Interracial Romance: Gay Romance: Bound By His Own Desires (MMM Endowed Black Men Bondage Threesome Romance) (A Billionaire's Freedom Book 3)

by Dayna, Bethany

  I noticed that his cock was beginning to stiffen. It stretched down his thigh. I took into my hands and began rubbing its huge, bulbous head against my clit. It wasn’t long before I was wet.

  He fucked me with every ounce of strength he had in his body. He fucked me like this was the last time he might ever fuck a woman again. He scratched and clawed my back and I did the same and both of us had blood underneath our ravenous fingernails. I screamed for him to fuck me, to fuck my white pussy. He grunted and jammed his rod to the hilt. With each thrust his big balls slapped against my clit. He picked me up and pounded me against the wall. My body went wild with lust. I felt like I was possessed; I shook and trembled involuntarily; a thick stream of cum dripped out of my pussy and down my thighs. I screamed. He grunted then his seed exploded inside of me. We collapsed on the floor. I laid my head on his heaving chest. He closed his eyes and put his hands behind his neck. His cock lay like a big salami on his chest. I gently took it into my mouth and licked off our mingled juices.

  I don’t why but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him. I know I should have bolted out of his apartment the first chance I got, but I didn’t. Instead I went with him to his house in Greenwich, Connecticut. It was a five-acre nature lover’s paradise overlooking a lake. We fished, canoed, and kayaked; we sipped champagne, kissed, and chatted for hours in the outdoor hot tub. On the third night there he told me his plan, the diabolical scheme that would make us both rich: high-end art forgeries.

  “Just think,” he said. You won’t have to worry about money anymore. Ever”

  “I don’t think I could do something like that,” I said. “It seems so dishonest.”

  He snickered. “Stop being so damn naïve.” Many famous paintings hanging in renowned museums are forgeries.”

  When I hesitated before agreeing, he assured me that he was getting out of the business. This would be the last forgery that he put on the market. It was an early century Thompkins—extremely rare. A buyer willing to pay millions was already lined up.

  “Who’s been painting these for you during the last three years?” I asked.

  He seemed annoyed by the question, looked away, and said something under his breath that I couldn’t make out.

  He told me that I could start tomorrow morning. He would walk me through the complicated and meticulous process. The painting had to be completed in three days time. There was no time to waste. He kissed me gently, squeezed in his arms and led me to an upstairs bedroom, a different bedroom from the one we had slept in the previous two nights. I was too exhausted and overwhelmed by his revelation to ask why he wanted me to sleep in there.

  When I woke up a few hours later it was still dark. My mouth was dry and I wanted to get something to drink from the kitchen. I turned the door, but it must have stuck or jammed. I jiggled it vigorously. Nothing. Maybe he locked it accidentally I thought. I started banging on the door and calling his name. I heard footsteps approaching.

  “Go back to sleep, he said from the other side of the door. “You’ll need to be rested in the morning.”

  “Terrence, let me out! Let me out!” I screamed. I heard his feet stomping away and the stairs.

  I panicked, started banging on the door, screaming hysterically. After a few minutes I fell to floor and began crying. He’s going to kill me, I thought, I know he is. I thought about how stupid and naïve I had been in coming here; how stupid it was for me to trust him again after he had already lied to me about not having a wife. Why would I have ever trusted such a man? I tried to imagine all the horrible ways he would kill me or torture me or both. When that became too much to bear, I began walking around the room. I stopped at the window. It was pitch black outside so I couldn’t see how far down the drop was. I grabbed a book of the bed stand and let it drop out the window. From the sound the drop only seemed to be about ten feet. I had no other choice. But where would I go once I got down there? It was impossible to see anything through the darkness. There was no point in jumping out the window if I wasn’t going to be able to get away. A few minutes I heard the sound of what had to be a car approaching or driving past. Yes! I saw headlights coming from a road that was about fifty years away. This was my chance.

