by S. E. Law
“Oh Reed!” I screamed in climax. “Yes!”
At the same time, my husband let out a roar and I felt hot liquid spurt all over my behind and lower back, even as his hand sped up in me.
“Take it,” he huffed. “Fuck, you’re amazing, Cat.”
We pumped and spasmed, enjoying one another as his hand gave me the pummeling of a lifetime. I could hardly believe this was happening, and yet it was because that’s how incredible my man is. He takes me to new heights, and opens new vistas for me. What I once thought was impossible is now possible with Reed’s tender guidance.
After we finished, he pulled his hand out but when I made to roll over onto my back, my husband stopped me with a gentle hand.
“No baby,” he growls. “I want to see that gape.”
I cooed and stuck my bottom back up in the air.
“Is this what you like, Reed?”
His blue eyes flashed as he leaned down to kiss my black hole.
“It is, sweetheart. Every part of you is a treasure to me, and I cherish you to the moon and back, Catherine. You are my world, and you have changed my life a hundred percent.”
With that, my heart soars because I adore this man, and he adores me just as much in return. I giggle a bit but then reach to catch his mouth with my own. Our lips meet sensuously, but there’s also understanding and knowledge in our kiss too. After all, this is the twin I’m supposed to be with, and all’s well that ends well.
“I love you,” I murmur.
Those devilishly blue eyes heat with adoration.
“I love you too,” he rasps, and with that, we are bound together as man and wife once more.
The End
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Built for Them
By S.E. Law
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About This Book
On my bucket list – to be with two men.
I’ve always had a bucket list of things I want to do before I’m thirty.
One of those items is being loved … by two men.
Maybe it’s strange, but I decide to go for it. I hire two men from a website that specializes in this kind of thing.
But when Raider and Ryan show up, the breath exits my body in a whoosh because they’re gorgeous. My two male escorts are huge and growly, with penetrating blue eyes and six pack abs that make my mouth water. They’ve got sculpted biceps and war hammers that would make a Viking tremble.
Not only that, but they into *each other* too. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
But a bucket list is a bucket list, and permanence was never part of the bargain. Ryan and Raider are hired guns, and our encounter was only supposed to be a one-time thing.
So what happens when the two alpha males discover I’m having their baby? Will they want to be daddies, or will this remain a one-time fling?
Our feisty heroine finds out that curves are what these handsome, gorgeous alpha males are looking for. Even better, Raider and Ryan are looking to become daddies, and Amy is just the sassy woman they have in mind. Warning: Swords cross in this story, but you’ll like it. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and always an HEA for my readers.
91
Amy
My friend Carly twirls her hair around her pencil.
“Hmm,” she muses. “This could be fun. What are the things you want to do before you die?”
I make a face at her.
“Carly, we’re only twenty-two. Why do you have to be so morbid? Dying is really far away.”
Carly nods thoughtfully.
“You’re right,” she says. “Let’s not say before we die. Let’s say before we hit thirty. I mean, people who are thirty are practically geriatric by then. I hear that’s when you start getting wrinkles and gray hair.”
I shake my head at her.
“Carly, I’m already starting to get a couple of greys. Look,” I say, taking a lock of my blonde hair in hand and separating the strands to show her. “See? Here’s one right here.”
My friends merely phhs! through her teeth.
“Amy, you’re so blonde that your hair is a pale gold. No one can even tell if you have white hairs. Plus, it looks good, like Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones. I heard lots of girls are dying their hair white to try and look like Daenerys.”
I scrunch my nose.
“Like whom?”
Carly shrugs.
“I heard Katie McMillan over in Delta Tau Rho bleached her hair in order to achieve that white look. Also, Jessica Chen from Mu Nu Nu did the same.”
I stare at her, flabbergasted.
“But Jessica Chen is Asian! How in the world did she get her hair a pale blonde? She must have gone from a really dark, inky black to almost white. How is that even possible?”
Carly shrugs.
“Who knows? Industrial strength bleach, I guess. It’s probably caustic as hell, but trust me, it worked. I saw her two weeks ago, and Jessica has a really model-esque, editorial look to her now. Plus, she’s dating Cal Baxter, who actually looks like Khal Drogo from Game of Thrones. You know, that huge beast of a man played by Jason Momoa. Mmmmm.”
A hot shiver runs down my spine. I don’t watch Game of Thrones, but I definitely know who Jason Momoa is, and that guy is H-O-T. I’d love to be locked up in a cage with him, if it means he’ll ravish me while making the cage walls shake.
Carly shoots me a knowing look.
“Oh yeah, girl. Jessica’s got her man, and it’s her hair that worked the magic. I bet bagging a Jason Momoa-type was on her bucket list, and that’s why she did it. Beauty is pain,” she adds loftily. But then Carly turns to me with a sassy smile. “So what’s on your bucket list?” my friend prompts. “It can be anything. Let your imagination go wild.”
