by Alexis Angel
With Anders’ cock inside my pussy, and Logan’s fingers on my clit… Well, it’s only a matter of time, right? And that time amounts to just a few seconds.
I start hissing through my gritted teeth and, allowing momentary insanity to overtake, I start thrusting back at Anders and forcing his cock to go even deeper inside me. Feeling me close to the edge, Logan rubs my clit even harder, and I simply come undone.
This time I don’t have a cock inside my mouth, so I do what any other girl in my situation would: I open my mouth and let out a scream loud enough to tear down the walls and shatter the windows. Luckily, that doesn’t happen. Worst-case scenario, someone outside the lounge has just heard me shout, but does it even matter? No, it doesn't matter in the slightest; I mean, we’re at a romance conference where a lot of writers are trying to peddle their sex-filled books to readers that crave crazy sexual adventures. It isn’t that big of a stretch to assume that some writers are actually living the life, right?
And I pride myself on living the life. I mean, it’s nice to put down words onto paper and create all these crazy storylines inside my head… But nothing beats the real thing. It’s pretty much like writing about recipes; it’s all fine and dandy, but there’s nothing like getting your hands dirty and starting to cook.
And what we’re cooking right here is one fine meal; let me tell you that.
“Still up for more?” Logan asks me, taking his fingers off my clit and kissing me on the cheek.
“Always,” I say as I turn to him, smiling.
“Good girl,” Anders laughs, sliding his cock out of my pussy.
Sitting up on the floor, Logan then grabs me by the waist and pulls me into him; I fall on top of his body almost immediately, and sit across his lap. I don’t need any instructions; I just grab his cock and press its tip against my pussy, rubbing it up and down the length of my wetness.
“I always want more,” I tell Logan as I lean in to kiss him, my breasts pressed against his toned chest. As our lips touch, I lower my lips and allow his cock to slide inside of me. I’m ready to start swaying my hips when I feel Anders’ hands on my ass once more. Except this time he isn’t coming for my pussy,
He presses his index finger against my asshole right away, and this time he slides it in almost immediately. I moan as I feel it going inside of me, and then Anders starts fingering my ass as I feel Logan’s cock pulse hard against the inner walls of my pussy.
“Take it, take my ass,” I find myself saying, my voice so hoarse it almost sounds foreign to my own ears. But it sure as hell doesn’t sound foreign to Anders; obliging me, he takes his index finger out of my ass and presses the tip of his cock there, its fat head stretching my hole wide as it struggles to make its way in.
When he finally manages to get his twelve-inches inside of my ass, I’m so dazed that I can barely think. Hell, I can’t even hear or see anything, even though my eyes are wide open. I guess that having both of their cocks inside me like this just demands all of my brainpower.
And they haven’t even started to thrust.
“Ready?” I hear one of them say, but I don’t even know who says it. It doesn’t matter anyway.
“Yes,” I hiss through my gritted teeth, and then both men start rocking their hips as if they were one. Their cocks slide in and out of my pussy and ass like a well-oiled piston, and each of their thrusts push me closer to the boiling point.
“Oh, fuck, fuck,” I start muttering, placing both my hands on Logan’s chest and digging my fingernails into his muscles. I start dragging them across his chest, leaving red marks behind, but I don’t care. I’m out of control, and the wild animal inside of me has escaped its cage.
Hearing my moans, they start going at it even faster, and I feel both my pussy and ass stretching beyond what’s recommendable. But what the hell, even if my body’s ruined, it’s all worth it. Right now, the pleasure that’s coursing through my veins would make everything worth it.
If you gave me a million dollars right now in exchange for this experience, I’d refuse them without even thinking twice about it. No money in the world would be enough to replace the kind of intense emotions I’m feeling right now.
“D-don’t stop,” I find myself saying as an electric pressure starts making my insides clench. I feel both my pussy and ass tightening up around their thick shafts, and I know that I’m seconds away from a mind-bending orgasm. Not that it's something to write home about; with these two, I’m always seconds away from a mind-bending orgasm. Even when I’m asleep and dream of them, I almost always end up coming, and if I don’t, I just wake up and slide one hand down my panties to finish the job.
But right now, I don’t need to do anything; they’re handling the whole situation, and all I have to do is submit to the way they’re fucking me. Which, really, isn’t that hard of a job.
As a writer, I hate to say it, but this beats writing about sex.
“OH GOD,” I explode, my voice once again bouncing off the walls and coming back to me as a lustful symphony. I feel the sting of pleasure’s needle under my skin, and it feels as if even my mind is being prickled by the intensity of it. My insides are clenched tight, and my mind is spinning at a thousand miles per hour, and still they keep thrusting, ramming their cocks into my pussy and ass so fast that my eyes are rolling in their orbits.
And I don’t want them to stop.
“Keep … keep going … all the way…” I tell them between moans, eager to have all of my holes filled with their warm seed. I sway my hips back and forth, trying to match they’re imposing rhythm, and the results come fast.
Still digging my fingernails into Logan’s chest, I moan once more as I feel their cocks pulsing at the same time, as if there was a telepathic link between them. I feel thick ropes of cum coating my insides, and their groans penetrate my mind and ricochet against my skull like a lost bullet.
