Twice As Delicious

by Vanessa Vale

  “Soon, sugar, we’ll take you together. One of us in your pussy, the other in your ass.”

  I envisioned that, sandwiched between both of them, the thick feel of their cocks buried deep inside of me. I wouldn’t be able to do anything but give in to the pleasure I knew they’d wring from my body.

  Like right now. With Leo’s hands on my breasts, Dane’s finger circling and pressing into my ass, my clit throbbing from two orgasms, I was going to come again. My eyes fell closed as Dane’s finger was replaced with the hard, cool plug.

  “Breathe, sugar.”

  Leo’s words of encouragement and instruction continued as Dane carefully and slowly worked the jeweled plug into me. God, I must be a sight. Two men. My work kitchen. The metal prep table. My ass bare and bent over it. A plug going in.

  I whimpered at the tawdry thought. I’d had sex before, but not like this. I’d had sex. Tab A, Slot B kind of sex. This? This was foreplay at its finest.

  And when the plug popped into place with the last of my resistance gone, I groaned. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t deep, but it was intense.

  “Gorgeous.” Dane’s single word made me warm with praise.

  The clanking of a belt, the slide of a zipper prompted me to what would happen next.

  Looking over my shoulder, I watched as Dane sheathed his huge cock in a condom and stepped closer. His eyes met mine. “Ready?”

  He knew I was. He wouldn’t have put the plug in if he wasn’t sure I wanted it. But he wanted my consent the whole way, and he was giving me a chance to say no.

  As if I’d turn down these two. Yes, what we were doing was so far outside of my norm I should have felt uncomfortable. Instead, I felt empowered. Bold. Wild.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  He grinned then and slowly slid into me in one long, slow stroke. The feel of him and the plug made me so full.

  He groaned. “Shit, so tight. Perfect.”

  Leo leaned down, kissed up my neck, murmured in my ear. “We’re far from done, sugar. I’ve got your taste on my tongue, and I want all that sweetness coating my dick, too. I’m next.”

  Dane began to move. I tried to find purchase with my hands on the slick surface, but there was none. Just like my emotions. There was nothing to grab, no footing to step on as these two carried me away.

  And I was right there with them.

  Twelve

  DANE

  I leaned a hip against the counter, unable to keep my eyes off Harper as she put on her clothes. We’d stripped them off of her. Fucking her the second time around was better than the first. To say I was getting addicted was an understatement. At this point, I wanted to own her. To keep her for Leo and me, and not just for one night. Or two.

  I shifted my dick behind my zipper, thinking about what she’d said earlier. I belong to no one. Sure, I had mad respect for her independence, wanting to do it all for herself. Seeing where she worked only proved she knew what she was doing, that she was successful. While I hadn’t wanted her party to be at the O’Sullivan’s, perhaps, she’d done an amazing job. But that was before.

  Before she met us.

  Before we protected her.

  Before we fucked her.

  Before Harper let us share her and claim her for ourselves.

  Harper and her sweet ass. The sight of that jeweled plug nestled so nicely. Fucking her pussy with it in.

  A low groan escaped my lips at the thought. She was so fucking tight, so responsive. I rubbed my thumb and index finger along my jawline, now covered with stubble. No fucking way was I letting this woman get away.

  My cock stirred, throbbing in agreement. Leo was on board too, I could tell. By now, with the other women we shared, we’d both be bored and ready to move on to find the next catch. Never once had Leo shown any protectiveness or concern for a woman we shared. Yet he’d stood there with Harper bent over the counter, naked and covered in honey, butt plug in her sweet ass, and his handgun inches away, at the ready in case anything unexpected should happen.

  That mental image occupied my mind. I was ready to take her all over again before her clothes were fully on her body. With that fucking gun on the table, with my acceptance that Harper could be in danger, I still wanted her, even though I shouldn’t have.

  But neither Leo nor I could help it. That ship had long sailed.

