by Cara McKenna
“You’re close,” Rasul said. He always knew…something in the pitch of her breathing, the twitching of her thighs.
“I am.”
His fingers rubbed her in a small circle. He released her pinned arms to fist Jeremy’s hair once again. “Let her hear you.”
Muffled groans rose from between her legs as Jeremy gave voice to his excitement. At the small of her back she felt Rasul’s hips faintly stroking his cock against her. Two strong men, frantic with need, all her doing and hers to enjoy. The idea tipped her over into release.
The orgasm was sharp and deep, blinding but brief, and Jeremy’s moans amplified the sensations. She held his face close, clasped her other hand around Rasul’s wrist, begging him to stop as the pleasure became too intense. Her body dropped from rigid to slack and she leaned into him as the frenzy of pleasure trickled away, contentedness settling in its place.
“Wow,” she mumbled. When Jeremy leaned back she moved her leg off Rasul’s, flexing her toes. Brimming with gratitude, she combed her fingers through Jeremy’s hair and offered him a warm and likely goofy grin. “Thank you.”
His own smile wasn’t so goofy—genuine but tight with what must now be a painful need to come.
“Let me up?” she asked.
Jeremy stood and she made it to her feet, pleased by the clumsiness the orgasm had left in her limbs. “I’m gonna grab a glass of water,” she announced, and padded to the bathroom, leaving the men to whatever strange energy they were surely sharing. She filled a tumbler and brought it back. After a long drink she offered it to the men. Rasul declined but Jeremy accepted, seeming eager for a distraction of any sort. Emily studied his briefs and the outline of his erection as he drank. The gray cotton bore a dark, damp spot, more evidence that his pleasure was real. And likely maddening. She couldn’t make him suffer this way for the rest of the evening. She looked to Rasul.
“I think our guest may need some relief. If we intend tonight’s fun to go on for some time.” Which she most certainly did.
Rasul’s face was stony, but not mean. “I told him he comes last.”
She pursed her lips and looked to Jeremy, still addressing her husband. “I think that may be cruel. Maybe he could be the last to…you know. Come inside me.” She was dying herself for a notion of whether such a thing was on the table.
Rasul looked thoughtful. “What do you wish to offer him now?”
“That’s up to you. But the poor boy’s about to have a heart attack. Am I right?” she asked Jeremy.
He nodded, eyes glazed. “Yeah, kind of.”
She smirked with satisfaction. “And we can’t have that,” she said, turning back to Rasul. “What kind of hostess would that make me?”
Rasul stared at Jeremy a long time before he tendered his decision. “Fine. Get back in that chair.”
* * * * *
Jeremy did as he was told, cock screaming for attention. His breathing was shallow and raspy, head cloudy. He hadn’t been this wound up from lust in ages, and it felt like insanity descending. He could taste Emily on his lips, smell her on his skin. Rasul’s voice snapped him momentarily into reality.
“You may touch yourself.”
Jeremy didn’t obey right away, unsure how he felt having the two of them watching. But as it turned out, he wasn’t the show—he was the audience.
With a pointed glance at his wife, Rasul nodded to the center of the bed. This must have meant something to Emily, and she scooted back, lying diagonally on the mattress, in profile to Jeremy. Rasul stood only long enough to shove his underwear down his legs then he climbed onto the bed, spreading his knees wide between Emily’s.
Jeremy had never watched a couple fuck, live and in person, but holy hell it was a thousand times sexier than the hottest porn he’d ever seen. Rasul braced his arms on either side of Emily’s chest and lowered his hips. He looked impossibly tan and big and brutal atop her soft paleness. She reached her hand between them to guide his cock to her pussy. Both pairs of eyes shut as he pushed inside.
Jeremy licked his lips, knowing exactly how wet and warm she must feel. He watched them for a minute or more, the slow, methodical thrusts of Rasul’s hips, the bounce of Emily’s breasts. The insanity descended once again and Jeremy surrendered, shoving his shorts down to free his cock.
