Brazen Seduction (10 page)

“I’m afraid I’m a disappointment to both my parents in the life-aspiration category,” Molly said. The potatoes were ready to go on the stove, so she sat back to enjoy her wine and the conversation.

“How so?”

“Three years of university and all I want to do is work for someone else. I have an affinity for numbers. I’m accounting manager for Nicholson manufacturing. The work is comfortable, interesting enough that I don’t get bored, and the position pays not too badly. I never particularly wanted to be my own boss or get any kind of advanced degree so that I could have an upper-case ‘C’ career.

Neither did I want to go husband hunting so I could settle down and produce the requisite two point three kids, keep house, drive an SUV, and volunteer for save-the-neighborhood-tree groups.”

“Just being happy in what you do should be enough for Elyse and Harry.”

“Hmm, when they’re reminded to be that way, then yes, they are pleased I’m happy. They’re just mostly mystified that I could be.” Molly frowned, thinking about her job. “And I have been happy with my job, for the most part. But maybe not so much in the last little while.”

“Oh? What’s happened in the last little while?” Richard reached over and topped up Molly’s glass.

“A few months ago Norman Nicholson hired his nephew, Brian. I don’t care for the man—talk about being creeped out. That’s the feeling I got the instant I laid eyes on him. He has this attitude that if you’re an ‘employee’ then you’re the lowest of the low and, I don’t know, owe him fealty or some damn thing. He also has this air of
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entitlement about him, but as far as I’ve been able to see, he’s nothing but a big screw up. His title is Vice President, but no one can figure out what the hell he’s supposed to be vice president of.”

“Nothing kills company morale faster than nepotism,” Richard said. “I’ve seen it happen a couple of times myself.” Alan came back into the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine, re-filled his glass, and sat. “That woman, I swear, is going to be the death of me. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve already gotten four excellent referrals from her…” He let the sentence hang and sipped his wine instead.

The camaraderie continued on through dinner—simple fare, but delicious—and then into the tidy-up portion of the evening.

Molly didn’t mind the chore, and as Richard sat and chatted with them, she and Alan loaded the dishwasher, washed the few items that didn’t belong in the machine, and wiped down counters and the table.

“Coffee?” Richard asked them when the last dish had been put away.

“Not for me, thanks,” Molly said. She recalled the promise Richard made when he watched her and Alan making love, just before he joined them.

Apparently that promise was front and center of his thoughts, too.

He set his wine glass aside before stepping closer to her. He cupped her face in his hands and raised her head for his kiss.

Wooing and warm, scintillating and sensual, his lips and tongue caressed and tasted, sipped and teased. Molly lost herself in the gentle sweetness of his kiss. Richard’s lips and tongue made love to her mouth, a sultry, lazy summer afternoon kind of love that seduced her muscles into languor and her mind into a soft dreaminess.

Heat curled in her belly, ribbons of arousal that danced through her blood, a subtle wending of awakening hunger, fireflies of excitement against the midnight blue of her contentment.

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Morgan Ashbury

When Alan came to them, when he stroked a hand down her back, the hunger within grew, a craving to sample a delicacy never before tasted.

“I’m going to have to have my shirt back.” Richard smiled down at her, his eyes glittering with merriment.

Molly slipped the buttons from their moorings and let the garment slide to the floor.

Alan combed his fingers through her hair, gently tugging until her neck stretched back, so he could fit his mouth to hers. His tongue twirled and tasted even as Richard fastened his lips on one pebbled nipple, drawing it into his mouth.

Then hands roamed her flesh, stroking and petting, pinching and sinking in, delving, preparing. Molly felt her knees begin to give way.

The men caught her and she simply let go, relinquishing control of her body to them.

They would devour her, yet keep her safe.

The world tilted when Richard scooped her into his arms. “Do you have any idea what a turn on it is to have you surrender so completely like that?”