  She was ours now. She just didn’t know it yet.

  If Shamus O’Sullivan wanted to hurt her, he’d have to go through us.

  The anxiety bubbling beneath the surface infuriated me further, just thinking the bastard’s name. Harper might have to hide from this man and his crew because she’d gotten a glimpse of his dirty laundry. It was going to be a tough few days for her, maybe even weeks or more if this situation didn’t get addressed and fast.

  Since I’d walked in while Leo was eating her pussy, I knew he hadn’t heard anything new through his sources. Time was ticking away, and it was clear to me that Harper was not about to put any aspect of her life on hold to avoid the potential shit storm coming her way. Not by the sight of shrimp on the stove and little appetizers neatly stored away.

  But that was the thing.

  The potential shit storm.

  It was possible.

  Maybe.

  A part of me wanted to stop hiding and face this shit head on, to deal with this like I would solve any issue in my own business. Step one: Define the problem. Step two: Assess the problem. Step three: Solve the problem. Step four: Maintain and troubleshoot the solution. Step five: Bill the client an insane amount each and every month for being their fucking hero.

  In Harper’s case, we were still stuck on step one.

  I was itching to get answers so we could rally our way to step four.

  That had to change.

  I stared off into the distance, taking in some of the little things around Harper’s kitchen I hadn’t bothered to pay attention to. Why would I when there were better things to look at when I came in? Like Harper. Naked. Yeah, I’d missed the small picture box window a few feet below the ceiling. It brought bright sunbeams sideways into the room and onto Harper’s head and shoulders. From where I stood, they lit up her hair, highlighting the rich brown and red undertones all through it. Soon, I was hard as granite again, wanting to bury my hands in all that hair once more, craving the woman before me instead of fixing the issue of O’Sullivan. Pursing my lips together in frustration, I forced myself to focus. I could fuck Harper six ways to Sunday once this shit was resolved.

  As Harper tidied up, washed her hands and returned to her food prep, my mind raced. If she insisted on continuing to work, Leo would end up devoting his time to watching over her, and that put the onus on me to get us out of this.

  Us.

  I shook my head and smiled inwardly. We were an ‘us’ now. I’d known this woman for less than twenty-four hours and had already inserted her into my definition of us.

  Thinking back to the phone call I’d tried to make to my client—the father of the bride from the engagement party—I began to believe I was on the right track. Maybe not with him, but with someone else Shamus O’Sullivan and I had in common. I just needed to land on who exactly that was. With my long list of contacts, there had to be someone. Someone who had something on him that we could use.

  Just that resolution alone chipped away some of the anxiety-filled edginess weighing on me. Taking out my phone, I pulled up my contact list and tapped open my high-value client list. Their names were in my personal cell because I was their main point of contact. That was how business was done in my industry. Powerful, wealthy people didn’t want to sit on hold or deal with the intern when it comes to their most guarded secrets. They wanted to know their shit was safe, and five layers of employees didn’t tend to instill confidence.

  There had to be at least one person—

  The blast of gunfire rang out so close that my hands flew up over my head. Leo and I rushed over to Harper at the same time, shielding her body with ours as we dropped to the
floor for cover.

  “Oh my God! What’s going on?” she cried in a panic as Leo craned his neck around a shelving unit to determine where the bullets were coming from.

  Pop! Pop!

  “What the hell happened to our backup?” I asked Leo.

  Pop! Pop! Pop!

  More rounds of tinny sounding shots were fired into the kitchen. A couple of them pierced the overhead baking oven, and some ricocheted along the chrome storage cabinets, whizzing by and threatening to hit us no matter where we hid.

  “Out front, but those shots sound like they’re coming from the back,” Leo shouted over the noise.

  One bullet hit the sack of flour Harper had been using, inches from the very spot where she’d been standing. The force exploded white powder everywhere around us, creating a thin cloud of particles that the sunbeams made flicker and seem to hang in the air. Then a half-filled jar of what I guessed was mayonnaise got hit, sending shards of glass flying in every direction and driving Harper to crouch and cower into my arms.

