ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories)

by Donovan, Astrid Lee

  He reached forward, burying his hands into her hair, shoving her face forward. He groaned as her lips opened for him, her tongue swirling around the head. She could taste his briny precum, feel the blood pumping through the vein that ran along the underside. He resisted the urge to push her head forward, letting her get used to his massiveness in her mouth. Reese’s tongue tickled the underside of his cock, her mouth enthusiastically sucking on the head. Mr. Callion slowly increased his pressure on the back of her head, drawing her closer.

  “You’re going to take every inch of me,” he growled, and Reese felt her pussy awakening further from his demanding tone, wanting to obey.

  She inched his cock into her mouth slowly, feeling her mouth filled with the musky taste of him. She could feel drops of precum dripping from the head, the saltiness teasing her taste buds, as he moved her head further and further down his cock. Eventually, she felt his cock hitting the back of her throat and gagged slightly. She struggled to breathe and felt little tears pricking at her eyes.

  She wobbled slightly, unbalanced without the use or her hands, as he slowly began to thrust in and out of her mouth, pumping gently but forcefully, fucking her mouth. She allowed herself to be passive, to be used, relishing the way his huge cock seemed to abuse her throat. He began to push harder and she gagged more, breathing raggedly through her nose, tears now streaming down her face. She felt his cock hitting the back of her throat and withdrawing again and again, heard him grunting above her, felt her own pussy dripping as she got aroused from the rough treatment.

  Mr. Callion’s hands tangled in her hair, holding her head in place as he began to pump faster and faster, loving how her throat clenched around his cock. Suddenly, he pulled out with a wet plop. Saliva trailed from the head of his cock to Reese’s lips as she looked up at him expectantly, panting and falling forward slightly.

  “Do you want to come?” Mr. Callion demanded, gripping his own cock, staring at the nubile and willing girl in front of him.

  “Yes,” Reese panted, feeling desperation rising inside her, her pussy and clit both aching with need after his rough treatment. “Please…”

  “Prove it,” he growled, rising to his feet and grabbing her, pulling her upwards until she wobbled on her feet, face red, hair mussed, lips parted and breath ragged. He pushed her towards the window, keeping one arm on her to keep her from falling. She felt the warm glass against her back as he pressed against her, and she opened her legs for him, feeling his cock pressed against her wet slit. Mr. Callion’s hand gently traced her thigh upwards towards her exposed pussy, and she moaned as he slipped his finger into her.

  “Oh, God,” Reese moaned, feeling her pussy scream for more. “Please, please, sir…”

  “Louder,” he growled into her ear, and Reese panicked, wondering if he wanted the whole office to hear her screaming. She was already exposed to half the city, with her ass against the glass, but the thought that her co-workers would hear her begging for their boss’s cock…well…the more she thought about it, the more she felt herself liking the idea.

  “Please, Mr. Callion,” she repeated, louder. “Please fuck me, and let me come!”

  “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered into her ear, pressing his fingers into her deeper, sending shivers through her body as his hot breath snaked around her ear.

  “Please, sir,” she said, breathless.

  She gasped as Mr. Callion suddenly lifted her into the air, his strong arms supporting her weight, his hands clutching her backside and pinning her between himself and the glass. Without thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning as the head of his throbbing cock slipped ever so slightly into her. Her pussy was aching from need. Opening her eyes, their eyes met, and in the intensity of their stare she felt all her desire, throbbing and unbearable.

  “Please,” she whimpered. “Please fuck me, sir.”

  He pushed into her, filling her with head-splitting pleasure as his cock stretched her pussy to its limits. She’d only been with one man before, and he had nothing on her boss’s size. She felt like she was being split in two, her pussy filled to its limit. He slowly began thrusting into her, holding her with two hands, his cock hitting something deep and low inside her pussy that felt like heaven with each thrust.

  She felt her face beginning to burn as he pumped into her, each stroke causing her heart to race faster and faster. She couldn’t help but cry out each time he pierced deep inside her.

