by West, Harper
“You’re so tight, baby,” Logan rasps, “So fucking tight. Try to relax for me.”
I nod and take a few deep breaths as Logan slips a second finger in beside the first. Tyler rubs up and down my thighs murmuring, “Good girl. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna feel so good.”
Two fingers work their way inside and stretch me wider than I thought possible. Eventually, though, the slight pain and the shock subside, and it starts to feel good. Really good.
Tyler starts moving again, slowly, and I start riding him. I press back onto Logan’s fingers. “More,” I husk out, breathlessly.
He and Tyler share a look.
“More,” I insist, “I want all of you.”
Tyler nods and Logan must agree because I suddenly feel his slippery fingers slide out of me, leaving me empty. His hard cock has been pressed against my lower back this entire time. He squirts more lube into his palm and starts slicking himself up. Neither of these guys is small, but Logan’s got to be a solid ten inches and very thick, the head all red and angry from having been neglected for this long.
“Tell me if it hurts, and I'll back off," Logan says gently.
I nod.
“Promise me,” he demands.
“I promise.”
And with that, Logan pushes the head of his cock inside me. I let out a completely un-sexy grunt-moan sound from the shock and the initial burning sensation. My breath comes in spasms. Sweat pools on my brow. I figure he must have shoved all the way inside of me, but looking back, I see I’ve only got the first few inches.
“Fuck,” I say aloud.
“Too much?”
I shake my head no. “Again.”
I clench around both of them, and Tyler makes that familiar hissing sound again. Logan adds more lube, making me able to slide back on him a little more easily. One more inch. Then two.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” Logan says, encouraging me.
I throw my head back onto his shoulder, and his lips immediately fall to my neck. He kisses me there. He sucks and bites and whispers more sweet nothings about how tight I am and how good this feels. Then he eases me back down over Tyler.
I brace myself on Tyler's shoulders, and he reaches up to kiss me and smooth my hair over my shoulder.
“I’m all in,” Logan finally whispers.
Fuck, I’ve never been so full. So stretched. So connected to both Tyler and Logan.
“Then move, already,” Tyler teases, “I should get a medal for how fucking long I’ve been able to control myself here.”
I laugh and rock back on both dicks, letting out a low, feral moan. This is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I feel wild and reckless. Cock hungry. But only for these two men.
Logan and Tyler work together, finding a steady, pulsating rhythm that hits every sensitive spot inside of me, driving me closer and closer to the mind-melting orgasm they always promise. I’m squeezing so hard around them that I fear I’ll push them out of my body.
I lean back onto Logan's brick wall of a chest, and his arms wrap around my middle. My hands roam over Tyler's stomach and sides.
I gasp and moan. “Can you feel him?” I ask Logan, my voice breaking. I look back at him, then at Tyler. “Can you feel each other? Through me?”
“Yeah,” Tyler answers first.
Logan just nods and kisses my neck again and thrusts harder.
And then I explode. Something about knowing that they can feel each other while inside of me and that they like it sends me over the edge into the most powerful, intense orgasm of my life.
My breath gets cut off. My vision goes white. I gasp and sputter.
I probably sound like I’m sobbing. Or getting strangled. But I’m too far gone to care.
I feel Tyler give over to his own pleasure first, grunting and rutting as he spills into me. As my eyes regain their ability to focus, I see him pant and tense up, the cords in his neck becoming more pronounced as his head jerks back and his spine arches. Tyler’s so damn beautiful when he comes, looking like he’s having an out-of-body experience, crying out to God and all the angels as he crests and crashes.
Logan is full speed ahead for a few more rough thrusts before he gives in to. Only then do I notice the super classy mirror over the headboard, no doubt placed there for exactly this reason. But I’m grateful for it. I watch Logan’s face contort and his eyes close as he comes. He lets out a deep, primal groan and I feel him come deep inside my ass. Logan’s inner caveman surfaces when he comes, all power and dominance and pure animal. I love watching it.
