She panted with the effort of it—or was that the excitement, the way her agitated maneuvering had brought the vibrator into closer, provocative contact with her clit. She tried, she really did, to hold against the wicked, endless stimulation of it.
She failed. Burying her face in the bed, Jubilee made every effort to let the orgasm roll through her silently, invisibly. But she shuddered out a single breath just as she heard Henry’s voice. She turned her head, and he was there—naked, cock thrusting out, watching her. Seeing.
“Did you just come, baby?”
“No. No,” she said, but the words came out in breathless, damning pants.
“Sweetheart,” he said. “Was that a lie?”
She shook her head. Her hair fell over her eyes, blurring her view of him. Suddenly, he was close, his breath at her ear. “We need to establish a couple things, Jubilee.” She shuddered again as the bottle in her ass moved. His lips still hovered at her ear, but his hand was busy elsewhere. He turned the bottle, making a circular motion with it, a rotation. He was…screwing her with it.
“We’ve determined,” he went on, “that you have a bit of a wicked, nasty streak.” He didn’t make it sound like that was a bad thing.
Jubilee tried to listen, but she was distracted. He appeared to be done screwing now and just pressed the bottle into her.
“You’re the kind of girl to let three men fuck you. To let us finger-fuck and tongue-fuck and cock-fuck you. To let us fuck your mouth and your pussy and your ass.” He pressed harder now, and surely the full width of the bottle must be there, reaming her. “All at once.”
Jubilee panted some more. That vibrator was still just where it should be and the thing he was doing with her ass was…was…
He was talking again, at her ear. “But, are you the sort of wicked girl who would tell me a lie?”
“No,” she breathed. “No.”
“No?”
Though, he kind of had her, having caught her in the act. “Well…” She hesitated, grasping for reason. “Not about anything important.”
He lifted away, gave the bottle in her ass an extra little twist, and spanked her. “You came when I told you not to. Are you saying you think that’s not important?”
Uh…he was touching her, one hand soothing over her ass, threatening another spanking, the other at her back, her shoulder. She lost track of the question. “Maybe?”
He spanked her again. His big palm felt hot, and her flesh beneath it burned. Each single slap had been not quite painful, but significant nonetheless. Each gave her a minor sting but a major…lesson. A reminder. He was in charge. She was at his mercy. If he wanted, he could give her more than a hot slap to her ass.
The thought flitted across Jubilee’s mind that she should object. She should be afraid or…or offended. Probably, she shouldn’t be exquisitely turned on. She shouldn’t be panting, close to coming again with nothing more than the stimulation of his hot palm on her. Close to begging for him to do more, touch her, spank her…something.
Probably, she shouldn’t be reveling in her newfound wickedness.
“Sweetheart,” he said again in that indulgent, faintly chiding, stimulating tone. “I’m going to have to fuck you.”
“Yes.” Fuck, yes. “Please.”
“Are you begging?”
“No. Yes.”
“Baby,” he said. “You’re kind of a dirty girl. Aren’t you?”
“Henry.”
He pressed fingers into her cunt, fucking her with them, and she shuddered.
“Say it.”
“I’m…I’m dirty.” He pushed his fingers in farther. “Fuck me. Please.”
He took his fingers out of her and she moaned at the loss. He moved around her, over her. From either side, he slid his hands under her, cupping her breasts. “I have more supplies at home,” he told her. He was calm, despite the way she panted. “I have a couple nipple clamps I really wish I had with me right now.” His mouth was close to her ear, so she felt his breath. “I’d put them right here, at the very tips of your nipples.” He showed her, taking her between his thumb and finger on both sides. “And then I’d pinch them down hard.”
He demonstrated.
“Ohh.” Jubilee shuddered, almost falling over into orgasm with the pain/pleasure of it. Like he’d found a hotwire to her clit, her body bucked just as though he was fucking her. She was beyond the edge of control.
He moved and put a hard hand in the center of her back, quelling her. “But I didn’t expect you to be such a dirty girl,” he said when she’d quieted. He spoke regretfully. “So I only brought these.”
He was on his knees, at one side of her and then the other. He pulled at each breast and manipulated, until he had her areoles covered a sort of adhesive patch. Centrally, right over the nipples, the things buzzed. Mini-vibrators, targeted like a laser, inescapable.
“How’s that?” Henry asked. “Not as nasty as it could be, but good, right? Right, sweetheart?” He put his hand on her ass, exactly where he’d spanked her. Where he’d conditioned her, apparently, to expect a spanking, because she answered urgently.
“Yes! Good.”
“Do you think I won’t spank you again if you’re a good girl?” His words teased, just like that hand that lifted from her. But he left it hovering, close enough that she could feel the heat of it. The threat of it.
Her breath shuddered out, and he leaned over her. “Wait. Maybe you want another spanking.” His hand was there again, touching, circling. “Do you, baby?”
“No,” she said. Then, “Yes.”
He spanked her, another hard, edgy slap to that same hyper-stimulated curve of her ass. Again, and again.
