3 Men of the House_An MFMM Romance

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3 Men of the House_An MFMM Romance Page 17

by Daphne Dawn


  She does and walks to my desk.

  “Sit down,” I say when she doesn’t. She never sits down unless I ask. Such manners.

  “How are you enjoying your work here?” I ask.

  She smiles at me, and it lights up her face. It is a good start. God, she is beautiful.

  “Very much,” she says. “I think I’m fitting in well. Very well. I’m getting along with everyone in the office and I think I’m managing with the work.”

  She is soft spoken, her voice feminine and a little husky. It is the kind of voice I would love to get off to on the phone. I can listen to her talk all night long. I can just imagine what she would sound like during sex. Fuck me.

  I really want her. I want to get to know more of her, to spend more time with her, to see who she is outside of the office.

  “Do you want to go out for a drink with me tonight?” I ask.

  The question surprises me as much as it surprises her. She frowns slightly, her perfectly manicured brows knitting together.

  “I mean…” I start, but there is no way I can make that sound different than it does.

  “I’d like that,” she says, and I blink at her. Did she just accept?

  “I want to go to Marvel Bar. Do you know where it is?”

  She nods.

  “Meet me there. Seven”

  She smiles at me and nods. My phone rings and I pick it up, not bothering to let her deal with the call. I watch her as I speak on the phone, watching her get up and leave. Her ass is perfect–round, lifted cheeks and beautiful thighs, hugged by the pants she wears today.

  She leaves the door open, and I see her through the window, walking to her desk.

  She said yes.

  I arrive at Marvel early and get a table in the back. I want her all to myself. I want to talk to her, to give her all my attention. I’d gotten dressed in Levi jeans and a collared shirt with Italian loafers. My hair is geled up a little so that I don’t look as stiff as I had in the office. I order a whiskey while I wait for her.

  The bar is a nice place, decorated with a bit of a retro feel in shades of brown and a bit of sea green here and there. It is full enough for a week night. Music plays in the background and the lower lighting makes it feel warm and intimate.

  She arrives five minutes late, and I see her the moment she walks into the door. I couldn’t miss her. Apparently, neither could any of the other men. They stare at her as she stops just inside the door, her eyes scanning the crowd, looking for me.

  When she spots me, she smiles. Her face lights up, and I watch her weave her way through the tables toward me. She wears a sheath dress that accentuates her curves, even though it doesn’t cling to her body. Her heels are higher, and her hair is pulled back from her face so that her dark eyes look even bigger. She comes toward me all rolling hips and luscious lips.

  “I almost didn’t recognize you,” she says when she sits down. “You look so different out of your suit.”

  “Well, you look fantastic,” I say. She blushes–blushes–and her smile is even more beautiful than I’d seen before.

  I order her a cocktail–women like cocktails–and we start talking. She tells me about her sister and her parents and her studies. I only partially hear what she says. Her mouth mesmerizes me when she speaks and I want to kiss her. The more I drink, the more I want to pull into her, push my tongue into her mouth, pull her body against mine. I am playing with fire but I don’t care. That is because of the alcohol, too.

  I am buzzing, and she looks like she is getting drunk, too. She laughs more and speaks more freely, her shyness disappearing. I like the woman that sits before me.

  When the night comes to an end, I am more than tipsy. I feel like I’m walking on air and I am painfully aware of my cock and how it is throbbing in my pants. When I stand up and hold out my hand, Carly takes it. Her hand is soft. I help her up and she ends up almost against me, our bodies so close that a sigh would push us together. Her breath hitches in her throat and in her eyes, I see the potential, the possibilities of the night

  Oh, yes.

  I let her walk through the crowd first, instead of leading her through, holding her hand. I have to keep that damn business image in mind that Hull is so anal about.

  “Did you drive?” I ask.

  Carly stands next to me, hugging herself against the chill in the air. I put my arm around her shoulder and pull her to me a little. She shakes her head.

  “Taxi,” she says.

  “Good.”

