Control (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels)

by Stein, Charlotte

  I kiss Gabe’s open mouth, and reassure him that that’s sort of the case. But Gabe still hovers on the edge of doing this, hands not wanting to take the condom Andy fumbles off the bed and passes to him, eyes wandering all over me, in consideration.

  I hover on the edge, too, sure that he’s not going to. Andy calls him Nancy again and he flinches, so I knock my body back at Andy and tell Gabe it’s OK, it’s OK. Nothing that he doesn’t want to do, right? And I like it. I do like it. He doesn’t have to worry.

  But he still hesitates. Even after he’s wriggled and squirmed and somehow managed to get the condom on – while Andy and I hold our breaths and alternately clench and thrust in minute increments – he hesitates.

  And then he says, ‘Are you sure?’

  With worried eyes, and I’m pretty certain that no one in the history of the world has ever loved someone so fierce and sudden, in the middle of almost double penetration. Pretty certain.

  ‘Fuck me,’ I say, and it comes out much more like a sob than I intend.

  I shake more than I intend to, too – and especially when Gabe searches out my wet hole with the head of his cock, and it’s so obvious that this is just not going to fit until it does, and I bunch the pillows into my fists.

  I’ve no idea what kind of sound I make. It must be something like the cry someone lets out, when they’re being strangled – a sort of choked gasp. But it’s appropriate, because that’s definitely how my pussy and my arse feel – like they’re being choked. I feel utterly filled and completely wiped by it, as though somehow everything on my body is being touched by the two cocks trying to work their way inside me.

  I barely hear Gabe tell Andy to stop, though I know he does. Mainly because it comes directly after the sound I make, and his hands clamp down hard on my hips – but not for the same purpose as Andy’s.

  He holds me away from the blissful sinking feeling of the two of them, not thrusting in any further while Andy tries desperately to do just that. It creates a delicious push-pull sensation that makes my clit throb, but Gabe insists again.

  ‘No. We’re hurting her.’

  I try to reassure him, but Andy’s kind of laughing and ignoring him and thrusting oh God he’s thrusting and it’s so … unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. All of which combines to make me unable to say anything but oh, oh, oh and maybe a Jesus, yes – fill me up.

  Somewhere in between I’m sure I manage to tell him that I’m OK, I’m OK, please just do it, but his face is tense and tight when I finally lay blurry eyes on it. His fingers are pressing into my hips, and when Andy rocks his concern gives way to a wavering cry of pleasure.

  ‘He can feel my cock,’ Andy says, so full of evil delight that I really wish his words didn’t turn me on. But they do, and I ask him for more, and soon he’s fucking against both of us in these stiff little jerks, until I know I’m about to come.

  I’d tell him, but all I can get out are inarticulate gasps of pleasure. My toes curl, my hands squeeze too hard into cotton and cushion – and then it comes. It blooms right through me, this immense spread of sensation, so intense that my entire body jitters.

  I’m not aware of anything for a full minute, I’m sure. Which is unfortunate, because Gabe is definitely trying to tell Andy to stop, in no uncertain terms. And he’s trying to escape, too, but I guess that’s really hard when your immense cock is jammed tight in someone’s pussy, and her body is all over you like a drowning person.

  ‘No, no,’ he says, as he struggles – and he really has to struggle, because Andy is moaning that he can feel me coming and it’s making him come and I don’t think he could let go now if he tried.

  But Gabe definitely wants him to because he repeats his concerns about hurting me, then puts a hand over his face, despairing. Before moaning, brokenly, that he can’t remember the safe word.

  This time when Andy tells him to man up, pansy, I slap back at him so hard he stumbles back, and I almost come right off the bed with him.

  ‘Hey!’ he cries out, but he can go on protesting for ever. All I want to do is what I should have done ten minutes ago – reassure Gabe that I’m OK and that he hasn’t hurt me and that we’re stopping. We’re stopping, now.

  But as soon as I lift myself away from him just a little, he squirms free and pushes out from underneath me. Andy slides out of me, too – both of them no longer hard, but obviously for completely different reasons.

