ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (206 page)

Chapter 5 Beach House Fun

We go for a quick bite to eat at a bistro close by, but I don't have much of an appetite tonight, well not for food anyway. After a few glasses of wine, we walk hand in hand to a Dante’s beach house, and our very own private party.

The place is amazing, right on the beach, with magnificent views of the sea. Antonio passes me a glass of wine. “enjoy the view, Nessy, while Dante and I change into something more comfortable.”

I can’t imagine what could be more comfortable than the slacks and loose t-shirts they already have on. I’m too engrossed in the fascinating view to give it much thought. Wow, its just breath takingly beautiful. Looking out of huge wall sized window doors, that open up onto the beach, I almost wish the girls were here to enjoy this scenery, almost.

I hear the guys come back into the room and turn to compliment them on the view, when I’m greeted by a different, but just as stunning view. Both the guys are stark naked, wearing nothing but huge grins on their faces. I’m so stunned I nearly drop my glass of wine.

“Come, Nessy, we go take a dip,” Dante tells me.

I’m not sure what to do, I’ve always been conscious of my naked body, its curves and folds of fat. Could I get naked in front of these two glorious guys, should I do it? My mind is a whirl with decisions. Dante runs by me, opening up the glass patio door and going out onto the beach, running across the sand until he reaches the sea. I can’t help but stare at his naked buttocks, watching his muscles tense and relax as he runs. I hear the waves and smell the salt, and I feel like I want in, but I’m just not sure. My body isn’t exactly, well, I suppose it is curvaceous, but not...

“Nessy,” I hear Antonio’s voice whisper close to my ear. I can smell his musky aroma and feel his warm breath. “Come play with us, we want to love you.”

Well, how can a girl resist an invitation like that? I hesitantly start to strip off in front of Antonio. He watches appreciatively, helping me remove some of my clothes until I’m naked, in front of him. I hold my hand across my breasts, with the other covering my lightly haired mons. I’ve never stood naked before, in front of a man, and I’m still a bit reluctant to expose everything to his gaze.

“Sei una grande bella donna,” Antonio says, huskily, before reaching over and pulling my arms to my sides, so I’m completely exposed to him.

“I love your body, Nessy,” he says, “don’t hide it from me.”

Seeing the look of pleasure on Antonio’s face, that and his growing erection, was liberating, and I lost all sense of self consciousness as he stares at my nakedness.

“Come,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand, “Dante will be worried he is missing out.”

He leads me through the door, across the beach, and into the water where Dante is waiting for us.

That hour in the sea was one of the happiest times of my life. A moonlight beach, warm barmy sea and two gorgeous Italian hunks, who truly loved what I am.

After a wonderful time splashing about in the waves, we make our way back to the house, hand in hand and naked, the moonlight glinting off our bodies. I have never felt so alive. 

Dante pours us drinks, and Antonio leads me to a bedroom, the bed is huge and round and we easily fit on it together, with room to spare. I wonder to myself how many other women Antonio and Dante have entertained in this bed, but I really don't care at this moment, it’s me that’s here now, no one else.

I’m a little nervous, this is my first ménage à trois and I’m unsure what to do, but the boys waste no time and soon start the action.

Antonio kisses me firmly on the lips, pressing his tongue into my mouth, he tastes wonderful and I greedily suck on it, savoring his flavor. My lips suck his tongue deeper into my mouth, and my own tongue lashes at it, wantonly.

Dante, determined not to be left out, pushes my breast together and is greedily sucking on the nipples, his mouth going from one to the other, occasionally nipping them with his teeth. The pain is glorious and it sends shivers of lust through my body. I am completely theirs now, I will do anything and everything they ask of me. The thought of my total submission starts a fire deep inside of me, and I can feel the familiar burning sensation between my legs.

We are a tangle of arms and legs as we intermingle with each other, lips and tongues sucking, biting and tasting each others bodies. I’m not sure who’s stiff shaft I have in my hand as I squeeze and rub the glans with my thumb, sticky with fluid, but it didn't really matter as soon I have one in the other hand too. Stiff maleness throbbing between my fingers, it is heaven.

I feel a tongue slithering down my body, who’s I don't know, and neither do I care. Its destination clear as it passes my navel, poking it quickly before moving on, down over my mons until it reaches the end of its journey. My legs are prized apart and the tongue dips into my wetness, causing me to moan loudly in pure pleasure as lips suck on my clitoris and the folds of my labia. The tongue lathes the full length of my slit. The pleasure is intense and I open my legs wider as he presses deeper into my mound.

