by Roxy Harte
“I didn’t give you permission to look anywhere but at me.” His tone and gaze are harsh, reminding me that even though we have shared much, he is still the Lord Fyre I first met at Garrett’s penthouse, the day I compared him to Satan in my mind. I didn’t like Lord Fyre at all that day. He was the enemy. I try to reconcile in my brain that he is not the demon I believed him to be, that he is a man I’ve fallen deeply in love with. It’s a stretch—he terrifies me still.
“Relax.”
I obey. Without thinking, I let my muscles go soft, realizing only as I relax how tense I’d become.
Positioned in front of Garrett, holding my dress high at my waist, pantyhose elastic digging unmercifully at mid-thigh, ass bare, I stand, muscles relaxed and unmoving. Lord Fyre walks away, leaving me standing. Without his touch, his eyes to gaze into, his mere nearness, I feel ridiculous, but stand completely still. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long.
“Relax, Sophia,” he commands and I realize in the time he walked away, I’d become as rigid as a board again. “It’s going to be a very long flight.”
“Yes, Lord Fyre.”
He looks from me to Garrett. Stepping behind me, he makes a sound like he is amused. “Still aroused. Good, and how about you, wee cat, are you still aroused, Sophia?”
Lord Fyre slides his hand between my thighs and finds me wet. He slides a single finger into my damp folds and, withdrawing his slick finger, traces my lips then lowers his mouth to kiss me. “Straddle Garrett, now. Use your hands to guide him into your wet pussy.”
Turning to face Garrett, I place my knees to the sides of his thighs, the pantyhose elastic cutting deep into my thighs. I know better than to ask to arrange them differently for my own comfort and struggle to guide Garrett’s swollen length inside me. Just my touch brings a moan from behind his gag and I look, thinking to see his eyes closed, but they remain open, locked on my gaze, capturing me with his amazing blue eyes. I sit, taking him inside me fully, feeling his body sigh beneath me.
“Lean forward, Sophia. Place your cheek next to Garrett’s.”
I do as Lord Fyre commands, closing my eyes. Feeling Garrett inside me, I melt into him, forgetting the pain of the pantyhose elastic. I inhale his scent, fresh and breezy, citrusy. His shirt is soft against my chest, his muscles hard, straining against the cloth. His cheek above the smooth leather of the gag is rough against my cheek.
“Open your eyes, Sophia.” Thomas’s voice comes from in front of me.
I open my eyes to find Thomas standing behind Garrett. Hands at his belt buckle, unbuckling it. “I want you. Take me in your mouth, now.”
I feel Garrett tense beneath me and I pull away from his face, glancing between men. Garrett’s breath is harsh and his face dark, but the hard length inside me seems suddenly even more firm, painfully, rock hard. I shift and he moans.
“Place your cheek back against his and open your mouth to me, Sophia.”
My heart pounds triple time as I continue to look between the two men. Then I see Garrett’s nod, his hips lifting ever so slightly. Encouragement? I look hard at Lord Fyre, seeing again the demon, not the man I fell in love with.
“Now, Sophia.”
I close my eyes and obey the lift of Garrett’s hips, placing my cheek against Garrett’s. I open my mouth and Lord Fyre slides his length into me. With my eyes closed, his penis is a familiar shape and weight in my mouth, his taste is one I know. I inhale and smell his scent, frankincense and myrrh, mingled with Garrett’s lighter, crisper Ocean Breeze. Opening my eyes, I see Lord Fyre, confidante, friend, lover, Master. I rub against Garrett’s cheek, he too is confidante, friend, lover, Master.
I feel his hips lift and fall in a familiar rhythm, Lord Fyre matches the pace. I am filled by two men who I love. I lock my mouth tight around Lord Fyre’s cock, making him work to slide in and out. Garrett too, I tease, tightening and releasing the muscles lining my vagina. They set the rhythm, but I control the sensation, tight, tighter.