She didn’t, of course, but she knew what a turn on it was to have him take her over so completely. She would do whatever he asked, give whatever he demanded, simply because he asked and demanded.

He laid her on the bed, his gaze never leaving her as he straightened and stripped off his clothes. He said nothing but Alan must have known his master’s mind, for he got out of his own clothes as well. Then he walked over to the nightstand and opened the drawer.

Alan returned to them in moments. Molly felt her arousal soar when he sat on the bed beside her and put his mouth on Richard’s cock. Sucking him in, releasing, then in again, Molly understood in that moment how totally connected the two men were. Richard’s eyes closed in pleasure, and Alan’s back-of-the-throat hum proclaimed his own joy.

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He released Richard, then opened the condom packet. He slid the latex in place, then reached for the second item he’d brought from the nightstand drawer.

The squat plastic jar had no markings, but the contents, when Alan opened the container, smelled light and fresh.

He scooped a generous dollop onto two fingers, then turned with a devilish grin aimed at Molly.

“Your turn.”

He wasted no time, but pushed her back so that she lay sprawled on the bed, and avidly set his mouth on her pussy, using lips and tongue to taste, to moisten, to arouse. The fingers of one hand sought and found her clitoris.

The fingers of the other caressed up and down her ass, finding her anus, coating it with the lubricant.

Alan gently positioned her in the center of the bed without lifting his mouth from her pussy.

“Oh God, that feels so
good
.” Combing fingers into his hair, she held him fast, in case he thought to just eat and run.

She didn’t recall his declaration that first night, when he looked at her from beside his master. Not until he moaned with pleasure when Richard moved onto the bed to join them.

Richard stretched out beside her, pulling her head back so he could kiss her. No wooing caress this time. He sought to drink, to delve, to dominate. Reaching around, he stroked her breast, plucking one of her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pinching, pulling, then switching to the other.

Alan lifted her right leg, rolling her slightly more onto her left side, but more, offering her to their master. She understood his gesture, and it thrilled her.

“Have you ever had a cock here?” Richard rubbed his latex covered penis along the crack of her ass, settling the hot, swollen tip against the rosebud opening of her anus.

“Never.”

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Morgan Ashbury

“Good. I’m glad I’m going to be your first.” He pressed forward, one hand maneuvering his cock until it began to spread the virgin opening.

The burning sensation of having her flesh stretched became a layer of stimulation that wrapped around her arousal, around the moist heat of lips and tongue that tantalized her labia and clit, until the burn morphed into a sharp-edged pain.

As if Richard’s slow penetration connected her anus, her clit, and her womb, tiny fissions of electricity coiled and sparked, buzzing, tantalizing. Shivering, the combined stimulation, mouth and lips, cock and fingers, drove her arousal to impossible heights, not just centered around her pussy, but spreading, enveloping,
consuming
her entire body.

“
Oh God
!” Her throat worked, sound emerged, but not words, not anything as civilized as words and sentences. Feral noises, the call of woman in sexual fever, the grinding, swirling, trembling reality of raw sex pulled mating sounds from her soul, drove her outside herself, away from emotion and logic and civilization. She could only feel and she could only revel. She could only reach for more. Inside, it felt as if she needed to claw to survive, that she needed more just to
live
.

Alan pushed her leg higher, and she who never exercised had no problem stretching, opening herself to meet the demands of her lovers. All she had belonged to them. Giving, she knew, would get her what she craved.

Richard pressed harder, and she felt the head of his cock finally enter her, felt him slide in and down until she could have sworn he brushed her clit from the inside.

“More…
oh, God, I need more
!” Molly’s hips moved, a writhing undulation her body used to capture Richard’s cock, bring it in deeper, bring it in faster while rubbing her clit against that fabulous tongue.

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And then lips and tongue changed their cadence, their course and laved her, clit to ass, sucking on not only her pussy but Richard’s cock.