  A moment later, my driver pulls up with my car. It is a black Mercedes–not quite a limo but longer than the average car–and I like it that no one can see through the tinted windows.

  I open the door for her, and she slides into the leather seats first.

  “This is classy,” Carly says when the car purrs to life beneath us. I move closer to her. She glances up at me but she doesn’t move away.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I say.

  She turns her face to me and she is so close to mine that I can almost taste her lips. Her eyes are on mine for a moment before her gaze slides to my lips. She wants me to kiss her.

  Who am I to turn away a woman who needs me like that? I close the distance, pressing my lips against hers.

  Maybe it is the alcohol, but the kiss is electric. Her lips are soft and she tastes like alcohol and desire. I ache for her, which is probably the alcohol talking, too. I’m not going to deny myself if she is willing.

  Somewhere at the back of my mind, a little voice screams at me, reminding me of Hull and his demands, but I push it away and reach up to her face, putting my palm on her cheek.

  I push my tongue into her mouth, and almost immediately, the kiss becomes urgent. She kisses me like she’ll never kiss again, her tongue swirling around mine, her hand on my chest tugging at my shirt.

  I let my hand trail down her neck and touch her soft skin before I move my hand onto her chest. The material of her dress is thin and I can feel the edge of her bra before my hand slides onto her breast. I cup her breast and knead and massage her. She breathes hard into my mouth.

  She slides her hand into my lap and rubs my cock through my jeans without going on a detour touching my body in the process. A woman that knows what she wants: I like it.

  I pull her closer against me. Her skin is hot through her dress. I tug at her collar once or twice before I realize the material won’t budge, and I won’t be able to get to her nipples from here. I have to just wait until later.

  Instead, I move my hand down her body, tracing her contours until my palm is on the bare skin of her thigh where the hem of her dress has ridden up. I push my hand underneath her dress. She gasps and leans into me, turning her body so that I can squeeze her ass.

  I do, and it is a fantastic ass. It feels just as good as it looks. Still, that isn’t what I am after.

  I move my hand around her leg, leaning against her so that her body is upright again. When my fingers touch the material of her panties, she gapes, breaking the kiss. She opens her legs for me but she glances at the driver at the same time.

  He isn’t very close to us with the extra length to the car.

  “Don’t worry about him,” I whispered. The guy is the perfect driver. He chooses not to know what I do in the backseat of the car, and he keeps whatever he sees to himself. I pay him a lot of money for that, and he is as discreet and non-judgmental as they come.

  The reassurance seems to be enough for Carly. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she opens her legs wider for me. I rub her pussy through the material. She is wet, the material soaked, and she gasps. I only tease her like that for a short while before it drives me crazy, too.

  I pull her panties to the side, exposing a bare pussy. There is something beautiful about a woman baring it all. I don’t mind, either way, but to me, it speaks of confidence and self-esteem that I don’t see in many women. It takes courage to be so exposed.

  When I push my fingers into her slit, she moans. I run my finger along the leng
th of her slit, coating it with her sex until my fingers are slick. I draw small circles around her clit, making her gasp and squirm against the leather car seat. God, I want to do so much more to her. I want to slam my dick into her and fuck her hard, but that isn’t going to happen. Not in the car.

  My fingers are going to have to cut it for now.

  After working her clit over a little, I push my fingers into her entrance, and she gasps again. Her breathing becomes louder, and she makes small whimpering sounds. It appears that she is quite vocal, which I enjoy. It’s the opposite of what I expected from the soft-spoken assistant I’d hired.

  I only finger fuck her a short while before returning to her clit. I rub it with two fingers, sliding my fingers over her clit faster and faster, taking my cues from her breathing. I can tell when she is getting close. It isn’t just the way her body is jerking now and then or how she writhes against my hand, but her breathing becomes shallow and erratic and she closes her eyes, shutting out the world.

  When she orgasms, her legs close around my hands and she curls her body forward. I let her lie against me, and I tip her head up with my hand underneath her chin, kissing her. She gasps against my lips and stops breathing for a moment. A small, almost strangled sound escapes her lips before she breathes hard.