  I opened the window all the way, put one leg over the window, then the other. I let myself. I fell into a thicket of bushes. They scratched my skin but my adrenaline was pumping so fast that I hardly noticed. I took off for the main road. One of my shoes fell off but I kept running. Another set of car lights streamed down the main road. I ran as fast I could and managed to get the attention of the driver. I spoke hurriedly, breathlessly. He seemed to understand how desperate I was. He told me to get in and then drove me to the nearest police station where I spent the next several hours explaining to two detectives what exactly had happened to me. They told me that the NYPD had been investigating Terrence for the murder of the painter who had worked for him before he had chosen me as his mark: Amanda Levreaux.

  When I got back into the city the next, the story was front page news:

  Art Patron Charged with Murder of Brilliant Young Painter

  New York—A former investment banker turned art patron has been charged with the grisly murder of promising New York artist Amanda Lavreaux. The victim’s body was found in her West Village apartment. She appeared to have been strangled and suffocated. The suspect, Terrence Wilson, left Wall Street for the art world three years ago and has used his big money and wide-ranging connections to become a major player in the international art forgery market. Authorities believe Ms. Lavreaux, a star in New York City art circles, was both Mr. Wilson’s lover and the painter whom he called on to produce the high-priced forgeries.

  Police suspect that Ms. Lavreaux may have been killed because she threatened to expose both Wilson and his partners. Police are also investigating whether Wilson has been plotting to kill his wife to keep her from disclosing his criminal activities.

  I couldn’t read anymore. The paper was shaking in my hands. If I hadn’t jumped out that window and had refused to participate in his criminal activities, he would probably have killed me. I felt lucky to be alive and hungry to start on my next series of paintings.

  --THE END--

  Lust & Desire Don't Go Away

  He had always devoted his life for his partner, Jessica. He had decided to get away from his feelings for a man named Chad. Raymond loved Chad after he broke up with his former college fling Philip. Though they decided to break too to pursue life goals.

  Raymond had been living with Jessica for a couple of years already when suddenly, Philip and Chad, now turned lovers, moved closer to the village where Raymond was living. Then one day, fate lets them meet, and the desire and lust that they long thought to be gone, was still there, burning, ready to explode.

  ****

  I totally know all my weaknesses, though I still think that Jessica can also be blamed when I shattered my vows to her. As far as I could recall, I only had one fling when I was in college, it was Peter. Unfortunately for me, Peter and Chad were rumored to have an affair back in college, and they actually did. Now, Chad was living near our village. I knew Chad and Peter had already talked about me. Chad knew almost everything about me before they moved near us. Chad told me clearly that he liked me and he was aware that he could provide for my addiction which he was aware of. Chad was a handsome and hot man, though I had always ignored it and convinced myself that it was just an experimentation of being young, I forced myself to forget about that and decided to devote my life to Jessica.

  I did everything I could so Chad and I would never meet. I was scared with Chad's straightforward approach. Though it had been Jessica herself who made that fatal day possible. I came home from the office to pull a couple of stumps out at the lower end of our backyard. Jessica was about to leave that week, she would visit her mother and had told me not to work on our backyard alone. I refused not to work alone, though, I thought I could do the job all by myself. Without notifying me, Jessica had asked Chad if
he could come and help me. Obviously, Chad was delighted to help and came in our backyard to my surprise.

  Alright, so there we were, wearing our work uniforms, standing right next to each other in the driveway and waving cheerfully to Jessica as she drove off. I think we were both doing what we could to act normal, to act like there was no tension between us building up and ready to explode.

  I could still see the tail end of Jessica's car and Chad was still waving gently when he suddenly said huskily, 'Let's go inside the house.'

  'My goodness Chad, no! We're done with that. I'm going to work on those stumps and if you won't help me, I'll do it alone, you can go home. But don't worry, I'll still tell Jessica you were a great help.'

  'Exactly Raymond, that's what I wanna be. A great help to you.'

  'My goodness Chad, help? How? How do you think you can help? I've made a choice already Chad and there's one way you can help me, by keeping distance.'

