ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories)

by Hawke, Jessa

  Chapter 7 An Unexpected Turn

  They arrive at his apartment and all is in darkness as they enter the door. His cell signals that he’s had received a message.

  “He’s on his way, should be here soon,” he tells Olivia, after viewing the message.

  The entrance to his apartment is quite small and they’re pressed close together. Olivia takes advantage of their confinement and reaches down, her hands fondling his already growing cock through his pants. She’s amazed at her behaviour, only a few days ago she would never have been so bold, but now she was excitedly looking forward to a night of carnal lust, with two almost strangers.

  “Shall we get straight to the bedroom?” he asks, as they’re practically ripping each other’s clothing off in the hallway.

  By the time they reached the large bed, Olivia is stripped completely naked with her clothes scattered on the floor between the hallway and trailing to the bedroom. She loves being completely naked while he’s still fully dressed, it makes her feel helpless and vulnerable, and very, very hot.

  Olivia, with growing confidence and soaring arousal levels, decides to take the lead this time. Pushing him down onto the bed, her fingers fumble at the fastening on his pants, her passion giving her a sense of urgency as she pulls down the zip. Her hands instantly dive in his flies, searching out his cock. When she grasps it, a low moan escapes her lips. She’d forgotten just how thick it was, his girth too wide for her fingers to completely wrap around. It feels hot and heavy in her hands, pulsating as the blood courses through it. She has a sudden overwhelming desire to see it, to kiss it and taste it. The thought of having it buried in her mouth sends shivers through her making her pussy flood with juices. Pulling his pants down to his ankles, she releases his cock and it bounces up and down, now free of its restraints. She stares lovingly at it, her mouthwatering as it sways in front of her face.

  “Hmmm, you smell good,” her voice drips with lust. His male musky door is intoxicating. “Can I suck it please?” she asks in the sluttiest voice she can manage, she was really getting into this naughty girl persona.

  Brian doesn't answer her, he just grabs her by the back of her head and pulls her face towards his cock, until the tip is lying on her slightly parted lips. As soon it touches her lips, Olivia is completely overcome with lust, she opens her mouth and engulfs he tip, her lips enclosed around the ridge of his bell end. It feels red hot in her mouth and she can sense the blood coursing through it, on her sensitive lips. Not really sure what she’s supposed to do, the other night her being first experience of oral sex, she tentatively licks the bulbous end.

  “Ohh, baby, that feels sooo goood,” he murmurs, as her tongue laps at his dick.

  Encouraged by his words, she starts to bob her head up and down on his shaft, pushing it as far into her mouth as possible and causing her to gag as it hit the back of her throat. Her mouth floods with drool as it leaks from her lips and runs down her chin. She picks up speed as her head bobs up and down, making her jaws ache, but that doesn’t slow her down. Loving the control she has over him, her oral ministrations have turned him into a quivering mess.

  They both hear the door open as his friend arrives, but she doesn't stop her sucking, in fact, the thought that someone’s watching her depravity only spurs her on even more. Little mewing and sucking noises escape her lips as she increases the tempo of her bobbing head. The newcomer just stands and stares, unable to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. In the darkness, he can make a female silhouette and it’s completely naked and knelt between his friend’s legs. Her head is almost a blur as she pleasures him orally, her hair falling either side of her head and covering her face.

  “Fucking hell!” he cries, unbuckling his pants and quickly moving behind her, his cock aching to be buried in her wetness. He positions himself until his erection is probing at her labia, before thrusting in deep until his groin is pressed right against her ass. He holds it there, luxuriating in wetness and heat of her pussy.

  Olivia is completed now that she is being impaled at both ends with two hard, firm erections, stretching her to the limit. Her jaw aches and her pussy throbs, but she doesn't care, the pain only enhances the naughtiness of the situation as she continues to gobble the cock in front of her, and then pushes back on the one that’s buried in her pussy. She pulls her sucking mouth from Brian’s cock, to look behind and see the guy who’s giving her so much pleasure. Complete and utter shock stuns her at who she sees. His face contorted with lust, she sees Wayne! Her best friend’s boyfriend. It is difficult to know who is the most shocked. Wayne recognizes her, for the first time.

  “Nooo! GET OFF ME! GET OFF, NOW!” she screams, unable to move underneath the naked Wayne.

  “Livvy!” he yells back at her. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same question, Wayne Brookes? What the fuck you doing with another women? I can’t believe I’ve done this!”

  Olivia jumps off the bed and grabs for her clothing. She notices Brian looking at them in total confusion. He has no idea what’s happening.

  “This, so called friend of yours, Brian,” she yells as she points an accusatory finger at Wayne, “is my best friend’s boyfriend. How the hell am I going to tell her that the other woman in his life is me?”

  Brian looks at Wayne in dismay, “Why didn’t you say, Wayne? Why didn’t you tell me you knew her?’ he asks his friend, feeling annoyed as he really liked Livvy.

  “I didn’t know, we were dressed up and then in here, I couldn’t see her face?” Wayne looks genuinely upset.

