Romance: Menage Romance: The French Quarter Hostages (Paranormal Action Shapeshifter MFM Bear Shifter Romance) (Fantasy BBW Taboo Interracial Love Triangle Werebear Mates Short Stories)

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Romance: Menage Romance: The French Quarter Hostages (Paranormal Action Shapeshifter MFM Bear Shifter Romance) (Fantasy BBW Taboo Interracial Love Triangle Werebear Mates Short Stories) Page 26

by Jessica Miller


  “We should go for a swim,” Samantha said, not even knowing she was going to say it.

  Then, without waiting for a reply, she ran toward the water. The tide was in and the water was glittering blue. The sun was pale and white in the sky. And the coldish air pricked her skin. She leapt into the water and then dunked her head under, relishing the revitalizing shock of the cold. She came up with a quick intake of breath, giggling like a fool. She turned to the shore and saw Jack laughing as Eli took off his shirt and waded into the water like a man on a mission. After a pause, Jack shrugged and followed.

  There were few people on the beach, but the ones that were there were mostly walking dogs or taking quiet walks. They looked on in a mixture of disgust and envy and bemusement at the three adults splashing around like children. At first they just splashed, and then they played Marco Polo for a while. Samantha was shocked by how good Eli and Jack were at it. She could barely move without their lightning-quick Navy SEAL reflexes latching onto her.

  Soon there were too cold and had to get out of the water. They traipsed back to their hotel room and took off all their clothes. They ordered up some lunch and ate in bed, naked. There was nothing sexual (just then) about their nakedness; they were just totally comfortable with each other. That was the most startling thing to Samantha. She had never been totally comfortable being naked around people. And now here she was, comfortable being naked around two people.

  After lunch, Samantha returned to her room and took a shower. The three of them were going out on the town this evening. After her shower, she was going to call across and ask the others what they wanted to do until tonight when they walked through her door, fully dressed.

  “Come on, Sammy,” Jack said. “We’re taking you shopping.”

  And I thought this day couldn’t get any better, she thought, as she hastily put on her shoes.

  *

  Standing in front of the full-length mirror in her new dress, Samantha felt sexier than she had in years. She had not one, but two hunky Navy SEALs. Just the thought of it made her feel dizzy.

  That night they dined in an expensive-looking restaurant and then went to a club. Samantha kept insisting that they let her contribute toward something but the men were adamant that they would pay for her. Samantha told herself that when they got back to the States she would treat them to something nice, which she would. It was only fair.

  When they returned that night, they sat in the moonlit hotel room and smoked cigarettes out of the window. There was nothing particularly abnormal about that moment but Samantha felt a change begin to happen within her. She was no longer Samantha the Lonely Girl Whom Nothing Happened To; now she was somebody interesting with some kind of purpose and spontaneity. She felt like she had finally been introduced to life.

  After the cigarettes they made love, all three of them, and then fell asleep together. It was perfect.

  *****

  The four days in Malta ended quicker than Samantha would have liked, but reality came calling and all of them were adults and so they had to return. Samantha apologized to the good patrons of The Spatula and Eli and Jack went north for a meeting with some important Navy people. Samantha sensed that neither of them wanted to talk about it so she didn’t ask. They were uncomfortable with the role they’d played in so many deaths, Eli had told her one night in Malta. It was as though the animal-shield had been lifted and she had glimpsed the real him.

  Samantha didn’t contact the men and they didn’t contact her. It was nice, in a way, to get back to her normal life for a while. It was nice to remember what it was like to be a normal member of society. But beneath it all was the yearning to return to the craziness of those few days. She wanted the SEALs back with her; she wanted them to whisk her away into another realm of craziness.

  Instead of anything so dramatic, she came home one day to Eli and Jack standing outside her apartment building. It was almost two months after their return. It was well after Christmas (which Samantha had spent with Fiona) and the first whispers of spring were beginning to thaw the snow and paint the leaves a yellowish green.