His body goes slack against mine, and he pulls both of us down on the bed with Tyler. Both slip out of me, leaving me suddenly feeling empty. I roll over to give Logan a deep, passionate kiss.
“That was amazing, baby,” he whispers as our lips part, “You were amazing.”
I feel myself blushing.
I don’t feel like I did anything, really. I mean, the guys did all the work. I just took their cocks and let them make me come.
“Come here,” Tyler hisses, drawing me flush to him. He winds his arms around me and pulls me into a kiss. His kiss is lighter, more delicate, and with almost no tongue until he deepens it without warning and practically consumes me. I moan against him, adoring every moment of this.
“Don't be greedy," Logan teases. He doesn't break Tyler's and my kiss, though. He snakes his hand up around my throat and presses lightly. Not to cut off my air, but to show the both of us who's in charge here. Logan's mouth finds the nape of my neck, and he kisses me, knowing full well that a kiss right in that spot is my complete undoing and he relishes in my moan.
The three of us lie there, kissing, touching and teasing until the guys are hard again. I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’m so blissed out on the high of it all that I’m raring to go another round.
I take them both again, but this time I’m riding Logan and Tyler takes me from behind. When all three of us come, we tumble back down on the bed together, a sweaty mess of limbs and sated bodies.
Tyler looks like he’s seconds from sleep. Logan sets an alarm on his phone for us for tomorrow.
“I love you," I say, snuggling against Tyler's warm torso. I reach a hand back for Logan, and he weaves his fingers into mine. "Both of you. So much."
“We love you too,” Tyler mutters before drifting off to sleep.
“Completely,” Logan breathes.
I fall asleep surrounded on both sides. I feel so safe and happy, watching their sleeping forms breathe in and out.
My business is a success. I have a beautiful Manhattan apartment and great friends. And the best boyfriends a woman could ask for. My life is perfect right now.
The next morning, I return to said beautiful Manhattan apartment only to discover that no, I hadn’t remembered to take my birth control pill the night before.
No big deal, I think to myself. The chances of my getting pregnant are minimal.
Nine months later, my son is born.
Present Day
“So, can I have the job or not?" I ask Logan. I don't want to piss him off, but I don't want to give him too much time to overthink this decision either. I need him to say yes before he realizes that giving me the job will mean seeing each other every day.
His eyes are cold. Distant.
“Do you have a resume, Ms. Lawrence?” he asks.
Ms. Lawrence. I cringe. But I hand over my resume anyway.
“This is quite a step down for you,” he says critically, without even looking at the paper I’ve handed him.
“I’m not above any job,” I say, resolutely. I can’t say that this was always my attitude towards work, unfortunately. But losing everything, having to start over, and then being a single mother on top of all that will force anyone to rearrange their priorities and swallow their pride. I’ll do anything, work any job, to keep a roof over my son’s head and food on the table. Even beg for an entry-level job from my ex.
Logan looks over my resume.
“So, your most recent
work experience ended almost a year ago,” he states, “What exactly have you been doing with your life?”
“Taking some time too… find myself,” I tell him. I don’t tell him that I had a rough pregnancy and barely survived giving birth. I don’t tell him about the months of painful physical rehabilitation that I endured all while nursing a newborn. I don’t tell him about the months of undiagnosed postpartum depression that I suffered until my mother finally forced me to see a therapist. “You know, a little of this, a little of that.”
He scoffs.
I take a deep breath. “Mr. Rutledge,” I say, trying not to show my disdain for the formalities, “I can answer phones, roll calls, make copies, multi-task, and manage your personal schedule without an issue.”
“Managing my personal schedule is Tyler’s job,” he says.
I fight my smile. “How is Tyler?”
“Fine,” he says shortly.
I return to business. “Well, I can handle the other responsibilities. I’m perfectly capable. I’m dependable. I have several years’ experience.”