  The emotions flying around the room are raw. This is not going to be easy for any of them. With all three now fully dressed, they move into the living area. Brian makes coffee while they contemplate what to do next, Wayne sits beside her.

  “I beg you not to tell her, Livvy,” Wayne beseeches her “This will finish us for sure.”

  “Wayne, she’s been my friend since junior high. We’ve shared so much together. I can’t, not tell her, but nor do I want to hurt her. I don’t know what to do. Look, I have to go, I can’t stay here looking at what I’ve just done. I really need to go home.”

  With that, Olivia left the boys behind. She needed to work things out in her head. This would surely break Sara’s heart. How could she have done such a thing? Maybe this was her punishment for behaving so shamelessly.

  Chapter 8 Good News

  Olivia avoids Sara for the next few days, unable to face her friend while she is riddled with guilt, but that morning she receives a text from her, asking to meet up for lunch. She wonders if she knows, if Wayne has already spilt the beans? She has no idea how she’s going to explain herself, but she knows that she must try, even if that means the end of their friendship, she can't live a lie with her best friend.

  She sees Sara waving from an outside table, and her stomach does a flip. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining down with its rays heating her skin, but inside she feels cold. Oh well, here goes, she says to herself, forcing a smile on her face as she approaches Sara.

  “Well, don’t you look the misery?” Sara says, watching her arrive. “What’s the matter? Never mind,” she continues before Olivia can even answer. “I have some great news. I got the job!” she says, excitement lighting up her eyes.

  Olivia sits down with a smile. How can she spoil this wonderful day for Sara? Yet she must tell her the truth.

  “Now then, the next bit of news might come as a bit of a shock, but hear me out,” Sara continues.

  The waitress arrives at the table for their order and Sara insists on the biggest chocolate milk shakes they have, she says she’s celebrating. The waitress looks genuinely pleased for her, glad that someone is having a good day.

  Olivia sits and awaits the news, feeling that it’s all going to spill out any minute, and their friendship will be over.

  “Okay, get ready,” Sara says, not looking at all annoyed. “When I went for the interview, I met a guy who was also bei
ng interviewed. We both got on really well and one thing led to another and… Livvy, he is drop dead gorgeous and I think I’m in love with him.” Sara’s eyes are alight with excitement, “but, and here’s the best part,” she pauses for breath. “Because we’re both new to the city, we’ve decided to share an apartment, at least then we’ll have one friend each in the big city. What do you think?”

  “Wow, Sara, that’s amazing news. I’m so happy for you. What about Wayne?” she asks, dreading her answer.

  “Oh, I dumped his two timing ass the other day when he came to see me. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I can’t believe I thought I was ever in love with him. After I’d been with this other guy, I was thinking of ending our relationship anyway, but I didn’t tell you because it all happened to quick.”

  “Oh,” Livy responds, unsure what to say. “I thought you’d be together forever. Did he ever tell you who the other woman was?” Olivia dares to ask.

  “Nope, and to be completely honest with you, I don't really care. I think there’s more than one anyway, as he has been acting strange for a while, I had my suspicions and now I know for certain,” Sara’s words were bitter and Olivia thought she was more upset than she was letting on.

  Anyway enough about him. This changes nothing between us. You’ve still gotta come and visit.”

  Olivia smiles but says nothing. She sits there and lets Sara do all the chatting because she’s so happy for her friend. No way is she going to spoil Sara’s day with the news that she had betrayed her. But that’s what growing up is about, keeping secrets, looking after yourself. Maybe, one day when when all this has settled down, she might tell Sara about all her guilt at what she did, but for now, Sara deserved to be happy, she’d worked so hard for it.

  THE END

  In Bed With My Bosses

  They say that lawyers and polisci majors are a special breed. There’s a reason so many jokes are made on their behalf, at their expense, whatever other cliché you can think of. They’re cutthroat, they’re fun-loving, free-wheeling, hard playing.

  So all in all, a very attractive bunch.

  I moved to West Philadelphia right after I graduated college in New York. All right, so the Big Apple is always going to have a piece of my heart, but the jobs and real estate in Philly were much more my speed. You know what you can get for the price of a flat in West Philly in New York? Pretty much somebody’s toilet, part-time. Instead, I graduated Hunter College and took the admin job in Philly’s biggest law firm. The job came with this fantastic studio in a less-than-reputable part of town. Sure, my mom likes to call and worry, but what are you going to do? It goes hand in hand with coming from a large Greek family. So I answer the phone calls, shush my mom, and don’t tell her about the sounds of gunfire two blocks away. I just lock my doors and don’t open them until the Seamless delivery guy shows me his ID.

  You can’t be too careful.

  It’s all worth it, though. My apartment has windows from my midsection to the ceiling, three closets, and the cutest little kitchen in the world. And although there are cicadas that hang above my bed at three in the morning, I don’t miss the rats and roaches of New York City. What I do miss, though, is greasy Chinese food at all hours of the night. Being so close to a train that you can hear it pass by your window. The loud chatter of local immigrants whenever you wandered over into Crown Heights or Chinatown. Philly’s clean, it’s quiet, and these things pull me in, but sometimes, just sometimes, I miss my city, filthy and gritty.