Beyond her control, her body started flexing. Her tits pressed into the bed as though they were seeking greater stimulation from those vibrators. Then her pelvis thrust forward, rubbing her clit against the vibrator there. He spanked her, and she flexed, and then she was coming—a rough, noisy, needy, urgent orgasm. She cried out a long, hoarse wail, and he spanked her two more times during it.
Finally, she collapsed against the bed and the pillows that cradled her hips. Silently, Henry removed things from her—the vibrator from between her legs, the patches from her nipples, and, last, the bottle of oil from her ass. She shivered out one final helpless, feeble shudder as he gave a good spurt of the oil before he took it away.
“You don’t have much control, do you?” he asked. He was moving around her, not waiting for an answer. “My dirty girl.”
He put his cock at her ass. “It’s my turn, now,” he told her. “This is for me. I’m having your ass. I’m having an anal fuck.”
He did it then, pushing in all the way, slowly though, so she felt every millimeter of width, of depth. “I don’t have a condom on,” he said. “It feels fucking great. Your ass is so hot. So tight.”
Pumping into her, he gradually worked her harder. She felt it as he ground into her, flexing to go deep, then tilting back, massaging his balls against her pussy. He had his hands on her hips, his thumbs stroking over her to open her more.
For him.
He went about it as though his own pleasure was his only concern. He humped her roughly and then held deep, reaming her with the base of his cock. He lifted her hips, tugging her against the bindings, and fucked her down on him, then lifted her and did it again. Using words throughout, telling her how he felt, what it was like to be inside her ass, how she was his, his, he kept on.
Finally, he came down over her. His whole weight was on her, centered where his cock speared into her. He slid his hands along her arms until he reached the bindings and then her hands. He twined his fingers with hers, gripping hard. Like his control was gone, too, he flailed into her, his body lifting up and then slapping back against her with each wild thrust.
Words tore from his throat, those, too, seeming beyond his control. “Mine!” he said on a groan as he thrust in. “Fucking mine!”
Maybe he intended only his own pleasure. Bu
t the powerful, out-of-control ass fuck he dealt her was an irresistible turn-on. Jubilee moaned with it. She felt more and more the chafing of her clit against the pillows as his rough thrusting splayed her legs and opened her up. She felt the weight of him over her back, the way his urgent bucking pressed her tits against the mattress.
And the power of his excitement, his wild, overwhelming passion carried her with him.
At the last moment, he might have noticed. Maybe it was the last bit of his sanity or just feral instinct. Just before he howled and spasmed out his orgasm, he reached around and grabbed her clit. He held it as he thrust, giving her rough jerks that made her scream.
But it was a scream of ecstasy fully matching the Neanderthal-chest-thumping cry of victory that accompanied his rowdy climax. He pushed into her and she thrust back. He spurted, hot, thick jets of semen, and she accepted. He collapsed over her, his dead weight a burden, and she welcomed it.
* * * *
Henry knew he’d drawn many long breaths before he could even begin to collect himself. He knew he still had his cock in Jubilee’s ass, that he’d crumpled, leaving all of his weight on her.
For long moments, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Finally, with an effort more heroic than she could possibly appreciate, he got his weight on his hands and knees, lifted up, and drew out of her. He went to his heels, still panting, and took a look at the wreckage he’d caused. She was still spread-eagle, only…more so now, with the way he’d thrashed into her, spreading her wider and tautening her bindings. The right cheek of her ass was still red from his spankings—he might have dealt her a couple more as he fucked her. Her anus gaped, even now open nearly as much as if he still filled her, still fucked her. A white trail of his semen dribbled out of her.
She couldn’t be comfortable, but she was…passive. Her breaths had gradually slowed, but they were the only movement she made.
Henry wiped the back of his hand over his face. Slowly, without speaking or touching her, he backed off the bed. Not even looking at her, he unfastened the binding at her right wrist, then he went to the bathroom and cleaned up.
When he came out, she was lying on her side facing him, eyes open. Four lengths of red satin were curled in front of her, at least one of them tangled in her fingers where her cheek rested on her hand. She was covered with the bedsheet, only her face, that hand, and the spiky strands of her black hair were visible.
Staying in sight of her, he put himself back into the dress clothes he’d worn when he came to her on Friday night. He did it without speaking, but not without thinking.
Henry liked rough sex. It wasn’t so much a secret as just private, not something he’d discussed even with his closest friends.
He liked to…dominate. And he liked women to…submit.
In his own bedroom, he had more than nipple clamps. He had satin bindings, yes, and velvet ones, too. But also—leather and chain. He had vibrators and plugs, beads and rings, cuffs and gags.
He’d used them all. He’d tied women and bound them. He’d spanked them and even used a lash. He’d deep-throated and anal-fucked.
But he’d never done it without permission. Without consent. Without a safe word.
And he’d never done anything that felt as fucking great as what he’d just done to Jubilee.
He sat on the bed. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said, but she said it to his back because he’d sat facing away from her, his elbows on his knees, his head hanging.
“Did you hear what I said?”
He’d said a lot, but she seemed to get what he meant.
“You said, ‘Mine.’”