  “Oh, oh, fuck, oh fuck sir, fuck me, please, oh god, Mr. Callion,” she groaned with each thrust, louder and louder, not caring who might hear. Even knowing that her father was only a few floors below couldn’t quiet the need inside her. She could feel the heat radiating throughout her body and a rising pressure inside her as he began to thrust faster and faster. Each stroke was building the pressure more and more, his huge cock stretching her pussy to its limits. She clenched him tighter with her thighs, feeling her muscles tense and pulse with excitement.

  “Come for me,” she heard him whisper, but could barely process the words before she felt the tension in her muscles reaching a snapping point. Her whole body felt like a forest fire, her nerves twigs being burned up by intense heat, snapping and crackling. Then she felt all the blood in her body cool suddenly as she shuddered and cried out in ecstasy; her pussy clenched and pulsed around Mr. Callion’s cock as he slammed deep inside of her, body shivering and bucking on his dick, ripples of electricity flowing through her as she came.

  Mr. Callion felt Reese’s pussy milking his cock, clenching and releasing, and lost his own control, his cum exploding out of him in gigantic spurts. Each pump of warm, wet cum hit Reese’s pussy walls like a hammer of ecstasy, driving her further and further down the rabbit hole of her orgasm.

  He trembled slightly and loosened his grip on her, letting her slide not-quite-gracefully down to her feet. She swayed as she stood before him, eyes half-closed in post-coital bliss.

  “That was…that was…” she said, struggling to find the words. Gently, his arms wrapped around her once more, undoing the bound around her wrists. She didn’t even realize how sore her shoulders and arms had become until they were freed, pleasure still nipping at her nerves, flooding over the slight pain. She was relieved of the need to find those words as his lips brushed against hers before he moved away, adjusting his pants and resuming his seat.

  “You can take the rest of the day off if you like,” he said, all business once more. Reese found herself feeling more awkward each moment. She’d known there wouldn’t be cuddling or anything of the sort afterwards, but she’d hoped he might at least want to talk about it.

  “Oh,” she said, straightening herself and forcing herself to put on a brave, I-don’t-care-either face. But as she walked past the desk towards her waiting clothes, she noticed his eyes following her gently, their usual intense gaze lost for the moment. She blushed slightly as she bent over.

  “Though…I rather like seeing you out there,” he said, putting down the paper he’d been holding. She looked up at him, smiling slightly. “And I…well, I just like it.”

  “Okay,” she said, unsure of what he meant. Did he just like knowing she was sitting there with his cum still dripping down her thighs?

  “You know,” he said. “I have rather a nice apartment.”

  She nearly burst out laughing. Now, the way he looked at her and spoke to her, made him seem almost boyish.

  “I’ll bet,” she said, pulling on her pantyhose with all the grace she could manage. A soreness was starting to seep into her whole body.

  “I’d love to cook you dinner there some night,” he said, eyes flitting from her back to his desk, up and down.

  “Oh,” she said, surprised, now moving onto her skirt. Something inside her sighed with relief; she hadn’t known just how sad she was at the thought of this being a one-time thing. “I…I’d like that.”

  “Excellent,” he said with what she could only call a relieved smile. It made her stomach tighten. “I’
ll let you know what night works for me.”

  “Oh…okay,” she said, finally pulling on her blazer. She had no more reason to be in his office, but she felt strange leaving, especially since her body still seemed to be recovering. Still, she knew she couldn’t just stand there all day, even though the way he kept looking at her was…

  Well, it wasn’t the way he normally looked at her, like he wanted to tear her apart and make her scream from pleasure.

  “And you know,” he continued. “That scholarship doesn’t kick in until next year.”

  “I know,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back and cocking her head to the side. Did he really want this continue? It wasn’t just a one-time fuck? That was…better than she’d hoped for.