  She is so hot when she orgasms. God, it makes me want to fuck her right then and there.

  The car stops in front of her apartment building. She looks at me, her eyes large and liquid.

  “Do you want to come up?” she asks.

  I nod, get out of the car when she did, and I dismiss the driver.

  Carly

  I shouldn’t have asked him up to my apartment. I know that. Hell, I shouldn’t even have let him kiss me.

  But he is so fucking hot, wearing his Levi’s that are faded in all the right places and that collared shirt that makes his arms and his chest look so big. I just couldn’t help it. When he kissed me, I had to kiss him back.

  I am drunk and completely aware of it. And I don’t care. Maybe that is because I’m drunk, but I don’t think about that too much. My head is light and airy, and I feel beautiful. I know that he looks at my body as I climb every step to my apartment on the second floor. I know that his eyes are glued to my ass when we walk to my front door, and I know that his fingers smell like me because of how he’d touched me in the car.

  I don’t just want to send him home.

  When I unlock my door and invite him in, he barely stays away from me to close and lock the door behind us. He is on top of me in no time, driving me backward until my back is against the wall next to the door. I bump the small table next to the door–where I put my keys and my handbag–with my hip, and the wooden elephant ornament falls off. It makes a dull thud on the carpet, and I don’t care if it is broken or not.

  “Sorry,” Kevin mumbles against my lips.

  I don’t respond. Instead, I put my arms around his neck and let him kiss me harder. His tongue is in my mouth, and he tastes like whiskey. I could still feel his fingers between my legs, the friction caused by his rough skin left behind like a ghost of what he’d done to me in the car.

  I want more. I am so wet, it’s crazy. I can feel my panties soaked through.

  He finds the hem of my dress and lifts it up, peeling it off my body. When he steps back to give himself space to maneuver, I lift my arms like a child to let him pull the dress over my head. I stand in front of him in black lace underwear, one of the matching sets that always makes me feel like a million bucks.

  “God, you’re so fucking hot, Carly,” he says.

  He kisses me again before I can answer, his hands going for my breasts, He massages them and squeezes them through the material. He peels the lace cups to the side and squeezes my nipples, tugging at them until I moan into his mouth. He pins me against the wall with his hips, grinding his hard cock against my pubic bone.

  I am starting to get frustrated. I want more. I want all of it. I reach for his shirt and unbutton it, peeling it off his shoulders. He lets go of me, and I pull the shirt down. He helps me and throws the shirt on the floor.

  My hands go to his pectorals, and I push my fingers into the hair on his chest. It is just enough to be manly and rugged, not so much that it’s a turn off.

  He pulls me away from the wall

  “Where’s your room?” he asks.

  I turn around and lead him to my room. The apartment isn’t very big, and we are in the main bedroom in no time. I turn around once we are in the middle of the room and tug at his belt, undoing the buckle and then unzipping his pants. He unclasps my bra and it is a tug of war to see who is going to get the other out of their clothes first.

  When I get his pants down, his cock strains against his boxers, hard and thick. My bra hangs from one arm, and I let it slide off and drop onto the floor. My panties are already around my ankles, and I step out of them.

  Kevin does the last part. He pulls down his boxers and gets rid of them. For a moment, I just take in the sight of his cock–the thick meat, the bulbous head, slick with lust. Pubic hair the same color as his chest hair is scattered around the base of his cock.

  I run my hands down his chest, over his abdomen, following the triangle from his navel to his pubic region. He jerks a little when my fingers run over his lower abdomen.

  I run my fingers through the thick patch of hair. Then, I cup his balls, running my fingers along the base of his cock, teasing him. He groans, and I can see the desire and frustration in his eyes.

  I smile before I drop to my knees. I look up at him, and his icy eyes are glued to mine when I open my mouth and slide him between my lips. I bob my head and suck him deeper into my mouth, tasting his precum. It is salty and warm and slick.

  With my tongue, I lick the bottom of his shaft. I take him farther into my mouth, sucking him in and licking him on the way out. I massage his balls as I do it and extend my mouth by holding him at the base of his cock and moving my hand up and down with my mouth.

