Three Men and a Woman: Delilah (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Rachel Billings

  Finally, he leaned in and kissed her. “Come on, baby.” He flipped her skirt down, then carefully lifted her top to cover her breasts, gently tucking the clamps and the satin ribbon in behind the fabric. He had to move her one hand to do it. “Come on.”

  He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Then he kissed her, a hard, openmouthed kiss. He had a hand on her ass, squeezing her, and brought her hard against his chest so those clamps bit into her again.

  She swayed as he set her back on her own feet, and he chuckled. “God, you’re a hot bitch,” he said, as he directed her in front of him.

  She knew the nipple clamps would be outlined against the knit fabric for anyone who cared to look. She also knew that her skirt would be translucent in the bright sun.

  Hopefully, Austin would be the only one to know she was naked beneath it.

  They ate at a booth, with Austin tucked beside her. He held her close, and, as soon as the server had left with their order, he wormed his hand under her top to find the satin ribbon. He worked it over to her side, and, periodically through their meal, he’d give it a tug.

  Delilah was nearly out of her skin with the constant stimulation. She’d look at him in appeal, and he’d look back, calmly meeting her gaze and then very deliberately tugging again.

  He had to remind her to eat, drawing her attention from the sweet torture he inflicted back to her food. Finally she pushed her plate away. Still, he took his time, finishing her meal while he continued to toy with her.

  The parking lot was quieter when he took her back to the car. He opened the door and helped her in. Then, in full view of the world, he ducked his head in.

  “We’d better give these a rest,” he said. One at a time, he bared her breasts, gently released the clamps, and soothed her nipples with his mouth, suckling and stroking with his tongue, lingering kisses with his lips. When he was done, he stood at her open door. Unable to see his face, she watched from the corner of her eye as he took the clamps, wrapped the satin slowly around his fingers, then stuffed them into his pocket, right alongside that bulging fly. Without speaking, he closed her door and circled around to get in the driver’s side.

  * * * *

  Austin didn’t touch Delilah as he drove them to the park. She was quiet, maybe a little stunned.

  He thought she was discovering something new about herself, about her sexuality. She’d taken it, as he’d brought her to orgasm practically in public while they sat in traffic leaving town. And again, screaming with it, when he used those clamps and worked her pussy, really not giving her any choice about it. He was rough with her sometimes, or domineering. She liked it.

  He was learning, too, about himself.

  There’d been a touch of it, right from the beginning. From that very first time he’d had her, when he’d ended up in her ass.

  He liked pushing her around sexually. Pushing her limits in the act of it—shoving down her throat when she sucked his cock, fucking her hard in her pussy, taking her in the ass.

  But pushing also in the feel of it, the tone.

  He liked compelling her to submit. It was a fucking thrill to instruct her to spread her legs and watch her do it. To tell her to scream and have her obey.

  He was sure they were in it together. That in this one realm, when they were dealing with each other sexually, it turned them both on. He’d push, dominate. And she’d accept, submit.

  She wasn’t passive or submissive in the rest of her life. She had no trouble giving him the boot when she was busy weaving or telling him to get out of her way if she was late for work. He could cajole her into cooking for him, but she’d never accept it if he assumed that it was her role, or if he ducked too much of the cleanup responsibility. She ran her life—her job, her finances, her time. He wouldn’t mind if she did, but she didn’t look to him when her bike had a flat or her tank needed filling.

  Expecting him to take care of the bugs in the house was about the only girly thing she did.

  He was pretty sure this was new territory for both of them. He loved her, and he wanted her to be happy in their relationship. If it started to feel like she was having trouble with it, that this sexual thing was working for him but not her, well, he’d back off. He didn’t have a moment’s doubt about it.

  But he’d gotten more aggressive over time. Each little taste of that sexual power had him wanting more. And she hadn’t balked.

  She might be struggling a little to adapt, to accept. Like this quiet moment she was having now. He’d seen it in her before, like that first day when he’d soothed her with a bath.

  So far, she’d always risen to it, walked up to it.

  What was between them sexually was unbelievably strong—erotic as hell, powerfully affecting, and ultimately, fucking binding.

  He’d back off if he had to. He would. But he didn’t fucking want to.

  He pulled into the lot at the state park and shut off the pitiful engine of her prissy little car. He kicked his sandals off, took the blanket he’d tossed in the backseat, and walked around to open the door.

  Taking her hand as she got out, he stood close so they were face-to-face.

  The rosy light of sunset gilded her hair. It lit the bronze of her shoulders—she was finally starting to look like a Californian—and set her all aglow.

  Love took him like a kick in the chest.

  He held her face and kissed her lightly. “Pretty girl, you are so beautiful. So hot in your little top and that skirt I can see through, you about stop my heart. I love you.”

  He held her closer, harder. “I love what you let me do to you.”

  She understood what he was asking, that he was asking. She met his eyes, letting him know that he wasn’t alone. He pushed, but she wanted. She was there, too. “I love you, too. Austin. I love what you do to me.”

  He squeezed her hand and kissed her once more.

  God bless the sex-crazed woman. He wondered if he’d ever know what he’d done to get so damn lucky.

