Naughty Fantasies: Erotica Bundle

by Ivana Shaft

  She’s a doll, and Scott knows he’s lucky to have her, but for some guys, no matter how delicious their girl is, one is not enough.

  Scott’s a fool.

  I remember this story my dad read to me when I was younger—an Aesop fable, about this dog and his bone. The dog was crossing a bridge or something on his way home, and all excited about this juicy bone he found. But then he caught sight of his reflection in the water below the bridge and thought it was another dog with a bone. Being the greedy bastard he was, he wanted that dog’s bone too, so he opened his mouth to snatch it, and of course, his bone fell into the water and was lost.

  Well, part of me hopes that anyway—that with Scott getting so greedy, word of his infidelity will get around to Calla and help push her into my arms. But I don’t really want Calla to find out—it would crush her. She’s so naive to think he couldn’t and wouldn’t cheat on her, but the physical distance between them just makes it easier. Jesse sure as hell isn’t her only worry.

  I find myself coming to a decision.

  I’m glad this kidnapper dude—whoever he is—gave me this opportunity. I don’t care what he’s getting out of it—I have every intention of making Calla mine, in every way, before we leave here.

  I place a peck on her lips and then settle back onto my place on the ground.

  5

  Calla

  What a night! Weird dreams and all.

  I wake up expecting to see my bedroom, but I’m still in some foreign place with Jason instead of Scott near.

  Poor Jason—that ground does not look comfortable at all.

  The freak who brought us here probably made sure that was the case, so that we could abandon an idea like this as soon as possible and get one step closer to his aim of having us sleep together by getting us to literally sleep together.

  I’m not falling for it. Sorry, Jason—you’re stuck with the short end of the stick, I’m afraid.

  Most unproductive day ever.

  We try and fail to find some opening in the room that could help us out, and I bet Jason thought I missed the glances he threw in my direction. Trap a guy in any situation and tell him he has to fuck his way out and he has no qualms about it.

  I hadn’t necessarily gotten the impression that Jason was DTF before, but I remember feeling his affection back in junior high—I knew he liked me. I’m glad he kept it to himself because it was nice just to be friends, and he did a good job of hiding his longing for the most part. It was a bit of an ego booster for me, but after I got with Scott, my friendship with Jason only got better, and I thought he had gotten over the whole thing.

  He and I didn’t necessarily stay as close since he and Scott became thick as thieves, but we had a good arrangement—I could still bitch to him about things outside of Scott. Scott probably yapped to him about me, but I always knew I wasn’t at liberty to do the same; guys tend to stick together in a way once they bond, no matter how close you were to them before.

  I wonder if Jason knows more about Jesse? And would he tell me? I’ll ask him tomorrow.

  “Okay, I can’t take it anymore; I feel gross. Turn around,” I say, as I prepare myself to take a shower. The longest I’ve ever gone without showering is about twenty-four hours, and at minimum, that amount of time has passed.

  Now, I’m more self-conscious about smelling funky than possibly giving Jason an eyeful.

  “No problem,” Jason says, dutifully turning around immediately. “Just let me know when it’s okay to look up again.”

  Jason is such a gentleman. Now that I think about it, he was always that way with me.

  I undress, get in the shower, and enjoy the feel of the spray on my skin.

  Showers are so much better the grosser you are.

  I don’t know how long I keep Jason waiting, but when I finally turn the shower off, probably grinning to myself in pleasure over how clean I feel, and not thinking about the owner of that weird voice possibly watching it all, I realize I didn’t bring a towel or anything to cover myself with. Also, that I couldn’t put my dirty clothes back on, so I guess I have to put on one of those soft outfits in the small dresser.

  I thought about which one I’d wear first. There was only a silk bathrobe (purple), one pair of silk pajamas (red), and some teddies and other lingerie to choose from. As for Jason, five white T-shirts and some silk boxers.

  Like, seriously—the dude provided us with only nightwear. He thinks he’s so slick.

  In the meantime, how am I supposed to dry off?

  “You see that knob?” the weird voice suddenly says, making both Jason and me jump. I had just been studying the silver item. I can’t believe this is how I’m supposed to dry off.

  “Push it,” the voice says, and like those machines in public restrooms, my body is dried by warm air.

  I step past Jason and slip on the bathrobe.

  “Open,” I say to him, once covered.

  I watch his eyes take me in.

  “It fits,” is all he says after a few seconds.

  6

  Jason & Calla

  JASON

  “My turn,” I say to Calla, after pretending the sight of her in a short bathrobe, her damp blond hair falling down her shoulders onto its shiny purple, didn’t really move me. God, I hope I pulled it off. “You can turn away or not—I don’t care.”

  “Of course I’ll turn around,” she says huffily.

  She’s hilarious; she sounded so indignant. Like, how dare I act as if she was so rude, she’d watch me strip to the buff? I really don’t care—she can look all she wants. I’m not embarrassed about any part of my body—even when I’m not blown up to my full potential. She knows what a dick is like; she knows what happens when blood suddenly engorges it. Hell, it’s accomplishment enough that I didn’t get totally hard at the sight of her in the robe. I guess I wanted her to see that she didn’t affect me like that so easily.