Fingers tweak at my nipples, stretching them and twisting them, painfully delicious, these two guys are opening me up to new sensations I never thought I could ever experience.

A firm pair of hands hold me by the waist and pull me over, so I’m straddling someone, when I look down I see it’s Antonio, his faced buried between my breasts that are hanging down, smothering him, his erection probing at my pussy. I push back onto his spear and it slips easily into my wetness.

We start a rhythm together in unison, slowly at first, but steadily building up speed, two people joined in passion. I had almost forgotten about Dante, until I feel his presence behind me, his erection poking at my ass cheeks. Suddenly, on his downward stroke, Antonio withdraws completely from me, but I’m not left empty for long before he is quickly replaced with Dante, from behind, his erection sliding deep into my vagina, until I feel his groin pressed on to the naked skin of my ass.

Dante takes over, where Antonio leaves off, pressing himself deep into me until I feel his pubic hairs pressed against my skin. Now he starts a steady rhythm, in and out, in and out, slipping easily between my wet and welcoming pussy. He continues his pace for a few strokes, before withdrawing, to be quickly replaced by Antonio, they go on like this, each pounding in turn, driving me closer and closer to my orgasm.

This is just amazing, I’ve never experienced so much sexual intensity, being fucked by two men at the same time is such a turn on. They each take it their turn to enter me, alternatively, one thrusting for a few strokes before being replaced by the other. These two guys have got this off to pat, and I barely feel the change over, it’s done so quickly, it’s only the different angle of entry that tells me they’ve swapped. I ride with each of them, pressing myself onto whichever one of them is inside of me. Feeling the pressure build up inside as I feel my orgasm approaching. My whole body is racked with spasms of pleasure as jolts of electricity surge through me, causing me to scream out in pleasure, as these two men satisfy my every need.

They both reach their own peak, almost immediately after me. Antonio buried deep inside of me, as he fills me with his seed, and Dante spurting out over my back, his hot cum, sticky on my skin.

We all collapse into a heap, I slump to the side of Antonio and Dante at my other side. I feel sticky cum dribbling down my legs and back, and we fall asleep together, arms around each other, completely satiated and content.

Chapter 6 An Invitation

I wake up to an empty bed, sun streaming through the window casting a golden glow in to the room.

I wonder where the guys have disappeared to, when Antonio pops his head around the door, a huge smile on his face.

“Ah Nessy, you wake at last,” He says, “we must have really worn you out last night, yes?”

He enters the room still smiling, this guy loves to smile, crossing to the bed kisses me full on the lips.

“Hmm, my bella donna, you are beautiful.”

“Stop your flattery,” I scold him, “I look awful when I first wake up.”

“Never, my grande bella ragazza, you are always beautiful to me. Now you shower and dress and I will make you a good Italian breakfast, yes?”

“Yes,” I reply, “I’m absolutely famished.”

I shower and dress and join Antonio on the porch outside. It’s a beautiful day, the sea is shimmering and a few people are walking on the beach. As promised, Antonio has put together a breakfast of pastries and hot coffee. It smells delicious and I tuck in, the pastries are warm and flaky and full of warm chocolate, and the coffee is good and strong.

“Where’s Dante?” I ask, between mouthfuls of food.

“He sends his apologies that he could not be here when you awoke, but he had to got to work early,” he tells me.

“Aw, poor Dante,” I reply, “having to work on such a beautiful day.”

I finish off my breakfast while Antonia chats to me, he really is a fun guy and has me laughing on many occasions as he recounts his relationship with Dante, these guys really are very close.

Breakfast finished and it’s time for me to go. The girls will be wondering where I am and I’m sure Antonio has other things to do.

“Before you go,” Antonio says to me, “there is something I must speak to you about.”

His face has a serious solemn look and I wonder what the problem is.”

I nod my head, urging him to continue.

“Ideally, I would have preferred to speak with you whilst Dante was still here, but I cannot wait, my feelings are too strong.”

I’m intrigued, he clearly has something on his mind and I can see it’s causing him some anguish, but what he says to me hits me like a bombshell.

“We would like you to stay here with us, Nessy, with Dante and me, living together.”

