I race naked into the bedroom and see that Jonathan has already got a dark pair of blue jeans on and a nice casual shirt. Stephen wears a green sweater and faded jeans.
I smile and kiss them both wishing we could all be alone and in this bedroom. God, they are so addictive. I find my jeans and my shirt and put them on as they both watch me.
"I can’t believe how sexy you two are,” I say, winking at them.
My jeans are tight and comfortable and they make me feel quite good about my body. They suck everything in at all the right places, but the Chinese has still had an effect on me.
"Oooh, they look so good on you, Sienna," says Stephen.
“Yeah, fuck, you’re sexy,” adds Jonathan.
My stomach is full but they do make me look hot as I eye myself in the mirror, and the casual shirt is very proper for the outing. It is plaid cotton and a loose fit so that I will look casual and fit in at the session.
I am dressed and Jonathan says, "Five minutes, baby."
Stephen holds open the door and slaps my ass as I walk through it.
My hair is in a ponytail so it doesn't annoy me. Sometimes long hair can be a pain in the ass, especially when you talk to people. It can end up in coffee or in your mouth. I am feeling amazing as we make our way to the session.
The session was fantastic and I feel energized. The group is getting along so well and some of the shyer ones were more talkative. I look at Stephen and Jonathan. Everything is packed up and they are waiting to go home.
"I have a surprise for you both," I say cheekily.
The men look up. Jonathan is locking the main door and Stephen places his tied garbage bag down.
"Oh, yeah, what is it?"
I unbutton my shirt and place it down on the floor; I keep undressing leaving a trail for them to follow.
"I need some help here," I say lying on the sofa, with my legs open and obviously horny.
The two men burst around the corner as I play with my pussy.
"Fuck, Sienna," says Jonathan.
"Fuck, yeah…," says Stephen.
I sit up and make each of them stand on either side of me. I unzip their pants and both of their cocks fall out and stand to attention. I am so turned on by these perfectly beautiful men.
I look up at Jonathan and put his cock in my mouth, as my hand moves on Stephen's shaft, then I swap. I have two cocks and I am determined to suck and pull them till they cum all over me.
I continue swapping and then I move to Jonathan again.
"Sienna, fuck… I'm cumming."
I swallow his cum and move back to Stephen sucking hard on him as he moans.
"Oh, fuck, Sienna..."
I swallow and lay there feeling satisfied... I have wanted to do that for so long and I feel my pussy get wetter as they move their hands over me.
Stephen kisses my breasts and Jonathan licks my pussy, licking inside the opening and then over my clitoris.
"Ah, oh, yeah..."
I feel myself getting closer to orgasm and then the men swap. Stephen places two fingers inside me and Jonathan sucks and licks my nipples. I am in complete ecstasy as Stephen fingers me steadily in perfect rhythm. Then I orgasm so easily.
“Oh, yeah, oh, God...”
I am the luckiest woman alive, right now.
"I love you, Stephen and Jonathan."
It’s time to go home.
The End
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SHIVER COMPLETE SERIES
A BAD BOY BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE
By Michelle Love
When billionaire art dealer, Sam Levy, meets gorgeous young artist Isabel Flynn, his life is turned upside down. The incredible sexual attraction between them is only matched by their emotional connection – they both fall hard and fast for the other. But outside their little bubble of happiness, they both have people in their lives who wish them harm, and when Isa’s first exhibition is vandalized and the gallery burned to the ground, they must face up to the fact that dark forces are at work which could destroy their love forever…
Part #1 Love Me
A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance
By Michelle Love
#1
Love Me
Afterwards, Sam would think back about how it all started and how he had found her. After all of the love, the laughter, the tears, the terror, the blood. The loss. After all of that, how it began came down to a simple matter of whether to turn left… or right.
It was that rare thing – a cloudless Fall day. Above Seattle, Mt Rainier painted itself onto the skyline; the calm waters of the Bay swishing gently on the wooden piers and pillars. Tourists and locals intermingling; panhandlers ducking the sharp eyes of local cops.