  “You stay with her!” Leo shouted. “I need to get a better look.”

  “More like neutralize these motherfuckers. I should be watching your six!” I told him.

  “No. Keep Harper here. I’ll be fine.”

  Terror and shock played on Harper’s face. Her body shivered uncontrollably in my arms, and I tightened my hold on her, hoping to reassure her. But no amount of coddling could console her, just as no amount of telling her it’d be okay could save her from facing the fact that Leo was right all along.

  This was the scenario he’d been hoping to avoid since we’d left O’Sullivan’s fucking mansion, and now we were facing it in a location with so many weak points and dangers. I didn’t know much about security or even fighting like Leo did, but I knew we were fucked.

  As Leo hustled off with his body low to the ground, ducking another round of gunfire, I could picture the grimace on his face. He was probably stomping mad, sweating bullets, and swearing under his breath that he’d let Harper convince us to bring her here without so much as a cursory threat risk assessment on the place. Sure, he’d taken a quick look around the perimeter and spent hours with her while his men guarded the exterior, but I knew Leo. He was sure to beat himself up over this attack later.

  “Why?” Harper whimpered at my neck. “Why is this happening?”

  “Shhh,” I told her, my eyes darting around the space. This kitchen had way too many smooth surfaces for the spray of bullets to bounce off of. So much food stuff was getting hit, and all that flour hung in the air, making visibility low as fuck. I needed to find us better cover. “Try not to think about that right now.”

  “Why would they go this far when they haven’t even said a word to me or made a threat?”

  “This is the type of people the O’Sullivans are. They don’t make threats. They eliminate them. The dead body in the freezer was proof of that. But it’s okay. I don’t blame you for any of this. No one could anticipate where or when they’d come after you, and I get it. We couldn’t expect you to take our word for it and just shut down your business.”

  “I just…I can’t believe this,” she cried as another shot pinged off the wall

  “We can get better cover in the walk-in fridge. Is there a way to lock it from the inside without locking ourselves in?”

  “Yes, these newer ones have a failsafe,” she said absently, her breathing ragged.

  “Stay down and follow me.”

  Her hands clung to me, fingers digging into my flesh. “I don’t want to die.” When I tilted her chin toward me to get her to calm down, I saw the tears streaming down her face. It fucking broke me to know she was this frightened. She was a caterer. What the hell did she know about this kind of shit?

  “We won’t let that happen. Just do what I say.”

  Tucking her into my left side, I shielded her and led with my right, guiding her closer to the fridge door. The fucking bullets wouldn’t stop, even as I got her inside and shoved the door shut behind us. At least within the sounds were muffled. We sat on a couple of empty plastic milk crates in silence. Harper shivered in my arms, letting out little whimpers for close to five minutes until I heard a heavy hand pounding on the outside of the door.

  “Dane, it’s me,” Leo’s muffled voice called out. “They’re gone.” I swung the door open and he waved us out. “We need to leave now.”

  “They ran off that fast?”

  “More like circling the block to prepare to finish the job. Or leaving because someone had to have called the cops.” His eyes flashed toward Harper then returned to me. “Are either of you hurt at all?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s debrief when we’re clear of those fuckers. I don’t want to get involved with the police.”

  We followed him out of the fridge, grabbing Harper’s purse on the way to the front door, our bodies crouched low behind his broad frame in case things heated up again. One of Leo’s guys waved us out to the open back door of the first of two SUVs idling at the curb. After Harper and I climbed inside, Leo had the presence of mind to run back inside for keys to the place, tossing them to one of his men. He gave some instructions then jumped into the driver’s seat, barely giving himself a second to shut the door before speeding off, the tires squealing.

  We couldn’t get out of there fast enough for me.

  “That was close,” he told me, catching my gaze in the rear-view mirror.