I am dumbstruck, and at first I wondered if he was playing some cruel joke on me, but one look at his face dispelled that notion.

“Me, and Dante,” he continues, “are passionate about our love making, and you are bubbly, and big, and beautiful, everything we look for in a woman. I know we have only known each other for a few days, but we have both fallen madly in love with you. Now, you tell me, Nessy, will you stay with us?”

I cannot believe what I’m hearing. This handsome hunk, well two hunks really, are asking me to live with them, be a part of their lives.

“I can’t,” I manage to say.

His face is crestfallen.

“You see, Nessy, when we made love to you, it was on the hope that you would stay with us. When you made love with us, you knew that you would be leaving us.”

I am stunned and speechless. He’s right, I had used them for my own needs and they had been so loving towards me.

“I can’t just leave my life behind,” I say to him.

He shrugs at me, a look of disappointment on his face.

“What is there at home to keep you, Nessy? What is it you do for a living in your home country?”

“I’m a window dresser, why do you ask?”

“Why can you not be a window dresser here?”

“It’s not just my job, Dante,” I stutter out, “It’s the people in my life, I can’t just up and leave them.”

“We will be the people in your life, are we not enough?”

“Antonio, I’ve known you guys less than a week, how can you ask such a thing?”

“I am trying to explain to you how much you mean to us. In that short time we have come to love you, but you have not come to love us, not in the real meaning of love.”

“I’m so confused,” I tell him. “I have to go.”

“Look,” he says, “just wait a while. I am in work at the hotel soon, I will take you back, okay?”

I nod my agreement and Antonio smiles as he goes off to change for work.

I sit there watching the waves gently lapping at the shore, wondering if I could really live here with these two, in this paradise.

Soon Antonio is ready and we are riding through the streets on his scooter, with me on the back, my arms firmly clasped around this handsome hunk of a man.

I told my girlfriends the whole tale and they did everything they could to cheer me up. We went out on the town shopping, buying expensive Italian designer clothing. Eating at the finest restaurants in town, as I tried to drown my sorrows in alcohol.

“You’re seriously not considering staying, are you Nessy?” Hannah asked, with a genuinely sad look on her face. “Nessy, we’re a team, you can’t break us up for some... some Italian gigolo,” she finishes, realizing she’s insulted my two Italian friends.

I don’t respond to the insult, I know she didn’t mean it.

“Yeah, Nessy, you’ve only just met these guys. How could they say such things out of the blue, like that?” Lin also pleads with me.

“I don’t believe you two,” I say, holding up my palms to silence them both. “I’ve had a fantastic romantic holiday, but that’s all it was. You know what Italians are like, they’re passionate and alway over exaggerating everything,” I assure them.

Inside of myself, in my dream world, I would love to stay. However, it is just that, a dream. I love my home, my job, my parents and family and most of all I love my friends.

I sip at my drink and I’m about to take a bite from my comforting chocolate doughnut, when I notice both my friends faces take on a serious look.

“Hey, I meant it,” I say, putting down the doughnut, “I’m not staying.”

“You break our hearts, Nessy,” a voice behind me says.

My two lovers have arrived, they pull up chairs to our table and sit with us, Antonio looks sad, but resigned.

“We were hoping you would stay with use, Nessy,” Dante says. “We could truly make you happy here, with us, and we would be happy with you,” he takes one of my hands in his.

“But, it is clear to us that you have others who love you also, and would miss you if your stayed,” he nods his head in the direction of my friends. “We would not want to take you from that, it would make you miserable and we would never want you to be unhappy.”

“The invitation is now closed,” Dante finishes.

“We would like to treat you girls to a last day together, if we may?” Antonio asks us.

We look at each other, puzzled.

“It’s entirely up to you?” Hannah says to me.

“Then I say, yes,” I decide.

We have a wonderful time, the boys know their town inside out, and backward ways around, and they show us everything. The girls love it too, and when some of Antonio’s friends join us, we finish off at the beach house, continuing the party well into the night.

That was the last I ever saw of my lovers. The remaining holiday was spent without them and just with my friends, and whilst I had a great time, my mind was always wandering to them. Everyday I looked out for Antonio in the dining room, but I never saw him again. That was probably for the best, because although I had decided not to stay, I wasn’t certain that my resolve was that firm, being around those two hunky guys might well have changed my mind.