  Anyway, I guess she turned away immediately—I don’t look to find out. I just strip, kicking my clothes next to her own shed pile and get in that shower.

  In no time, I see what took her so long—the spray feels amazing. I check out the shower head to see if it’s one of those fancy massaging ones, and it looks like it is.

  Plus, the smell of the soap—it’s like some kind of aromatherapy. This freak who wants us to fuck isn’t playing fair—everything about this section of the bathroom says, Relax…

  “Are you decent yet?” she asks when I finally turn the shower off.

  “No, I’m about to walk past you to grab a pair of those boxers.”

  I catch a glimpse of her eyes squeezed shut as I do.

  I put on the boxers, which are unbelievably comfortable, by the way—better than any I’ve ever worn.

  “Decent,” I say, and I can’t help a smile of delight when I see the way Calla’s eyes get stuck on my shirtless chest.

  After a few moments of taking in my torso, she blushes prettily and then looks away. I have to stop myself from laughing.

  CALLA

  Holy hell, Jason’s hot. I don’t recall seeing him shirtless before, but I almost drool when I see how in shape he is. ‘In shape’ is a bit of an understatement—his body’s incredible. I knew I had to look away when I suddenly found myself wondering what it would be like to run my hands over those muscles, to feel pressed against that strong chest.

  What the hell’s getting into me?

  I scramble into the bed in horror, turning away from Jason and that beautiful body of his to face the wall.

  I try to force myself to go to sleep in order to fight off wishing and hoping Jason would slide into the bed behind me.

  Oh god, I hope I don’t give myself away—I hope he didn’t notice how much I appreciated that unexpected sight. How embarrassing.

  “You owe me a massage tomorrow,” he says. “This ground is killing me.”

  I don’t respond because I couldn’t think of what to say, what would be proper.

  I couldn’t deny him, could I?
The reason he’s getting all these aches and pains is because he selflessly gave up the bed to me, but I can’t imagine actually putting my hands on his tanned back and feeling those muscles I glimpsed.

  Oh god, I’m getting wet. This is not good. I better figure out a way to make him less attractive, fast. I sure hope he wears those plain white T-shirts from now on.

  “Can you throw down another pillow?” he asks.

  There are only two pillows, and he only had one of them to help make his ground-bed comfier.

  I throw down the second one, silently agreeing to have just the mattress, wrapped in that heavenly bedding. It’s the least I can do.

  7

  Jason & Calla

  JASON

  We brush our teeth upon awakening and chat for an hour or two before Calla suddenly tells me to lay down on the mattress as she stands next to it.

  I do as I am told, eager to plop myself down on that decadent mattress still holding her scent. I position the pillows around me.

  “Did Scott ever mention a Jesse to you?” she asks, catching me by surprise; it seemed so out of left field.

  So far, we had been talking about the old days—when it was just the two of us, and we were on the cusp of adolescence. We had even laughed about an incident where I’d tried to inveigle her in talking shit about our math teacher while in class. Calla was such a good girl, even then. She pretended like she didn’t hear my whispered jokes, but I saw the corner of her mouth tilt up.

  I guess that’s why she figured it was safe to bring up Jesse—it almost felt like we were at the beginning of junior high again, before Scott’s introduction to her life. We were best buds.

  Still, she didn’t bypass my guy code. I can’t lie to her, but I don’t have to tell her the whole truth, either. Besides, I can’t bear to see Calla sad. Plus, we’ve been having such a good time reacquainting ourselves with the younger versions of us, and I figure all the reminiscing made her feel more comfortable about giving me that massage, which she’s about to do.

  She places her soft hands on my back, and I already feel my body relax a little from her gentle touch. But I’m still on alert.

  “Oh, that chick from his class?” I say. “Scott’s kind of yappy in general—he’s like a girl sometimes.”

  She taps my back in some semblance of a playful slap, then her slender fingers start making circles on my back, but I won’t let her trick me.

  “So I’ve heard about Jesse, Chris, Lisa, James…” I continue. The palm of her hand skillfully kneads my muscles. “Can’t tell you a thing about them—I blank out sometimes when he’s going on about this or that.”

  It seems she’s letting me get away with being vague. But then she says, as her hands continue to move deliciously over me, “Is she pretty?”

  “She’s all right,” I say honestly, hoping she doesn’t ask where I saw her. Scott had texted me a pic. “Nowhere near as pretty as you,” I say as I flip over, successfully shocking her into extended silence. Her hands pull back as if burnt now that she is suddenly faced with me lying on my back before her. She tries so hard not to scan my torso but fails miserably.

  “I guess that’s it, then,” she says.

  I just stare at her.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she says, looking worried.

  Truthfully, I’m just willing myself not to pull her on top of me—that’s all my body is screaming at me to do. My struggle is probably written all over my face.

  Sure, my brain has been partially occupied by trying to dodge a conversation about this girl that Scott suddenly found himself attracted to, but my body can’t ignore how good it feels to have Calla’s hands on it, and I want to know what all of her feels like—both pressed against and on top of me, with me inside of her.