They’ve finally stopped thrusting, their bodies as tense as a nocked arrow, and it seems that the only thing moving in this room right now are their cocks. They keep on spasming inside of me, gushing an immense fountain of cum into me.
“Fuck,” Anders groans, finally pulling his cock out of my ass. Allowing exhaustion to take over, I roll to the side and allow Logan’s cock to pop out of my pussy as I do it. I sprawl my limbs on the floor and just look at the ceiling as my chest rises and falls, my lungs working overtime to establish the normalcy. Which is going to take a while, admittedly; I mean, you don’t recover from a string of orgasms like this just by snapping your fingers, you know?
Somehow, I manage to sit up on the floor and then get up with my wobbly legs. Lucky for me, that’s all I have to do. Anders and Logan both stand up as well, and Anders picks me up from the floor and carries me in his arms, walking toward one of the couches. He lays me there and then they sit next to me, one on the left side, and the other on the right.
Closing my eyes, I throw my head back and smile, more to myself than to anyone else. Then, with my eyes still closed and feeling the leather of the couch under my naked body, I place my hands on top of theirs and just enjoy the silence, my heart still beating hard against my chest.
None of them say a thing, and that’s exactly what the moment demands of the three of us. We just remain in silence, our naked bodies glistening from the post-sex sweat.
Right now, I feel happier than I’ve ever felt.
And there are no words that can describe that.
22
Anders
The hostess places a cheese board and glass of pinot noir down in front of me. "Here you are sir," she says, "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
I shake my head. "No, thank you," I say, and I look at her name tag, "Sheila. I appreciate it."
She smiles with the appreciation of hearing her own name.
It's true that a person's name is, to them, the sweetest of sounds.
Need more friends in your life? Just remember names. Seriously. Works like a charm.
I lean back into the
tall, wing-backed chair of the Marriott Hotel lounge, and look out the window, across Los Angeles, and see Staples Center in the distance. I take a sip of the wine, and allow myself to drift into the deep oak and berry flavors that wash over me. I then chase it down with a bite of creamy Brie.
Perfection.
Just as I'm about to take another bite, Logan comes up from behind me, and sits down in the adjacent chair.
"What a day," Logan says. "I think I'll join you for a drink."
"Taking a break from all of your adoring fans?"
"As much as I love this industry, it isn't easy being a romance book cover model," Logan says, shaking his head.
"It's all part of the game," I say, giving him a shrug. "You gotta take the good with the bad."
"Is that the wine talking?" Logan laughs. "You make it sounds so easy. Hell, you make it look easy."
I take another sip of my wine. "No, it's not easy, it's work."
Logan begins to laugh.
"What's so funny?" I ask.
"I'm just remembering that time you had to wear that khaki jumpsuit with Aviator glasses and the photographer kept telling you to 'look more serious' and thrust your pelvis forward."
I chuckle. "I remember that. After about 20 takes, I was ready to walk out of that fucking studio."
"It's tough when photographers say things like, 'look dangerous but not threatening,' or 'you look too remote, reel the reader in,' or even my personal favorite, 'convey hiding and anticipation,'" Logan says, and we both laugh. "But I always hit the gym before a cover shoot, or do some pushups, or even bicep curls to pump my muscles up. It works, and helps a lot."
"It's definitely not the Fabio era anymore—no one is hand painting these covers," I say.
"No kidding. The tool of the trade today is Photoshop. This game—this romance cover model industry—is fucking ruthless."
"Sometimes images are Frankensteined together—the head of one guy, the body of another. And of course, one minute, you're a star. The next, you're kicked to the curb."
I nod my head in agreement. "It's all about your face, man. With thousands of covers each year, publishers and authors want unique faces—something fresh and new and different. All hail individualism!"
"I guess after a while, 6-packs … or 8-packs … all start looking the same, you know? A bicep is just another bicep," Logan says. "When a cover is about the size of a postage stamp on a screen, you've gotta make an impression—and fast."
"It takes models … and authors, and spits them out," I say, gulping down the last few drops of my wine. I didn't mean to sound so jaded, but it definitely came out that way.
I signal the hostess over and order another round, this time for both Logan and I.
"You know something? You're so free."
"What do you mean?" Logan asks, cocking one brow in a confused expression.
"A small part of me wishes that I could go back to those days."
"The days where we're all young, dumb, and struggling?" Logan laughs. "You have it pretty good."
"No, the days of innocence. When the industry hasn't jaded you, and the horizon is sunny and clear and full of possibility," I say. "Those days. Just wait till you've been in the game as long as I have."
"Look man," Logan says, "and I'm saying this with honesty … you're a fucking legend. You're fucking amazing. Your gravitas and grace, and you've always had your shit together."
"I'm just like anyone else," I say.
"No, man. You're a role model for a lot of us … including me. And let's be fucking honest, hindsight is always 20/20, and nostalgia … or memory, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, always makes the past look unrealistically rosy. Believe me, you're in a good place."
