Three Men and a Woman_Jubilee

by Rachel Billings

  He’d be damned if he let her get away with that. “You fucking want it, don’t you?” Rougher than he’d ever been with a woman, he shoved into her. He had a burning desire to fuck her throat. But he was goaded, too, goaded harder, by the urge to dominate. It was a wicked, thrilling compulsion.

  He went deep, deep as he could go. Until he was down her throat, and her face was plastered against him. He held for a longer count than he should, knowing she couldn’t breathe. She moaned a little in need, even, before he ended it. Before he drew back, all the way out of her, and stared down at her as she caught her breath. He had her head tilted again to his, and they both breathed hard as they…glared at each other.

  “Jesus,” Keith said again. “More.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jubilee had just barely caught her breath when Keith fed himself back into her. She opened up and took him and didn’t care, either, that she could see in his eyes how he was planning to take her throat again.

  She was getting another lesson in sexuality. She’d told the truth when she’d said to Keith that she’d given oral before. She’d also been given oral before.

  But, apparently, there was oral, and then there was oral.

  Brody, he of the famously skilled tongue, had started this lesson. Years past, Bill had used his lips and his tongue on her, but not in her. He’d gently stroked her to orgasm. There’d been no voracious, ravenous eating of her, no tongue-fucking, clit-sucking, teeth-grazing, wildly driven hustle to a mind-blowing, crazy-screaming, rocking climax.

  And, God bless the man, she thought she’d given Bill pleasure with her mouth. She’d licked him and sucked him, his hand gentle on her head, until he’d been moved to slide down her body and…make love to her.

  She thought she’d made him happy.

  What was making Keith happy was something entirely different. And she didn’t hate it. She looked at the dark desire in those blue eyes and felt the thrill of it. He’d pushed down her throat like a conquering marauder, giving no thought to mercy, demanding submission. And she’d given it. She’d submitted. She’d been on her knees, and she’d let him use her as he willed.

  She didn’t regret it. In fact, she gloried in it.

  He adjusted her head to his liking, took hold of his cock, and pushed it into her mouth, and she flashed a challenge with her eyes. He held her head, his friends held her arms, and, somehow, she was able to arch a bit, as though she was tossing her head back. As though she was signaling her eager enthusiasm.

  As though she were daring him to do his worst.

  He held her head and fucked her mouth. He shuddered, sometimes, with the thrill of it. He’d back off, then tighten his grip in her hair and shove down her throat.

  He did it all over again. Each time, each cycle, his breath came more roughly, his eyes shone more fiery.

  Slowly, Jubilee became aware that it wasn’t just Keith’s breath that she heard, and her own. She also heard quick inhalations from Henry and Brody. She felt the rigid thrust of their cocks where each man held her hand and rubbed into her. Then she saw one arm, Henry’s, push into Keith’s chest. Push him away.

  “My turn.”

  Keith pumped into her a few more times and then slid out. He bent over a bit, one hand resting on his thigh, as he let his breath settle. Then he moved away, taking Henry’s place at her side, and Henry stood before her. He already had his cock out, hard and long and thrusting toward her lips.

  “Jubilee,” he said, his hand on her head an instruction more than a caress. “If you don’t mind.”

  He used her much as Keith had, taking his pleasure, demanding it. His eyes flashed, too, when she caught a glimpse of them. And he used words, rough, wicked ones, to tell her what he wanted and how she pleased him. His words thrilled her, excited her. She heard murmurs of desire and praise from the others, too, and felt their touch as they began to explore her. Someone’s hands worked the back clasp of her bra and then slid it away. Brody, it must have been, because he was there, then, on her left side, pushing his cock into her tit. Rubbing her nipple with it, pressing in, causing some chafe she was sure he felt as much as she did. At her other side, Keith did the same. Both of them were there, their hot cocks pressing into her tits, stimulating her nipples, while Henry fucked her mouth. Hands cupped her head, touched her cheek, stroked her back, and she didn’t know whose was whose.