Molly came, a blinding, exploding orgasm that cascaded in and through her, a storm of climax more powerful, more
everything
than she even knew existed. Her uterus clamped down, every part of her working to hold the delicious rapture, to hold it fast and hard inside so it would never end. Moisture gushed from her to bathe the waiting mouth as her body heaved and convulsed, and it went on and on and on.

Too much, too much
.

Shivers and trembles wracked her and she thought her heart would pound its way right out of her chest. Soaring, racing, with nothing to hold her back, hold her in, it seemed as if she climbed beyond the puny hold of gravity. How could there be anything after this? Then came the slowing, the easing, the return to Earth and she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t grasp the keening sound she heard came from her.

“There now, there now.” Gentle arms gathered her in, gathered her close, absorbing the shocks still buffeting through her, wiping the tears from her face.

Blankets moved from beneath her, and then she was in the center of the bed, cosseted and cocooned between two lovers who had shattered her and put her back together again in the course of mere minutes.

“Shh,” Richard crooned as he held and rocked her. Alan left the bed but returned. He held a glass of brandy to her lips.

Molly sipped, closing her eyes as the heat of the liquor sank down to her belly. The trembling stopped for a few blessed seconds, then started again.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know why—”

“You never have to apologize for feeling, sweetheart. That was pretty intense for all of us.”

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Morgan Ashbury

The sound of Richard’s voice, coming to her through the dampener of his chest as she lay atop him, soothed. “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said.

“First times can be a revelation,” Alan said. He climbed into the bed beside her so that she was nestled between them both. “And Molly? It’s going to get better.”

“Better? Better might kill me.” She burrowed even deeper between the hot male bodies, soaking up the heat wrapped-in-tenderness they offered her.

“Well,” Alan said after a minute or two, “I suppose there are worse ways to die.”

“Our loving you won’t kill you,” Richard said. “But it might keep you in a state of constant satiation.” Molly felt herself drifting toward sleep.
Loving
, he’d said. She wished it could be true.

As Morpheus pulled her under Molly wondered if these men could ever come to love her the way she knew she already loved them.

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Richard liked both men and women as sexual partners and had for most of his adult life. But over and above that, he liked women for being…well, women.

They were just so
different
from men. Not only in the frilly, lacey things they tended to put on under their clothes—something he always found extremely arousing—but in their creams and lotions, powders and sprays. And in their
thinking
.

Women also possessed very sexy minds—and again, different from men’s.

While Alan took a quick trip to reassure Mrs. Smyth-White that her project not only remained on target but at the center of his universe, Richard drove Molly to her apartment so she could pick up a few things to bring back to his house.

“Grab enough to stay the week,” he told her.

“All right. It won’t take me long.”

The next day was Memorial Day. He and Alan didn’t make any plans this year, thinking just to take the holiday as an extra day to relax at home together.

“Anything special you’d like to do for the holiday tomorrow?” he asked as they entered her apartment. If she’d had her heart set on doing something, then they’d do it. He could be a very accommodating man when he wanted to be.

“I hadn’t made any plans,” Molly said. “I was just looking forward to having another day off work, maybe read a book or two.” Richard took advantage of the opportunity to have a look around her apartment, a simple way to get to know the lady a little better.

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Morgan Ashbury

One thing he could say about Molly. She seemed efficient. Her living space stood neat and tidy. It didn’t look like she owned a lot of doo-dads or knick-knacks. Not even a plant waited to greet her upon her arrival, and what there were of possessions looked to be in their place.

In fact, her living room and kitchen, small though they might have been, didn’t even look lived in.

He followed her into her bedroom and sighed with relief. Here at least there seemed to be a bit of feminine clutter. He bet her dresser couldn’t hold another bottle or figurine. One bra hung half-out of a dresser drawer as if trying to escape. A wicker clothes hamper had been tucked into one corner. It stood gaping open, with clothes half in, half out, as if Molly tossed them in from various points around the room and been satisfied if the garment landed merely in the vicinity of it.