Authors: Morgan Ashbury
He turned his attention to the woman herself just as she pulled a duffel bag out of her closet.
“You don’t have a suitcase?” Richard asked. He tested the bounce of her mattress, falling onto the bed, then scooting up and stacking both pillows behind him. He stretched out and laced his fingers behind his head and put his full attention on her.
“I never really go anywhere, so no, no suitcase.”
“Do you want to?”
“Travel?” She seemed to have no trouble paying attention to the conversation while she sorted through the clothes in her closet.
“Yeah. You know, see the world, maybe a tour of the youth hostels of Europe?” He didn’t think she’d be able to get all the clothing she’d pulled from the hangers to fit into that bag.
“I’m a little old for the youth hostels of Europe. There are places in the world I’d like to see. Scotland. Australia. Someday in the future, when I’m ready. ”
“Wyoming?” Richard asked. Molly laughed and Richard liked the sound of it.
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“My brother and his wife usually make the trip home at Christmas because her family lives in the area, too. That might change when they have kids. Who knows?”
“Do you talk to him very often?”
“My brother?”
“Yeah.” Richard tried not to laugh. Molly’s lips twitched, indicating she realized he was on to her. He said, “Aren’t you going to say his name?”
“Well I would, but I don’t want you to think I’m using my safe word.”
“Point taken. I’ll give you another safe word.” He looked at her, at the serious light that entered her eyes. “Though I have a feeling you’ll never use it.”
“Why would I? You’d never hurt me.”
She’d said that so matter-of-fact, as if stating a simple truth. Truth it was, but he marveled that she had such faith in him after such a short time.
Or maybe not so short a time. He’d wanted her forever, it seemed.
How long had she wanted him?
“Come here.”
Molly didn’t hesitate. She walked around her bed, then sat down beside him so she faced him.
Today she’d pulled her wild Irish hair back, mercilessly capturing it with an elastic band. The sweats he’d given her to wear so she wouldn’t be naked on the street nearly swallowed her, even with the sleeves and legs rolled up. Altogether the look made her appear as young as a school girl.
He knew better, of course. She was all woman.
He cupped her face, bringing her forward. His mouth brushed back and forth, and then settled fully onto hers. Richard glided his tongue over her lips and drank deeply when she parted hers for him, when she used her tongue to taste him every bit as thoroughly as he tasted her.
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“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Trusting me. It means the world to me.”
“How could I not trust you?”
He thought she would say more, thought he read other words, a strong emotion in her eyes. But she left the words unsaid and because she did, he could push away that he knew they existed.
She might think she loved him now, but he didn’t count on that lasting.
He intended to stay his course. That meant he and Alan were, hopefully, a lifetime deal. A woman signing on to that kind of living arrangement would have to figure the same terms. She would have to love them both equally.
He didn’t fool himself. His preferences were unique to say the least. He couldn’t expect a woman as young as Molly, with so much life experience yet to be tasted, to be willing to settle in and settle down for the long haul with two bisexual men.
He did not doubt that whatever she felt right now, those emotions were sincere. But they were likely of the moment. This arrangement—this ménage relationship—was likely nothing more than an exciting novelty to her.
So he wouldn’t likely have her forever. But while he had her, he sure as hell planned to enjoy her.
He stroked her face, looked down at her body. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to give me my clothes back. Right now.”
“Now there’s a surprise.”
He couldn’t keep his grin from going wide when she stood and shucked his sweats. Then she straddled him. Taking his hands, she placed them on her breasts.
“I need your hands on me. I need your cock in me.”
“You’ll have them. Set your hair free.”
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He loved the way annoyance flashed across her face. She didn’t want to take the time away from what she wanted and needed. She wanted the main prize, and she wanted it now.
He would have to teach her what it meant to be a sub. When it came to this, to the sex that already sizzled so hot and good between them, she needed to learn patience.
Maybe he’d introduce her to the concept of tantric love. What a nice thought! He could easily imagine her sputtering and demanding when he withheld orgasm from her time and time again. Ah, but there were definite limits to his own patience so that, unfortunately, wouldn’t likely happen. He caressed and stroked her breasts, keeping his touch light, and enjoyed the sight of her nipples beading. No tantric love, but he could still withhold the orgasm from her.
“I’m going to go catch the noon news headlines on the tube.
You’ve got about ten minutes to get packed and get dressed.”
“You’re going to go watch television
now
?” No mistaking the sulk in her voice or the pout on her face. “Yes.
You want my hands and my cock and you’ll have them. When I’m ready to give them to you.”
He thought she’d say something more, but she just got off him and yanked open one of her drawers, temper giving the action a little extra force.
Smiling, Richard got off her bed. He couldn’t resist the cliché of swatting her ass as he went past her on his way to the living room. He thought she might have growled, but he didn’t call her on it.
He didn’t really want to watch the noon news, but flicked on the television anyway. He turned the volume to a just audible level and let the images and sound become background buzz as his thoughts centered on the woman in the other room.
With Alan, there was never any question of who was in charge when it came to lovemaking or when it came to their lifestyle. Alan wanted Richard to be his master. Sometimes, Alan would initiate sex with a touch or a look, a kiss or a caress. But he never demanded.
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Richard didn’t honestly know if Alan had it in him to demand anything of his master.
Molly could and would make her own demands. As much as she seemed to get off on being dominated by him, she wasn’t a sub by nature. And that was fine because he wasn’t a Dom by nature, either.
The same psychology worked for them both. The relative roles turned them on, aroused them, and added an extra edge to already spectacular sex.
A photo flashed on the screen and Richard did a double-take. He turned up the volume even as his eyes focused and he realized that, despite his first gut reaction, the woman whose picture lit up the screen was
not
Molly.
