One Lucky Girl

by Natasha L. Black

  “Jesus, Lyn,” Derek groaned, “I’m gonna come in about three seconds with you doing that.”

  I grinned against his hard shaft, lapping up the salty drops that met my tongue. I lifted my hips in the air, letting Brett know that he could enter me and finish when wanted. I worked Derek over with my mouth. His hands came up to palm my breasts, to tease my nipples until they stood at attention. I loved the lavish way he treated me, the special touches he used to make me respond, like the way he’d nibbled my lower lip when I was pinned down, the way he was rubbing my nipples between his thumb and finger until they stood out, needy and throbbing for more.

  The slick sound of Brett’s hand gave way to a cold, slippery finger rubbing up and down my slit. I pushed back against his finger so it dipped inside me. I liked the sensation of coldness, the liquid slide of him being drawn into my passage. I lapped at Derek with my tongue, worked my jaw and sucked. Brett only fingered me. At last, in frustration, I whipped my head around to look over my shoulder.

  “What are you waiting for?” I asked.

  “Your attention,” he said.

  “Just do it,” I bit out, frustrated.

  “If you’re too tired…” he said, trying to mollify me.

  “Do I look tired?” I snapped, my mouth going back around Derek’s shaft that was jerking with anticipation.

  “Then do what you want,” Brett said, “with whoever you want.”

  “Fine,” I said, and I raised up on my knees. I lowered my slick pussy down over Derek’s jutting cock. I felt his length part my folds and it felt amazing. This was the cock I wanted to ride, this was the man I wanted to fuck right now. Taking turns be damned.

  I set my hands on Derek’s shoulders and moved my hips forward in a rocking motion, “God, Lyn, don’t move. Don’t move or I’ll come,” he said. He was gritting his teeth, his hands still cupping my breasts, “God, that feels too good. But I want you to come, too. I want you to come first.”

  “I’ve already come. Fill me up, Derek. Do it,” I purred, “fill me, give me every drop. You’re mine.”

  I rocked my hips forward again, and he spilled with a roar, grabbing my face roughly and kissing me, driving his tongue in my mouth. I loved the feeling of power I had, his dripping cock still inside me. I rubbed my nipples against his chest, nuzzled his cheek, “That felt amazing. I loved feeling you come inside me like that.” He groaned, kissed me again.

  I felt Brett move, get up off the bed. I turned and saw him leaving the room, “Where are you going?”

  “To take a shower like I originally planned.” he said sharply.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” I said. I had no idea where it was coming from, this demanding persona that I was developing.

  “I’d rather just be on my own.”

  “No way,” I said, “Please come back. Let me take care of you. I want us to get off together.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, looking over his shoulder at me. I knelt behind him, kissed his bare, muscular shoulder, running my hands over his back.

  “Stay here with me, baby. I need you,” I said.

  Brett stood, turned around and pulled me to him. I was still kneeling on the bed, so our faces were almost level. He cupped my face in his hands, fingers combing through my tangled, messy hair. He lowered his mouth to mine and I caught my breath. His kiss was sweeping, breathtaking. His tongue in my mouth, his lips nipping at mine, claiming me.

  It was easy to forget, since Brett was the quieter one, how manly he could really be. He was an alpha now, and I was his.

  I couldn’t stop kissing him, my hands clinging to his broad shoulders to steady myself. His mouth, his sexy kiss made me so dizzy. I wanted more, but I couldn’t have stopped to tell him so. I tried to shift a little, lie back on the bed, but he held me fast, pressed against him on my knees.

  My pulse pounded everywhere in my body. Brett was so hot, and his touch and kiss were demanding. Like he owned me. He did own me. The only word I knew was yes.

  When he dragged his mouth away from mine, it was to kiss my neck, sending chills from my neck to my hard nipples like a jolt of electricity. I shivered deliciously, and he answered my response with his fingers, burying them to the second joint inside of my throbbing pussy. Three fingers pushed into me, and I jerked with anticipation. It felt so good to have any part of Brett inside me, and part of me shamelessly loved the way he claimed me, jammed his fingers in my cleft, knowing I’d take them, I’d take anything he wanted to give me. And more.