  All she knew was that she was at the center of it. That she was surrounded with hot, male desire, drowning in it. Lost to it. There were words and movement, and she was pretty sure it was Brody who filled her mouth now. Those hands on her ventured further now, touching her, rubbing her, invading her. Everywhere.

  She heard instructions—Keith’s voice, she thought. And movement—hands lifting her, placing her, adjusting. She was on her knees and…penetrated. A hard, hot cock thrust up into her pussy, while hands and fingers stroked her, stoked her, everywhere. There was a pinch and knuckling at her clit. More pinching at her nipples, rough tugs and twists that made her shudder. And a thrust at her ass. She knew the meaning of that now and let out a ragged groan with the cold shock of lube as it filled her.

  Hands and words, then, instructing and maneuvering. She fell forward, onto a hard, broad chest, while strong arms held her in place. Then fingers pressing into her ass, stretching her, readying her.

  Jubilee knew what was going to happen. She’d known it, anticipated it, since Keith had first rubbed his oiled hand over her back, touching her lower and lower until she’d gleaned his intent.

  They were going to double-fuck her. She’d have one cock in her pussy while another reamed her ass.

  She’d known it could be done. Keith had used a vibrator on her, in her, when he’d dealt out her first anal fuck. He’d given her a taste of what he’d intended all along—double penetration.

  Now, Henry rocked up into her, fucking her pussy. She knew it was him from his scent, obvious with every breath she drew, face-planted as she was against his chest. And something, too, about the way he filled her, his cock hard, stretching her as he pumped up into her.

  Keith was behind her, replacing the fingers in her ass with the hard pressure of his cock.

  They were both so big, so energetically surging.

  She felt the exquisite, edgy stretch, and knew it was impossible. “No,” she said. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, baby.” That was Keith, his lips nuzzling at her neck, encouraging. And then sucking and biting—inciting. “Pinch her nipples,” he said. And she knew who he was talking to. They knew, too. From either side, even as she was pressed against Henry’s chest, fingers found their way to her nipples. Roughly, rhythmically, they worked her.

  She didn’t mean for it to happen, but they kept it up until she shuddered, until she flexed her pelvis, fucking herself down on Henry’s cock and then back, in what had to be an invitation to that other cock. The one at her anus.

  “Yes, baby.”

  Keith had his big hands on her ass, grasping, fingers pinching. He held his cock steady through her first few flexes, encouraging her with his hands and letting her control the level of penetration.

  It wasn’t much. The big circumference of his cock head just breached her, wildly stimulating as she worked herself onto him. There was so much distension already, with Henry filling her pussy. The stretch there caused a quickening at her clit, a yearning…for a fuck. A double fuck.

  “Babe,” she heard, though she could barely process it. “Come up here.”

  Those hands again, strong arms and hands moving her. At her shoulders and arms, lifting.

  They drew her upright and, as that happened, Keith took her ass. With a growl, he fucked her several times, wild, uncontrolled penetrations that made her screech.

  Then he was behind her, panting, wrapping her in his arms and holding still against her. “Okay. Sorry. I’m good now. I got it,” he said, reassuring her or himself or all of them. “Let’s do this.”

  She was lifted on her knees now, so full of cock t
hat it should have been painful, should have been impossible, but it was…inflammatory. Almost literally, she burned. And, quite improbably, there was room for them—those two cocks, those two men—to fuck her.

  Her back was arched as Keith settled her head back against his shoulder. That caused her tits to thrust out, a fact that clearly didn’t go unnoticed by the three men around her. Their hands and fingers went everywhere, mauling her tits, tweaking her nipples, rubbing at her clit. Clutching at her hips to steady her against the harsh thrust of those cocks.

  Jubilee was lost to it. There was so much, too much, to take. They touched her and fucked her and made her come. She spasmed with it, her whole body convulsing. They drove her hard and high, so she was barely aware of their words. Their encouragement to her, their instructions to each other.

  “Again,” she heard through the haze of her fucked-out brain.

  In a few moments, she realized they were talking to her. That the fucking and fingering and stimulation they gave her wasn’t aimed at their own pleasure so much as hers. That they meant for her to come again.

  She didn’t have the energy to tell them no, to convince them it was impossible. Or, in fact, to resist.