  Close? Way too fucking close.

  “Were any of our men hurt?”

  “No, thanks to the Kevlar they wear under their shirts.”

  “Someone was hit?” Harper asked, panic in her voice.

  He nodded but kept his eyes on the road once we’d merged onto the ever-crowded road of weekday traffic in the Big Apple. “Davies.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  “He’s fine though. Just got the wind knocked out of him.”

  “That was too fucking close,” I said, mostly to myself as I looked at Harper’s refection in the mirror. Her body was amped up, still shaking a little, her eyes darting round, her head resting on my shoulder and hands balled into tight fists that clenched my shirt.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked.

  “Good, all things considered.” I reached out, tugged on the seatbelt and put it over her, clicking it into place.

  “Fuck! This shit’s on me,” Leo barked, slamming his hand onto the top of the steering wheel. “I never should’ve let her leave the penthouse.”

  “I’m right here,” she muttered.

  “What’s done is done,” I said firmly, ignoring her words. “The one silver lining is now we know O’Sullivan suspects Harper knows something. We don’t have to second guess whether he has her on his radar. Now, we can figure out what we need to do next.”

  “True.”

  “The second we get home, I’m taking point on reaching out to O’Sullivan.”

  Leo set his jaw tight and met my eyes again briefly. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t see how we have any other choice,” I said with finality, barely recognizing the cutting, commanding tone in my voice.

  “Just try to be careful.”

  “With you watching my back, I’m golden,” I stated, but the truth was, we were all in danger.

  When you dance with the devil, hope to escape with just burns.

  It was something my grandmother used to say when she was alive.

  And fuck, did it ever apply to us now.

  It wasn’t just Leo and I who were getting burned any longer. We had our girl to protect.

  Thirteen

  HARPER

  This was more action than I’d bargained for.

  It was so surreal. I couldn’t breathe, let alone think. Men I didn’t know just shot up my kitchen. Their guns fired bullets that could’ve hit me. Hit Dane. Leo. They could’ve killed me. Them.

  Had that really just happened?

  Had it?

  I was still in utter dis
belief. People, buildings and vehicles blurred past my eyes as the SUV drove through the city traffic, heading where I had to assume was Dane’s penthouse. He held me so close, tightly cleaved to the warmth of his chest, with his strong arm around me. He was the only reason I was in an upright position. All I wanted to do was make myself small, curl into a tiny ball, and close my eyes until someone shook me and said it was all just a dream.

  But that wasn’t in the cards for me. It was real. Shit couldn’t get more real than this.

  Leo made a sharp turn and one wheel dipped into one of New York’s famous potholes, causing a loud, abrupt noise and a dip in the car that made me jump.

  Dane was quick to run his hand down my upper arm. While I was sweating, I couldn’t get warm.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he spoke with his mouth pressed to my hair. “You’re safe now. We’ll be home soon.”

  He was doing so much to protect me, to reassure me after those tense moments of mayhem. Nodding, I look up at him briefly, saw his dark eyes held a mixture of determination and tenderness.

  “Thank you,” I whispered. I tried to smile, and it took an inordinate amount of effort because to be honest, I was numb. I didn’t have the same use of my muscles, couldn’t process or feel the way I normally did—except for paralyzing fear, a sense of suspended reality, and the chills. Why was I so flipping cold?

  All those yoga lessons did nothing to help me catch my breath either. Every time I looked down my body, made sure there were no bullet holes, I worked hard to will myself to inhale. Exhale. Breathe. But every time my mind drifted back to a few minutes ago, the anxiety would rise and my light ineffective breaths would start up again.

  No amount of yoga gave me comfort.

  In a brief moment of clarity, I urged myself to toughen up, to pull myself together and be strong. This weak, frightened little thing being held up by this man I barely knew? She wasn’t me. But deep down, I couldn’t convince myself of being anything else. I’d just seen real bullets. I’d just been shot at and nearly died.