by Lolita Lopez
His cock was hard enough to pound through concrete. Too aroused, too excited to wait another second, he placed his cock at her entrance and thrust deep. He groaned as he sunk to the hilt in her tight pussy. “Fuck!”
“Oh, god.” She put her hands on his chest as if to slow him down. He stilled, suddenly afraid he’d caused her pain. “It’s okay,” she said, her gaze locked on his. “It’s just that you’re really big. Just give me a minute.”
“Take all the time you need,” he said, fully prepared to pull out completely. His size had always been something of an issue. For a woman with so little experience, Whitney probably had a harder time accepting him than most. Her tiny pussy accommodated him, but just barely.
“Go slow,” she urged, her face relaxing as she realized he wasn’t going to pound into her like a wild animal.
“Sure thing, sugar,” Eddie promised. He very gently pulled back and slid back inside her. Mick stroked her tummy and whispered sweet encouragement in her ear. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered, relaxing completely. “It feels so good, Eddie. You feel so good.”
A streak of white-hot delight pierced his abdomen. She always seemed to know the right thing to say. It wasn’t just the sex she enjoyed. It was him, too.
“Is it everything you’d imagined?” Mick caressed Whitney’s belly and breasts and nipped at her mouth.
“Better,” Eddie ground out. “Tight. Wet. Hot. So fucking hot.” He pulled back until just the head of his cock remained in her pussy and then thrust forward again, the jarring force making Whitney slide across the sheets. He repeated the maneuver, marveling at the shiny juices coating his dick. Fuck, she was so goddamn wet! Her pussy squelched as he slid home, her slippery cream easing his way. He loved that she was so turned on by them.
“Eddie!” She cried out as he picked up the pace and hammered her pussy. Her neatly manicured nails scratched his biceps as she clawed at him. “Eddie! Ah. Ah. Unnhh.”
“Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” Eddie snapped his hips.
“Yes! Yes!”
“Do you want me to fuck you harder? Faster?”
“Yes! Oh, god. Faster, Eddie. Harder. Harder!”
He gave her exactly what she wanted. Grasping her hips, he hauled her up a little higher on his thighs and jackhammered her cunt. Mick licked his fingers and placed them between her folds. He kissed her while his fingers danced over her clit. She moaned and panted as they brought her to another orgasm.
Eddie’s jaw clenched as Whitney’s pussy grew impossibly tighter. He closed his eyes to shut out the delectable view of her bouncing breasts and open mouth. He recalled as much mundane shit as possible, made lists, and more. Anything to keep his impending orgasm at bay a little longer. Just a little longer…
“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” Whitney shrieked like a banshee as she came. Her cunt spasmed wildly around his cock, rhythmically squeezing his shaft. There was no holding back now. He planted his hands on either side of her head and pounded into her, chasing the promise of a crazy orgasm. Mick’s hand remained between their bodies, his fingers flicking her clit.
“Whitney!” Eddie shouted her name as his body burst with pleasure. He slammed balls-deep as hot cum rocketed through the length of his shaft. His body tensed as he jerked and held his breath, each tremor of ejaculation rocking him with pure bliss.
When he could finally breathe again, Eddie sucked in a long breath. His shaky arms barely bore his weight as he nuzzled Whitney’s face and took her mouth in a lengthy, leisurely kiss. Mick snuck his mouth in for a bit of sugar, too. Eventually Eddie rolled off of Whitney and collapsed onto his back. His eyes drifted together as he enjoyed the warmth of afterglow.
Next to him, Mick made his move. Eddie smiled as Mick coaxed Whitney onto her knees and penetrated her from behind. Eddie slid over just enough to reach her mouth and exchanged wet, messy kisses with Whitney. He loved the expression on her face as Mick pounded into her. When he grabbed a fistful of hair, she practically purred. So she did like it rough…
“Slap her ass,” Eddie ordered. Whitney’s eyes widened, but Mick just grinned and did as he was told. She yelped as Mick’s hand made contact with her butt cheek. Eddie noticed the way she pushed back against Mick’s thrusts when he smacked her bottom. Her nipples were hard pebbles. Oh, yeah. She loved it.