  I’ve never wished so fervently in all my life for an orgasm glow to dissipate – my limbs are all loose and lax, and Gabe’s wound tighter than a spring so he escapes me easily. My efforts at following him off the bed and out of the room amount to me sprawling over the bed in a liquid daze.

  I think I shout his name. But it sounds a lot like lane, coming out.

  I do, however, manage to tell Andy to shut up, when he asks what Gabe’s problem is. To his credit he then says that he didn’t mean to upset the guy – but I’m not sure what difference that’s going to make, now.

  I think I can hear the shower running.

  Andy gives me this look when the first thing I do on regaining use of my body is throw on a robe, and make for the bathroom. But surprisingly, it’s not so much a: really – for this wet pansy? sort of look. It’s much more like a yeah, OK, I get it sort of look.

  I appreciate him a lot more than I did, for that.

  And then I’ve got to enter the bathroom of doom, and find out how much psychological damage I’ve visited on Gabe. Have I really visited psychological damage on him? Please say I haven’t.

  He isn’t crying, at least. Though I can see him through the shower door, forehead against the tiles, spray on full blast.

  I shut and lock the door behind me, just in case Andy should decide he wants to take a piss or maybe taunt some more. Though I’ve got to say, somehow I doubt it. It’s all just games – he doesn’t mean any of it. This isn’t real for him, I’m sure.

  ‘Gabe – are you OK?’

  He starts, as though he hadn’t even heard the door shut. Then he makes a bit of a show of washing himself, busily, as though he just wanted to take a quick shower before we tried putting a ball gag in my mouth.

  But when I open the shower door, he backs up against the wall and sort of … I don’t know. Rolls his eyes at himself? As though his reaction was too much, but he just couldn’t help it. Any of it.

  ‘Honey – you weren’t hurting me. I would have said, if I wasn’t OK –’

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘I know – I just didn’t –’

  Then his voice kind of breaks in a way that kills me, and he turns his face into the spray. He’s got it so hot that it almost burns my skin, when I climb in with him. Robe and all.

  ‘I’m sorry, Maddie – I just didn’t want to. I didn’t like it – I’m sorry.’

  Lord have mercy. Is that what this is about? Is that why he looks so mortified and torn up – because he didn’t want to do something?

  I take his face in my hands, and he calms, somewhat.

  ‘It’s not what I want,’ he says, softer. Softer yet, when I kiss him, sweet and slow. ‘I like how things were before too much.’

  ‘You don’t have to prove anything to me, honey. You don’t. I like what you like, OK? I do – more than I ever thought I would. Don’t worry so much.’

  ‘I couldn’t remember the safe word, either – that’s terrible.’

  He laughs a little, when I laugh. It’s a comfort. It’s a bigger one when he puts his arms around me, and I find it easy to put my own around him.

  ‘I over-reacted, didn’t I?’ he says, after a moment – but I just squeeze him tighter.

  ‘Listen – we can do whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be Andy calling the shots – it doesn’t have to be Andy at all. Whatever you want, OK – tell me what you want. You remember how much I liked that, right?’

  He snorts another laugh, into my shoulder.

  ‘Yes. Yeah – I remember.’

  ‘So tell me what you want,�
�� I say. ‘And I can see, by the way, that you’re wanting again.’

  ‘Really? I thought my erection had turned invisible.’

  It warms my heart, to hear him snark. Thank God no irrevocable psychological damage has taken place. Go us!

  ‘You can fuck me up against the shower wall, if you want. I’ll be walking funny tomorrow, but I figure that’s a given, anyway.’

  It’s only been a few minutes of hugging and feelings, but he’s already progressed to the point of bottom stroking. I can’t blame him – the material feels amazing, wet. It’s really soothing, after the whole filled-to-capacity thing.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he says, and I tell him his concern is touching.

  It really is, too – I guess because it’s so sincere. He’s not trying to protect me or act manly or anything like that. He just is, he just cares for me, I just love him. I do. In fact, I actually almost blurt the words out, in that moment.

  But unfortunately he gets there before me. And not with sappy words of love.

  ‘I know what I want,’ he says, voice suddenly dark and syrupy. That ever-buoyant erection of his, brushing against the equally clingy and delicious material at the front of my robe.

