by Donna Alam
I twist my head to the window. It’s raining. Just for a change. ‘Don’t make me,’ I say, pouting as I take his half-hard length into my hand.
‘Ah-ah. No distractions, now.’ His eyes gleam with mischief as he reluctantly disengages from my fingertips.
‘I’ll get all wet,’ I whine, snuggling into his chest to hide a cunning smile. ‘Can’t you just rustle up some scrambled eggs?’
‘I like you wet, wanting, and desperate.’ This man has the sexiest voice in the universe. ‘But I’ll settle for you looking like something the cat dragged in.’ I pull back and stare up at him, my mouth half open, ready to protest. ‘Unless you want to play me for it?’ he purrs. ‘Loser goes for coffee and breakfast.’
‘I get to choose the game?’ I reply a little huffily. He nods his assent. ‘You’re on,’ I reply. ‘And I choose First In.’
What follows in this warm bedroom in a leafy corner of London is a game we’d created for ourselves. A game involving a series of touches and strokes. Of heavy petting, the kind that leaves us both aching from the pleasure of it, yet desperately unfulfilled.
His cock is once more in my hand as he pushes my back flat against the bed, almost planking over me as his lips and tongue torture my neck.
‘I was so hard watching you last night,’ he whispers, his hips dipping, his cock brushing me. ‘All those eyes on you, my beautiful girl.’
I moan, recalling how I’d sensed his eyes on me. His look from across the room was so hot, I’d worried he’d disintegrated my clothes. ‘Tell me how you love to fuck me, Dan.’ As I fist his cock, he thrusts into my hand, and as his hips dip again, I slide his satin hardness between my thighs.
‘That’s cheating,’ he growls, a smile colouring his words. ‘Hands aren’t allowed. You deserve to be spanked.’
‘Without hands? I’m not sure how that would work.’
‘I’d give it a bloody good try,’ he growls into my neck, a hot lick to follow. A kiss to the forehead.
‘Maybe later,’ I whisper in response. ‘This girl needs feeding first.’
‘I’ll feed you all right,’ he threatens. ‘I’ll feed you my cock.’
‘Daniel, you’re so bad!’
My exclamation drips with faux-astonishment, one hand touching his firm chest. Not even cheating, he takes the opportunity to lean over, sliding his length against my already slick entrance.
‘Darling, spread your legs for me.’
‘Oh, Dan,’ I purr, ‘you’ll have to try better than that.’
But I have no words following, my breath catching as the ridge under his smooth head glides over my clit.
‘Tell me you want this,’ he demands.
And I do—as much as ever—but I’m also mindful of the rain. It ruins a girls’ hair.
‘I love a man who takes charge,’ I whisper, my hips beginning to buck, though I’m careful not to be responsible for him sliding him inside.
‘Let me hear you beg,’ he growls.
‘Buy me croissants.’ I giggle. ‘Feed me eggs!’
As he laughs a little, he inadvertently lowers himself, the head of his cock rubbing me again.
Later, I’d blame muscle memory. Later, I’d accuse him of underhandedness. But for now, I shift subtly, taking him inside.
I sigh as my body accepts him, admitting only to myself that I’ve lost to the man I love once again.
THE END
Acknowledgements
Thanks to my family. And I did hear you—honest! And keep sending the dick jokes.
To Natasha Harvey, the Queen of OCD, thanks for listening, OCD-ing, keeping me right, and listening to me panic and flap.*
To Aimee Bowyer, henceforth to be known as Aimee Boo-yaah! For spotting ALL the holes and not-so-desirable character traits. **
To hubby, thanks for not getting killed this year. That would’ve been problematic. And to my fuzzy mutt, Mr Sweep, for not snuffing it, too. Twice.
Seriously, the pair of you need to get a grip. You’re not making my job very easy!
Thanks to the Lambs for bearing with me, reading, and all that good stuff.
* Must procure Natasha a crown.