Samuel Levy sat on one of the benches on Pier 39, people-watching, breathing in the smell of the water and of the restaurants along the waterfront. He watched the ferryboats leaving their moorings and drifting lazily, churning up the water of Elliot Bay in their wake.
He envied their sedate passage, the excitement of travel, delivering people and tourists to the many islands of Puget Sound.
He, however, had back-to-back meetings, most of them nothing to do with his actual job, his passion: art. Accountants, business managers… Sam sighed. The minutiae of running his own business. The dull stuff, the thing he had been trying to avoid all week.
He glanced up at the mountain again. It always seemed to him that it wasn’t real, that it had been painted onto the Seattle Skyline as an afterthought. Beautiful.
Sam took a swig of bottled water. Nah. Nope. No. He’d blow off the meetings; it was too gorgeous a day to waste in airless meeting rooms, losing the will to live. He could go do tourist stuff – although since falling in love with the place a few years back, he’d already done most of it. He could catch a ferryboat out to one of the islands to go and see old friends or to check out new local artists.
He stood up, still trying to decide. Left to the city, right along the waterfront to the ferry terminal.
Left or right?
Ten minutes later, he was on one of the ferryboats on his way to Bainbridge Island. He pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts and dialed.
‘Eagle Harbor Gallery.’
Sam recognized her voice immediately. Zoe Marshall, retired art professor, gallery owner.
‘Zoe, it’s Sam.’
There was a long pause. ‘Samuel Alexander Levy, where the hell have you been? It’s about damn time you called me!’
Sam laughed; Zoe was only a few years older than his thirty-eight, but she always made him feel like an errant schoolboy, in the best way.
‘I can do you one better than that; I’m on my way to you now.’
Zoe squealed excitedly. ‘Your timing is perfect. Seb’s home from college, he’ll be so delighted to see you. Isa will be here later too, it is about time you two met.’
There was a distinct tone to her voice when she said the young woman’s name and Sam grinned.
‘Zo’, what are you up to?’
‘Nothing.’ She was all innocence. ‘Anyways, you’ll stay for dinner, yes?’
He agreed and saying goodbye to his friend, ended the call. He laughed to himself. Zoe never changed; she was always trying to fix him up.
Sam had known Seb, Zoe’s teenage son, from when he’d been a child (his father hadn’t stuck around long after Zoe fell pregnant) but he’d never met Isa – Isabel – Zoe’s de facto daughter. He knew she was an Art major, that Zoe had taken her in. Sam shook his head; he couldn’t remember the rest of her story now. He knew she was an artist, that Zoe and Seb adored her and that she was kind of reclusive. After Casey, his now thankfully ex-wife, Sam knew he wasn’t about get involved with another artist, but it would be good to meet someone so special to his old friends.
Zoe screeched across the gallery floor, a whirlwind of multi-colored scarves and enveloped him in a perfumed hug. His six-five dwarfed the African-American woman, despite her breakneck designer heels. Her round face, with its soft lines and sparkling brown eyes, beamed up at him. Sam laughed at her exuberance and hugged her tightly.
‘Hey shorty, it’s been too long.’
Zoe drew back from the hug and tried to look disapproving. ‘And whose fault is that, you big lug?’ She squinted at him and touched the salt-and-pepper hair at his temples. ‘That wasn’t there the last time we saw you – in fact; I seem to remember you were fresh out of diapers…’
‘Yeah, yeah, keep on exaggerating. Some of us have work to do. We can’t go gallivanting around pretending to be professors.’
Sam ducked to avoid the swipe she aimed at him, then covered his ears mockingly as she screeched ‘Seb!’ towards the back of the gallery.
Sam briefly wondered where the mysterious Isabel was but then was assailed again by the young man who came bounding through the door, his wide smile already ear-splitting.
‘Dude!’
