have—if I’d known you’d intended to make plans with her.”

  “Christ, mate. I’ve been lusting after her for the last year. It’s hardly news to you.”

  Spencer had remarked frequently that he found Chelsea appealing. But c’mon. “What guy comments for a year without acting if he truly has feelings for a woman? I thought it was all talk, Spence. Didn’t take you seriously.”

  “Yeah?” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Apparently not.”

  “Apparently, you didn’t take me seriously either when I told you how I felt about her.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I took you dead seriously. But I wasn’t about to up and break the date because of i
t.”

  Ah. Well, fucking great. Levi had been willing to walk away from Chelsea for Spencer’s sake, but Spence hadn’t afforded him the same respect. Now he no longer regretted that last kiss in the park. The one that had left Chelsea trembling and breathless and him with a dick as hard as steel. He also didn’t regret telling her after their last kiss in the park to make up her mind, fast, because he didn’t plan on hanging around to play second fiddle to his best mate.

  Yeah, Levi had been prepared to walk away, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to. He’d hoped Chelsea would choose him and let go of her feelings for Spencer.

  She obviously hadn’t. Not if Spence had just had the best sex of his entire life with her.

  “I would have,” Spence went on to say. “Would have called things off then and there if she’d given me any inkling that she was interested in you. But she didn’t. Not until afterwards anyway. Then suddenly she couldn’t shut up about you.”

  Levi collapsed into a couch. “Well, here’s an issue we’ve never had to face before.” Not once in their twenty-year friendship had they ever fought over a woman. Their tastes had always been so different, they’d never needed to. Spencer was a serial monogamist. He tended to pick pretty, intelligent women who, like him, saw long-term commitment as a major bonus.

  Levi liked them hot and wild and free. The freer the better. Long as they came without strings, Levi was interested—for a night or so.

  “I need a drink.” Spencer stalked over to the freestanding bar, threw it open and grabbed the bottle of Glenlivet Levi always kept stocked for him. He didn’t bother with a glass, just opened the full bottle of scotch and took a long sip.