**Ensure Aimee has a super hero cape.
Twice The Fun
By Donna Alam
Copyright © 2017 Donna Alam
Published By: Donna Alam
Copyright and Disclaimer
The moral right of this author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the express permission of the author
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Donna Alam
A Lion’s Den Quickie
Twice the Fun is an unapologetically smutty novella based in The Lion’s Den, a lifestyle club. Or sex club, by any other name!
Haters of dirty words, threesomes, and general smuttiness, should look elsewhere for kicks.
Chapter 1
Lizzie
‘I can’t do this anymore. It’s over, David,’ I said as I packed a bag. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow for the rest of my stuff.’
‘What can I do to make you change your mind?’ he asked. Though his expression was sad, it was unconvincing. I wasn’t fazed. Things had been going wrong for some time. We’d both checked out mentally weeks ago.
‘Nothing, David. This isn’t working anymore. You know it’s true,’ I replied, trying to let him down easy. This didn’t have to hurt. Though I guessed if it was going to hurt anywhere, it was likely to be his pride.
‘What do you mean? Why not?’
The male ego is a strange thing. We were living like roommates—he’d been phoning it in sexually for months. He wasn’t interested in me and I didn’t need to stay with him just for the status quo.
‘I want to go explore the world and experience new things,’ I said, ‘while you . . . you’re a homebody. I’m sorry, but that’s just not me. I’m a free-spirit. And right now, I need to spread my wings.’
His eyes glossed over like he was about to cry. I didn’t want him to cry. We just weren’t worth it and hadn’t been for some time. ‘I can be a free spirit. What do you want to do? I’ll do it. I’ll go where ever you want to go.’
‘I couldn’t ask that of you,’ I said. It wasn’t him and it wasn’t me. It was us.
‘But, I love you. I’ll do anything for you—just tell me what I need to do.’ He was almost begging and it was too much to take.
I ran upstairs and into the master bathroom. I grabbed my travel bathroom bag from under my sink and packed it full of my make-up, deodorant, a hair brush, hair ties, my toothbrush, and the other random necessities I knew I would need for the next few days.
When I went back downstairs, David hadn’t moved from his spot and he had a magazine open. So much for heartbreak.
‘So you’re really doing this? You’re leaving for real?’
I put my hand up to stop him from talking, not interested in prolonging the pointlessness. ‘Please don’t make this any harder. I’ll be by later for my things.’
My stomach churned as I walked out the door without turning back. It wasn’t the idea of what was left behind, but rather what lay ahead.
I climbed into my car, and backed out of the driveway.
I knew where I was headed, someplace exclusive and secret. Something I recently found out about from one of the girls at work. It wasn’t the reason to end my two-year long relationship with David. But it was a way of cutting the ties. Of not going back. At twenty-five years old, I needed nothing more than to break out and be free. I needed to experience things I would never get to experience if I stayed with him.
He wasn’t a bad gu
y, he just wasn’t the right guy. We were like oil and water, we just didn’t mix. He didn’t excite me anymore. No tingles when his number flashed up on my phone. No rushing home to meet him after a night with the girls. The most excitement we had together was binge watching his Doctor Who DVD collection. I did it for him in the beginning—curled into his side, as his eyes stayed glued to the screen. But that had stopped a long time ago. Along with Doctor Who, David barely held my attention these days.
And the feeling was mutual.
After an hour of driving, I pulled into a car park near my destination, almost baulking at the ridiculous city parking fees. Just as I killed the engine, my phone started ringing. It was David. I really didn’t want to talk to him. It wasn’t a case of prolonging the agony, but more the aggravation. It’s just his ego, I told myself again, hitting the reject button and sending him to voicemail. Then I turned my phone off and put it in my glovebox. I didn’t want to deal with anything other than pleasure tonight.
‘Am I really doing this?’ I asked myself, flipping down the visor and staring at myself in the mirror. I fluffed my dark bangs and ran a finger under my mascara to straighten the lines. This night had been on my mind for weeks now. I wasn’t going to talk myself out of this. ‘Hell yes, I am,’ I answered my reflection, getting out of the car.