  “You’re so fucking wet for me,” he growled against my neck. He bit my throat, just a soft scrape of his teeth but I clenched around his fingers in tight response as the thrill ran through me. It didn’t hurt, just added a sexy edge to my pleasure. He stretched his fingers inside me, and I started to rock against him.

  I reached down and slid my hand around his cock, amazed at how huge and rock hard it was after the way he’d already fucked me so long and hard. I wanted more. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  His mouth moved back to mine as I stroked him, his fingers still buried inside me, keeping me wet and ready for him. I trembled when he withdrew them, wanted to whimper at the loss.

  Brett pushed me back on the mattress, my knees bent back under me. My hips were open, his palm splayed on my chest, pressing me down. My breath was ragged, my body tingling. Breathless, I lay there spread for him. He moved his hands to my thighs, pushed them further apart. I felt how wide he opened me, how my whole body seemed to shift inside and out with my legs held that far apart. I shuddered, wet and needy beneath him.

  Brett rubbed his thumb over my clit. I jerked, bit down hard on my lips as pleasure soared through me. I was so ready to come. He rubbed the pad of his thumb across me again and I shuddered at the force of the spike of ecstasy that ripped through me. He stopped, stilled me, taking me to the edge and backing off. I was trembling with need. He rubbed his thumb down my slit, my aching pussy that needed him. My body shook under his iron control. I couldn’t speak even to say please because I felt like I was on a tight wire, stretched to breaking, that there was only this breathless state of need, and the orgasm I needed so much. I would have begged, would have clawed at him, but I was pressed back with my legs bent under me, one of his big hands on my thigh, the other teasing between my thighs with deliberate touches that made my body throb.

  He bent his head, fastened his mouth over my nipple and drew on it hard and deep, his hot velvet tongue working its magic. I writhed and twisted under him, my fists gripping the sheets like I was afraid I’d lift right off the bed if I didn’t hold on tightly enough.

  At once, he reared up off of me and I saw it, his jutting cock, impossibly big and rigid just before he plunged it into me. I cried out at the hardness and the size of him as he filled my pussy, stretching me, making me fit him. It felt wet and slick, hot and filthy in the best way. He held my thighs down and thrust into me, pumping hard and fast. Something animalistic in me responded to it, to his alpha dominance, trusting that he knew my body and what I needed, that he would bring me the greatest pleasure a woman had ever known.

  Brett fucked me so thoroughly I was sobbing with the intensity, with the unbearable tension of the orgasm I was on the edge of. I found the strength to let go of the sheets, to bury my fingers in his hair. He slowed his thrusts, bent his head to kiss me in response. His kiss was rough and tender at the same time, flooding me with desire and love all at once. His mouth rocked over mine, his tongue stroking in my mouth to the same rhythm as his cock moving in and out of my quivering, slick pussy.

  Then his fingers slid between us, slipping along my swollen clit, pinching and plucking it until I screamed, arching off the bed as he surged into me with a final, powerful thrust. I felt him spill inside me, heard the roar he made with his climax and it made me come again instantly. I was still riding the waves of one orgasm when his completion made me come even harder. I felt my body tense, the quick waves of release wringing me out, leaving me weak with the throbbi
ng aftermath of incredible pleasure.

  Even as he came down from his own orgasm, Brett caught me in his arms and held me against him, his cock still wet inside me, as he crushed me against his chest. I clung to him, weak and exhausted, more satisfied than I’d ever dreamed of being.

  18

  I slept late and worked the next day on article topics after a long, leisurely shower. I’d used the strawberry scented shower gel and conditioned my hair. I lingered, luxuriating in happy afterglow. There had been a bag of fresh bagels on the counter when I woke, and I munched on one while I tried to come up with items for my list to submit to Liz Markham.