  'Well, I've actually seen how you've stared at me,' Chad said. 'I know that you want me as much as I want you, Raymond.'

  'I'll go get beers inside the house, it's a hot day. And Chad, when I come out, I'd like you to leave the premises of my property. I'll deal with those stumps alone.'

  'Hot? The sky looks like rain, but yeah, you're somehow right, it's hot as hell out here. Well, this is such a relaxing day, isn't it?'

  'Okay, bye Chad,' I replied as I went inside the house and grabbed three canned beers out of the refrigerator. I also thought about the ax and went down alone to the tree stumps. I noticed that Chad was already gone. I felt a relief. Though I knew that he was right, that no matter what I did to try to avoid my feelings and stay on the straight and narrow, I longed for him. I really tried my best not to admit it, though, but it had never gone away. I didn't want Chad to move closer to where I live, but he did. Everything was fine until he showed up.

  I walked down to the end of the yard, but I could hear the chopping noises before I even got to the garden shed down there. And I knew. Chad hadn't gone home.

  He was stripped to the waist, down to his tight, low-slung jeans. He had a bandana covering his head and already was sweating. He was in great shape, bulging muscles of someone used to chop all of his own wood, going down to a small waist and hips. He was darkly tanned and black hair curled around his forearms and down from his neck and across his chest and trailed down across his navel into his pants.

  He already had chopped one corner out of the biggest stump.

  'This isn't really a one-man stump, Raymond,' he said as he stopped chopping and leaned on the ax handle. 'Come on over here and let me show you what a tree stump can be used for. Or an ax handle, for that matter,' he said as he winked at me.

  'Give it up, Chad,' I answered acidly. 'I'll just work on this stump over here.'

  'It's hot as a devil's asshole,' Chad said. 'At least give us a beer. What, you've only brought three? Let's go up to the house and get some more.'

  'I don't think so, Chad.'

  'Well, maybe later.'

  I turned and started chopping at a small stump with my hatchet. Chad was right. This really was heavy work. I heard a roll of thunder from some miles over, but couldn't tell if it was just caused by the heat or was warning of a coming thunderstorm.'

  'Hey, it's too hot for that T-shirt, Buddy. I quickly found it's cooler without.'

  'I'll manage,' I answered.

  'Yeah, guess you're right,' Chad answered and then chuckled. 'I saw you in the gym... you know, before I told you about our mutual friend, Peter. I don't think I could control myself if you took off that T.'

  'I don't think you're controlling yourself very well now,' I muttered under my breath.

  'What's that? Couldn't hear you over the thunder.'

  'Oh, nothing, we'll have to work fast if we're going to beat the rain.' But, of course, there was no way beating the rain. It started sprinkling them, but that didn't go long before it came more steadily. We both were immediately soaked to the skin.

  'Holy Christ!' Chad yelled as a lightning bolt hit a tree somewhere close in the forest. 'We better get out of here right now; up to the house.' And he dropped the ax and headed up the yard.

  I just couldn't do it. Instead of following him, I headed for the garden shed, which was the size of a two-car garage, but which was stuffed with all sorts of gardening equipment and supplies. Dark clouds rolled in before I got to the shed, and it was pitch black inside when I got there. I knew we had lanterns around in there somewhere, and I was feeling around for one of them when I heard the shed door open and close, and I could hear Chad's heavy breathing.

  'I'm over here, Chad,' I said. 'Looking for a lantern.' I turned, and he was right there in front of me. I felt a hand on my crotch.

  'That's me, Chad,' I said. 'I think the lantern's over there.'

  'I know that's you,' Chad said heavily, and he pushed me up to the wall next to a window. His hand had found my cock through the fabric of my soaked jeans, and I involuntarily responded there, not having a prayer to control my response. 'And that's a very nice you,' Chad said.

  'Chad, no,' I said.