“…
Virginia Townsend, aged twenty-five, of Listowel Avenue was
last seen Friday night at a bar in the East End called Hog Heaven.
Anyone having any information as to the whereabouts of Virginia is
asked to contact city police, at Precinct Six. In other news this
afternoon
…”
Richard turned off the television. Restless, he got up and paced the room. Why did he feel a shiver go through him when he saw that woman’s picture? For just a bare second, he’d thought he saw Molly’s face looking out at him from the television. That woman, Virginia, could have been Molly’s younger sister, except she didn’t have quite the same intelligence in her eyes or quite the same level of confidence on her face.
His sense of disquiet remained. Richard pushed it back, then turned as Molly came into the room. Her duffel bag looked crammed to the max.
“Is it because I demanded? I’m a sub and I’m not supposed to demand, am I?”
Her face no longer wore her pout or defiance. In their place he saw curiosity. Richard walked over to her, stroked his finger down her face, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.
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“Partially. It’s also called delayed gratification. And besides, although there will be times when I’ll enjoy you all to myself—as Alan will—I find I’m in the mood for the three of us to indulge in water sports.”
“All right, then.” Molly smiled and then stretched up and placed a kiss on his lips. “I forwarded my land line to my cell phone.”
“Good thinking. Do you have everything you need?”
“Not yet. But you’ve promised water sports.” Richard laughed. “So I did. Well let’s get to it. I want you wet and wild.”
“What a coincidence. I want me that way too.”
* * * *
Molly tilted her head to the side to study the man who’d been the beginning and end of her sexual fantasies since she’d understood what the term meant. Looking totally relaxed, he lay beside her, naked, with his head on an inflated plastic pillow while the hot water bubbled around them.
When he’d left her alone in her bedroom, naked and needy, she sensed that she’d done something wrong, made some mistake.
Clearly, he’d denied her what she wanted—what they’d both wanted if the firmness of the erection under her could be any indication. And when she joined him in the living room, she sensed that something wasn’t quite right with him.
Molly leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She
hated
second-guessing herself in any situation. Maybe she should just turn off her thoughts and simply
be
. She could relax, enjoy the here and the now. She could let the hot water do its work.
“You wonderful people read my mind,” Alan said as he entered the bathroom and began stripping.
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“I figured that if you spent time with Mrs. Shrewish-Witchy that you’d be in desperate need of hydrotherapy when you got home.” Richard said.
Molly laughed. Richard called Alan’s cell phone when they left her apartment and left the message that they’d be waiting for him in the spa.
“Hydrotherapy and a pitcher of margaritas,” Alan said.
“It just so happens,” Richard said.
The tinkling of ice as Richard poured the drinks punctuated the gentle swish as Alan sank down into the water on the other side of him.
A cold drop of water splashing on her breasts made her open her eyes. Richard held a glass out to her.
She took it, and sipped delicately. “Oh, this is good.”
“Richard makes
the
best margaritas.” Alan sighed.
For long moments there were no sounds except the froth of water and the tinkling of ice against the side of glasses as they soaked and sipped, the relaxing combination of heat and alcohol working its magic.
A small splash caught Molly’s attention and she opened her eyes, turned her head. Alan moved closer to Richard, and set his glass down.
“You always give me what I need. What would I do without you?”
Love shone in Alan’s eyes and Molly thought it the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Richard reached out, caressed Alan’s face gently. “You’ll never have to find out, sweetheart. You’ll never have to do without me.”
“I love you Richard. I love you so much. Let me show you. Tell me what to do to pleasure you.”
“I want to fuck you.”
Molly sensed a familiarity between them in the words, as if they’d said the same things to each other countless times, the way lovers do.
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She’d been with other couples in the past when they edged toward the intimate and she always felt uncomfortable and looked for the first opportunity to excuse herself and leave them to their affection.
She didn’t feel uncomfortable here and now. She felt privileged and aroused and, maybe, just maybe a little bit envious.
“You can do anything to me you want. I belong to you. Heart and mind, body and soul.”
“Yes, you do. And I belong to you.”
Richard turned then and looked at Molly, cocking his head to the side. Then he returned his attention to Alan. “It would please me very much to have Molly join us, if you gave yourself over to the two of us. I want her suck your cock while I fuck you.”
“Oh, God.” Alan closed his eyes and shivered. “Yes.”
“Molly?”
That tone in Richard’s voice, that subtle shift from considerate companion to master thrilled Molly. Even in a veritable sea of foaming froth, she could feel her own juices begin to churn and heat.
Drawn, aroused, Molly set her glass down and moved to do her master’s bidding.
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Molly wrapped her hand around Alan’s cock, the heat and the hardness of him stirring her juices and making her mouth water.
He knelt before her on the bed, his body lithe and lean, his skin glistening from moisture not completely toweled off. Richard moved them here from the spa, positioned them, and watched now as Molly stroked his lover.
Sitting by the head of the bed with her legs folded almost Yoga style, Molly nestled her ass more comfortably on the soft mattress.
Leaning forward, she used her tongue to taste the bead of moisture that emerged from the head of Alan’s cock. Warm and salty, the crystalline drop gave hints of delicacies to come. She turned her head sideways and gave him one long lick, from balls to tip.
“Oh, God.”
Though he braced both hands on the wall above and behind her for support, he took one hand and threaded his fingers through her hair.
“You have an incredibly talented tongue, Molly. It feels so good when you use it on my cock.”
Molly chuckled, the heart-felt husky tone, as much as the compliment itself, delighting her.
“I’m just learning,” she said. “And since practice makes perfect…” She let the rest of the sentence drop because she’d opened her mouth and taken him inside.
She sucked him in deep, then slid her mouth almost totally off him. She loved the taste of his cock, the heat of it and the length of it.