  She was outnumbered, and their will, apparently, was stronger than hers. Fingers at her nipples worked their magic. They stroked at her clit and enticed. Soon she was rocking, fucking back at those two cocks that fucked her, crying out, impossibly, for more.

  They gave it to her. Harsh fucking, rough hands, urgent, encouraging, praising words. Answering her moans with their groans, and then her screams with their feral grunts. She quaked with it, shuddering, nearing collapse. Upright finally only through borrowed strength, she lolled back against Keith. They touched her still, though they were more soothing than provoking about it. They fucked her still, though they were gentle, easy.

  Until…they weren’t.

  Until their touches and their fucks meant something. Until a thumb brushed over her lips and opened her mouth, and one more cock filled her. Until they were all fucking into her, all seeking…their own pleasure.

  That, too, she learned, was a taking, overwhelming event. Words of need and gratification and gruff delight surrounded her. Hard bodies and cocks and hands encircled her. She was touched and filled and taken. She gave over to it, let them take her over.

  It became almost labor, the fucking and humping and thrusting. The determined, masculine drive of it. The muscled, intent work of it.

  But not quite labor, because there was the soaring pleasure of it. Their grunting, satisfied conquest. The wild elation as all three of them came together. Henry, holding her hips and fucking up into her, the impossible stretch and depth of his final thrusts taking every millimeter of her. Keith, behind her, grasping one of her tits with his hand, fingers on her nipple tugging with every thrust, while his other hand gripped her ass, opening her as he thrashed his cock into her and loosed his cum, hot, urgent spurts deep inside her.

  And Brody, standing over her, feet planted solidly on the mattress. Holding her head and pumping his cock into her mouth then going deep, down her throat. Until he held there, helplessly moaning as he emptied into her, more hot cum that slid in slippery jets down her throat.

  They fell together when it was over, Brody across the head of the bed, Jubilee tucked between Henry and Keith. The men were all gasping for breath while Jubilee flailed about for sanity. Their hands were still on her, touching, holding, soothing. Someone’s fingers were at her cheek, her jaw, and his wrist rested over her ear. So she almost didn’t hear it.

  It was Henry who spoke. “Keith,” he said. “She didn’t come. Suck her off.”

  “She came, like, three times. Plus, why me? I’m done in.”

  “But not that last time. And, because, you had her ass.”

  Keith sighed. “Fair enough.” He lifted his head to look at her, lying along her side, and made a good inspection of it. Then he slapped her butt. “Roll over, babe.”

  Jubilee was done. She’d had enough. Way more than enough. But she looked back at those blue eyes and knew there was no point in objecting. So she rolled over and, while Henry held one hand and Brody the other, Keith used his mouth to make her come again.

  Twice.

  * * * *

  Henry claimed both the bed and the woman that night. Keith had shot him a look as he’d begrudgingly left him to it. No doubt he was suspicious that, if any of them were going to muck up his great master plan, Henry would be the one.

  And he was right.

  Yeah, the weekend had been great. Having Jubilee with all of them had been, well, awesome. Triple-fucking her—spectacular. Nothing short of that. And the rest of it, too—playing on the ice, sitting around the fire, eating together. Like they were family. And if any of them could use a little of that, it would be Henry.

  But he was a realist, probably by nature and certainly by upbringing and training. He was all the way sure that Keith’s little fantasy wouldn’t stretch beyond the weekend, or at best, maybe a couple more like this one. Sooner or later—and probably, sooner—human nature would rear its ugly little head. One or more of the guys would get possessive, would get to that place where sharing just wouldn’t be acceptable. Or, it would be Jubilee coming to her senses and making a decision, a choice, that would bruise the hearts of two out of three of them. Maybe even all three.

  And maybe not just bruise but break.

  It didn’t make sense to him to court that kind of disaster. The longer they let it go, the worse it was going to be.

  He didn’t fall asleep until more than an hour had passed. He cradled Jubilee in his arms, her body warm and limp after those last two orgasms Keith gave her. She was exhausted, no doubt, not stirring even as Henry staked his claim, booted out his buddies, and, drawing the blankets up, snuggled in beside her.