  ‘What’s that, baby?’ I ask, and he replies:

  ‘I want you to tell Andy what to do, the way you do me.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  AFTER I’VE TOWELLED MYSELF off, and towelled Gabe off, too – much to his delight – I come out of the bathroom to find Andy, in front of the fridge. Of course he’s starkers, but that’s not the most disconcerting part. He’s also eating leftover pasta direct from its Pyrex dish, with his fingers.

  It’s like … I don’t know. Maybe he wanted to make it easy, for me. In all likelihood, he’s just a slob. But either way I find it very simple to lean against the counter in the little black slip I’ve put on – the one that Gabe likes so much he sometimes just rubs it all over his face and body – and say to Andy:

  ‘What a dirty disgusting boy you are.’

  Gabe doesn’t come into the kitchen, but I know he hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet, either. I told him to go in and make himself comfortable, but he’s lingering and listening, I know. He asked me in a feverish sort of voice what I was going to do, and I told him honestly – I have no idea. Mainly because I’m not sure how Andy is going to respond to this.

  But, as ever, he’s quick off the mark. Good old predictable Andy.

  ‘Oh right – so I’ve been bad, have I?’

  He smirks, and scoops up another mouthful of the meal Gabe cooked, only yesterday.

  ‘I’m pretty sure that you’re always bad.’

  ‘But in that way you like, huh babe?’

  ‘Oh yes. I like it very much. And especially because the badder someone is, the greater the punishment they deserve. Don’t you think?’

  He puts the pasta dish down in this very deliberate, eyebrows raised with the maximum allowable amount of curiosity sort of way. Licks sauce off his thumb and forefinger, all devilish and cheeky.

  That’s Andy, all right. Up for anything.

  ‘You think you’ve got the chops to punish me, babe?’ he says, and I’ll admit – there’s definitely a moment when I doubt myself. Partially, I think, because he’s just so much more solid, than Gabe. I feel like Gabe could just slip through my fingers, if I I’m not watching closely enough.

  ‘Why don’t you try me?’

  He grins broadly, at that. Takes an almost predatory step towards me – though I stand my ground.

  ‘And what am I going to be punished for, exactly?’

  I narrow just one eye at him. He knows, all right. He knows.

  ‘Let’s call it … impugning the masculinity of another man. A man that I really like a lot.’

  ‘Oh-ho-ho! Impugning. OK, babe, all right. Tell you what – why don’t we go in the bedroom, and you give it your best shot.’

  He strolls past me cocky as anything, while I don’t say what comes to mind, to his back. They’re words that burn in me almost as strongly as the ones I wanted to say to Gabe, but for completely different giddy reasons.

  You are really not going to be able to handle my best shot, Andy Yarrow.

  He makes a complete rookie mistake, right off the bat. He lets me handcuff his hands to the headboard, above his head. And he does so all sure of himself and like it’s not a big deal, so when I tell him no, face down, he can’t exactly refuse. He can’t really worm out of it without looking like a … what was it he called Gabe, again?

  Oh yeah. Nancy.

  So that’s how I get him, crouched awkwardly on his knees with his hands attached to my bed. And I guess that’s kind of undignified enough, but somehow I don’t really like how he’s still got his head held high, and there’s a grin all over his face that needs wiping off.

  So I say to Gabe, who’s just hovering, patiently, by the bed:

  ‘Grab his legs and yank, until he’s face down in the mattress.’

  Gabe glances at me, quick and sharp – like maybe he hadn’t even considered, that this was the turn I’d take. And of course I know that I could do the action myself – Andy’s solid, but he’s not that solid.

  However it’s nice to have a big strong man, to do it for me.

  ‘You want me to …’ Gabe starts, but doesn’t finish. He doesn’t even wait for me to say yes, either. He just steps in front of me at the bottom of the bed, reaches forward and grasps Andy’s ankles, then yanks.

  Before Andy can get out the little: hang on a second.

  But I pay attention to it, I do. I would never say that I’m the kind of woman who doesn’t listen to her men. I like to be fair, I know that much, and there’s always the matter of safety to consider, isn’t there?