I made my way to the place I’d been dreaming of for so long. The place I could fulfill a long time fantasy. To the outside, it looked like the rest of the buildings in the street. Genteelly elegant, sash windows and a brass letter box. Carefully manicured bay trees sat in pots, flanking the door. I pressed the buzzer, recited my name, the door springing wide. My stomach tied in knots as I stepped over the threshold.
Inside, the lights were low and the staff at the registration table welcoming, but as I walked into a room to my right, the ambiance changed. God, it was sexy.
My nerves were dancing, but I felt more excited than nervous. I’d wanted to do something like this since the girl in the office next to mine had told me she’d been here one night with a date. The way she described it, I’d felt like a voyeur to her world, and I’d been saving to pay for a month-long membership ever since.
The Lion’s Den wasn’t at all like I pictured. It was classy—a stylish bar area that resembled a sophisticated parlor. At least until you took a closer look at the art work and photographs hanging on the walls. But still, the place was definitely high end which made me thankful for the black lace cocktail dress I’d decided to wear before leaving the house. Call me sneaky for wearing a long coat over it, but there was no need to tell David where I was heading. Or cause a scene. But the fact is, if I don’t do this tonight, I never will. Call it breaking ties. Call it selfishness. But I’m doing this tonight and I’m doing it in my favourite dress.
I was happy to see there was a bar, even if I’d already been told it was a three-drink maximum. A good idea for those who plan to play. Music played in the background and a lone barman stood at the far end of the bar serving someone. I could’ve been in any bar in any hotel. I took a seat, it was pretty empty except for one other girl at the opposite end. She was staring intently at her cocktail and I wondered if she’d been stood up.
When I’d first heard of the place, this was not what I pictured. I’d thought it would be modern, brash, and flashy, not something that looked more like a gentleman’s club.
‘What can I get you?’ the bartender appeared in front of me. He couldn’t have been more that about twenty-two and he was totally hot. As he smiled a flirty curl of his lips, I reminded myself he wasn’t what I’d paid my membership for. I could head to a club and pick up his baby-faced inexperience kind any day.
‘Coming right up,’ he said, after I placed my order. Hendricks with a slice of fresh lime and a splash of tonic.
I watched as he grabbed a glass and threw in a few ice cubes. Then, he grabbed tonic water and the bottle of Gin. He poured the ingredients into the glass, adding a slice of lime, then he threw in a small straw and slid the glass over to me.
‘There you go,’ he said, the sexy smile not leaving his face. He was fun to watch. Lithe movements and long fingers and I guessed he liked the attention.
‘Thank you.’ I took a sip while I stared at him. It was fun to play—I was good at making men want me, at teasing them with my sweetness, hinting at what lay behind my innocent smile. I’d expected my talent to be a little rusty but according to his expression, I hadn’t lost it. It felt good to put my talents to good use.
‘What brings you to the Lion’s Den?’ he asked as he wiped down the bar.
‘Just seeing what it’s all about,’ I answered blandly.
I turned around on the bar stool and watched as a man and woman walked by. The man was older, maybe in his fifties, though the girl looked to be about my age. They sat on a sofa and began making out almost instantly, his hand slipping under the hem of her dress and making her moan. I bit my lip. They were so into each other and so sexy to watch. My cheeks heated as though my thoughts could be read, but as I cast my eyes around I could see I wasn’t the only one. The woman who’d been staring at her drink was now watching them avidly and a man by the window looked to be rubbing himself over his pants. I’d never felt more turned on in my life. Oh, God, I was so happy to be here and so eager to start. This was the kind of excitement I craved.
I wanted to have sex with a stranger. Wanted to experience the kinds of high I’d never had before. No strings-attached-sex was exactly what I was looking for.
‘Is this your first time?’ the bartender asked from behind me, bringing my attention back.