“I’m not sure about this,” Logan says, “Might not be a good fit.”
I pull out the big guns. “The advertisement for this job has been appearing for several weeks now. Which means that you either can’t find a qualified applicant or you personally are being too picky.”
Logan raises an eyebrow.
“I’m the best you’re going to find,” I insist. And just to rattle him, I add, “Sir.”
He shivers. It’s subtle, but I see it. I got him.
“Fine,” he says, “I’ll email you the paperwork tonight, Ms. Lawrence.”
“Ivy,” I say gently, “Please call me Ivy. Again.”
Logan closes his eyes for a brief moment, then opens them again.
“You’re dismissed, Ivy.”
Chapter 3
Logan
I meet Tyler in the gym in our building for a quick workout which does little to ease my tension. Tyler grunts and groans through his deadlifts and leg presses, completely unaware that Ivy has returned and I envy him wholeheartedly.
I ready my weights at the bench press before lying beneath it. I grip the barbell and, without a spotter, blast through more reps than ever before. My arms are beginning to quake and give out. This was a stupid idea.
Thankfully, before I drop hundreds of pounds of metal on my chest, Tyler steps in to help guide the weight off of me.
“What’s gotten into you, man?” he asks, huffing, “You nearly put yourself in the hospital.”
“Nothing,” I mutter, “You about ready to go?”
Tyler towels off his face and neck, nodding, as he follows me into the locker room. Without speaking, I pull off my tee shirt and start running the shower. I shuck off the rest of my clothes and step under the spray, closing the stall’s curtain behind me.
I hear Tyler, in the stall next to me, do the same.
I let the scalding hot water run over my chest and shoulders before leaning back to wet my hair when I hear the all-too-familiar grunts and muffled sighs of Tyler jacking off.
“Do you have to do that right now?” I call to him.
“You’ve never minded before,” he retorts, not stopping.
I sigh. He's right. I've heard the man come more times than I can count. But after seeing Ivy, I can't help but wish that she was in this shower with us, her red hair soaked and plastered to her skin. Tyler is making those same obscene sounds as he vigorously eats her out. Me spreading her pussy open like a ripe peach and pounding into her until she screams her release.
I reach down. I'm hard as diamonds and probably have been since Ivy left my office, all wildfire, and determination. Fuck, if I'm going to have to deal with seeing her every day, I’ve got to be able to be around her without springing wood like a damn teenager.
I tug on my length and give myself a few rough strokes to try and calm down, but it’s no use. Soon, Tyler’s not the only one filling the small shower stall with the wet, slapping noises of a man pleasuring himself.
Tyler chuckles.
“Fuck off,” I tell him.
After showering, Tyler changes into a well-tailored dress shirt and slacks and spends a few minutes in the mirror perfecting his ‘woke up like this’ artfully messy hair.
“Want to come with me?” he asks.
I put on clean track pants and snug black sweater. Usually, I wouldn’t be caught dead in anything other than a suit out in public, but all I’m going to do is go home and watch television, so I don’t bother dressing formally. I shake my head no.
“Your loss,” he scoffs, “Friday night in downtown Manhattan. The talent will be out tonight.”
I scowl. I hate when Tyler talks like a playboy. It’s so gross. But, he wasn’t always like this. Since Ivy left, he sees most women as little more than a hole for rent.
“You should come,” he says, “You need to get laid like nobody’s business.”
He’s right. I haven’t had sex in so long I’ve probably forgotten how. But I shake my head no anyway and head home.
I take the private elevator up to the top floor and let myself inside. I own the three-bedroom expansive penthouse with the spacious living room, luxury kitchen, and home office. The master bedroom is mine. Tyler lives in the second bedroom, though his gaming system is set up in the living room, much to my chagrin.
And the third bedroom belonged to Ivy.
“Evening, Logan,” Mrs. Little says.
“Hello.”
