by Jade West
I held his wrist, encouraged his movements. “Please… Oh fuck, yes, please…”
“I wish…” he rasped. “How I fucking wish. I’m so fucking hard… What I’d give to explode inside your hot little slit… what I’d fucking give…”
“Dirty boy,” I groaned. “I love your dirty mouth.”
“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me what you want…”
My senses were reeling, my body jerking against his hand. “I want you to fuck me,” I said. “I want your gorgeous fucking cock in me…”
“Nice,” he smiled against my cheek. “More…”
My voice was just a whisper. “I want to feel you inside… I want you to fuck me, hard… I want you to take my ass, and make me fucking squeal…”
“You want to be stretched, little girl? Is that what you fucking want?”
Oh fuck, my clit was clanging like a church bell. “Yes… oh, fuck, please… I want you to stretch me…”
“Gonna open you up so fucking wide,” he growled. “Gonna take your fucking cunt with two fat cocks, stretch you nice and fucking big… two big fucking dicks in your sweet little pussy… gonna feel so fucking dirty… gonna feel so fucking tight…”
“Yes…”
“Wanna see all the way inside you… all the way into your pink fucking hole…”
“Yes…”
“Gonna make you wet… make you stretch… make you fucking gape for me…”
The heel of his palm, so hard against my clit. “Fuck…” I ran my fingers down his chest, over his abs, until I found the swell in his pants. I squeezed him through his jeans. “Fuck me…”
“I fucking shouldn’t…” he groaned. “Fuck…” But he was grinding against my hand, moving over me.
“Just a quick one. Hard and fast. Please…”
“I can’t…” he said. “I can’t…”
I cried out as he pinned me, his cock against my pussy, just two layers of denim keeping us apart. He fumbled with his zipper, and his breath was fast, so fast in my face. I stared at him, eyes wide, thighs spread and ready for more, but he paused before his dick was out, the haze clearing.
“Shit,” he said. “Carl. I just… can’t…”
I tried to find the resolve to push him away. “Grey area?”
He shook his head. “It’s not so fucking grey, not really.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “Shit.”
I sucked in breath. “It’s ok,” I said. “We won’t…”
“But I want to,” he said. “I want to so fucking much.” He gripped the leather of the sofa at the side of my head. “Why couldn’t he have just taken fucking lunchtime off?”
“He must have known…” I whispered. “He must have known we’d be… wanting…”
He shook his head, and his eyes were clear and focused. “That isn’t why you’re here,” he said, and there was a tone to it. A tone that made my heart sink.
I moved from underneath him, and he shifted to accommodate, pulling up his zipper and leaving his cock well alone.
“Why am I here? Why did you call me here knowing Carl was out?” The questions came out with a ragged desperation, and I hated it. I hated the thought of surprises.
And I hated the thought of this being over.
“I didn’t want to say…” he said. “Not yet. It’s too early, way too early, but Carl… Carl needs…” He sighed, then rubbed his face, his breath deep.
I sat upright, closed my thighs. “Carl needs…?”
“Carl wants to know whether…” He sighed. “Carl has… requirements…”
“Two cocks at once, right?” I said.
He shook his head. “That’s not it.” He brushed a wisp of hair from my cheek. “I didn’t want to talk about it, not so soon. But it’s important. Carl is… insistent… he wants to know… needs to know…”
“Needs to know what?”
He looked so awkward, so uncharacteristically unsure. He stared at me, and I willed him, willed him just to spit it out.
“It’s important, like I said.” He looked at the ceiling. “It’s a sensitive situation… something you need to know about…”
“Tell me,” I said. “Just tell me…”
Rick’s eyes were dark and horny, his breath still fast as he prepared to answer my question. “Carl needs…”
But another voice told me. It boomed from the hallway. “Lunch,” it said. “Carl needs his fucking lunch.”
I stared open-mouthed at the doorway, and Rick did, too. And my cheeks were burning, just like Rick’s were.
“Carl,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be coming. You never come.”