THE END

O

Obey and Desire

Rich black lace slid down plump white arms as Arabella put on her outfit for the night.  She stretched her smooth white fingers to put on the matching black gloves and then leaned back to view the full effect in her triple mirror. 

The image looking back hit the mark—lusciously waved red hair, curvaceous body neatly encased in a black corset, and huge green eyes outlined in kohl.  She straightened one garter and then looked over to the edge of the leather riding crop on her bureau, polished and ready for the evening.  Soon, her client would arrive, and her guest bedroom would fill with the muffled groans of male pleasure.

The system was simple.  Arabella operated out of a two-floor apartment in downtown Manhattan, in one of the trendiest areas.  This worked to her advantage because the crowd was so hip and freakish that nobody would look twice at a woman purchasing red latex or whips.  Nobody would look askance at a woman in black leather peering out of a second floor red-tinted window, or question who exactly she was looking for.  Arabella would blindfold her clients at the door, because the first floor was
her
space; she wouldn’t mention that, though, wary of the client who would try to peek underneath the blindfold.  Most didn’t, however; it sharpened the thrill of the mystery.

              Upstairs was the playhouse, or, as Arabella called it, the Guest Room.  It gave the whole deal a cozier feel, as if clients were actually stepping into a guest bedroom, rather than a…
pleasure dungeon
.  Much easier to suggest by word of mouth, as well, which was how she operated.  The room had an old-fashioned, four-poster canopy bed—perfect for handcuffs and silk scarves, with a vintage dresser and bureau for all of the necessary toys and costumes.

              The induction to this lifestyle began with Arabella’s first boyfriend in college.  She was a plump, shy girl taking introduction to Victorian literature, when she first noticed her professor.  Dr. Carlyle was a virile man in his early forties, self-possessed, salt-and-peppered, and well,
sexy
.  Arabella, swept up in their classroom readings of young Englishwomen being swept away in torrents of restrained English passion for older, wiser men who were forbidden by the simple fact that they were married of a different class, substituted Carlyle’s face for each one of theirs.  She never admitted this to anyone, being certain that she was one of those sad, lonely young women who nobody would ever find attractive, and would end up alone in an apartment in her forties, surrounded by fifty cats with a well-worn copy of
Jane Eyre
on her face.  That is how her mother would discover her when she came to visit, Arabella thought—half asleep by a slab of chocolate cake, muttering “Oh, Heathcliff” to one of the felines purring nearby.

              But fate had other plans for the flaxen-haired bookworm.  Under the guise of discussing some of the finer points of one of her papers, Carlyle seduced Arabella in his office.  She, intoxicated by his maturity, knowledge, and the fact that he was, simply put, her first—and what a man to be her first!—did anything he asked.  Soon, their trysts on the desk of his office, littered with books and smelling of moleskin, began to border on something far more dangerous.  He introduced her to a new kind of role-play, the kind that went beyond their almost-cliché teacher-student, May-December story and into a world where pleasure was edged with pain.  It was a world of handcuffs, nine-tails, and blindfolds.  It was a world that would have terrified most normal virgins.

              But Arabella fell into it with a fervor she would have hardly suspected of herself.  It was a heady mixture of power and playing, and in her mind’s eye, all the heroines of all the novels she had ever read took on another dimension, one of
What if?
  What if instead of firing the boy who worked in the stables, the forgotten mistress of the house made him service her, instead?  And on the flip side, what if the lord of the manor, for his transgressions with women of a lower class, had to be bound by his wife’s bedside to do all that she wished for days at a time?  It was an intoxicating range of possibilities, and Arabella explored them all.

              Although the relationship did not last—it turned out that Carlyle had rather a history of taking a shine to many female students that he taught—Arabella soon found that all the scenarios she had explored with him did not even begin to scrape the surface of her sexual imagination.  In fact, there turned out to be no shortage of men who were not only receptive to her ideas, but would come back, begging for more.  She was not going to lie; she liked it when they begged.  To celebrate her newfound niche, she even dyed her hair a flaming red.

              Soon, she amassed a collection of floggers, gags, paddles, and collars that would have not too long before that, made her blush quite heartily.  The business began to form itself, without Arabella even thinking too much about it.  People would come back again and again, whether to do it to her or to be done to.  Money never exchanged hands; the clients were asked to mail their fees for services rendered several days after the meeting; to do otherwise would have been just tasteless in Arabella’s opinion, and she found that many customers enjoyed the illusion that they were with an open-minded significant other.  She got to know many of them well, either way, because her role as a dominant-submissive was actually not usually physically sexual in nature.  Certainly, there were partners over the years that she went all the way with, but these were mostly as a treat to herself.  And when she did decide to go through with it, it was quite a treat, indeed. 