Sam hugged him. Seb was nearly as tall as he was now, but gangly. All loose limbs and energy. His long dark dreads were tied back neatly, his t-shirt artfully torn to reveal a hard athlete’s body. Sam suddenly felt old and told him so. Zoe rolled her eyes.
‘Imagine how I feel,’ she muttered, then turned to Seb, ‘Where’s your sister?’
‘Still at work.’
Zoe sighed. ‘Of course, she is.’
Sam smiled at her exasperation expression. ‘What does she do?’
‘She’s a research fellow at UW,’ Seb interrupted his mother. ‘A good one. They all wanted her when she applied.’
‘Of course, they did,’ Zoe was preening, and Sam grinned. ‘Seb, go and call the university, ask her where she is.’
‘Or I could just call her cell phone, Grandma,’ Seb muttered, wandering off. Zoe scowled at his retreating back and bore Sam into another room off the main gallery.
‘Come here; I want to show you some of Isa’s work.’
Isa’ slid around the corner of the gallery unseen and quickly darted up the stairs to the apartment above the garage. Inside, she didn’t turn the lights on, wanting to be alone before she was inevitably summoned for the ‘family’ meal up in the main house. She just needed an hour, two maybe, on her own to unwind, chill out, eat junk food. There was a bag of hand-cooked potato chips with her name on it that she’d been thinking about all day.
She headed straight for her secret stash – and found it empty.
‘Fucking, fucking Seb…’ she muttered, disappointed. She sighed and went towards the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went. The apartment was little more than three rooms divided by screens. A small bedroom with her queen-sized bed, books piled up on her nightstand. The bathroom with its claw-footed bath and ancient shower head; and the open plan kitchen/living room, where all manner of art supplies, records, more books and half- finished soda cans made it her space, the place she loved the most.
Isabel Flynn loved her job, loved it but lately all she seems to be doing was catching up on her boss’s paperwork for him and babysitting him through a particularly grueling funding application. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t imagined she’d still be working on her Ph.D., funding it through long hours at the university and working at the gallery. She felt frustrated at not being where she thought she would be but then she reminded herself where she came from. She’d leave but really, and she smiled to herself now at the thought of his crumpled blazer and bedraggled beard. She loved Sandy; he epitomized every stereotype of the downtrodden college professor. But the hours at the moment were killing her, and there was so little time left to paint.
She sighed, rubbing conditioner into her hair, closing her eyes, letting the warm spray hit her face and scrub it clean. Dressing in her usual uniform - jeans and t-shirt - and half-heartedly drying her hair, she pondered pretending that she was sick and avoiding whatever Zoe had planned for tonight. Then she felt bad; Zoe had saved her, done everything for her since she’d been estranged from her family. Zoe was her family now.
‘And that sneaky chip-thief,’ she muttered to herself as she reluctantly closed her front door and headed towards the gallery.
Inside it was quiet so she could hear Zoe on the phone at the front. Isa slipped around to the small corner where her artwork was and was delighted and gratified to see a Sold sticker on one of her biggest pieces. That would pay her rent for the next six months, she thought and gave a silent ‘whoop!’
‘It’s stunning.’
The voice - the silky, deep, sensual voice - from behind her made her leap around in shock and clutch her chest as adrenaline coursed through her.
‘Holy shivering fuck balls,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. The man behind her burst out laughing. Jesus, Isa let out a long breath, gorgeous. So tall. He towered above her five-five and suddenly she felt lost for words. His closely cropped dark hair, intense green eyes, a body that seemed carved from marble. Expensive tailored three-piece suit. His finely angled face was softened by that smile.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
She stared at him dumbly for a second, not quite believing he was real – he was so… perfect. She was amazed to find her body start to quiver, a pulse beat between her legs. Who was this guy? She shook herself.
‘It’s okay.’ It was, it really was. She stuck out her hand. ‘Isabel Flynn.’ When they shook, his warm, dry hand dwarfed hers and she wasn’t imagining it, held hers a little longer than necessary. The atmosphere in the room was so charged; it made her breathless. He smiled down at her, and his eyes were curious, alive, filled with desire? Am I projecting? She could imagine him suddenly pulling her into his arms to kiss her or push her against the wall and…
‘Sam Levy.’