  I wanted to do one on breakups on the brink of the altar like poor Sadie’s. That was my first choice. Then I vetoed a lot of my own ideas as boring or repetitive, knowing that sex was what really sold, and what the readers were looking for. Hours later I still only had one of the three topics decided on. I tentatively put down an idea about threesomes, but wondered if it was too racy. I had to compartmentalize what I did in my private life so it didn’t spill over into my work. I settled on taboo sexual fantasies for the third subject, thinking that probably there would be lots of cops and firemen on the fantasy list. I could attest personally to it. I nearly had to fan myself thinking about it.

  Work was uneventful. I used my break to call Ainsley and catch her up on the details of my spec article and get her opinion. I texted my dad that things were going really well with the internship. I left the bar shift early to cover for a waitress who got sick and had to leave. The tips weren’t as good, but there was more downtime than I had at the bar. I also got off a little earlier. The guys drove me home and I fell asleep on the way. Derek woke me when we arrived and held my hand to help me up the stairs. I vaguely remembered him telling me we’d all have Sunday brunch together and talk about things. I slept long and hard. I got up early and showered and dressed for my day at Envy in record time. I was eager to see what the reaction would be to my list of topics. I brought Celia a pumpkin spice coffee and told her I was through with my article proposals. She promised to let me know when Liz was ready to discuss them.

  I made copies, tons of them, and picked up lunches and lattes. I sorted and stapled packets for an upcoming board meeting. Five o’clock came and went, and I headed for the bar. Clearly Liz Markham had a busy day and hadn’t had time to review my ideas, which was hardly surprising. I had to cover for the same waitress again, so I didn’t get to joke around with Cammie and Jason, but I got off work earlier than usual for the second night in a row. Brett showed up alone to pick me up.

  “How’s it going?”

  “Good. Where’s Derek?”

  “He’s baking. He decided to make brownies, and they weren’t done in time to come along to get you.”

  “Baking?” I asked, with my eyebrows raised.

  Brett laughed. “Could you imagine? No, he’s watching the end of the game. I told him I’d come get you,” Brett said, cracking a smile.

  “That sounds more like it,” I said.

  “Are you really that disappointed it’s just me?” he asked, looking a little hurt.

  I shook my head. “No, my mind is just somewhere else. My boss didn’t respond to the list of article topics I sent her.”

  “She’s probably just busy,” he said, pointing the truck toward home.

  “Yeah. I figured. But I’m so excited about it, I just wish she was so thrilled with my ideas that she couldn’t wait to meet with me.”

  “What were your topics?” he asked.

  “Breaking off engagements right before the wedding, men who refuse to use condoms, sexual fantasies,” I said.

  “So, men who are assholes, men who are assholes and will never get laid, and women fantasizing about men who are NOT assholes for a change?” Brett quipped.

  “Basically,” I replied, laughing.

  We filled the short drive home with small talk. Brett told me about their shift on patrol, and I told him how bored I was making copies and fetching coffee. He reached over and took my hand in his, lifting it to his mouth for a gentle kiss.

  “It will all pay off, I know it will,” he said sincerely.

  Once home, I went upstairs and ate a bowl of cereal, sitting down on Brett’s recliner while he worked out. I asked Derek about the game, about his day at work. We chatted for a bit, and when he got up for a beer, I changed the channel to a game show I liked. Soon all three of us were clustered at the TV, shouting answers and criticizing the idiot who lost a chance at a million dollars. There was another episode on after that one and before we knew it, it was midnight.

  I kissed them both good night and went to bed. They were scheduled to work that weekend, which was good because I needed some time to sort out exactly what I was feeling. I knew that this thing with them wasn’t just fun anymore. I was catching real feelings for both of them.

  The next day, Celia called me to go to Liz Markham’s office. I was excited to hear her feedback, knowing that my inclusion of ‘taboo fantasies’ was sure to keep her from renewing criticism that I’d played it safe in my writing. It would take a lot of courage and curiosity to interview women about the fantasies they kept secret, to do that kind of research. I strode into her office, more confident than I’d been before. I had addressed her suggestions and had chosen topics I would normally have shied away from. I’d have to tell the guys later that they’d given me a confidence boost, made me feel more aware of my sexuality, and that it was helping me at work.