“I’ve left you some dinner on the stove,” she says, gathering her purse and sweater. “Some packages were delivered this afternoon. I’ve left them on the coffee table.”
“Thank you,” I tell my housekeeper as I step out of my shoes. I check my phone and see that I’ve missed a call.
From Ivy. I guess she never changed her number.
I must look like I’ve seen a ghost and Mrs. Little stares at me for a beat.
“Is something wrong, Logan?” she asks. We have an off dynamic, Mrs. Little and I. She’s my employee, yet she calls me by my first name while I’m so formal with her. She squints at me like she’s trying to figure it out.
“Everything’s fine,” I tell her. I even try to smile a little, but that does fuck-all to convince her. If anything, it makes her look at me even more strangely.
Mrs. Little nods, deciding to back off. “Good night then,” she says. She shows herself out, but not before giving me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. Like a mother would. Like my own mother never did.
Mrs. Little was Tyler’s nanny and family housekeeper when he was growing up. When Tyler’s parents decided to retire and move to Costa Rica, he and I hired her to work for us. We pay her handsomely and rented her a place of her own in this building in exchange for her cleaning services, some light cooking, and, of course, her complete discretion.
When I’m sure that Mrs. Little can’t overhear, I dial Ivy, curious as to why she was trying to reach me so adamantly.
Ivy answers on the first ring.
“Logan, you know that it’s illegal to ask an employee whether or not they have children, don’t you?” she says before even greeting me.
“Excuse me?”
“It's in this paperwork," she explains, "You ask about children, and you ask for their ages."
“Our company offers daycare options for all employees,” I explain, “I figured that asking whether or not a new hire will need to take advantage of it right away was a time saver.”
“It’s illegal,” she states.
“Is it?” I ask, shaking my head, “What am I saying? Why are you getting all worked up about this anyway, Ivy? You don’t have any children.”
She starts to say something but stops. “Other women might take offense to it,” she says, more calmly, “Some companies won’t hire a woman once they find out that she has children. It’s why you’re not even allowed to ask.”
“We’re not one of those companies,” I remind her, “Most of our
employees are parents, in fact. We don’t discriminate.”
She sighs. "I know," she says, sounding defeated for some reason like she was prepared to get all angry and self-righteous with me, but I've robbed her of the opportunity.
“But if it’s illegal to ask, I’ll remove it from the new-employee paperwork,” I assure her. And I will. I may not have intended for the question to be so personal, but if it is, I’ll get rid of it.
“Thank you,” she says.
Neither of us says anything for a minute or two. I just listen to her breath on the other end of the phone. I realize I’m enjoying it.
“Anything else you wanted to yell at me about?” I ask, snapping myself out of my trance.
She hangs up.
I practically throw my phone to the ground in frustration. I have no idea if I won that exchange or not. Actually, I have a feeling that I’ll never win in a fight with Ivy. I may have gotten the last word, but I’m literally shaking, with nerves and rage. How dare she storm back to town and demand a place in my work and my life again?
I need a drink. Maybe two.
And I definitely need a good, hard fuck.
I text Tyler and tell him I’m coming to the bar to meet him.
Chapter 4
Tyler
When Logan texts me to say that he’s on his way and that I should order him a double Jameson neat and have it waiting when he arrives, I’m completely shocked. But also, excited.
“Business?” Daisy asks as she watches me reply to him.
Yes, it turns out that our sweet little hippie chick Daisy - and yes, that is her actual name. I asked - likes a night in a posh wine bar as much as the next girl. She’s sweet and thankfully not as innocent as her name suggests and we’ve been having a perfectly nice time talking about her backpacking adventures in Asia last year.
“No. Pleasure,” I tell her, “A friend is joining me.”
“Oh,” she says, looking slightly disappointed, “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“You stay right there,” I say with a wink. I order her another craft beer, another glass of cabernet for myself, and Logan’s whiskey.