I untangled myself entirely from Rick, smoothed down my t-shirt, praying he wasn’t angry, praying I wasn’t about to be turfed out with my dreams in tatters.
I expected questions, and jealousy, and maybe a bit of outrage, but there was nothing of the sort. Just a sly smirk on Carl’s face.
“I hope you didn’t eat it all up without me,” he said. “I’m fucking ravenous.”
You’ve got to love walking in on people unexpectedly. The guilt was written all over their faces, dishevelled yet fully clothed, Rick all ready to spill the big condition. Maybe I should have let him, hung back in the hallway and listened to the drama unfold, watched our sweet little pony girl make her excuses and bail on us, just like those before her.
I should have let it happen, and then we could have moved on to plan B. Only plan B sucked donkey balls, and as much as I argued the point when Rick told me so, I thought it, too.
Maybe cute little Katie Serena would surprise me. Her baby blues looked me up and down, her smile nervous and apprehensive as she watched me walk through to the kitchen. Barbeque chicken. Rick really did have it bad.
I was pulling apart a chicken thigh when they joined me, and Rick shot me a look. A what the fuck look.
They stood close, shoulder to shoulder, the tension between them smoking and spluttering while I ate my lunch.
“Good day?” Rick asked.
I shrugged. “Busy.”
I fixed my eyes on Katie, and she looked away with a blush. “I thought I should be here to finalise the plans.”
Rick raised an eyebrow. “The plans?”
“The weekend. Brighton. I guess you haven’t finished asking Katie if she’ll join us.”
Katie looked from Rick to me and back again. “Brighton?”
Rick’s eyes were full of questions, his shrug almost unperceivable. “Ice breaker,” he said. “Night out. Cocktails, tunes, dancing.”
“Sex,” I said.
She didn’t flinch. “Sounds great.”
Good girl.
I forked up a token piece of tomato. “We’ll leave Saturday morning, nine sharp. Return Sunday evening.”
She nodded. “Sure.” She turned to Rick. “I’d better go, got a shift this evening.”
“I’ll see you out.”
Of course he would. I smirked. “Bye, Katie, I’ll be seeing you.” I let the words hang heavy, wishing I was close enough to feel her heartbeat as it thumped in her chest.
“Bye, Carl.” Her smile was warm and sweet, despite her apprehension, and there was a pang of familiarity in my stomach. I couldn’t place it, and it made no sense, and yet this girl, this sweet little package of blonde and freckles and tight ass, was already under my skin.
And she was already well, well under Rick’s. He led her out by her hand, and there was a tenderness there. He had it bad alright. Sap.
I cleared the rest of the chicken, and was already in the hallway with my keys in my hand when Rick came back inside.
“What was that?” he said. “I was all fucking set.”
I stared past him, listening to Katie’s rust bucket of a car chug from the drive. “A few weeks,” I said. “We’ll give her a chance.”
“A few weeks? What good will a few fucking weeks do, Carl?”
And I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.
He took hold of my hand, lifted it to his m
outh, and sucked in my sticky fingers, scraping the barbecue sauce off with his teeth. My nostrils flared, a flourish of tingles through my balls.
His eyes never left mine as he sucked on my thumb, sucked hard until it was clean.
He stepped back, “I’m sure I heard your cock twitch,” he said, passing me a tea towel. “I’m already hard.”
“I’d noticed,” I said, wiping my hands and discarding the towel.
“I want to fuck you,” he said and grimaced at my raised eyebrow.
I pulled him to me, pressed my lips to his. He tasted of her, and that my made cock twitch even more. Then he was hugging me, tight. I hugged him back.
“I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’m presenting at three.”
He blew out a sigh. “Yeah, whatever.”
“You could have fucked her.”
“I wanted to.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
He pulled away. “Why are you here? I thought you couldn’t make it?”
“Saturday,” I said. “We’ll really get her measure on Saturday.”
He didn’t reply, not until I was in the doorway, the Range bleeping as I pressed unlock.