  He groans and puts his hands on my head, weaving his fingers in my hair. I shiver.

  Before long, he holds my head in place and pushes in once, deeper than I’d gone before, before he pulls out. I haven’t done anything like that before, but the idea of him taking control makes me shudder.

  “On the bed,” he orders.

  I do as he asks. I get up and crawl onto the bed backward. He crawls onto the bed with me and pushes my legs open with his hands. I don’t fight him on it. I lean back, propped onto my elbows, my body on display for him. He studies my pussy and his face is hungry.

  When he dips his head, I lay back completely. His lips touch my pussy, and I jerk at the sensation. He sticks out his tongue and licks the length of my slit, making me shiver and yelp when his tongue flicks over my sensitive clit. After the orgasm in the car, I am more aware of his movements down there, of where his tongue goes and what he does with it.

  He licks my clit, flicking his tongue back and forth. He does that for a while before he pushes one finger into me. It feels amazing, even though it is just his finger, not his cock. Kevin closes his mouth over my clit, sucking on me. I cry out. He slowly slides his finger in and out of my pussy, sucking on my clit, bringing me closer and closer to another orgasm.

  The sensation is amazing. He brings me to the edge and keeps me there. The world spins slowly around me, and I know I’ve had a lot to drink tonight, but the lust and adrenaline have countered it by now. Aside from being less shy about fucking someone who was almost completely a stranger, there is nothing left of the effect of the alcohol.

  After a while, Kevin stops. I lift my head and look at him. He wipes his mouth with his fingers before he sits up.

  “Turn around,” he says, his hand already on my hip. He helps me up so that I’m down on all fours, my ass pointing to him. I wiggle my ass a bit and look over my shoulder at him.

  I don’t usually do this. But I want Kevin to fuck me. I want more than just a finger inside me.

  He doe
sn’t need more encouragement than that. He touches my entrance with his fingers, guiding himself toward me before he presses the tip of his cock against my pussy. I hold my breath in anticipation. He slides into me, and I gasp. He is longer and thicker than he looks, splitting my body apart. I brace myself on the bed to keep my balance.

  When he is inside me to the hilt, he pauses a moment. I move a little, wiggling my ass around him. That is all the time he allows me to adjust to him before he pulls out again. This time, when he pushes back in, it is a lot harder and a lot faster. I cry out as he pulls out another time and pushes in again. He builds up a rhythm and fucks me harder, his strokes quickening and his hips banging against mine.

  The harder he fucks me, the louder I moan. The sound of sex fills the room–flesh slamming into flesh, his heavy breathing, and my orgasmic cries.

  He hammers into me, his balls slapping against my clit, and it is so hot, tugging at my core. I tip my head up and arch my back so he drives deeper and deeper into me. He runs his hands up my back, around my ribs, and onto my breasts. He squeezes them, tugs at the nipples, leaning me so that he holds onto my breasts to keep me in position as he fucks me.

  I get the impression he is close to coming–his breathing becomes ragged and he takes on a primal rhythm. Before he releases, though, he pulls out of me. I cry out in protest and feel his absence acutely, my body gaping where he’d been a moment earlier. He is breathing hard.

  He pushes gently against my hip, and I got the idea that he wants me to turn around. I would do that for him. I would do anything for him right now, if it means I can have more of his dick.

  When I lay on my back, my thighs fall open for him, and he pushes into me again. His body is positioned over mine, elbows on either side of my head, and he pins me down. He pulls out and pushes back in, taking only a second before he picks up the pace and starts hammering into me again.

  From this angle, it feels different, and my own orgasm subsides, too. We are starting almost from scratch. I don’t mind. We can do this for as long as he wants. All. Night. Long.

  Kevin’s body is pressed against mine from the hips up, and my breasts mash against his chest. His face is close enough that I can kiss him when I lift my head. I do but he doesn’t kiss me for long–I doubt he can multitask as he is fucking me already.

 

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