As he clasped himself, the pleasure was like a five-hundred-volt shock. His groan caused Emily’s eyes to open, drew her gaze to his face then his dick. He wanted very suddenly to please her, and that meant lasting longer than three strokes. Fucking hell, she was right about his impending heart attack. He blew out a long breath, mustering control. After a few more steadying exhalations he ran his fist up, then back down, torturously slow to keep from losing it.
Emily’s hands rose to Rasul’s ribs and Jeremy could tell from the way her fingertips pressed into his flesh that it was no gentle caress. Yet another unspoken signal, as Rasul’s body sped, thrusts as precise as before but faster and rougher. Still, it was Jeremy’s cock that held Emily’s gaze.
He stood just enough to push his shorts down his legs, then spread his thighs wider as he fisted himself. The way her lips parted and her cheeks flushed told Jeremy her attention—her pleasure—was centered a hundred percent on him. The thought had his hand tightening as he stroked himself. He couldn’t put the orgasm off much longer. He watched Rasul’s pounding hips and matched the tempo with his hand, imagining it was him fucking her. He paused to spit in his palm, adding the wetness, intensifying the fantasy. He imagined her face so close to his and her skin against him. A groan rose and rattled from his chest and he let her hear it.
Rasul finally turned to look at Jeremy, his hard, dark stare dialing back the pleasure.
“I get this any night I want it,” he said, eyes narrowing.
Jeremy nodded.
“Perhaps later tonight, I’ll let you have it too, just once.”
Jeremy grunted his desperate approval and the pleasure surged back to its peak once more. He imagined if he were allowed such a thing, would it only be after Rasul had come inside her? The fact that such a nasty caveat only served to intensify his arousal left Jeremy panting. Dishonored guest, that’s what he was. Allowed to watch this other man enjoy a feast while he prayed for scraps. Dishonor felt good though. It felt dirty and dark and perfect, considering he was really only spared the label of “intruder” by the thinnest shell of semantics and kink.
Rasul moved, grasping Emily’s hips and turning them both over. She leaned back to straddle him upright. She watched Jeremy’s hand for several breaths before she began to move, undulating her body atop her husband’s. Rasul put his hands to her thighs, kneading, his gaze on her inattentive face.
“Fuck me how you wish to fuck him,” he ordered.
Emily’s eyes closed and she faced forward. Jeremy watched her butt and hips as she rode Rasul, knowing for sure this time she was imagining something else. Imagining him. Pretending that was his cock moving inside her, stroking her clit, his flesh exciting her. His release was edging close, and fast. The hot tension bubbled deep in his belly, pleasure streaking up his shaft as he jerked himself tightly. He pressed hard with his thumb, how he imagined it would feel were it her pussy stroking him, drawing him in then easing away, again and again.
“Oh.” He shut his eyes, giving in.
Emily’s sweet voice drew him ever closer to the brink. “Good.”
He fantasized he had what Rasul did—his bare cock inside her. It had been ages since he’d enjoyed that with any woman and he craved that selfish, possessive privilege, to release inside her.
As though watching the same explicit, private footage he was, Emily said, “Come for me.”
He obeyed that order like none other. His fist sped for a final flurry of beats and he lost it. He opened his eyes only wide enough to stare at her face as he came, and he let every last horny, undignified thing he felt tumble from his mouth in grunts and moans and rasping breaths. Warmth met his stomach and knuckles and he stroked s
till, not stopping until he was sure he’d shown her everything he had to give.
* * * * *
After Jeremy lost his mind, Emily and Rasul slowed then stopped their lovemaking. She knew Rasul must be aching to keep going, but as always you couldn’t tell by looking at him. Only the sheen on his flushed faced gave away his exertion and desire.
But who knew what Jeremy might feel in the wake of his release. It might be unnerving to regain one’s sanity to find your hosts still fucking. Emily wasn’t done with their guest yet, and she hoped a gentle descent from whatever he was experiencing would mean he’d stay for an encore.
Rasul patted her thigh and she obeyed, climbing off him to lean against the headboard, crossing her legs at the ankle.
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Rasul said. He grabbed his underwear as he left the room, and though Emily had no idea where exactly he was headed, she knew why he’d left. She caught Jeremy’s eye and patted the rumpled comforter beside her.