  A flash of lightning brought light flooding into the shed through the window next to us. Chad was standing very close to me, rainwater flowing down his chest and into his wet jeans. The heaviness of the water in his jeans had pulled the waist down, and if he hadn't had a large, firm butt, they probably would have hit the floor. I could tell my own jeans were having the same effect of the fast soaking they'd gotten. In that brief flash, I could see the urgency in Chad's eyes. And just before the shed went dark again, Chad leaned in and brought his lips to mine. His were searching, but I resisted him and turned my head.

  'No, Chad, I've said no.'

  He leaned his crotch into mine, and I could feel the rising power of him there. He put his hands against the wall on either side of me, holding me there. I was so weak, however, I don't think I could have moved if I'd wanted to. Having lost my lips and faced with the side of my head, he buried his face into my neck and kissed and nibbled me there. I moved my hands between us to push him away, but the feel of his chest and nipples sent electricity through me that rivaled the storm expanding its fury outside the shed. I couldn't will myself to take my hands away from him.

  He was whispering at me. 'I've had a hard-on for you ever since Peter told me about you. He told me over and over again what a good lay you are. How you took nine thick inches. That you even took it double. What you could do with your sphincter.'

  'Chad,' I moaned. 'That's all in the past, and it has been just a short fling, an experiment. 'I'm someone else now.'

  'Your dick tells me otherwise, Buddy,' Chad said and then laughed. 'I can feel it grow. It's growing for me. It wants me. It wants me to fuck you.'

  'No, Chad. No, you're wrong.'

  Chad's mouth moved down to my T-shirt collar, which he took in his teeth. He brought his hands up to the collar and literally ripped my shirt apart until it was off me. His lips immediately went to my chest and nipples, while his hands roughly undid my belt, unbuttoned my fly in a frenzied motion, pulled the pants and my briefs below my crotch and wrapped themselves around my balls and engorging cock.

  'Let me go, Chad,' I whined weakly. I'm not going to do this.'

  'Strip my pants off,' Chad commanded.

  'No, no, Chad. This has already gone too far.' So, he released his hands and stripped down himself. His lips came back up to find mine, and I turned away again.

  'Touch me,' he commanded. 'Take my cock.' I froze. He took my balls in one of his hands and squeezed. 'Touch me, I said!'

  I moved both hands down to his crotch and took his cock. He was big and thick--maybe bigger and thicker than Peter. I shuddered, and so did he. This time when he took my lips in his, I didn't turn, but I was as unresponsive as I could be. I felt so weak. I didn't for the life of me want to be doing this. But I couldn't stop doing it. I couldn't help myself. He could feel me relaxing, surrendering.

  Once more his lip
s came down the side of my neck. He took my arms and raised them over my head and told me to leave them there. I did as he asked. He'd brought a bottle of the beer with him, and he popped the top and poured the cold liquid down my chest. His lips did another tour of my pecs and nipples and then up to both of my armpits, licking up the beer. His hands were on my sides and as his lips traveled slowly down my sternum and abs, his hands came down my sides as well. He tongued my navel and then traveled down my belly and into my pubic hair. He wrapped one hand around the base of my cock and cupped my balls with it, as the other hand went behind me and caressed my butt cheeks. Then he went down on me, tonguing the helmet first and then the rest of and my cock, swallowing and pumping, nibbling down one side and up another, flicking his tongue around the rim of the helmet and into my piss slit, and then going back to swallow and pumping.

  All the time I was moaning and sighing and admonishing him that this had to stop. I didn't even notice when his hand stopped caressing my butt cheeks and he had started fingering my asshole, but before I knew it, he had a finger past my sphincter and was rubbing my prostate and I jerked and lurched and came in three heavy spasms.

  I collapsed against the wall. 'That's enough, Chad. That's way more than enough. I've got to go. You've got to leave.'

  Another flash of lightning revealed the layout and contents of the shed. Chad took me by the hips and pulled me over to the side, where there was a compost drum we had recently bought but not put to use yet.

  'On this; down on this with your chest,' Chad directed with an urgency.

  'Chad, no. Not. . .'