Not much of a spanking man, Mick only took a few whacks before grabbing her hips and going wild. That was one thing Eddie loved about Mick. He had amazing speed when it came to fucking. There were just some positions that called for fast, deep strokes, and that was where Mick excelled. Already Whitney clawed at the sheets. She wanted to come, he could tell, but this coupling came too close on the heels of theirs. Her clit was far too sensitive and needed time to recover.
Still, she enjoyed every second of her mating with Mick. Whitney was far too honest to fake it. Her face betrayed every emotion she felt, good or bad. It was one of the things Eddie loved about her. She never bullshitted, never skirted the truth. She told it like it was, and he respected her for it.
Mick’s breathing hitched. Eddie recognized the telltale signs of his longtime lover. Another handful of thrusts and Mick would come. Eddie kissed Whitney as Mick plunged deep and spilled his load, her name falling from his lips like a litany. Mick fell forward against Whitney’s back. She reached behind her and clasped his arm.
Eddie guided them to the bed, helping them fall gracefully on their sides. Mick shimmied until he was leaning back against a pillow and hauled Whitney onto his lap, her back to his chest. She seemed confused as Eddie slid between the pair’s wide open legs. “What are you doing?”
Eddie petted her sex, the lips swollen and bright red with arousal. “I’m going to lick this sweet cunt,” he answered matter-of-factly.
“What!” She tried to close her legs, but he stopped her. “No. It’s…gross.”
Eddie frowned. “It’s not gross. Why do you think that?”
“Because you just, you know!” She waved her hand. “And so did Mick.”
“That’s what makes it special,” Eddie replied. “I want my turn.”
“So do it tomorrow, or let me shower first.” She seemed truly distressed. “You don’t have to do this.”
“No, I don’t have to do it. I want to do it.”
“But why?”
“Because I love the way Mick tastes and the way you taste, too.” He kissed her mouth. “Now hush, and let me eat your cunt.”
Whitney shivered and gulped. Finally, she relented. “Okay.”
Shaking his head and laughing, Eddie slipped down her body again. He’d never seen a woman fight oral sex so much. And calling it gross? There was nothing gross or shameful about sex or body fluids. It was a natural part of the process.
He and Mick would have to do something about that. She needed to feel comfortable with her body and theirs.
But, first, this…
“Oh, god!” Whitney arched up off Mick’s chest as Eddie’s tongue slid between her juicy folds. He savored the flavor of her pussy mixed with his and Mick’s essence. It was a heady combination that sent a rush of blood to his head. He suckled her clit, fluttering his tongue over the kernel before settling into a steady side-to-side motion. He probed her sopping-wet entrance with one finger, then two before adding a third. She was still so small and tight, but she seemed to really enjoy the stretching sensation.
Her body quickly responded to his thrusting fingers and stimulating tongue. It probably helped that Mick caressed her naked breasts and whispered dirty words in her ear. Every now and then, Eddie glanced up and locked eyes with Mick. He’d never seen Mick’s gaze so smoky with lust, not even with Miranda. Whitney truly was special.
Eddie pulled out his ring finger and curled the remaining two inside Whitney’s slippery passage. He found the raised bump of her G-spot and stroked it with a little pressure. Not too much but just enough to make her squirm. Back and forth and side to side, he rubbed her G-spot over and
over as his tongue flicked her clit. Whitney clutched Mick’s thighs and breathed hard. She moaned and groaned and swiveled her hips.
“Oh, yeah,” Mick urged. “Eat her pussy, Eddie. Suck that clit. Yeah. Just like that. Fuck his face, Whitney. Fuck it.”
Eddie smiled as he slurped Whitney’s clit and traced it with his pointed tongue. Mick wasn’t a natural dominant, but he played the role very well when necessary.
Eddie sensed Whitney hovered on the brink of climax. Eddie’s first instinct was to hasten the pace of his tongue, but he held back, drawing out the anticipation of orgasm as long as possible. When she finally shattered against his mouth, it was incredibly powerful. Her pussy gushed around his thrusting fingers. She cried out again and again and bucked atop the mattress.
