by Tina Donahue
Devlin passed him, dropped onto the mattress, and patted it. “Hop on.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Max dropped on the other side, yards away.
“I meant Jacquie.” Devlin curled his forefinger, gesturing her closer.
Andy grasped her wrist. “Is there room service here?”
“Sure.” She glanced from his hold on her to his eyes. “What would you like?”
An idea that popped in his brain. “A medium-rare steak, mashed potatoes—cheesy ones if you have them—creamy spinach like the other time I was here, pudding or something similar for dessert, and a beer. Any kind will do.”
“Got it.” She looked at Max and Devlin. “What’s your pleasure?”
They stared at her boobs and bush.
Andy kissed her shoulder. “They prefer prime rib to steak. Max likes fries, Devlin sweet potatoes, if possible. Both are partial to refried beans. They’ll eat anything sweet for dessert.”
She nodded and used the phone provided in the room to place the order. “It’ll be here in fifteen.”
As they waited, a triple X-rated film played on the humongous TV, the plot surprisingly complicated and interesting, concerning a young wife who’d lost her husband in the war and was testing the waters again to ease her loneliness. Not wanting to fall in love, she visited a sex club, similar to Surrender, and let down her hair with every fucking man around.
She was doing it with five guys at once when a knock sounded at the door.
Jacquie looked at Andy and the others. “Staffers know to leave the trays out there so they don’t disturb anyone inside. Do you mind hauling in the meal?”
Andy beat the other guys to the door and took the largest tray holding their main course. He placed it near the footboard. Max rested the dessert tray next to it. Devlin handed everyone their booze.
After Jacquie sipped her wine, Andy took the glass from her. “Lie down.”
“Huh? Why?”
“So we can eat.”
She made a face, which softened quickly, her eyes brightening. “Off me?”
Exactly.
Chapter 7
Stretched across the mattress, Jacquie yielded to the guys shackling her wrists and ankles, preparing her for their feast.
Andy scooped creamy spinach onto his fingers and spread it over her nipples.
The mixture wasn’t as warm as his mouth, but nice nonetheless, his touch exquisite, belonging to an artist. Each gentle stroke tightened her nipples and registered in her pussy. It clenched, wanting his cock inside no matter what the morning brought.
Breathing deeply, she arched her back, presenting her breasts to him, saying she liked what he did and didn’t want him to stop.
He flashed a pleased smile and licked his fingertips before applying his cheesy mashed potatoes to her lips. Tonight, the chef had added bacon crumbles.
The scent set her stomach rumbling. Bad girl that she was, she licked the fare off her mouth.
Andy offered a censuring look then gave her two heaping spoonfuls, which she ate ravenously. When she’d finished swallowing, he applied more potatoes to her mouth and pointed at her in warning.
She lifted her head, trying to lick the bacon pieces off his finger.
He chuckled, then grew stern. “No tasting this time. Your lips belong to me.”
Tonight. It would have to be enough.
Max had claimed her pussy before Devlin could. After spreading chocolate mousse on her curls, he broke the shell on the molten lava cake. Chocolate oozed out, which he applied to her inner thighs.
She spread them apart as much as she could, further exposing her damp slit and folds, offering her sex to him.
He winked, daubed chocolate on her clit, and bent down to it.
Devlin grasped Max’s shoulder, holding him back. “We’re not through preparing her and no one starts until we are. Right, Andy?”
“Yep.”
Looking none too happy, Max straightened.
At least he and Andy had gotten her sexiest parts.
Left with her torso, Devlin spread refried beans down her center. They smelled delish. His gentle touch delighted her.
She liked how rough he generally was, because it enhanced these moments when he grew tender.
Their gazes met. He smiled softly, though the inner fire in his eyes flamed, his bad boy intact, his cock erect, balls tight.
The others were also aroused, their hunger for her unmistakable, making this a meal like no other.
Devlin circled her navel.
Her stomach quivered.
After gathering more beans, he filled her belly button, then used what remained to leave a trail ending at her curls. He sucked his fingers and looked at the others. “Dinner’s served.”
Indeed it was.
Andy licked her mouth clean, plunging his tongue inside, giving her a taste of bacon and cheese. Already between her legs, Max lapped chocolate off her inner thighs, tickling them.
She laughed around Andy’s tongue.
He thrust it deeper.
Her giggles died, satisfaction replacing them.
Devlin licked her torso, his hot wet tongue arousing as fuck. He speared the tip into her navel, enjoying the beans, his breath heavy and hot against her.
She squirmed.
Andy clamped her shackled wrists. Max pressed against her inner thighs, keeping them open, and licked chocolate off her clit, encouraging warmth and feeling to settle there. Devlin lapped refried beans from her stomach, his tongue rasping her skin, his long hair trailing over her.
Jacquie’s lust grew pressing and unquenchable, making her hypersensitive to each lick, lap, and touch.
Andy tongued creamy spinach off her nipples.
Her head spun.
He suckled her tits hard, soft, then hard again.
No different from Max who tended her clit, he enjoyed the chocolate then her natural flavor, his tongue working her hard.
Andy reclaimed her mouth.