  I close my eyes, finally breaking the eye contact, then sit up.

  She steps back a little.

  “Thanks for the massage,” I say, “it helped a bit. But I can’t do the ground much longer.”

  I make sure not to look at her as I say the words—no doubt she’d see an intensity that could scare her. But I meant it.

  Too bad for her sense of impropriety—I need to join her in that bed.

  CALLA

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” I say, worried at the shift I sense.

  Sure, Captain Obvious has arrived, but what else could I say? I really mean it—I feel like Jason and I are about to be in trouble; time is running out. I enjoyed touching him too much, and the way he looked at me—damn it, I’m wet again. He has aroused more than my curiosity; I’m actually tempted to sleep with him!

  I can’t believe it—I never even imagined doing it with anyone but Scott. Scott was my first, last and everything. I had fantasies of marrying him, having his babies…all of that. But suddenly I’m wondering what it would be like to get wrapped in the arms of an old friend?

  Those arms are part of the problem, by the way—they look so strong and capable. So…okay, I’ll say it—sexy, damn it; Jason is crazy sexy. The cut of muscles in his limbs, the veins popping around his biceps, those riveting six-pack abs—he just looks so damned masculine, and it makes my breath catch. In general, he’s a good-looking guy, too, just never my type—so I thought. Now, it’s like I can’t keep my eyes away from him. Is that not the very definition of attractive?

  Damn it, it’s this small room, isn’t it? A small space and a good-looking member of the opposite sex who is clearly attracted to you and not doing a whole lot to hide it…

  “Let us out of here!” I shout suddenly, addressing the voice of the freak who put us in this position.

  I only hear a rumble of laughter in return.

  “Fuck,” I whisper. It’s all becoming too much. Something in my body has heightened. I want him! Damn it, I want Jason.

  I make sure not to look at him.

  But frickin’ hell, Jason steps toward me.

  “How long do you want to be trapped here with me?” he asks huskily.

  I chance a look at his face, and he looks calm, but those eyes—and definitely that voice—give him away.

  “You’re acting like you’re down with this!” I say, not even trying to control the panic in my own voice.

  “I’m down with getting out of here sooner than later,” he says with those stormy eyes.

  “Dream on!” I say, folding my arms with finality and turning away.

  Something in his energy changes, like he’s pulling away.

  Then he says, “Get over yourself, Calla—you’re not all that. But good for Scott—looks like he’s doing a great job of fooling you.”

  “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I say, turning back to him.

  He comes right up to me, and I feel weak from the nearness of his strong chest as he towers over me. He is taller than me by about six inches, so I have to look upwards into his quiet anger.

  “It means you’re doing a lot of over- and underestimating here. I’d rather not touch you, either.” Then he turns away, and I realize I’d been holding my breath when I finally let it out.

  “I get the bed tonight,” he says before flopping on it. “And I don’t care what you do for the other nights, but I’ll be here for the rest of those, too. Join me, if you dare. You’ll no longer take my chivalry for granted, Calla. Contrary to your own belief, you’re no princess. Not mine, anyway.”

  He throws down the pillows.

  8

  Calla & Jason

  CALLA

  The light in this room never turns off, I realize.

  The room is a little brighter in what I assume is daytime, but when we get ready to sleep, the light only dims a bit—I guess to give our eyes a break, and give us a chance to actually rest while making sure our kidnapper doesn’t miss anything that could happen in the dark, I don’t know.

  In any case, we’re visible at all times to anyone with working eyes—everything we do is in the light, nothing in shadow.

  I lie there on that horrible ground, unabl
e to sleep. Too much is tossing inside of me.

  What are you going to do, Calla Lily Thompson? I ask myself.

  God, my mom must have been some kind of hippy or something, giving me a name like that. I say ‘must have been’ because she died when I was five, not because she grew into some refined version of herself.

  I feel kind of bad because I can barely remember her. I have glimpses of her locked in me that pop into my brain every now and then, but at this point in life, I can no longer tell the difference between dreams and memories.

  In any case, I certainly don’t have her advice to fall back on.

  What does one do in a situation like this? Then again, how many mothers have advice for when you get kidnapped and locked in a room with one of your suddenly-sexy old friends, and the only way to get back to your regular life is to boink him? How does one go back to the way things were after that?

  I never intended to follow through with our kidnapper’s desires, and I don’t know what this makes me, but I almost want to seduce Jason now. How dare he pretend he’s not attracted to me? I know he had a crush on me way back in the day, and I know that didn’t just totally disappear, despite the circumstances. I’ve seen burning desire on his face right here in this room—I didn’t make that up!

  I know he’s had girlfriends, and I know he’s happy for me and Scott, but I also know he still feels something for me somewhere, beyond our comfy friendship. Being with him these past few days or whatever, I realized whatever he felt for me is still there.

  And now he thinks he can pretend I’m chopped liver? We’ll just see about that.

  JASON

  I had only said I wouldn’t give up the bed again, but after spending a night on it, I mean it. We’ll just have to find a way to share—lie feet to head, whatever. I didn’t even want to get up when my eyes opened.