As her orgasm crested and she rode the subsiding waves, Eddie allowed his tongue to drift south. He sucked the nectar from her cunt, making her exclaim with surprise. He wiped his shiny chin on her inner thigh and lower belly before climbing up to lay beside her. Mick slid out of bed just long enough to grab a damp washcloth and hand towel. He carefully cleaned and dried Whitney before switching off the light.
In a tangle of arms and legs, they snuggled close and drifted off to sleep. Eddie held off longer than Whitney or Mick. His mind was a jumble of thoughts, some wonderful and others troubling. For the first time in a very long time, he felt perfectly content-and it scared him. He had Mick. He had Whitney.
And it would be so easy to lose them both.
Chapter Four
Mick stretched his aching neck and yawned. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. He should have been out the door twenty minutes ago, but a rather complicated surgery on an MVA patient had led to a shit ton of paperwork. Nothing like going head first into a windshield to fuck up someone’s day. If that guy’s mangled body wasn’t the perfect shot for a public-education campaign on the awesomeness of seatbelts…
His pager buzzed. One of the ICU docs wanted a consult on a post-op X-ray. Mick logged off and shut down his computer for the night. He grabbed his backpack, checked for his keys and wallet, and made a quick dash for the nearest elevator.
The consult was quick and painless. The guy had been circling the drain when he’d arrived via helicopter and had left Mick’s operating table in critical-but-stable condition. He seemed to be holding on fairly well, but only time would tell. If he made it through the night, Mick would be stunned. That kind of head and chest trauma didn’t heal easily and usually led to massive complications.
His consult complete, Mick made a quick getaway. Lingering in the hospital was a bad idea. He’d just get roped into taking an urgent surgery or covering for someone else. He wasn’t on call, and for the first time in months he really, really wanted to get home. He was desperate to see Whitney and Eddie.
The freeway was a fucking nightmare, so he hopped off at the first exit and crawled along side streets. Every traffic light taunted him, flashing red the second he drew near. Not one to tempt fate and run a red light, Mick not-so-patiently waited for the green lights, his fingers tapping the wheel or fidgeting with the radio.
All day long he’d been plagued with flashbacks of last night. Christ, the sex! It had been amazing. Mind blowing. Earth shattering. Whitney’s nubile body and Eddie’s domineering tone. Mick shook his head. There was some major, almost magic, chemistry among the three of them. He’d always known it would be good between them, but that good? Nope. Never in a million years.
Rather smugly, Mick preened like a peacock. He’d been right all along. She was the one for them. Like a missing piece to a puzzle, she’d slipped right into the empty spot and locked perfectly in place. Eddie’s fears were clearly unfounded. Now, Mick just had to pray there weren’t any ugly bust-ups.
The easiest way to avoid conflict and keep the relationship developing was to set out some ground rules. Eddie thrived on rules and regulations. If they made some decisions at the outset, there would be no questions about what was or wasn’t permissible within the bounds of the relationship. Better to get the uncomfortable stuff out of the way up front, he reasoned.
That was assuming Whitney wanted some kind of relationship with the two of them and didn’t consider last night a one-off kind of thing.
Mick’s gut soured. Fuck, if that was the case, Eddie would be inconsolable and a son of a bitch to be around for the next few weeks.
But Mick was sure that wasn’t the case. This morning when he’d awoken to the annoying chirp of his cell phone alarm, Whitney had been securely nestled between them, her head on his chest and her ankle crooked across Eddie’s calf. Mick had met Eddie’s gaze across the bed. His old friend had smiled warmly and carefully shifted Whitney onto his chest as Mick slid out of bed. He’d leaned over and pecked both Whitney and Eddie on the cheek before making his way to the bathroom for a shower.
When he’d checked in on the pair before heading out the door, they’d both been fast asleep. It had warmed his heart to see the two people he cared about most so tranquil and content. That was exactly what he wanted to see every morning when he left for work. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?