  Samantha knew that some women would be angry at the way the two of them had left her, but she wasn’t. They had never declared love or even commitment. They had shared pleasure and that was that. And now that they had returned, Samantha’s main emotion was happiness intermingled with surprise. She immediately ran over to them and took them both in her arms, wrapping her arms around their necks. They hugged her back, Jack laughing, Eli squeezing her tight.

  “Come in,” she said, and hurried them through the door.

  *

  The three of them sat around the coffee table, much as they had when the two of them first came here, but something was changed in them. They seemed less comfortable. Eli stared at the wall and Jack looked down at his hands for a long time. Samantha couldn’t help but remember. Jack is staring down at his hands. He is nervous. She is nervous. They are fifteen and the summer sun blazes down on them and the river glitters and Sammy knows things will never be this perfect again. He wants to say something but he had to look down at his hands to compose himself. Jack is small and nervous and strong and big at the same time. He looks up and smiles and says it; and they kiss and they do more than kiss and it is beautiful. She was stunned by the force of the thought, but pushed it away. She wouldn’t dwell on the past.

  “We’re going over there again, Sammy,” Jack finally said.

  More was said. There were hugs and kisses and lovemaking and everything else, but that was all Samantha really heard. They were going away. But this was different to the last time. Now they were going away possibly forever.

  The SEALs had taken her; the SEALs had left her.

  *****

  Samantha Fry, the manager of The Spatula in the small town of Barkton, had no idea that Jack and Eli were going to return, or if. She had worked hard over these last eight months and eventually the boss had promoted her and taken a more background role himself. She was able to buy a house and she had no problem staying here. She had flown one wintery fortnight last year that nobody but she and her secret traveling companions knew about. Over the months she thought about writing them a letter, but she just couldn’t do it. She had no clue what to say.

  Then, like it was the most normal thing in the world, Jack and Eli re-entered her life. She returned to her three-bedroom house one evening, tired from training a new batch of waitresses, as well as helping along the expansion of The Spatula into a two-restaurant franchise (it had become very popular under her management), and there, sitting on the doorstep, were Jack and Eli.

  They stood army-stiff when they saw her. Samantha giggled. “At ease,” she said, slipping naturally and comfortably back into their old relationship.

  Eli even smiled a little.

  “Have you come to drop a bomb on my life again, boys?” she said.

  “More than that,” Eli said, looking her up and down, and Samantha found herself arching her back a little more than usual, feeding his eyes. All these months, and she hadn’t tried to find a partner. She’d told herself it was work, but—

  “We’re not here to cause trouble,” Jack said, smiling. “We just need a place to stay. Have you got a spare room?”

  “You’re in luck,” Samantha said, not even having to think about it. “I’ve got two spare rooms.”

  The three of them went into the house. None of them said it, but all of them knew it: they were about to begin a new, strange, beautiful life together.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 8 of 20

  Three’s Company

  The Fantasy

  Our love making was intense. It was passionate. And after seven minutes, it was over and I couldn’t believe that this was my life. I lay there stunned, that once again, Benjamin Blest had taken me to the height of pleasure. A plethora of emotions ripped through me. I would never leave him unsatisfied! Did he even care?

  A loud snore from the other side of the bed gave me confirma
tion.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. In our California king-sized bed, where moments ago we had just been close, I now felt a void forming between us. It was too early in our marriage for this.

  I crossed my arms and lay back on my pillow. I should just go to sleep, I thought to myself. But desire ached within my soul and I knew that sleep would evade me. I stared with disgust at Ben’s sweaty back and thought about climbing on top of him and suffocating him with my pussy. An evil smile crept across my face as I envisioned myself doing just that. Instead, I quietly crept out of the bed and headed into the bathroom. I ran hot water in the shower and climbed in.

  Water always had a way of soothing and relaxing me. I let the water run over my head, loosening my tight curls. With my eyes closed, I ran my fingers along my body, tracing my curves and the spots that could use more attention. I touched myself, imagining Ben walking into the bathroom, his long dick strong and ready for round two as he climbed into the shower with me, but I was too upset with him and the idea only turned me off.