“You like her, don’t you? Fucking hell, Carl, you really like her. That’s why you’re here.”
I gave him a wink before I pulled the door shut.
Not nervous, not nervous, not nervous. Definitely not nervous. No way.
I’d packed too many clothes for a night away, virtually the entire passable collection from my wardrobe, but what was a girl to do? A night out in Brighton could mean anything. Posh dinner? Ballroom dancing? A basement rave? Partying on the beach?
Should have packed those glittery pumps. They’d pass for beach party attire. Crap.
Rick smiled across at me, and I wished I could see his eyes through his shades. “Not too long now.” He turned the music up a notch, but Carl tapped the back of his seat.
“I’m expecting a call,” he said, gruffly, and Rick turned it back down. He shook his head at me, and I laughed. My neck prickled as Carl leaned forward, his chiselled face appearing so close, right between our seats. “Some of us have to work,” he said, and then his phone started up.
He’d been in the back seat the whole journey, his laptop on his lap and his phone beeping and whizzing. I didn’t mind. I liked it up front with Rick. I liked it a lot.
Maybe I even liked the guy in the back seat a little, too.
I relaxed into the leather of the seat, the sun hitting my skin through the window as the world outside passed me by. I could do this. Carl, I mean. Maybe not do him do him. The thought of fucking him still brought me out in a cold sweat, but this, being with him. This I was getting used to.
His humour was dry, and he was uptight, and snarky, and a mega workaholic, but he was alright.
I was surviving Carl Brooks.
I was loving Rick Warner.
And I had three lovely fucking grand in my bank account.
Three!
Three lovely grand in my bank account, two fat dicks in my pussy later, and an industrial bottle of lube in my suitcase. Lube and paracetamol. And sanitary pads, for the internal bleeding I couldn’t imagine avoiding as Carl’s monster dick tore into me. Not really, I didn’t have room in my case for non-essential toiletries. I smiled at the surrealism of my predicament, and Rick smiled back, put a hand on my knee. I put mine on top and squeezed, and I knew then I’d be alright.
I’d never been to Brighton. It was taller than I was expecting, a string of big hotels on the front, and the sea to my right. I pressed my face to the window and my heart jumped as we passed the bustle of the pier. I should have definitely brought my glittery pumps. Rick pulled into the underground parking of a grand looking hotel just a short way beyond, prime position, and Carl groaned as his mobile signal cut out.
“Fuck,” he said.
We parked up, and got out, and Carl was already wandering away, his phone in his hand as he stared at the screen and angled it for signal. Rick touched a hand to my elbow and winked at me, and then he leapt after Carl, sneaking behind him to whip the phone from his fingers. He pranced away as Carl rushed after him, and I laughed as they played a stand-off, Rick poised on one side of the Range Rover as Carl came after him.
“Prick,” Carl said. “I need that.”
“Nah,” Rick laughed. “Not this weekend.”
“Yes, this fucking weekend!”
“No way!” Rick made a dash for it, and I laughed as Carl charged after him, and then there was a shake down and in a beat Rick had shoved the phone down the front of his jeans, and he was smirking, hip thrusting as Carl tried to get a grip on his belt.
“You think that’s going to fucking stop me? I’ll have your pants round your fucking ankles, I don’t give a shit.”
A family of four approached from the stairwell and stood mute by their Mercedes, and I laughed, oh hell how I laughed, hard enough to double over as Rick got close enough to the exit that Carl’s phone started ringing in his pants. He gyrated his crotch, jumping about, his face a picture as the handset chimed and buzzed against his dick.
“That’s important!” Carl growled, and I had to cover my face with my arm, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. Rick handed it back with a grin once the call had rung out, and Carl jabbed his arm. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Richard. Such a fucking dick.”
But even Carl was smiling. He dropped the smile as he saw me laughing.
“Glad my professional humiliation is amusing you, Katie,” he said. But he was playing, I saw it in his eyes. He looked from me to Rick and back again and then he groaned and pressed the off button. “Fine. I’m done for the weekend.”