  I still get e-mails from my kids. Calm your tits, I’m only twenty-two, they’re not the fruit of MY looms. In the middle of writing my econ papers, dodging my mother’s spanakopita, and working for Mr. Prinkus, this Upper East Side lawyer who hired me as his paralegal throughout my college career, I tutored other college kids for their LSATs. I had passed mine a year before I was set to graduate, unheard of in the city university circles, and I was regarded amongst them as something of a rock star. Granted, they were mostly anal college freshmen and sophomores’ intent on getting a head start on one of the most important exams of their lives, but it still gave me a rush.

  It was too much in some sense, I suppose. The decision to take a year off before law school was not one that came easily to me. I needed a break from having a million different activities to complete and chose to focus on one. Administrative duties. After my work with Mr. Prinkus and my extensive polisci knowledge, it seemed like the easiest decision to make. Plus, it would give me some time to apply to law schools at my leisure. The fact that the job offer came from such a prestigious law firm soothed my vanity immensely; I was sure that I would be learning from some of the best damn lawyers and be their right hand.

  They do always say to be careful what you wish for.

  I remember during my Feminists in Law class, I found myself wishing that my professor would notice me. He was five foot eight, a short, compact, swarthy man bristling with energy, and a raging—in all senses of the word—feminist. The fact that he was married only spurred the fantasies on. I could imagine his wife, languid and sexless, making furious love with him in the dark, and pictured myself in her place, being fucked under the rapid pumping of his hips, his breath getting so erratic that I would lay under him, wondering if this was a measure of his excitement or if he was actually going to have a heart attack above me. Either one would have pleased me.

  I was young then, eager to impress, and so I answered all of his questions in class with the alacrity of youngsters who cannot contain themselves. He noticed me, all right. The night I asked him if we could talk after class and discuss my latest paper, he ate me out right on the beige metal desk from which he taught. It sends an interesting kind of message, that, or it would have if he hadn’t forced me down roughly on my knees above five minutes after that and made me suck him dry. I asked him how his wife would feel if she knew about what had just happened. I wanted to know because I was also young enough to want to indulge my morbid curiosity. He said that he didn’t care what she would think, then whispered in my ear that the whole time he was licking my open slit, he had been picturing what it would be like if she walked in and caught him doing to me what he always refused to do to her. He was only twenty-six years old.

  I got what I wanted then, and I got what I wanted now. But now, at this job, much like being under my professor in college, it was not what I had been expecting. I saw the powerful lawyers, day in and day out, but none of them ever asked me to assist on a case, or even take down notes for them while they listened to their clients. I have been here for six weeks, and so far, the most I’ve seen outside of the front desk and a couple of offices has been the inside of a Starbucks, from which they direct me to order their coffees. Strong, unsweetened, black.

  Because anything less would be the mark of a pussy, and no lawyer on the planet would ever want to be that.

  I schedule cases, meetings, interviews, and vacations. It’s like living inside of that O. Henry story where the boss is so caught up in his work that he forgets marrying his secretary. I book tickets for Aruba, Washington, and New York.

  And not a single ticket is ever for me.

  * * *

  The day begins early, at least for me. I’m there at half past seven, organizing the memos and making sure my boss’s desk is appropriately organized. I check in on what meetings he’s got scheduled for the day and pull out the appropriate files; if necessary, I call other admins to make sure they send out what we need. My boss only comes in at nine, swinging a sleek leather briefcase and sucking down his black morning beverage.

  This morning, I see that we’ve got the bulk of our time before lunch dedicated to a custody case. Like I always do, I sneak a look at the case file and something inside me swells with sympathy and excitement. I can tell it’s going to be a case of who is beating up on this child more, the mom or the dad; there’s even a photo of the kid, a little black girl with those corkscrew braids all over her head and these big, sad eyes. But the part that gets me going is that it’s g
oing to be a close call; neither parent seems more fit to raise her than the other, and yet, like most difficult divorce cases, it’s become a battle over possessions rather than a clean separation.

  I like messes.

  A heavy-duty, doubly-reinforced paper cup slaps with a resounding smack on top of the counter that is above my head. Caught in the act, heart pounding, I look up and find my boss, Mike Hannigan, staring at me with piercing blue eyes. He’s got over twenty years of legal experience underneath his belt; what that means is that he’s also got enough life experience to climb psychologically underneath people’s skin and make them sweat with guilt even if they’ve got nothing to be guilty about. Technically, it’s not against the rules for me to be looking at our case files, but I can tell that today, Hannigan has his game face on and even a small slip like this one isn’t going to pass his notice. Even if I wasn’t easily intimidated, and I’m not, he cuts an imposing figure. A cool six feet tall with professionally cropped, thick brown hair and a Hugo Boss suit that outlines his still-lean figure, Hannigan looks good for his age, which I would pin to about his mid to late forties. He looks a lot like Paul Rudd, which I find strange to be thinking about since he’s pinning me with such a piercing glance.

  I close the file hastily and gather my little electronic notebook underneath it. Mike turns on his heel and enters the office behind the front desk, leaving the door open so I can enter. That’s his signal for me to come in to type up a memo.