  I took the seat she indicated. I crossed my ankles and kept my head high. My hands weren’t as sweaty as they had been the last time. Maybe I was beginning to think of myself as a real writer, as someone of value to Envy. I waited for her to begin instead of eagerly asking what she thought. I had to show poise, professionalism.

  “Lynette,” she said, removing her glasses, “I reviewed your short list of topics with the intent of selecting one to develop into an article with you. To be honest, I had hoped for more from you. I think from the quality of your research that you have a good brain and some promise as a writer, but it’s possible that you’re not ready for such a step. I believe at this point, due to the underwhelming nature of your subjects, you’d be best assigned to the research division working on source gathering for topics already approved.”

  “But, Liz,” I said boldly, “I even included an idea on sexual fantasies.”

  “Yes, and if you were trying to write for a teen magazine, that might be considered daring. Your subjects were far tamer than anything we would feature in a newsstand issue. And our online readers are accustomed to more provocative content than what goes to print. When I told you to push your boundaries, I suppose I misjudged where your boundaries lie. I would never ask an intern or employee to do something that made him or her truly uncomfortable or that violated their beliefs. That being said, it would seem that your talent will lie elsewhere.”

  “Please don’t dismiss me. Don’t stick me in research. I’ll do research if that’s all you think I’m capable of, but with all respect, you’d be wrong. If the ideas were too tame, I’ll generate wilder ones. Give me the weekend to improve on this. I want very much to write for Envy.”

  “That’s both flattering and somewhat surprising, since you chose topics as if you’d never read the magazine.”

  “I’ve read every issue since I was eighteen!” I protested.

  “Then you should have a better eye for what makes it into the magazine, Lynette. Look at our archives some more, make sure you’re not editing out ideas based on what your family will think of them.”

  I dropped my gaze. Maybe I had been worried about what my dad would think the first time he saw my name on an article about condoms or nipple piercings. He’d be ashamed of me. He’d say he should’ve made me go to church more.

  “I’ll give that some thought. I appreciate your willingness to give me another chance. I can do better.”

  “I hope so,” Liz said, standing to indicate I was dismissed.

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nbsp; I was so disappointed. I went straight to the ladies room and sat in a stall. I was sick to my stomach and thoroughly upset. How could I have thought that editor extraordinaire Liz Markham would think my sex fantasy idea was edgy enough to put in the magazine? I knew better. I knew this audience and this magazine. I just had to quit acting uptight about it. God knows I wasn’t acting uptight in my private life.

  I sniffed and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to stop the tears. I was not going to be one of those women who couldn’t take criticism. If I was going to be a writer, a successful one, I’d have to develop a thicker skin. I’d have to put up with dissatisfied editors, revisions, Internet trolls. So whimpering in a bathroom stall wasn’t going to become a habit. Just as soon as I finished crying. Because my ultimate icon had told me I was too tame and a disappointment. A girl doesn’t just bounce right back from that.

  I fumbled with my phone, texted Derek and Brett. “Liz hates my ideas, too tame. Hiding in bathroom stall crying.”

  I swiped under my eyes with toilet paper to clean up the running eye makeup mess. My phone pinged and Derek had replied: Want me to kick her ass for you? I laughed, a watery, self-pitying laugh, but still, the guy could make me smile when I was down.

  I’m sure we can figure out some way to dirty up your mind later, Brett chimed in. I snorted.

  I blew out a breath and straightened my shoulders. Enough feeling sorry for myself. I had shit to do.

  I knew I couldn’t splash my face although it would’ve felt good—I wore way too much makeup to the Envy offices to get away without a streaky mess. I just fixed my high ponytail and went back to the elevator to ride down to the level where I had a stack of copies to make.