  * * * *

  Austin gave her a little smile and tucked her against him as he turned toward the sandy beach.

  She knew he’d take her further along the shore than they’d gone before. He’d walk her along until they were as alone as they could reasonably get.

  She knew it because she knew he was going to fuck her here tonight. She’d known it when he’d first given the instruction—skirt, no panties.

  And she knew she would let it happen. That she wanted it. He was remembering that first night here when they’d lain in each other’s arms, when their hot desire for each other had first been let loose.

  That moment a few weeks ago had been incredibly erotic, and his determination to come back here and finish what they’d started was equally so.

  He would be discreet. It would be dark, and they’d be as isolated as he could make them, but he would have her.

  He wanted it, and she would submit.

  Just as she’d submitted earlier, in the car, and really, every time they’d made love. Each time, he wanted something from her, and she gave it. Whether it was rough primal sex or that sweet-hot compelling lovemaking he was so very good at.

  It struck her, took her aback, that tinge of dominance and submission that had developed in the sexual aspect of their relationship. The thing that saved her was the obvious fact that it took him aback, too.

  She might have had a little hint of what was in her during that brief fling with Linc and maybe just a touch, too, with Ben.

  With Austin, it didn’t seem to be a little exploration of edgy sex, but a full-throttle embracing. It was new to her and just a little scary. But he was there with her, feeling his way in it as well.

  They never spoke directly of it, but that little exchange as he helped her out of the car was entirely typical.

  Have I gone too far? he wanted to know. Can I trust you to tell me?

  She believed they didn’t talk about it more openly because the answers were scary.

  No. Nothing you do w
ill ever be too far. And, I don’t know. I’m not sure I could ever say no to you.

  Clearly, he hadn’t yet found a boundary, an edge beyond which he wouldn’t go. And she hadn’t found one where she would stop him.

  So they moved carefully forward, like a spring ice crossing where each step had to be taken with caution. They tested every foot of forward progress.

  This was one more step tonight.

  He chose a place and settled the blanket on the sand. Then he wrapped his arms around her and took her down.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sex on the beach wasn’t just the name of a damn drink. It was a California art form.

  Austin knew the drill.

  It wasn’t like you had sex on the beach thinking no one knew you were having sex on the beach.

  No. You had it with the goal that everyone knew exactly what you were doing, but couldn’t exactly prove it.

  A little discreet humping? Yes. Wild, heels to the sky flailing away? No.

  Quiet moans and groans, okay. But no hollering out f-bombs. And that final, female scream—the one he was going to be drawing from Delilah, and the one you really couldn’t ask a satisfied woman to hold back—had to be muffled.

  She’d got what he was asking, when he helped her out of the car. And he might have considered that enough of a victory for the day. She’d given him those two freaking hot orgasms as they were driving, and then she’d told him she wasn’t scared of how he pushed her sexually.

  She’d said she wouldn’t stop him.

  Another man might have called it a day. A fucking success of a day. But Austin wasn’t done with her. She’d given her body over to him, and he was taking ownership.

  She went down easily in his arms, his trusting little baby. Lying on his side, he held her close, stroking his arm down her body to bring it into full contact with his from head to toe. Then he found her mouth.

  It was fucking bliss, the sweet honey of her mouth. She was a woman who knew what a kiss meant. That it was, dammit, a prelude to what came next. That it was his first possession of her, the first signpost along the road to her surrender.

  Oh, he’d kiss her without expecting to fuck her if he had to. If, like, her mother called while they were still in bed on a Sunday morning. Or if they were in public—real public, not dark beach public.

  But this, here, was about him taking her and her giving herself up, and she knew it. He went deep, stroking into her mouth, tongue-fucking her. She let him have her, and even better, gave back.

  That was his girl. She let him do what he wanted with her, but she wasn’t passive about it. Well, except for some of those times when it was incredibly hot for her to be passive.

  Nope. She was a loving woman and a physical woman, and that combo made for fucking bliss.

  So he had his tongue in her but also her tongue in him, and that had things heating up explosively. He was hard in a matter of seconds, and she was gripping him, pulling along his back to get closer.

  He grabbed the edge of her little top and yanked to expose one breast. God he loved her tits. He palmed her, filling his hand, and rubbed at her. He could feel the hard berry of her nipple against his palm, and he made the most of it, chafing it along. Lord, how she loved having her tits played with. She moaned and arched, giving him more of her.

  Shit. This wasn’t going to take long. He squeezed her nipple once, and she lifted her thigh, draping it over him to bring them together, cunt to cock.

  Holy mother. He grabbed the back of her skirt and shoved it up, baring her ass. He let go of her mouth long enough put his hand at her lips and shove in two fingers.

  “Suck my fingers. You’re going to want them good and wet.”

  Like she needed instruction. She’d taken them in right away, tonguing and sucking at him. But she paused and looked at him when she gathered his meaning. Then, watching him, she went back to licking his fingers, moistening them with her tongue.

  Everything she did was fucking hot.

  He let her have a minute of it then bore a little down on her. He put his two fingers at her ass and sank in.