Mick’s heart raced as he turned down their street. Eddie’s truck was parked in the driveway again, so he assumed the other garage spot was still full of construction crap and killed his Mercedes next to Eddie’s Ford. He grabbed his backpack, slid out of the car, and slammed the door. He hit the button on his key fob as he hurried to the front door.
The delicious scent of Mexican food enveloped him as he stepped in the house. Whitney was a fabulous cook, much better than Eddie even, and had learned a lot of great recipes from her longtime foster mom, Lupe. Mick loved it when she took her turn in the kitchen. He was sure to gorge himself on delicious food and cold beer.
But, wait, if Whitney was cooking in the kitchen…
Taken aback, Mick hovered in the doorway between the entry and the living room. He’d been expecting the horrendous mess he’d left behind that morning but was shocked to see a scene like something out of a Pottery Barn catalogue. Eddie lounged on their comfortable brown leather sofa, the supple fabric seeming to gleam in the new space. He lifted his beer in a greeting. “Hey, you’re finally home!”
“What. The. Fuck?” Mick pronounced each word clearly as he toured the completely redone living room. The horrendous hole in the dining room wall had been perfectly cut out and shaped to form a beautiful archway. “This is like something out of one of those makeover shows on TV.”
“I know, right?” Eddie shook his head and sipped his beer. “I came home to find a crew hard at work and Whitney shouting orders over the speaker on the contractor’s phone. She came home with bags of curtains and throw pillows and new frames and knickknacks and put me to work.”
Mick dropped his backpack on his favorite low leather chair. He felt the cool kiss of a breeze from the overhead vents. He went still. “Is that the air conditioner?”
Eddie nodded. “She had the A/C guy here before I left for work. Said she couldn’t expect Miguel’s crew to work in this heat.”
“Well, I couldn’t,” Whitney said, bringing an ice-cold beer into the room. She started to hand it over to Mick then stopped. “Wait. Are you on call tonight?”
“No.”
“Good.” She smiled and handed him the beer.
“Thanks.” He reached out and hauled her close for a kiss. She melted into him, the taste of lime and mint filling his mouth. “Mmm,” he murmured appreciatively. “Mojito?”
“You know it,” she said, patting his shoulder. She carefully unwound herself from his arms. “Give me a few minutes in the kitchen to get everything together. Then you two can help me carry food into the dining room.” She headed out of the room and called over her shoulder, “Then we can talk.”
Eddie made a face. “I don’t like it when women want to talk.”
“Me either,” Mick agreed, “but I think it’s probably for the best.”
Eddie harrumphed. “I suppose.”
Eddie considered that for a second. “Yeah. You’re right. We definitely need to talk.”
“Guys?”
Mick and Eddie rose and headed into the kitchen where they discovered a selection of platters and bowls overflowing with food. Stomach growling, Mick licked his lips. Before he could reach out to take a tortilla chip from a bowl, Whitney smacked his hand. “Uh-uh! Wash your hands first!”
“Yes, Mother.” Duly chastised, Mick walked to the sink and gave his hands a good scrub. He held them up for his inspection. “Clean enough?”
Whitney gave them an exaggerated once-over. “Yes.”
“You know I wash my hands at work all the time.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t keeping them clean at work,” Whitney replied. “But you’re still in your scrubs. I just don’t want you sprinkling MRSA all over my chips and salsa.”
“These are clean scrubs,” Mick assured her. “I changed into these after my last surgery of the day.”
“For what it’s worth,” Eddie interjected, “she makes me wash my hands the second I set foot in here, too.”
Mick narrowed his eyes in mock disdain at Whitney. “Germaphobe.”
“And damn proud of it,” Whitney retorted with a saucy little wink. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Mick and Eddie loaded up their arms with dishes and followed her into the dining room. The new décor looked even better up close. There was a faint smell of paint in the air but nothing the spicy scent of cumin and chili powder couldn’t cover. The inviting terra-cotta color on the walls complemented the dark wood of the table and chairs. Whitney had replaced the old curtains and plain rods with a more ornate bronze bar and cream-colored panels. All the old furniture looked so much better.
“I am so impressed, Whitney.” Mick leaned over and pecked her cheek. “I can’t believe how quickly you got this done.”