Jeremy cleaned himself with a couple of tissues from the nightstand and pulled his shorts up his legs, pretty dignified, considering. His chest still rose and fell with fast, deep breaths as he sat at the edge of the bed. Knowing her job was to make him feel included after the voyeurism—a participant again instead of a prop or audience—she stroked his arm and offered him a smile.
“Very nice,” she said.
He’d been staring blankly at the far wall, but his gaze shifted to her face. “Was it?”
She nodded. “Very. Not sure exactly what kind of pervert that makes me, but that was… Well, you’re very sexy when you’re all worked up.”
“That was beyond worked up.”
She laughed. “Here, sit by me.” She patted the spot again.
Jeremy joined her in leaning against the headboard, legs stretched before him, and they both gazed ahead at their reflections in the vanity mirror. With Rasul gone, she imagined this was how it might feel if she and Jeremy had one day stumbled into each other’s lives under less complicated circumstances. They looked nice together, on this bed. She reached a hand down and interlaced her fingers with his.
“Wonder if this might’ve happened, if I’d never met my husband,” she said.
“Maybe.”
They stared at themselves a bit longer, and Emily decided that even if they had wound up in a relationship, it wouldn’t have lasted. She’d dated guys like Jeremy, perfectly nice, attractive, charming men…but they weren’t her type. She hadn’t known her type until the moment Rasul had kissed her, until she’d felt that powerful body pressed to hers and been utterly enveloped in the safety it offered. So no. Jeremy would’ve been a fun fling, lasting as long as it took him to realize their ambitions clashed or for her to accept she simply wasn’t one of those girls who wanted to marry their best friend.
“Where’d he go?” Jeremy asked.
“I’m not sure. But I think he wanted to give you some space to come down from everything. You know, to decide if you want to stick around for round two, without the pressure of having him in the room. And to recover.”
Jeremy nodded.
“What do you think?” She nudged him gently with her elbow and squeezed his hand. “You up for more?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Of course it’s what I want. But you have to want it too.”
“I’m still here to give you your dream evening with two guys.” Jeremy gave a small laugh. “Actually, I messed up already, losing it before I was allowed to. Sorry.”
She thumped their hands against his thigh. “Don’t be silly. Or sorry. You’re human. We didn’t invite you here to be a robot. Only Rasul can perform like that. I wouldn’t expect anyone else to have that much self-control.”
“He, um… He’s a really surprising person,” Jeremy said, lowering his voice as though the man in question might be standing just outside the door. “I don’t know a ton about where he’s from, but from what I understand, he doesn’t fit the stereotypes.”
She stared at their feet. “No, he doesn’t… He said I changed all that, but I don’t know. It’s not like I ever made a project of stripping away all those years he spent over there, surrounded by all the patriarchy and everything else the culture dictates. I mean, he’s got uncles with multiple wives.” She smiled, realizing anew exactly how much of a rebel he was. She was surrounded by evidence of that right now—the scent and heat of two male bodies. “Rasul sort of—no, not sort of. He hates men. He doesn’t talk about it much, but he definitely does. I think that makes him feel like women must be the opposite of that, and he wants to protect and please women. He’s very close with his mother and sister.”
“If he hates men in general, what’s he going to do to me when this night is all over?”
“He hates pushy, selfish men, I guess. Men like the one he was probably destined to become if he’d stayed where he grew up. I won’t go into it, but his dad died when he was pretty young, and some bad stuff happened to his mom and sister after. Bad stuff happens to lots of the women there. I think he sort of hates his dad, in a way, for ‘leaving’ them. And he hates the other men for obvious reasons. Probably hates himself for not being able to do much, but he was only a little kid.”
“Is that why he’s so…tough now?”
“Partly. But also, the army did some of that to him. A lot, probably.”
“Did his mom and sister come over after him?”
She shook her head. “He still wants to bring them here, but his sister’s married and his mom won’t leave, because she has grandchildren there now. Everything’s there, except Rasul. And me, the daughter-in-law I’m sure she doesn’t approve of.”