  So I tell him – while he’s still flailing on the mattress, looking suddenly wide-eyed:

  ‘Don’t worry, Andy. If we do anything you don’t like, you can just use the safeword, OK?’ He stares back at me, over his shoulder. Actually waiting for it, I think. ‘The safeword is …’

  I feel I make a good show of thinking one up. Even though I know what I’m going to name it, already.

  ‘The safeword is … Nancy. How does that sound?’

  He looks madder than fuck, suddenly – but it’s the strangest thing. He doesn’t say a goddamned word.

  Not even when Gabe tries to contain his smile, and his thick eyebrows go up and up, and then he waits – both of them do – to see what I’m going to do next.

  Of course I have absolutely no idea. Until the actual words come out of my mouth.

  ‘That’s very nice – and so pretty,’ I tell him, because he’s kind of struggling to get up on all fours and his butt is just as big and round as a ripe peach. I want to bite it almost as hard as I usually want to bite Gabe’s, constantly.

  But I refrain. For now.

  Instead, I pat him there with just enough pressure that he stops squirming, a little, and behind me I hear Gabe’s intake of breath. It’s not a surprise at all when I turn back to him, and see his hand splayed on his belly, just above his erection.

  ‘So you’re going to spank me,’ Andy says, in a tone that deeply suggests how original. ‘Come on then, babe – do it, if it gets you off.’

  But I just continue my sometimes prodding, sometimes patting exploration of his arse, and ask my already breathlessly excited partner-in-crime:

  ‘I don’t know. Do you think I should spank him, Gabe?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he moans, before I’ve barely got the words out. He sounds so turned on that my pussy tingles and grows slippery in sympathy – but then, he hasn’t had one go around yet, has he? Me and Andy – we’ve got one orgasm in the bank.

  While Gabe’s just stuffed to the brim with unfulfilled pleasure, waiting and wanting and sighing with desire at the slightest thing. And so of course, I don’t deny him the hand he’s got on his cock. I just tell him to stand at the side of the bed, so that I can watch him jerk off as I play with my new toy.


  He does it slow, and far too close to Andy’s turned-to-one-side face. And Andy doesn’t flinch at all, he doesn’t – why would he, he didn’t complain when Gabe’s hand was on his cock – but he does do something when I run one sly finger between the cheeks of his arse.

  ‘Or maybe I should try out what I’ve been meaning to do to you, Gabe, for what seems like weeks.’

  Andy immediately lurches forward and away. Gabe, on the other hand, goes a brilliant, perfect red, and stills the hand on his already dripping cock. I watch him lay it palm flat to his thigh, as though he needs the firm presence of an entirely different part of himself, to keep him from jerking off.

  ‘Would you like that baby? You want my finger in your ass?’

  Andy is the one who answers, however. Gabe’s eyes just close, those too-long eyelashes making this lovely sooty semi-circle beneath them that I’ve never noticed before.

  ‘No!’ he yelps, and I have to admit – I’m kind of surprised. That’s his limit? Something in his ass?

  ‘How provincial of you, Andy,’ I say, and then I laugh, and I’m pretty sure Gabe would laugh too – if he weren’t kind of squirming on the spot.

  Because of course, he’s imagining it. I know he’s imagining it. I even see him pass a hand very close to one smooth round arse cheek, as though working up the daring to touch himself there all on his own.

  But then, I’m pretty sure Gabe’s done something like it, before – maybe with his pretty little pink vibrator. Whereas Andy …

  Well. He’s just a regular scrunch your face and bury your head in the sand sort of guy. The kind of guy who whimpers, when I hold him fast with one hand at his hip, and slide my finger between, again.

  ‘Don’t be a baby,’ I tell him. ‘I did this just fine, not so long ago. And I hear that girls have hardly any nerve endings in there at all, while guys …’

  I press down hard on the locked up tight pucker of his arsehole. He jerks forward as though struck.

  And it’s the first time he moans, too. His hands are clenching and unclenching , straining against the cuffs, and I just can’t believe it’s really this easy, to take someone apart. To have them writhing and gasping and panting no.