My brain is in chaos, I am not focused on gaining pleasure from what we are doing, here on a jet, thousands of feet in the sky. Only blue sky is visible now, the clouds too far below us for me to see. Garrett moves his hips as much as his bindings allow, Lord Fyre fucks my mouth and my brain whirls, wondering what Garrett is feeling, wondering what Lord Fyre is thinking, and then the thought occurs to me, I am the only one thinking so hard. Garrett’s moans tell me how near he is, Lord Fyre, too, so close I can feel the pulse of his come filling his length just before he floods my mouth and I taste him.
I am the only one thinking.
I am the only one not enjoying this moment.
The penthouse is dark and quiet when we arrive. For an awkward moment, I stand in the living room, feeling lost, misplaced, but then Lord Fyre is there, wrapping me in his arms, his strength, his love. I feel his love surrounding me and it is the best feeling in the world. But then he is kissing my forehead, promising to phone in the morning. Leaving.
He is leaving?
Leaving, leaving, leaving! “Noooooooooo!” I scream, racing into the hall, catching his arm as he and Garrett stand talking quietly by the elevator. “Don’t leave, not tonight. Stay. Please stay.”
I’m begging, sobbing, on my knees hysterical and, for the life of me, I don’t know why. I feel like it’s the first day of kindergarten and I’m being abandoned to a strange classroom by my mother. No, not that, I feel like it is the night of the day I found my mother dead, dying, actually still gasping. Her neck didn’t break when she hung herself, she suffocated and I was there, trying to support her weight, trying to hold her up with my eight-year-old strength. That night, like this night, so displaced, so alone, so abandoned. “Please don’t go. Not tonight, please don’t leave tonight!”
“Sophia! Stop. You are home. You’re with Garrett. You’re safe.” Thomas kneels beside me, lifting me. He hands me into Garrett’s arms and still I reach for Thomas.
“Please don’t leave me!” I beg wretchedly, sobbing, snot running from my nose.
“Kitten. Stop. You have to tell us what’s wrong because this isn’t about Thomas leaving.”
“I d-don’t know w-what’s w-wrong,” I sob, teeth chattering. “I j-just c-can’t be alone t-tonight.”
“You won’t be alone, baby. I’ll be here,” Garrett promises, holding me closer.
“Thomas,” I beg. “You too, please stay with us.”
The men exchange a look. I’m not so far gone that I don’t see the look exchanged, but Thomas leads the way, walking back toward the penthouse, an improvement, not going into the elevator. Not leaving.
Thomas turns on lights, leading us through the penthouse to Garrett’s bedroom. I finally relax into Garrett, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing his neck, promising him, “I love you, just don’t let Thomas leave.”
“I’ll make him stay.”
I awake between two warm bodies and I know that Garrett kept his word and whether Garrett had to get extreme or Thomas changed his mind about leaving, Thomas stayed.
“Feeling better?” Garrett asks, pulling me closer, startling me, making me very aware that he sleeps in the nude. I take a deep breath and look into his pale eyes. Blue. Mesmerizing. I suddenly remember just how much I enjoy waking up in Garrett’s bed.
“I’m sorry. Last night I was just…”
“Having a nervous breakdown?” he teases, then lifts my chin to assure me that he really is teasing. “I had at least one major episode a week after Tony died. You’re entitled.”
“You didn’t take it personally?”
“Of course I did, but I’m in this for the duration. No matter where this takes us. I’m committed to make us work in all its many dimensions…even the schizophrenic ones.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could start with I love you, you did mention that last night.”
My heartbeat explodes in my e
ars, my pulse triple time. I search his eyes, looking for some sign that he is angry about last night, but find none. “I do love you, very, very much.”
Rubbing my hand down his stomach, I smooth lower, finding him hard, ready. “And I want you very, very much.”
Rolling on top of him, I position myself over Garrett, and only after I feel the sweet slide of his penis entering me do I remember the second naked man in Garrett’s bed and looking toward him, I realize he, too, is very awake.
“Morning, Sweetheart.” Thomas smirks, and his hand slides down his own firm length.
I start to pull off Garrett, but he holds my waist firm, forcing me into a rhythm. “Look at me.”
I look, getting caught in Garrett’s gaze. He smiles easily and I realize that I am the only one feeling awkward and selfconscious at every turn. “Make love to me, Kitten,” he commands.