  “I just…you show great promise,” he said, and Reese couldn’t help but blush. But when she saw the light in his eye, the slightest crack in his confident demeanor, she knew that this one-way street had just become a two-lane highway. And that wasn’t just better than she’d hoped for; it was all she’d dreamed of. She imagined what sort of year this might be…

  “So do you,” she finally said, breathless, unable to keep the smile from her lips. And with that, she turned, striding from the office, mind already spinning with possibilities of a year she’d never forget.

  THE END

  SHADES OF DOMINATION

  Alpha Male Romance

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was well past midnight and Laura Kimball was already into her fifth glass of wine that evening. She stared at the still open pack of cigarettes lying on her dining room table and deliberated as to whether or not she needed another one. It had been six months since she started smoking again regularly, having given up the habit cold turkey for the four years she was married to Dan; even though she told herself she was quite capable of quitting again, it was always going to be tomorrow - if not tomorrow, then next week; if not next week, then next month. But for now, being after midnight, she wasn’t in any state to make a long-term decision. She let out a sigh, as she lit up a smoke.

  It had been a ritual every Wednesday night for the past four months. A couple of bottles of Shiraz, a fresh pack of cigarettes and the ghosts of her self esteem. She couldn’t tell you why she chose Wednesday over any other night to honor this strange pact, both a conscious resignation and wry celebration of her solitude. Perhaps it was the recognition of having passed the middle of the workweek without strangling her immediate supervisor at Palmer and Hall. Perhaps it was the crude, sarcastic but strangely flattering comment she heard from a carload of passing teenagers one Wednesday night back in March (where she had been granted with the title of “Queen of the MILFs”) that she chose to immortalize as the instigator of her “Me Day.” But each Wednesday night, not even the sounds of the endless mix CDs she made for herself in her early 20s or the boisterous and audible gropings of her upstairs neighbors were enough to deter Laura from her obligations.

  It would be six hours until she needed to get up and face the day. Like each Thursday morning, she would have to face it with the dry, dull throb of a hangover. She knew that it meant tending to the affection-and-food-starved needs of Wink, her four year old Siamese before shuffling off to brew her first three cups of coffee. She knew it meant checking her Facebook to ensure she didn’t drunkenly post or message any hysterical or self-pitying missives; she learned that mistake six months after the divorce. She knew it meant, at least this time, finalizing and confirming her itinerary for that weekend’s convention—a process even more nerve wracking, since it meant sharing a room with Gloria, her immediate supervisor. In Providence, Rhode Island, of all places, a city she assumed could be driven straight through in less time than it took to blink an eye. The thought made her shudder, as she poured herself a sixth glass of wine and instinctually refreshed her laptop.

  Laura tried to avoid looking at the photos on her Facebook page for the umpteenth time, but like the past two hours, simply couldn’t help herself. They were of Dan and his new fiancé Sonia, basking on the beach in Bonaire. Smiling effervescently, drunkenly, romping around the sands like a couple of poorly paid bit models for a tourism commercial. Since taking up with Sonia, Dan had not only learned the finer points of body grooming and cross-fit training, but also appeared more relaxed, carefree and reckless. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ thought Laura. ‘After all, with Sonia’s daddy’s money, he doesn’t have to worry about paying the rent. Both of them can get cosmetic surgery at the slightest sign of a wrinkle. Where does that leave me?’

  Laura got up and examined herself from all angles in the dining room mirror. True, she had put on a few pounds since the divorce—twenty, to be exact—but they seemed to compliment her, giving her a more rounded, sensual physique. Her strawberry blonde hair still retained its hue, even though the ends had been frazzled and arid from stress. If lines showed on her face, they did nothing to detract from the buoyancy of her skin. And her slate grey eyes—if now thick and reddened by smoke and wine—still arched upwards at the corners, giving Laura a sly, feline look.