I’d forgotten for a moment he was there. He was still giving me the flirty eye so I leaned onto the bar, displaying my cleavage to full effect. As I’d expected, his eyes found their aim pretty fast. Then I ran a finger over the neckline of my dress, his eyes following the motion.
‘What makes you think this is my first time?’ I asked all innocence and virtue.
‘The way you bit your lip as you watched them make out. The way your cheeks flushed red.’
‘Maybe I just enjoy watching.’ My words came out a little sultrier than I intended. The bartender gave me a reluctant smile as he was called to the other end of the bar by the lady looking at her cocktail, wanting to settle her tab.
The bartender told her the total and she handed him the money. She looked embarrassed and I was more than sure she had just been stood up. I felt bad for her, but there was nothing I could do.
As she turned the corner I noticed two men sidestep her. They both turned and looked at her ass. They said something to one another and then looked over at the bar. I looked away, a little embarrassed that they caught me looking. Caught them ogling.
Boys will be boys, I thought and then reminded myself I was here to be objectified. Yep, I wanted the hell objectifying out of me tonight.
I slammed my drink back and placed the glass down.
‘Another?’ asked the bartender.
‘Yes, please,’ I said, regaining my confidence and rearranging myself and my dress on the stool.
He mixed up another drink as the two men walked past me. They both looked to be in their early thirties, and from what I could see, in pretty good physical shape. One of them looked directly at me as he passed and I felt my cheeks heat again. He gave me a cheeky wink and kept walking with his friend.
They sat down at the other end of the bar and spoke in hushed tones, not sparing a glance for the pair making out, even though the girl was now writhing in his lap.
So hot.
The men were both wearing expensive looking suits and it made me wonder if they were here on business or pleasure. Either way, I was interested in finding out.
‘Where’s the ladies room?’ I asked the bartender.
He pointed to a sign above a hallway. I would have to walk past the men to reach it, giving them a chance to stare at my ass this time.
‘Thanks. I’ll be right back,’ I said and made my way to the bathroom.
/> ‘Damn,’ one of the guys said to the other. I looked over my shoulder and saw them both staring. So I returned that flirty wink and then carried on down the hallway to find the women’s restroom.
The restroom was empty when I entered it. I walked up to the wall of mirrors and assessed my hair and make-up. I looked pretty good, I decided. No make-up smudges and my curly dark hair was still behaving itself, which was a bonus. I pulled on the neck of my dress adjusting my cleavage. A girl needs to make the most of her assets.
I left the bathroom and, to my disappointment, the two men were no longer sitting there. I wasn’t sure where they went and I wasn’t going to go looking for them. I wanted to be the hunted, not the hunter. A treasured prize. Feeling a little flat, I decided it was early yet and just went back to my bar stool and my drink.
A few minutes later one of the two guys appeared by my side.
‘Do you mind?’ he asked pointing to the seat next to me.
‘Of course not.’ Along with the words, I flashed him a small smile.
‘You’re here alone?’ he asked as he sat down. I noticed a hint of disbelief in his voice.
‘Yeah. Why is that surprising?’ I asked.
‘Because beautiful young women don’t normally come here by themselves.’
I laughed. ‘You sound like you come here a lot.’ Which told me a lot. Good. I want my fuck tonight to be experienced. I studied his face. He was handsome. Dark, inviting eyes. A little stubble on his jaw. Lips that were full and pink and far too tempting. And his smile? It said I’d know what you want, and that was sexy as hell.
‘I do,’ he admitted, though there wasn’t an ounce of shame in his tone. ‘I come here a lot.’ He put emphasis on the word ‘come’ and my body tingled as I imagined him fucking a harem of girls.
David was the oldest guy I had been with and he was only Twenty-seven. This guy was at least thirty-five and looked so together and so professional—I doubt he’d spend his downtime wearing sweat pants and watching Doctor Who. The thought of fucking a guy so much older than me turned me on so much. I’m not sure of the reason, but there’s always been something about older men that I’d always found hot.