Rick threw an arm around his neck and pulled him close, landing a big wet kiss on his cheek, and it made my tummy lurch. “I fucking love you, Carl.”
“Pleased to hear it,” Carl said, and wiped his cheek down with a grimace, but that was playing, too.
I think Carl Brooks played more than I’d have ever expected, hiding behind a gruff exterior, all steely and corporate and stern.
I gave him another point. Carl. Score: 003. Good wine, scary hot, really a little bit funny when you get to know him.
Rick grabbed my hand and Carl grabbed my case along with his own, and we made our way up to reception where nobody seemed to raise an eyebrow that the three of us were checking into one double. But of course they wouldn’t, our double was a whole fucking suite. Two huge rooms of grandeur on the top floor with a balcony overlooking the front, and it was awesome. It had been a long time since I’d been to the seaside, never mind among such opulence, and the excitement boiled over. Rick leapt on the bed and did a bounce, and I joined him, up and down on our asses while Carl checked out the view.
And then Rick pinned me, his inked arms holding me to the bed while he flicked his tongue up my throat, and I let out a pleasurable moan.
“Get a fucking room, kids,” Carl said, and the husk in his tone gave me shivers. I watched him unpack his case, a couple of dark shirts and a black pair of jeans, a pair of shorts I really couldn’t imagine him wearing, and some boxers, folded up neatly. He looked at Rick and then he unpacked some more, and my thighs felt like jelly strings as he lined up a load of sex toys on the dressing table. Dildos and plugs and a big bottle of lube. I tried to play it cool, relaxing at Rick’s side as though I wasn’t absolutely shitting myself. Carl loosened his cuffs, rolled his sleeves up as though he was about to get stuck into manual labour, and I nearly did shit myself.
He must have seen my expression, as he smirked.
“Later,” he said.
Rick turned my face to his, and he was smiling. “Chill,” he said. “You’ll enjoy it. I promise.”
My throat felt too dry to even risk replying, and I couldn’t think of the words to say if I’d wanted to.
“We’re wasting the day in here,” Carl said. “Let’s go. Sunshine calling.”
I kicked off my pumps and swapp
ed them for sandals, and headed to the bathroom to swap my jeans for cut-off shorts, tossing my hair for a bit of extra volume before I was ready to don my pink shades and head outside. The day was warm and bright, and it chased my reservations away. We took a table on the beachfront for lunch, and we drank fruity cocktails while Rick talked about the string of old family holidays he’d been on as a child.
One of four kids, he said, loads of fun. Well-to-do parents with loads of money and an easy demeanour. It was easy to see why he was so confident.
“I was the cool one.” He grinned. “Bit of a joker.”
I could believe that.
He finished up his stories and looked between us both, waiting for one of us to pick up the baton and share our own tales. When Carl looked away I figured it was my turn.
“Mum took me away when she could,” I said. “Those crappy little budget caravan breaks in the school holidays, where the food is nothing but value burgers and the pool is a higher percentage of child piss than it is water. It was on the edge of Bognor Regis, a total shithole. Loved it, all the same.”
I couldn’t imagine either of those two knowing what I meant, but Carl surprised me.
“I went once, same park. Only holiday I ever had, just for a couple of days. Best time of my childhood.”
“Only holiday?” I asked.
He nodded. “They didn’t really have the budget to take us kids away, not from the hostel.”
“The hostel?” The question was out of my mouth before I thought, and Rick put his hand on mine, squeezed.
“Ice cream,” he said. “I think it’s time for ice cream on the beach.”
I could take a hint. “Sure,” I said. “Sounds a great idea.”
We walked slowly, and I threaded my fingers with Rick’s as he threaded his with Carl’s, and it felt nice here, absorbed by the crowd of other unusual parties, colourful people in colourful clothes, gay and straight and everything in between.
“You mentioned your mother,” Carl said. “What about your father?”
“I don’t have a dad,” I replied in a beat. “My dad is nothing but a blank space on my birth certificate.”