Devlin licked the areas beneath her breasts, rather than her nipples, not crowding out Andy as he usually did, behaving for once.
Uncertain whether she liked his sudden docility, she lifted herself, offering him her boobs.
He squeezed her hip and licked her globes.
Absorbed at his and the others’ carnal behavior, she entered a sensual world she never wanted to leave, a slave to whatever they wanted and did.
Her climax burst then dashed everywhere, her limbs trembling, breaths halting.
Devlin crawled around Andy and captured her mouth.
Andy pushed Max aside and claimed her cunt.
Swearing, Max cupped her boobs then licked them furiously.
Her cunt pulsed anew, wanting each man inside.
Max pushed up. “Damn, that prime rib smells good.”
Devlin glanced at his.
Andy crawled to his steak.
The others followed, chowing down.
Forgetting her. “Hey.” She pulled against her bonds. “What about me?”
“Sorry.” Devlin, of all people, returned first, eased her to a sitting position, and gave her substantial bites from his meal.
Hungry, she didn’t argue.
Andy and Max did the same with theirs.
When the plates were clean, Devlin had her flat on the mattress and mounted her first, followed by Andy, then Max, each one falling like dominoes afterwards, collapsing and panting on the bed.
She passed out shortly after Max, awakening when he removed her wrist shackles. “How long was I out?”
“Dunno.” He spoke as softly as she had. “A few minutes? Don’t move.” He crawled to her feet, barely shaking the mattress, while also avoiding the areas where Andy and Devlin slept.
Once Max had pulled the irons off, he gestured her to the mattress edge then lifted her into his arms and brought her to the shower.
He didn’t get far washing her before the others arrived, taking turns cleaning the remaining food off her breasts, torso, and
pussy.
She staggered from one to the other, wanting each to touch, use, and fuck her.
Three piercing beeps cut through the soothing water sounds—the noises louder than a fire alarm.
The guys jerked and glanced around, Max speaking first. “Is the place in flames?”
She wished. It’d be easier to accept a conflagration than the truth. “It’s the ten-minute warning for guests to get dressed and split. The club’s closing for the night.”
Her party with them was over.
No one said anything. Jacquie wasn’t certain whether their silence was good or bad. She would have preferred they ask for a repeat of what happened this evening. If for no other reason than to do more research and have fun while keeping things super casual. The only way to go.
Devlin handled the water and turned on the exhaust fan.
Max tossed everyone a towel, including her.
It seemed she was on her own again.
Andy watched her as she toweled off. Max did too. Devlin avoided her gaze, living up to his ‘blond devil’ moniker. Love ‘em and leave ‘em his true personality.
Her heart fell. She looked at Max.
He fiddled with his clothing rather than acknowledging her.
Even Andy had lost interest, patting his pockets, searching for something but not finding it.
More beeps cut through the quiet.
She zipped her gown, slipped on her heels, and grabbed her earrings. “I have to run and make certain everyone locks up properly.”
A lame excuse but it was better than thanking them for doing her and waiting for a response or a request for a date that never came.
She bolted from the room and raced down the hall to the stairs, weary patrons in her way. “Excuse me.”
Guests parted to let her through, except for two guys who moved slower than sloths. She shouldered her way between them, stepping on one’s foot.
“Hey, watch it.” He glared.
Screw you.
She had a right to flee and cry, but didn’t want to lose her cool out here and risk Max, Andy, or Devlin seeing. Having them dismiss her so easily after what they’d enjoyed was enough. She was into BDSM, but wasn’t a masochist at heart.
Upon reaching the ground floor, she sprinted to the executive offices, praying Bree was there, eager to know how things unfolded. Far different from Jacquie’s mom who’d never waited up for her after a date, or was particularly interested in anything except assurances her daughter had been a good girl.
Gripping her gown, Jacquie rounded the corner, sped down the hall and halted.
Bree’s door was closed, no light shining beneath it. Most likely she was at Lucius’ mansion, enjoying her evening with him, Cody, and Tav.
Jacquie wilted and limped to her desk, the heels killing her. She placed the earrings in her drawer and locked it. After firing up her computer, she opened the security cameras, homing in on the ones showing the staircase and front entrance.
Patrons descended the steps, the men’s clothing rumpled, the women’s hair mussed. Some guests stopped to make out or fondle each other, holding up the line that snaked past camera range.
“Come on, dammit.” She spoke through her teeth. “Fuck in your damn limos and let me see.”
The logjam broke.
Jacquie’s breath caught.
Andy, Devlin, and Max stopped on the landing, hair tangled, suits disheveled, moods unreadable.
Guests jostled them.
Devlin scowled but stepped aside. Max looked straight ahead not making eye contact with anyone. Andy regarded the crowd and glanced around.
Looking for me?
Jacquie gripped her desk.
He said something to the other guys and pointed at the female staffer who alerted the chauffeurs as to their charges coming out.
Jacquie fell back in her chair, but still waited for some sign they remembered her.
They reached the last step.
She held her breath, hoping they’d make a beeline for this office. They’d been here earlier and knew the way.
As one, they marched to the front door and disappeared into the night.