I chew on my pen.
“I want to get a dog,” I say matter-of-factly. “My mom and dad were so strict growing up, so we could never get pets. They said since we have five kids in the family, dogs and cats would just be another hindrance to traveling. So I want to get a dog before I’m thirty. Maybe one of those designer ones with the weird names like Goldendoodle or Yorkie-poo.”
But instead of nodding and jotting that down, Carly merely lets out another huge sigh. We’re sprawled on her dorm room bed, and she rolls her eyes before practically throwing her book across the room in exasperation.
“Are you kidding, girlfriend?” she asks.
I stare at her.
“No, why? I’ve always wanted a dog, ever since I was little. I’m a dog person, and not a cat one. I hear there’s even a café near campus that just opened where you can bring your dog inside. That’s not very common because of hygiene standards and city health restrictions.”
Carly merely narrows her eyes at me again, her gaze practically shooting daggers.
“Are you for real?” she finally manages. “Seriously?”
I nod.
“Yes, of course. Why, do you hate dogs? Are you allergic?”
Carly scrunches her pert nose.
“No, but sometimes you’re just so boring, Amy. Honestly, we’re making a bucket list of things to do before we hit thirty, and you’re talking about getting a pet dog? What’s wrong with you?”
I shoot her a puzzled look.
“Well, it’s something I’ve always wanted! We’re living in the dorms now, so it’s not like I can get one. It’s a real goal to shoot for, and to make things even better, it’s attainable. It’s not like I’m looking to walk on the moon or something.”
Carly just rolls her eyes and shakes her h
ead again.
“Seriously, you must be the most boring person at NYU.”
I sit up straight.
“No, I’m not. Why, what do you want to do?”
Carly purses her lips and thinks for a moment.
“I want to hire a male escort from that place that all the girls use. What was it called again? Oh yeah. Hot Nights NYC.”
I wrinkle my nose at her.
“Okay, now I know that I’m not the crazy one. Are you for real? A male escort? Like the kind that dance around on stage and such, with oiled up muscles? Yech! That’s so gross.”
My friend merely rolls her eyes.
“No, not a go-go dancer. Not like one of those guys who dances at clubs. An escort. You know the kind that you have fun with,” she winks.
Now I’m taken even more aback.
“Holy cow. If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then they could have diseases and such.”
My friend merely rolls her eyes.
“Would you stop? You’re so frickin’ boring, Amy! This is a bucket list. It doesn’t mean I’m going to actually do it. Besides, I hear Hot Nights NYC is really great. They have hundreds of guys to choose from, and that’s the allure. I don’t have to put on tons of make-up and act all skanky to get a guy. You just pay for it, except I heard the service is really expensive. One night with one of their guys can run you something like two thousand dollars.”
I gasp.
“Two thousand? Who can afford that?”
She nods knowingly.
“I know, right? But people definitely use the service. In fact, I heard Kira Rosenbaum ponied up just last month. She had all her bat mitzvah money from when she was thirteen and saved it, letting interest grow. Finally, she hired a guy last month from Hot Nights NYC, and let’s just say she couldn’t even walk normally the next day. It was insane.”
I gasp.
“Kira Rosenbaum? But she’s so … I don’t know, blah. I see her in the library all the time.”
Carly nods smugly.
“Yeah, exactly, right? Anyone can hire a guy from Hot Nights NYC. As long as you have the money, the world will be your oyster. So that’s what’s on my bucket list. I’m starting a savings fund so by the time I’m twenty-nine, I can hire the studliest stud on the site.”
I begin to giggle.
“The studliest stud? Is that even a thing?”
My friend merely shrugs.
“Hey, it’s a catchy phrase. But yeah, I want to hire a guy with a huge you-know-what, and I want him to be a professional because he’s going to be waayyy better than the guys I usually date. I mean, college boys are boring. They’re so small down there, and I think I’d be more satisfied with someone who’s a magnum.”
I try to stop laughing because my friend’s phrasing is out of control.
“A magnum?”
My friend nods sagely.
“Hell yeah. I’m not settling for anything smaller than a size XL if I’m paying for it. That’s where Hot Nights NYC comes in. You can order from their catalog, like picking something out on Amazon. Hair color, eye color, and you-know-what size. Plus, there’s no clam-jamming.”
I giggle again.
“What’s clam-jamming?”
“It’s just like cock-blocking, except among women,” Carly says. “None of that happens when you use a service because you’re lining up for appointments. It’s very orderly.” At that, I burst into giggles but Carly’s not having it. My friend’s stuck on this subject, and she’s going to get an answer.
“So what about you, Amy?” she asks feistily. “What are you really looking for?”
I laugh again. This conversation is so crazy.
“In men, or on this bucket list?”
My friend grins.
“Both. Come on, sex and love have to be on your list, right? We’re cosmopolitan young ladies living in New York City. No list is complete without a healthy dose of the male species.”