Jeremy looked thoughtful for a while before asking, “So what about you?”
“What about me?”
He studied her in their reflection and she returned the curiosity.
Jeremy gave her foot a couple of playful pushes with his ankle. “Well, I know why your husband let me come here tonight,” he said. “Because he wants to be the one who can give you whatever you want. But what about you? I’m sure you’re not the only woman who fantasizes about two guys, but you’re definitely the only one I’ve met who actually made it a reality.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “Gosh, I’m not sure. I bet it has something to do with never having met my dad. That’s what a shrink would say, right? I never had a male role model—not a nice one, anyhow—and now I’ve gone all greedy, wanting more than one man in my bed. Or some bull like that. But I dunno. I just like the idea, and now the reality of it. I’m sure it’s selfish, but I like the idea of two men wanting me. Using me, I guess. I like that feeling with Rasul, and having another guy just multiplies everything sort of…bad about it. I got a really lousy reputation when I was a teenager, for going with boys. I’m done feeling ashamed. Like, so much that I want to kind of embrace it, you know? Does that make sense?”
“Sure. Makes as much sense as however a shrink might explain it.”
She grinned. “People around here make such a hobby out of analyzing themselves. I listen to them every night at the bar, telling each other about how mysterious and complex their brains are. Their psychiatrists said they can’t commit because their mother didn’t hug them when they fell off their bike.” She shook her head. “I guess it makes them feel better, making up some story to explain their problems. I just figure, we’ve all got issues. It’s better to try to accept them and work at being a better person, instead of makin’ yourself into a religion.”
“I’m with you there. My clients do that too, compartmentalizing every last aspect of themselves, like it’ll make them feel less…less of whatever they feel. If they just do X, Y and Z and assign blame for their shortcomings, they’ll be happy. But most of them don’t seem all that happy.”
“Are you happy?” Emily asked, meeting Jeremy’s gaze at her side, not in the mirror for a change.
“Um, here and there. And now that I’m about to start my traveling plans, I’m excited, which I haven�
��t honestly felt in a long time. I don’t think anybody’s ever really, truly happy all the time. But having something to look forward to definitely keeps me positive.” His mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before he committed to adding, “Looking forward to hanging out with you at the bar certainly puts me in a decent mood on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
She blushed at that and gave his hand another squeeze.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Oh gosh, yeah.”
“Figures,” he teased. “You’re easily the sunshiniest person I’ve ever met.”
“Well, some of that’s an act. I was taught not to show it when I’m feeling sad or angry. But yeah, I’ve always been pretty optimistic. Not sure why, since I didn’t have the greatest childhood. But since I moved here especially, I’m happy most of the time.”
“That’s a pretty rare admission.”
“I know I haven’t really done much of anything except cross three state lines and get married, but I really like my life, more and more as I get older. I haven’t figured it all out yet, but every year or so, there’s something exciting happening. Rasul, or a new home, or nursing school, or kids, eventually… There’s enough good changes happening to me that life seems pretty great. I don’t think you have to be some huge somebody to be a success. You only have to keep getting better as life goes on.”
“Is it ever tough, reminding yourself of that when you live in a place like this, where everyone’s such an outrageously high achiever?”
“Um, no. I’ll never be like them—I’m not built for that kind of life. They’re some other species. I’m okay just being me.”
Jeremy smiled at that and they fell silent for a minute or more.
“He’ll probably be up soon,” Emily murmured. “You think you’re comfortable sticking around for more?”
Their eyes locked in the reflection again and he nodded. “Sure. Weirdest fucking date I’ve ever been on, but yeah. Sign me up for round two.”
Chapter Eight
After perhaps twenty minutes, Rasul decided Jeremy’s departure wasn’t forthcoming and he abandoned the dark quiet of the den. As he passed the front door, he wondered why the deadbolt wasn’t calling to him. Why on earth would tonight of all nights not fill him with unmanageable insecurity? How could the thought of a contractor entering their home cripple him, yet an acquaintance alone with Emily in their bed somehow be acceptable? Even calming?