Devlin lay on a leather seat in the stretch limo, Max on the one opposite him. Andy sat in the corner, away from them, head bent to his phone.
Max’s cell rang. Muttering, he lifted it off the seat, glanced at the display, and swore. Phone to his ear, he barked, “What?”
If Devlin’s phone rang at this hour—4:20 a.m. according to the clock—whoever called could damn well wait to contact him at a decent time.
He patted his jacket pocket to make certain his cell was in there then reached for it, stopped, and dropped his hand. There wasn’t anyone he wanted to call.
Not even Jacquie.
His heart panged.
Ignoring the pain, he drummed his fingers to a beat he’d heard in his mind while at the club. Sultry yet dangerous, similar to the vibes in the black room.
He stilled, hoping he hadn’t hurt Jacquie when he’d whipped her. If he had, she would have surely complained. Instead, she lifted her ass, begging for more, which he gave. Then showed his appreciation by forgetting to tidy her after they fucked.
Because he was a prick at heart, not wanting entanglements, content to have nothing except fun.
He’d rarely been as down as now and didn’t want to explore why.
Max snarled at whomever he spoke to. “Yeah, so? Fix it.” He listened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do you mean it’ll take time? This has to be settled immediately.”
Devlin wished Max would shut the fuck up, unable to take his grating voice much longer. The damn limo stopped repeatedly, the stupid traffic heavy even at this hour. It’d take him forever to get home to his twenty-thousand square foot mansion, unoccupied except for him, and possibly groupies who haunted his front gate, hoping to catch him arriving or departing.
Not them tonight, please.
A monstrous headache battered his temples, which never happened unless he drank to excess. To his recollection, he’d hadn’t finished the beers he’d had this evening. He’d been too eager to taste Jacquie instead.
A new pang hit him in the gut.
He gritted his teeth, willing it to pass.
The agony didn’t, increasing instead.
Jacquie’s swift departure had surprised him, but also relieved him. He hated final minutes during a date, not knowing what to say or do, the woman’s eyes always searching his for a hint as to whether they’d see each other again.
They seldom did. A second encounter wasn’t usual, a third unheard of.
Given his track record, if Jacquie hadn’t fled, he would have.
His forehead pounded. He pressed his fist to it.
Max shouted at his caller, his mood fouler than normal.
Andy kept his peace, his attention on his phone as he scrolled and read, smiled then rubbed his mouth to hide it.
Devlin’s curiosity crowded out his pain. “Yo, Andy. What are you reading that’s so funny?”
Andy lowered his phone on his leg, display side down. “Nothing.”
Sure. In the gazebo, Devlin woke briefly as Jacquie and Max discussed how she’d used Andy’s phone to take notes for her erotic novel.
Andy had been reading what she’d written.
Devlin wanted to also, but closed his eyes and draped his arm across them, hoping for peace, not believing he’d get it anytime soon.
Max killed the call and turned off his phone. His damn caretaker was driving him nuts. All Max asked for was his estate to run smoothly, and his staff to carry out his detailed instructions to the letter. He didn’t want to nitpick or micromanage. He was too damn busy and exhausted.
He dropped his phone on the seat and wanted to sleep for a month. Luckily, the band had two weeks downtime before they had to gear up for their next tour. During those days, Max planned to meet with Andy and Devlin, get a feel for their new lyrics and compositions so he could suggest changes to enhance his vocals. They’
d protest, as they always did, but he’d argue them down.
The thought made him wearier, his mood darkening further, indecision eating at him.
He kept going over tonight in his head—which he never did after fucking with a woman—wondering if he’d been the best he could.
Somehow, his performance mattered when it shouldn’t have.
Jacquie’s quick exit floored him. He wasn’t certain what he’d expected but not her fleeing.
On the stairway, he’d predicted she’d be at the door waiting for them and didn’t want to appear eager because his feelings were too jumbled to trust. He liked her, sure. What man wouldn’t? But to see her again was a commitment he wasn’t certain he should make.
In weeks, he’d be on tour, driving or jetting to performances, unable to return for months. Afterward, he’d cut a new album with the guys, which took more time than he had.
Hooking up with her again wasn’t in the cards. This evening had ended, as it should, her parting without a backward glance.
Because what they’d enjoyed together was no big deal for her.
Him either.
He hit his seat. His phone dropped to the floor. The ring tone came on.
Fuck.
Jacquie’s neck hurt and her arm had fallen asleep. Little wonder. She’d passed out at her desk and didn’t have the strength to drop to the floor and curl up in a ball.
Footfalls sounded in the distance, growing closer.
Max, Andy, Devlin?
If so, she didn’t want to appear yearning and run them off. Not that she could even sit up. When she tried, her shoulders burned and a pain ripped down her neck. Gasping, she rubbed it.
The footfalls stopped. “Wow. Must have been some night.” Bree chuckled. “I’m surprised you’re still here.”
Steeled against the pain, Jacquie pushed up, sucked in a breath, then dropped back in her seat. “Where else would I be?”
Bree gave her a strange look. “At your apartment? I’ve been calling for hours. When you didn’t answer, I figured you went home with them.”