              To play her role, Arabella knew that she had to get down to the nitty-gritty of her client’s psyche.  To do so, and to participate in this kind of intimate play, many clients ended up telling her things they would never admit to anyone, not even their therapists.  Why they wanted to be tied up with the metal handcuffs instead of the fuzzy ones, how they wanted their partners to blindfold them and tease them with the possibility of the cane.  Why they liked how the latex made them sweat and adrenaline shoot through their veins, and why they wanted her to cry out, “Daddy!” when they reached a point of climax.  She liked that she could release people from their shells with little more than her nature, form, and just a few well-picked toys.

              Arabella indulged her continued love of the Victorian era by carefully designing the Guest Room as something straight out of a prim-and-proper novel.  There was even a screen behind which she got dressed—or undressed, as the case would often be, and there was little about the room to suggest anything illicit; it was far more like you had just stepped into the 19
th
century and your flame-headed hostess was preparing an extremely naughty surprise for you. 

              As the years had gone by and the number of clients had increased exponentially, Arabella had, of course, raised her rates.  She could afford to pick and choose her customers now.  She had a few hard and fast rules: one, everything had to be consensual.  That was the nature of the game.  There were things done in the Guest Room that may have seemed inappropriate with the levels of screaming and moaning and “No!” involved, but she never entered into a session with a client without a safe word, and only when it was used did they actually stop.  Not that it was used often; most people very much enjoyed everything they asked for in that bedroom.  Second, senseless violence was simply not allowed.  Unless there was pain that ended with a satisfaction of something else entirely, she simply did not allow it.  And three, no sex - Unless Arabella wanted to.  And Arabella knew how to get her way.  Either way, her clients were usually very wealthy people, particularly the next two she would be seeing that week.

              There did not have to be toys for her to do her work, which was always a plus.  She liked to use her mind to come up with new and interesting ways to give the client—and herself—what they wanted.  Such as the client who was coming tonight.

              Arabella slid her red velvet dressing gown over the black lace outfit she had on.  James liked her to dress the part, and it would not do to arrive at the door displaying all of her ample goods.  That wasn’t, after all, what he was paying for.  He wanted the full fantasy, and damned if he wasn’t paying for it.  The man was an honest-to-goodness millionaire, and they usually had the best kind of stories that they wanted played out.

              As she gathered her loose burgundy locks into an upsweep that let tendrils of soft hair curl temptingly around her neck, she thought about James with a little shiver.  By looking at him, you would never know he came from one of the wealthiest families on the upper West Side.  His parents had come across on the Mayflower, or something, and he was raised in a world of crystal chandeliers, limos to and from school, and women who popped pills as frequently as they donned pearl necklaces. 

              So his request to her made perfect sense.  Besides, he was such a fine specimen of man that she was more than happy to play along.  And play, she thought as she scooped her breasts to peek a little bit more from the low neckline of the lush robe, she would.  Just in time for the bell to ring.  A final glance in her ornately decorated mirror, and, satisfied with her appearance, Arabella made her way down.

              She gathered her breath before opening the door, and there he was, blue eyes twinkling against the cool, crisp air of the evening.  He was wearing a long black pea coat, which she knew he donned to hide his own outfit from the public eye.  It was draped around a form that was as ruddy as it was muscular; he was a burly figure of a man, with chestnut-colored hair that curled so temptingly on his chest.  She imagined running her fingers through it and a little bolt of lust shot straight down her stomach.  She cleared her throat; now was not the time to lose control. 

              “Put this on and follow me, boy,” she told him, handing him a blue silk blindfold spinning imperiously on her heel to head towards the stairs.

              James obeyed with a cheeky grin that dimpled his face.  He followed her with a meek demeanor, not stumbling once.  At the door to the Guest Room, Arabella removed the blindfold. James’ gaze skimmed the floor, not daring to meet her eyes, a part of his role.  But when she turned around, she could feel his eyes trace the broad outline of her hips, so she made sure they swayed with extra swing as she pushed open the door and walked inside.