  He fucking loved watching what it did to her when he did her in the ass. It was an act that called to his feral soul, that most basic, base level of man in him. More than anything, it marked her as his, gave him complete victory, dominion over her.

  She knew. And knew he knew she knew.

  It was gritty for her, physically and mentally. And she let him have it. Let him see, too.

  Her eyes glittered as he reamed her then stroked into her. Her breath came out in edgy gasps.

  He hiked up a little, coming down on his shoulder with his other arm bent underneath so he could grab her nipple on that side. He worked her, both places, and had her humping against him.

  He didn’t have enough fucking hands. He leaned in to kiss her hard. And then he couldn’t take any more. He had to fuck her.

  “Get me out,” he growled. “Open my damn shorts.”

  He sure as hell wasn’t taking his fingers out of her ass to do it.

  She didn’t hurry like he wanted her to. The bitch took her fucking time, studying his eyes a little and then trailing her fingers down his chest. He was practically wheezing when she finally got to his shorts.

  “Hurry it the fuck up.” He could tell she wanted to tease some more, but he worked his thigh up between her legs to give her a little motivation. She was already fucking turned on, so it was pretty easy to get her attention back to her mission.

  It was enough, thank God. She unfastened the buttons of his fly and let him loose. Then he was hot and hard in her hands, and he was fucking lucky he didn’t come right that second.

  “Move your skirt. Hurry.”

  She was pulling the light fabric up between them even as he rolled over her. It was pure luck that she was quick enough to have it out of the way when he found her.

  Hands-free. He had a damn skilled cock.

  He was on top of her then, sunk deep. His one hand was wedged into the sand beneath the blanket, holding its place in her ass. He leaned to the side to give his other a little more room to play with her tit.

  “Put your legs down,” he told her. “As flat as you can.”

  That was some of the subtlety of beach fucking. But it worked out well, anyway. She slid her legs down, under his, and when he started fucking her, she was closed tight around him. He knew it was a position that gave a lot of stimulation to her clit. And his cock fucking loved it.

  He humped into her, not big, thrashing fucks but small thrusts. Hard, though, enough that her ass rocked down on his fingers each time.

  She liked it, just as he did. It was an erotic high, getting off good and hard while barely moving, holding themselves back from the physical and vocal wildness that called them.

  He kept at it—those muted, hard thrusts, his fingers doing the nasty in her ass, his hand and now his mouth on her tits. His body kept her contained, but beneath him, she rocked. She shuddered with each thrust, straining against his weight, flexing down onto his fingers then up for his cock.

  She was going to do it. Her breath was wild, barely held back moans. A couple more fucks, and she was going to scream.

  He let go of her tit to cover her mouth. But she needed the air and tossed her head.

  It was more than he could do. The way she squirmed and rocked under him, the way her hot pussy clenched him and her urgent moans drove him.

  He just couldn’t contain it. In the end, he pushed up on his knees and whaled into her. In the end, she got loose and screamed. They came hard, physical and vocal and not the least bit subtle.

  Beach violation.

  * * * *

  “Delilah.”

  She lifted her head and turned, a little surprised by Austin’s grim tone. He stood in the open doorway to her deck. She was sweeping up following an afternoon of cutting withes. When he left after their late breakfast he said he’d be back. So, after a few hours’ work, she’d gotten ready for him, showering an
d dressing in a halter top and short skirt—and that was all. She paused the motion of her broom, a crazy chill shuddering down her spine.

  “I have to stop seeing you.” Or not so crazy. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it right as soon as I can. But I have to leave. Tonight. Now.”

  She gripped the broomstick and looked at him. “Austin?”

  “I’m sorry. I promise—as soon as I can.”

  He was gone then, and she dropped the broom, rubbing her chest.

  As soon as he could—what? Oh, yeah. Make it right. Like she’d never heard that before.

  She had heard it before. Twice.

  She lifted her head at the sound of his Harley firing up.

  And then she moved—slipping her feet into sandals she’d kicked off at the top of the stairs, grabbing her keys from the little table there.

  She was out the back door in time to see him turn out of her lot. To the right. He wasn’t going home.

  * * * *

  Austin tore up Glen Canyon Road. It was a great ride for a man on a bike, but he had no appreciation for it at the moment.

  He felt like a shit, and by God, he’d put an end to this within the hour.

  The Harley left rubber on Linc’s drive as he screeched in. He dismounted with a gratified grunt, noting that Ben’s Jeep was already there. Austin had called this meeting before he’d left for Delilah’s.

  Without a nod to polite behavior, he barged through the front door. Linc and Ben were in the living room, facing out over Linc’s spectacular view. They both turned as he came in.

  “This is finished. I have a ring in my pocket, and I’m going back to her right now. On my fucking knees. Whatever you guys thought you had for her, you’re just going to have to get over it.”

  “Hold it.”

  He already had his back turned, but Linc had that tone of command in his voice that simply required obedience. With a frustrated growl he turned around.

  Austin knew the look on his own face was fierce, but Linc walked over to him. Ben followed.

  Linc had a hand in his front pocket. So did Ben. Shit. He waited for it, but he didn’t need the words to know. “I have a ring in my pocket, too.”