“I want you, Jubilee. I want you a lot. But I’m not the kind of guy who shares.”
She took a couple quiet breaths. “You mean, not even with…”
“Yeah. Not even with Keith and Brody. It’s kind of my first rule. When I’m with a woman, she’s not with anyone else.”
She was quiet for another minute and he turned to look at her. She had the ribbons in both hands now, working them with her fingers like she was…weaving. Her gaze was there to meet his, and he had to give himself a mental face-punch to keep himself from falling into it.
“I have to believe,” he said, “that when you take a moment to think about it, you’re not the kind of woman to share her body, either. Her…self.”
“Except…we’ve just done this.”
“It was Keith’s idea.”
“He said…I agreed to just not think about it for the weekend.”
He leaned in and stroked her hair back with his thumb. “That can’t last forever. The weekend’s almost over. What’s going to happen when you do start thinking about it? You can’t really picture yourself continuing a relationship with all of us, can you?”
Her fingers stopped moving, like she’d got herself all tied up in knots. “I don’t know. I…I met all three of you at once. I…”
Whatever thought was in her head, she couldn’t finish it.
“You let all three of us…love you.” He almost face-punched himself again. He shouldn’t have used that word. He should have used “fuck” instead, but he couldn’t sit there with her, touch her, look into those pretty blue eyes, and belittle what had happened between them. All of them.
She didn’t answer. After a moment, Henry sighed. He reached for her phone on the bedside table.
“What’s your code?”
After just the barest pause, she told him. Like it was nothing, given the invasion into her privacy and her person he’d already made. He put himself in her contacts, his cell phone and work number and e-mail. “You said you were flying to North Carolina tomorrow. What time is your flight?”
“Eleven.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up at eight and give you a ride to the airport.”
She started to push up, an objection obviously on her lips, but he put a hand on her shoulder to still her. “I’ll be here. Then…” He rubbed his hand over her shoulder. For a moment, he had a longing to lie back down with her and gently love her again. “When you come back, I’ll pick you up. If you want to be with me. Call me or text me, and I’ll come for you.”
He looked down at her, surprised by the hurt in his heart when he spoke again. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll ask Keith or Brody to meet you.”
“That’s my only choice?” she asked. “What if I can’t choose?”
“Then end it. It would be better now, don’t you think? Before anyone’s heart gets involved?”
“Don’t you think it’s already too late for that?”
“No,” he said. He had to convince her. Then maybe he could believe it, too. “We’ve only known each other, what? Ten days? And we didn’t see each other, didn’t speak or even text, for five of them. It’s too soon for…well, it’s just too soon.”
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Downstairs, Keith and Brody were in the living room. They looked up and he walked over to face them. “I’m leaving,” he said.
Keith and Brody both stood. “Why?” Keith asked.
“Because I can’t see where this is going, all of us here,” he said.
“You’re saying you’re done with her?” That was Brody. “You don’t want her?”
Henry ran a hand back through his hair. “I want her,” he said, meeting one pair of eyes and then the other. “But I think she’s going to have to choose, don’t you?”
“Nah,” Keith said. “I think it’s working out just fine, all of us together.”
Henry shook his head. “How do you see that working? Have you ever, ever known me to share a woman?”
“Have you ever, ever done anything that felt better than what we did last night?”
Yeah, in fact. He’d just bound Jubilee to the bed, spanked her, and about blown his own head off with the wildest anal fuck of his life.
But obviously, Keith had something else on his mind. He had a point to make.
“Let me just tell you,” he said, “the three best days of my life.” Keith pointed at both Brody and Henry. “Twelve years ago in September, when I first skated in the Ritter and met you two. Four years later, when we took the Frozen Four.” He’d left that finger pointing at Henry. “And last night. Tell me what it is you’ve done that felt better than that. What you might ever do that would top that.”
Henry raised his hands in defense. “It was hot, I admit it. But I’m thinking about the future.”
Brody stepped closer. “I think Keith’s right. And, yeah, we can top it, too, in the future. The day she marries us. The days she gives us babies.”
“She can’t marry all three of us, you idiot.”
But Keith came to Brody’s defense. “She can in every way that counts.”
Henry went on, feeling a bit desperate. “And I want my own baby, not some…some maybe baby, that could be mine or, or…”
Brody waved his hand. “Whatever. Details.”
“You can’t think it could work.”
Keith looked at him. “Your way is better? You want her? And it doesn’t matter that we want her, too? That we lo—”
Henry chopped with his hand, breaking into that word before Keith could finish it. “Don’t say it. We barely know her. None of us loves her. That’s the point, isn’t it? To stop this, before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late,” Keith said, in the same moment that Brody said, “I love her.”
Too late to put his fingers in his ears, Henry turned away. He went to the turret and looked out. He saw the pond where they’d skated with Jubilee, where, maybe, someone had fallen in love. He saw the snowy field across the road and the hills beyond it. Possibly, he could look out that window every day of his life. He could have Jubilee standing next to him, hand in his.
Three Men and a Woman_Jubilee Page 9