“I don’t think I can.”
Garrett tilts his head, his look questioning but silent.
I nod toward Thomas. “He’s watching.”
“Yes, he is, and in a moment, he’ll be participating.”
“Hmm?”
“Yeah, me, the guy you begged to stay last night, because the original plan was for you to wake up alone in Garrett’s bed and you could have been alone and as sickeningly mushy as you wanted, but as it is, I am here, and instead of sweet kisses between two, I’m going to insist that we have wild, crazy, kick-ass threesome sex, and before it’s all said and done, someone is going to be screaming, because two out of three of us in this bed are sadists. So one guess who gets to scream.”
Garrett rocks me on his hard dick, I banter back with Thomas. “Are you always so threatening in the morning?”
“You think that was threatening?” Thomas leers.
“You sounded pretty serious about the whole screaming thing.”
Garrett rocks me back and forth, soft and easy. Thomas rolls onto his knees and before I can think about what his next move might be, he has slid behind me, straddling Garrett, molded thigh to shoulders with me, hand around my waist, fingers sliding lower to stroke my clit.
“No, no, no, it’s too much,” I cry out. “I don’t like to…” I pant, trying to tell Thomas that my clit is too sensitive for direct stimulation, but then Garrett’s rocking increases and Thomas’s stroke softens just enough that my mind slides into nothingness and I can’t think any more about what I was going to say.
“Mm, mm, mm,” I pant.
“Like that, sweetheart?” Thomas whispers.
“Mm, hmmm, ah, ah, ah.”
Garrett forces the rhythm faster, harder.
“Oh God!”
“Like that, Kitten?” Garrett asks.
“Oh God, ohgodohgodohgod! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! Ah, ah, ah.”
“So that was good?” Garrett asks.
“Mm hmmm, very good.” I sigh, still plastered to his chest. “Am I crushing you? I could move.”
“Don’t you dare move,” he growls and I feel his penis flex inside me.
“Good. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.”
“Well, maybe you could move your hips a little bit. Just slide a little forward.”
I slide, then realize that Thomas is still behind me, holding my shoulders down, lifting Garrett’s legs, and I realize by Garrett’s grunt that Thomas has entered him, hard and fast. Sandwiched between them, I ride Garrett, while Thomas rides Garrett as well. For no other reason than nervousness, I start laughing hysterically.
“Something’s funny?”
The motion doesn’t stop and neither does my laughing. “I don’t feel like I’m steering this mess.”
“Oh, but sweetheart, you are, and right now, Garrett is getting the ride of his life. Isn’t that right, Gar?”
“Oh God, yes, yes, yes.”
Laughter under control, I feel Garrett spasm, a second later Thomas joins him and I am crushed between two growling, orgasming men, at least one of which and I couldn’t swear which, is conscious enough to be concerned about the girl in the middle because in a flash of heat and silkiness, a hand is definitely rubbing my clit and it doesn’t take much because I am twisting, climbing ascending. “Oh my God, ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” And in the fuzzy recesses of my brain, I think that we are all in for the rides of our lives.
The End
About the Author:
Roxy Harte lives in a small town in southwestern Ohio; however, that is just the beginning of the story…
I wanted a house in the historical district and I found a wonderful Craftsman style that was perfect…well, it became perfect, actually quite wonderful, after I made nice with the resident ghost. Her name is Lucy and she’s a young, mischievous girl who likes to play hide and seek. This is excellent, because Lucy has become known as the finder of lost things…keys, pens, earrings, cell phones.
I started writing incredibly hot BDSM erotica a decade ago, as a respite from caring for my invalid parents. After tucking them in, I would write the day’s stress away until the wee hours of the morning, sometimes until it was time to start my day over again.
Now, I write for myself, for my joy…and hopefully to bring a moment’s escape to my dear readers when they are in need of respite themselves.
Roxy lives with two of her three awesome daughters. Her oldest lives away from home and is busy raising Roxy’s two incredible granddaughters. Also part of the family are two big, boisterous dogs and two reclusive cats.
Roxy writes for Liquid Silver Books and is an active member of Romance Writers of America and the Passionate Ink erotic romance chapter.
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