  True, her job as a Senior HR representative for a national law firm wasn’t as glamorous as the lifestyle of a groomed 26-year old heiress; but she was articulate, cunningly intelligent and possessed of a rapier-sharp wit. At 34, she may not be as young and bubbly as she once was when she first started dating Dan; but she was hardly an old maid, either. Laura was pretty enough, compassionate enough and adventurous enough (in heart, at least) to have her pick of any number of eligible men. So why have I been drinking wine alone for the past two years, she thought.

  For one, she had resigned herself to the luxury of remaining single. After overcoming her initial skepticism, she ventured into online dating a year after the divorce. It was a move she wound up regretting, since she found herself having to contend with a teeming horde of the perpetually cheating, aggressively creepy and just plain dull. She had needs like everyone else, perhaps even more so. But the few late-night and drunken trysts she spent after meeting relative strangers at a bar left her unfulfilled. The sex was, at best, mediocre—detached of any physical intimacy or connection, merely a rote standard default to friction -passionless, artless, dull friction. It was sweat-stained and humid, perhaps but still—both insensate and ungratifying.

  The sole exception—the only possible concession she would have made in those two years—would have been Rick, a patent attorney she worked with side by side. Rick was hardly Laura’s standard physical type; gaunt, pale and almost painfully thin, with a healthy shock of salt-and-pepper hair that was permanently unkempt, he resembled an artist rather than an attorney. Which he in fact was, taking up litigation only in the past ten years solely to help pay for his MS-stricken wife’s treatment. There was a fierce intelligence in Rick, erudition owing to his encyclopedic knowledge of classical Greek literature and philosophy, which he could quote and expound upon from memory alone. Laura admired and respected this eccentric figure, whose brown eyes seemed to burn with an inner torment. But what attracted her to Rick was something unspeakable—a primal magnetism he exuded from each pore, a feral passion she could sense burgeoning under his countless reference books and perpetually furrowed brows. She felt it reverberating in the pit of her stomach, and suspected it was mutual. They had taken to working late hours together, more often than not adjourning to Kelly’s, a nearby Irish bar directly across from their office. Over her proverbial gin and tonic and his proverbial Irish whisky—”Neat please, Jim-meh”—they’d shoot the breeze well into the evening, discussing anything from the Philadelphia Museum of Art to their own respectively rocky relationships. He took his marriage vows seriously, all the while admitting that as a man, he also had his own needs; and that where he could once release his frustrations through art, he now no longer even had that option.

  Laura sympathized with Rick, and felt an even stronger admiration for this man almost twenty years her senior. At the same time, it didn’t do anything to quell her draw towards him. On the contrary, it only fed the fla
mes and she suspected that each time he caught a glance of her pouty lips trembling and her wide-open eyes that the feeling was likely mutual. One night, as they were walking past Love Park at around 10 p.m., she could take it no further. She stopped the taller (by nearly a foot) Rick dead in his tracks and seized him, forcing him to crane his neck down as she kissed him violently, hoping that the force and torpor of her lips would unlock his steely reserve. Her estimate proved correct, for they were soon groping one another furiously, obscured by the trees and serenaded by the rush of the fountain. They leaned back against a tree, their bodies pressed with an urgency that overpowered the both of them. She wrapped a leg around Rick, and pressed him against the tree, knowing full well that they could be caught at any time but not giving a damn either way. Their tongues lolled against one another, and she could feel the entirety of her body—from her shoulders to her calves—grow engulfed in a thin veil of mist.

  And then, as suddenly as it occurred, Rick pushed her away.

  “I’m sorry, Laura but… I just can’t. Not with Claudia suffering at home. You’re wonderful and if things were different, I… I…”

  There was no need for him to finish the sentence. Laura knew. She knew how foolish it would have been, not only emotionally, to act as a proverbial “other” woman, but professionally as well. They both knew that were this to ever make the office rounds, they’d be lucky to even collect severance. Besides, what were the chances of a man as eccentric, brilliant and charismatic as Rick sticking around for the likes of a frumpy HR rep anyhow?

  She left that night feeling dejected, but assured. That was nine months ago, and she had only seen Rick briefly in passing four or five times.