That brought her to her senses. ‘Sam Levy? The Sam Levy?’
He smiled, and his eyes shone. ‘For my sins.’
Wow. Sam Levy, here in front of her. His reputation as one of the best art dealers in the world, his impeccable taste. He was almost legendary in the art world. Zoe had often told her there was no-one better. She just hadn’t mentioned how freaking handsome he was. Isa was surprised; he was younger than she would have expected for someone of his standing. She was aware she was gaping, and smoothed her expression, smiling politely at him.
‘It’s good to meet you.’ Her voice shook slightly, and she cursed herself silently. Sam smiled again, touched a finger to her cheek. The gesture so intimate, so comforting, so kind, it made her whole body quiver. Sam nodded again at her painting.
‘As I said, it’s stunning. Incredible. The depth of color, the way you’ve blended them to create… Wow. Fan of Rothko, hey?’
She grinned. ‘You got it. And I just love playing with color, putting shades that should clash wildly but somehow work.’
Sam nodded. ‘I know – that´s why I bought it. I have a very simple apartment, mostly boring monochrome, I’m afraid. But this will bring the place alive, be a focal point.’
Isa was speechless for a section. Sam Levy had bought her work. Sam Levy.
‘You bought my painting? I’m…’ she laughed incredulously, ‘…honored. Thank you so much.’
‘Thank you.’
Their eyes met and locked and desire flooded through Isa. God, kiss me please, please… Sam smiled as if could read her mind and stepped closer. Isa’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. She could feel the heat of his body, breathe in the clean, woody, spicy scent of his cologne. Every nerve in her body was on fire, electric, wanting, needing him to touch her.
‘Hey, you two.’
Seb’s voice broke the spell, and they both looked away, startled by the intrusion. Seb, clueless to the sexual tension in the air, grinned at them and then turned and yelled.
‘Ma! I found them!’
Sam grinned at Isa, who smiled ruefully, shaking her head.
An unspoken joke between them. So intimate. Zoe appeared, berating them for hiding from her, insisting they come back to the house for dinner.
Sam followed them, walking next to the young artist, and he couldn’t help resting the flat of his hand on the small of her back, feeling her stiffen at his touch. Isabel Flynn. In the small time they’d known each other, he’d felt something he’d never felt before. This is it – the lightning bolt moment.
He’d never really believed in love at first sight – he was a goddamned adult for Christ’s sake – but meeting this woman, with her soft curves, tumbling mahogany waves of hair, almost to her waist with those huge, warm dark brown eyes and the scent of her... He wanted to strip her slowly, unwrap her like a gift and cover that full, rose-pink mouth with his. He imagined revealing her body, that gorgeous, creamy dark olive skin, taking her nipples into his mouth, kissing her soft belly…
Get a grip.
Inside, Zoe had (deliberately?) seated him next to Isa at the small, round dinner table and now her hand rested next to his on the tablecloth. It took all his control not to take it, to feel the fit of her small hand in his. Sam was confident she was feeling it too; there were two spots of pink high on her cheeks and when she met his gaze, neither of them could look away. Her slim thigh rested so close to his; he wanted to slide his hand around it… God; he wanted to touch her.
Sam was glad when Zoe brought the food to the table – a rich, heavenly spiced jambalaya that Seb fell on with abandon, much to everyone’s amusement. The food was glorious, the company and conversation lively and fun but all Sam was aware of was the beautiful woman beside him. He was sure that when she met his gaze, she could see the naked lust in his eyes and the yearning to just touch her, kiss her, and fuck her. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his pants just at the thought. When she leaned closer, passing a dish to Seb, crossing him with an apologetic glance, he could smell her perfume, her clean skin, fresh air, and gardenias.
The Billionaire Bad Boy Plan Page 30