  I turned the shower water cold, then hot again. The fire within me became smaller, but did not go out completely. I climbed out of the shower and onto a soft bathmat, water dripping off of my brown skin. I decided against a towel and returned to the bedroom, climbing into the bed all wet. I hoped that the wetness would disturb Ben, so that he wouldn’t be able to sleep either, but alas, he was knocked out, mouth open, drool on his cheek.

  I rolled my eyes and rolled over, my back facing him, my hands between my legs where it was still warm. In his sleep, Ben wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. I rested my head on his chest as he caressed my wet head. How could I stay mad at the man I loved? I soon fell asleep in his arms.

  Dreams came swiftly and I found myself imagining that I was back in the shower. Ben walked into the bathroom, his long dick strong and ready to devour me, but this time, he was not alone. Another man, just as long, just as ready, came in behind him and they stood side by side, saluting me. Ben led the way to the shower, opening the door and climbing in, the other man following his lead. Ben put his lips on mine, kissing with me fiercely, while the other man stood behind me, kissing my neck, his long dick up against my soft butt. When Ben started sucking on my nipples, a moan escaped my lips for I was in heaven.

  I woke up with wetness between my legs and a smile on my face. I rolled over and opened my eyes to see Ben looking at me thoughtfully.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” he said with a smile.

  “Good morning my love.”

  Sun shone through the closed blinds, making Ben’s green eyes bright. Ben caressed my body, tracing his fingers along my hipbone.

  “Someone was having a good dream,” he teased. I grinned at him, biting my lip as I reminisced about the dream. “Damn, that good?” I nodded, yes. Too good to be true. Ben looked like he wanted me to tell him about it, but I didn’t know if I could. “I want to know your fantasies, Mya.” Could he handle my fantasy? That was the question.

  “I had a dream that I was taking a shower and you came in to join me,” I began, pausing, unsure of how to continue. “But you weren’t alone.” I finished, pulling the cover up over my mouth, watching his reaction intently.

  “Oh? Who was with me?” Ben asked, his smile growing. Mine grew too, because I knew how the story ended.

  “Another man,” I said. Ben’s smile faltered, but to my surprise, it did not vanish.

  “Hmm, very interesting.” Ben continued to look thoughtful, as though he were imagining it himself. “Tell me more.”

  I pulled the cover down and sat up on my elbow, caught off-guard by his interest. I thought that this admission would completely throw him off, but instead, I was the one who was thrown.

  “Really?” I asked, not hiding my surprise. Ben smiled at me encouragingly. I sat up the rest of the way, crossed my legs and told Ben every dirty little detail of my dream. He listened carefully. Ben had always been a very good listener. Much better than I was, and I had always loved that about him.

  I, on the other hand, preferred to talk. When I finished, Ben just stared at me, and I wondered if I had said too much.

  “Who’s dick was bigger?” he finally asked. I laughed and he laughed. What a beautiful laugh. Then his face became serious, “Is that what you want?”

  Afraid to admit it, I merely nodded, my eyes searching his face for a disturbance. He smiled and nodded back. “Your wish is my command, my queen.”

  “I love you,” I told him, and I meant it.

  “I love you too,” he said. I leaned forward and kissed him. Ben pulled me on top of him, wrapping his strong, loving arms around me. My arousal from last night returned and I placed what was wet and warm on what was big and hard. Without another word, I slid him inside.

  Finally, I came.

  Ben left shortly after, having to go run his corner of the world. I lay in bed a little longer, enjoying mine. Art had drawn us together, so many years ago. Ben was a photographer and I was a model. You can put two and two together. I was his muse and I made love to his camera. Then I made love to the photographer. Six months later, we were married. Ben was no small time photographer. His work was famous and he’d worked with everyone who was anyone. Through his photography, he had started his own modelling agency and I had become one of his models. From model to muse to marriage, it had all been but a dream. I admired Ben’s ambition.