I take a deep breath, my heart beating.
“Well, actually, there is something.”
My friend nods, her pen poised over the notebook.
“Spit it out. What is it?”
I take another deep breath. Am I ready to reveal my deepest desire? Carly’s my best friend, but still. My secret seems too dirty to admit. Then again, it’s not like I’m truly going to do it.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be with two men in that way, you know. With two men servicing me.”
This time, Carly’s pen literally drops to the bedspread as she gapes at me, her mouth open.
“Are you serious?”
I nod.
“I am. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
My friend merely leaps up and throws her arms around me in a hug.
“Girlfriend, I had no idea you were so dirrrty! Hell yeah! Two men,” she says, grabbing her pen again and scribbling in the notebook. “This is awesome, Amy. Looks definitely deceive because on the outside, you seem so innocent, but on the inside, you’re totally filthy! Who would have guessed? Two dudes? Yee-haw!”
I smile ruefully.
“Yeah, but it’s not real. I mean, how in the world am I supposed to find two men who would do this?”
Carly pins me with a look.
“Haven’t you been listening?”
I shake my head.
“No, what? Did I miss something?”
My friend merely bounces up on the bed again, her red curls flying.
“NO! You’re so clueless sometimes, Amy. Hot Nights NYC! You’ve got to go on-line and buy what you need. Money will solve your problems, and that’s how you’re going to check this particular item off! Hell yeah! Start saving now, though,” my friend warns in a serious tone. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you have to pay double for the experience. I mean, exotic fantasies don’t come cheap.”
I’m already beginning to regret telling her my fantasy.
“I’m not hiring an escort,” I say firmly. “And definitely not two escorts for a threesome.”
My buddy merely shrugs and winks at me.
“Well, we’re only twenty-two now. Let’s revisit this list when we’re twenty-nine, okay? Everything changes with time.”
With that, we both giggle and start gossiping about other issues on campus. But in the back of my mind, I’m titillated. I do want to be with two men. It’s something that I’ve seen in the X-rated clips that I watch late at night, and it looks amazing. Women are spit-roasted, and the expression on their faces seem to be the purest type of ecstasy as they’re taken again and again by two gorgeous studs. The men are always glistening hunks of pure muscle with powerful tools that make me gasp and then grow hot.
I guess what Carly’s saying is true. If I get desperate, I could hire a service. The question is, am I brave enough to do it? After all, I’m Amy Lee, boring co-ed with her nose in the books. But if the opportunity comes, will I have the courage to indulge?
92
Amy
Seven years later.
The time has come. It’s my dreaded thirtieth birthday, and it’s really sad, but I’m all alone. With a sigh, I step through my apartment door and into the dark space. My apartment is cold, lonely, and depressing, and with a flick of the switch, the light flickers on to reveal my humble home.
The space is a little too humble, to be honest. I’m a daycare teacher at the local preschool, and while I love my job, it doesn’t pay much. As a result, I can only afford a studio in a five-story walk-up. The walls are made of brick, which gives my apartment a charming pre-war feel, but unfortunately, there are also lots of holes for mice and cockroaches to make their presence known.
Plus, there’s a limit to how charming a space can be when it’s serving as both your living area, bedroom area, and dining area. There’s a kitchen lined up against one side of the wall, with a miniature fridge and a miniature stove. Then, my couch is in the middle of the room, facing my boxy 36-inch TV, and right in back of the sofa is my double bed. It’s warm and homey looking, with its co
lorful afghan quilt, but still. I can’t really have guests over because the space is just too puny. We’d have to eat with our plates in our laps, and not only that, but it’s embarrassing. If guests want to use my bathroom, they’d have to swing their knees to the side while sitting on the toilet in order to close the door.
But at least this place is mine. Before, I was sharing a three bedroom with two other women, and it was crazy. One of my roomies, Lindsay, was a nymphomaniac, and I swear, she had a different guy over every week. There were loud pounding noises at all hours, not to mention the used rubbers in the kitchen garbage, goopy and damp with seed. That was enough motivation alone to move out.
But it was my other roommate that really did it. That girl was just weird. A nymphomaniac is one thing, but a hoarder is another. Bailey was the kind of person who sincerely believed that Armageddon was right around the corner. As a result, our cupboards were lined with supplies. She saw nothing weird about stockpiling cans of tomatoes and chicken soup everywhere, including on the floor in the living room, in our bookshelves, and even in the bathroom. I told her it was unhygienic more than once, but Bailey merely shrugged and said I would thank her when the time came.
Thus, when the opportunity to rent this studio popped up, I jumped at it. It’s a rent-controlled place, and so I’m actually paying less than market price, even if it still stretches my salary. But although I enjoy living on my own, I miss Bailey and Lindsay in their own ways. They were tough to handle sometimes, but a bucketful of hoots all the same.