  He didn’t fall asleep until he had a plan.

  She slept like he’d expected, as though they’d worn her out. No surprise in that. Still, she woke before dawn, and that didn’t surprise him either. Stealthily, she crept out of bed, no doubt thinking he wouldn’t notice. When he heard the shower start, he employed his own stealth.

  Wrapped in a towel, Jubilee came out of the bathroom. She’d left the lights off, so the room was lit with just the faintest hint of sunrise. When she moved close to the bed, he put a hand out to grasp hers. Unresisting, she let him pull her into the bed with him. He rolled to his back and took her with him. He looked into her eyes and told her to kiss him. She did, and he had her right hand tied before she realized what was happening. When she lifted up to look at him, he slid out from under her. He took her left hand with him and had it tied in a moment, so she was face down on the bed and helpless.

  She looked from one bound wrist to the other. He’d been into her weaving supplies and had commandeered a good length of thick red ribbon. Her head turned to him. “That ribbon looks familiar.”

  “I borrowed a bit of it,” he told her. “I’ll replace it if you need.”

  He had her left fingers at his mouth, teasing them with lips and tongue. She cleared her throat before she spoke. “I guess I can spare a couple yards.”

  “Four,” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Four yards.” He moved lower in the bed, wrapped his fingers around her left ankle, and tugged.

  “Oh.” That was a little more breathless, but she didn’t struggle as he tied her. Left, then right, until she was spread-eagle across the bed. She made a very enticing picture. He crawled up beside her and, with one arm, hiked her up enough that he could stuff a couple pillows under her hips. She was spread-eagle and had her ass in the air, and that was even better.

  “Looks good, sweetheart.” He palmed her ass and spanked her once, enjoying the little flare of pink on her cheek. He fondled her there, relishing the heat of his own handprint.

  Already, he’d found the bottle of lube, and he’d seen what Keith had done with it. So he pressed the nozzle into Jubilee’s ass, gave her a shot
of it, and left it there.

  He’d also found the vibrator in the drawer of the bedside table. He turned it on and tucked it in, right between a pillow and Juby’s clit.

  Henry had more supplies at home. In particular, he had a couple nipple clamps he wished he had his hands on now. Still, he was pretty satisfied with his handiwork. With one more nice swat to her ass, he stepped back from the bed.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “Don’t let the lube fall out of your ass. Don’t let the vibrator slip.” He walked toward the bathroom. “And don’t come until I get back.”

  Chapter Eight

  The bastard was taking a shower.

  Jubilee was helpless, bound in place with satin ribbons that were gentle on her skin but nonetheless implacably holding her.

  She’d learned Keith was intense in bed and, um, goal-directed. Brody was pure, joyful fun. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect from Henry, but this—his cool, controlled desire to dominate—well, this came as a surprise.

  Her body was…stirred. She felt the rough invasion at her anal sphincter—the screw-top of her scented oil. And the vibrator—its action was muted a bit by the pillow, almost too little to bring her to orgasm, though not quite too little.

  But, her mind, her spirit, and her heretofore apparently latent eroticism were all fired up. Torched might be a better description. Henry had not just surprised her but shocked her with his display of alpha male authority. The way he’d bound her and left her on exhibit—helpless and exposed, so obviously for his own satisfaction. The way he’d slapped her ass and then savored it with his hand, a crude, blatant celebration of his ownership. The way he’d done all he could to stimulate her, the invasion of her ass and placement of the vibrator, then left her with explicit, blunt instructions that forbade her taking pleasure from it.

  All of it left her shivering and needy. She turned her hands, but the bindings had no give. She arched a little, lifting her ass higher in the air, and somehow all she accomplished was a rough chafe of the bedsheets against her breasts. Her nipples were already distended—apparently in sympathy with every other over-excited sex-nerve in her body—and the chafing made her moan. The movement threatened to dislodge the bottle of oil, and the instinctive squeeze she gave to try to hold it in place only made matters worse. She learned she had to do the opposite—to relax her sphincter as though her body wished to welcome the bottle into itself.