  Although, photography was his passion, he was an entrepreneur at heart. In addition to being a photographer and running a modeling agency that he had built from the ground up, he also taught photography as a professor at Rutgers University. But there was even more. Benjamin had two studios here in our house, one of which he rented out. He also was starting his own production company. Ben had his sights on shooting films. So, yes, my baby brought home the bacon. Technically, I didn’t have to work. But, I did, working full time modelling exclusively for Ben’s company. I also did some acting and was planning on working with Ben’s production company. We had already recorded a few monologues and short films, starring me of course. I loved working with my husband, we were a dynamic duo.

  Ben was older than me, twelve years my senior. I was still exploring my interests and Ben was so patient with me. He was very understanding and respectful of my pace. We had been married for three years, but it felt longer.

  Ben had the house that we lived in built from the ground up and we had stayed in a studio apartment while it was being built. The studio had been hell, but together, we had gotten through it. When we had gotten married, no one was surprised. It just made sense. I mean, I had always only dated white guys and come to find out that Ben had only dated black women so it wasn’t really a shock to either of our families. My parents loved Ben and his family loved me. We were like the biggest advocates for interracial relationships and our parents were anxious for us to give them mixed grandchildren. We had decided to take our time with the baby making. Not to say that we weren’t practicing though, it just hadn’t happened yet. If it did then great and if it didn’t, great. Neither of us were in a rush

  With the rise in social media, I had done a lot of promotion on my Instagram. I often used that to scout out talent for Ben’s agency. I also posted images from some of my shoots on my Instagram. Ben didn’t indulge in social media too much and left that to me. He would tease me that in the realm of social media, I really showed my age, a ripe 32. Still in bed, I scrolled through my Instagram timeline, double tapping every other image, then made my way to the page for Ben’s agency.

  The agency tended to post pictures of the models they were working with. I was checking to see what new talent Ben would be shooting today when I saw a beautiful hunk of man candy that almost made me gasp. This was the man from my dream! I closed my eyes and placed my phone over my face. This was surreal. Butterflies danced in my soul. Was this a sign and of what?

  As though on cue, my phone vibrated in my hand and the picture of Ben and me on our wedding day pop
ped up on the screen. Ben was calling me.

  “Hey baby,” I said, trying to sound normal as my heart pounded in my chest.

  “Hey beautiful!” Ben exclaimed. “Did I wake you?”

  “No, no, I’m up! How’s work going?” I asked.

  “Great! Actually, that is why I am calling you. I am here with a model named Jeremy Phine and Mya, you have to meet him! I want to shoot you two together!”

  I had stopped breathing. What were the odds?

  “How soon can you be down here?” said Ben. I reminded myself to breathe.

  “Give me half an hour,” I said.

  “Perfect! We’re in Studio A. See you soon!” Ben said, before hanging up. I dropped the phone in my lap, a dazed look on my face. Was I some sort of psychic? How could this be?! I didn’t have to ponder the possibilities. I got up and got out of bed.

  *****

  The Photoshoot

  Ben’s private studios were located in our large finished basement. I headed down to the studio, knocking before entering. I had decided to keep it simple, wearing a plain black tank top and black leggings. I was barefoot and I wore my thick curly hair loose.

  I didn’t know what Ben wanted or if he would want to shoot today so I kept it basic if I was to be his canvas. Ben opened the door to the studio holding his camera, grinning widely when he saw me. He let me in and closed the door behind him.

  There were lights set up, and standing in front of a plain white backdrop, in the flesh, was Jeremy Phine. He was wearing nothing but a towel. As soon as I saw him, Ben began taking photos. He captured my reaction to Jeremy and Jeremy’s reaction to me. The shoot had begun. I laughed, Ben was a true artist. He loved to capture the raw and the real. I tried to hide my nervousness as I walked over to greet Jeremy, all the while; Ben clicked away with his camera. I extended a hand to Jeremy.

 

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