The hostess hands us our wine, and we both sit back, taking a sit. A silence descends over us, and then Logan speaks. "You probably don't have to deal with the stuff I'm going through."
He says this almost under his breath. His entire tone and body language tells me he's holding something back, and that he's carrying something that he probably needs to get off of his shoulders.
It's not my place to pry, but I'm curious.
"Like what?" I ask.
Logan looks out the window with a faraway look. He opens his mouth to say something, but the moment is cut short when Lana approaches.
"Here you guys are," she says. "I was looking all over for you."
Logan looks relieved for the interruption. I wonder what's bothering him so much?
"Hello gorgeous," he smiles, motioning for her to join us. "Care to sit and have a glass of wine?"
"I have some good news," she says, not answering his question, and judging by the 100-watt smile on her face, I'm guessing this is a big deal.
"Well, don't hold us in suspense, do tell," I say.
"I've finished my manuscript!" she shrieks. "The Virgin Market is ready for the market. It's edited and everything!"
"That's great news," Logan smiles, and I nod my head.
We both stand up and give her a big hug.
Then, instead of ordering Lana a single glass of wine, I motion for the hostess to bring us an entire bottle. This is cause for celebration.
"I'm so excited," she beams. "I think we should celebrate … beyond the wine."
Logan and I look at each other, wondering what Lana means.
"I want to show you both a chapter," she says. "And I want both of you to act it out."
23
Lana
“Act it out?” Logan asks me, that deliciously wicked grin taking over his lips.
“That’s right … but first, there’s something else I want to show you,” I tell them, reaching inside my purse and taking out two neatly folded pieces of paper. I place them both on the table and push them across.
“What’s this?” Anders asks, grabbing one of the papers and unfolding it. He leans back against his chair, his eyes scanning the document as I wait anxiously for their reaction.
“Wow!” Logan cries out, arching his eyebrows as he stares down at his copy. “Are you sure of this?” he asks and, even though I can’t really read his reaction, I’m hoping he’s happy that I trust him.
“I’m sure, yeah,” I smile, reaching across the table and grabbing their hands in mine. “I trust you, both of you, and I want your help in this.”
“This is … a big step, Lana,” Anders says, his tone a solemn one. “You’re giving us the power to legally represent you, which means --”
“Which means that you can sign a contract on my behalf,” I finish Anders’ sentence, still smiling. I’ve thought long and hard about this, but it’s the right move. After all, I trust both Logan and Anders, and I think that enlisting them to my cause will help me secure a nice deal with Naughty Angel Publishing itself.
“I don’t even know what to say,” Anders continues, squeezing my hand in his and returning my smile.
“Me neither,” Logan nods.
“You don’t have to say anything. You just have to help me out,” I laugh, feeling more happy and secure than I’ve ever felt in my entire life. Whenever I’m around these two, I don’t know, everything just makes sense. It’s as if I was a puzzle, and Logan and Anders were the two remaining pieces for me to become… whole.
“Also,” I continue, “the scene…” I say, pushing my chair back and slowly moving up to my feet as my gaze shifts from Logan to Anders.
“You’re lucky I’ve already booked us a room,” Anders tells me, going up to his feet with Logan. He walks across the table and grabs my hand; he then starts leading the way, taking me across the hotel bar and making a beeline toward the elevator.
“What’s the scene?” Logan asks, barely able to contain his excitement.
“I have quite a few we could reenact…” Anders whispers, turning to me as the elevator doors close. His breath is heavy and, looking down, I notice that his cock is already as hard as a rock. “What’s the one on your mind?”
“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t y
ou?” I tease them both, walking past them as doors open. I step into the corridor and then bite on my lower lip as I wait for Anders to find our room. It takes him only a few seconds to locate the right door and open it.
The three of us step inside in a hurry, and the air around us seems to be crackling with electricity—the electricity of anticipation.
“Now,” I start, turning my back to them and sashaying my way to the bed. I sit on the edge of the mattress and fold my legs, hiking up the hemline of my skirt a few inches, enough to give them a glimpse of my lace thong. “Let’s see what happens…”
As they walk toward me, I move fast and hook my fingers on their belts; yanking, I position them so that they’re both standing in front of me, their cocks tenting their pants.
“Unbuckle your belts,” I purr, taking my hands off their pants and grinning at them. They exchange a quick glance, but they don’t hesitate; unbuckling their belts, they pull them through the loops of their pants and then let them fall at their feet. “Unzip,” I continue, enjoying the way my voice makes me sound so bossy right now. There’s something to be said about making two grown men obey you like this.
As they unzip their pants, my heart skips a beat as I see the contour of their hard cocks, their thick shapes stretching the fabric of their boxer briefs. God, I’m struggling hard; right now, all I want to do is reach for them and rip the clothes off their bodies. But I won’t do that; I came here to act out a scene, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“Now, undress and leave only your boxer briefs,” I continue with a slight chuckle, enjoying the look of confusion on their faces. Oh, they have no idea what’s on my mind. I know that Anders’ has read the manuscript, but he still hasn’t figured out which scene I want to reenact.
Well, it’s going to be one hell of a surprise.