ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (236 page)

He greets her; he remembers who she is.  She compliments his earrings, asks him when his shift ends.  The little old lady arches an eyebrow, then quickly turns away to avoid being caught judging the younger generation.  The guy, whose name is Keegan, looks a little flustered and confused at the question, but tells her six anyway.  Mary Anne does not know if he actually wants to hear her out or if he simply didn’t know what else to say; maybe he was afraid she’d hold up the line if he didn’t tell her.  It’s hard to know what to do with the rest of your day when you’re propositioning a stranger for a threesome, and so Mary Anne spends the day pacing around her apartment like a great big cat in a very small cage.  Roger is at work, so there’s no one to even talk to about this; not that she thinks she would be able to fully discuss this with Roger, anyway.  But still, it might have been nice to vent to someone.  She paints her toenails blue because she feels suffocated, and it’s her subtle signal to the world.  Because what if he says no?  The anxiety is enough to choke a horse.

She comes back at six, just as Keegan slides the smock over his head and packs up his register.  He gives her a little nod, and then follows her outside to the curb.  Mary Anne takes a deep breath and makes her proposition.  It’s out there now, hanging in the air between them, heavy, crystalline, ready to drop.  Keegan looks completely taken aback, and then, tries to covertly look her up and down.  Mary Anne is filled with hope; at least he’s thinking about it.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Keegan asks, finally.  He faces her, but his body has taken on a tension that she can see in the set of his shoulders and mouth.  He’s wary of her, as if she’s frightening or something.

Mary Anne nods, biting her lip mutely.

There is a pause as Keegan tumbles the idea through his mind.  It’s already so different than being with Roger, whose gears she can always hear clicking.  A nervous energy fills her, and then Keegan’s eyes soften; for one moment, she feels relief flood her.  Yes, yes, he’s going to say yes, and then she’s going to take him home and—

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I can.”

She’s struck dumb with the embarrassment of having asked.  But Keegan’s not done yet.  “You see, you seem really cool, but what if I’m not into your boyfriend?  And maybe he’s the jealous type and I’m just not—“

The kiss she gives him is sudden and immediate.  She takes his face into her hands and gives it her all, the last-ditch attempt.  He tastes like water and fruity chewing gum, and when she finally pulls away, she realizes he has the kind of skin that bruises and reddens easily; you can tell by looking at his mouth that he was just kissed.

“Wow,” says Keegan, wrapping an arm around her waist.  “So, ahem, you’re in charge, huh?”

Mary Anne fixes him with a mysterious glance and then disentangles herself from his arm.  “Yes,” she says, turning away to disappear into the street, “I’m in charge.”  She pulls her card from her bag.  “Call me if you change your mind.”

The next day is more gray than Mary Anne had ever imagined it could be.  It’s not so much that the rejection sucked, but it was the idea that not only had she put herself out there in a big way, but she had done it simultaneously with two men, a phrase that should have excited her but was bringing her nothing but pain right then.  She chops vegetables slowly, trying to savor the way the knife folds their irregularities into neat little shapes; Roger watches some anime on his computer screen.  He’s been more wary of her lately, and is trying to pay more attention to the little things. It’s not enough; they need a strong jolt to the system to knock them back into the sweet spot, and taking out the trash without being asked is just not cutting it.

Her phone rings.

Minutes later, Roger finds Mary Anne standing in the entryway of the door to their bedroom, eyes lit up in a way he has never seen before.  He slides his headphones off his ears.

“What’s up?”

“Keegan called,” Mary Anne answers, and her voice sounds like she is in a dream.  “He’s coming over tomorrow.  He said he liked my kiss so much he wanted to see what else could happen.”  She sounds as excited as a teenager.

“You kissed him?”

The look she gives him tells Roger that he had best not be judging her.

There is so much to do.  Mary Anne is tired of purchasing cheap lingerie that is ripped off, discarded, unappreciated.  If she’s in charge, she is worthy of the proper outfitting.  The silks at La Perla will do; she chooses something in blush, the black lace and polka dots stretching over her abs and upper thighs in a way that makes her feel sexy and powerful at the same time.  She goes to the salon to get her hair curled and then, most importantly of all, she purchases a new lipstick.

Dangerously Scarlet.

Mary Anne has arranged for Roger and Keegan to meet, to discuss their hard and soft limits; she loves the fact that she can use terms like that without reddening in the face, and the fact that Roger is going along with all this is making her appreciate him in a whole new way.  Looks like he might get that scuba gear he wanted, after all.

When she walks in through the door of their apartment, she hears loud voices.  Oh shit, are they fighting already?  Rage fills Mary Anne; it’s just not fair that they would ruin her special time like this.  But a walk into the living room reveals that Roger and Keegan are debating the finer points of a movie that they both enjoy, and Mary Anne relaxes. Roger gets up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek, and Keegan glances shyly at her.

“Should we…?” he trails off.

“No, no.  I’ll be right back, you guys go ahead,” says Mary Anne, and disappears into the bathroom.  She slides the sexy little outfit onto her body and cloaks it with a robe; she’ll remove it when the time is right.  The reflection she sees in the mirror is not the same mousy-looking, grey girl she’s been feeling like for months, she realizes.  There is something new about the woman she sees in the gilt frame, something regal, almost.  Mary Anne walks back out into the living room and perches on the armchair, watching the two men go at it.  She smiles, slightly, not interrupting them.  She knows Roger.  If he’s talking Cowboy Beebop with such passion, he’s comfortable.  The men are getting excited, and so is she; this is foreplay.  This is fantastic to watch, reminiscent of her own meeting with Roger, the way she wanted to suck the words out of his mouth and rub them all over her body.  She follows snatches of the conversation, noting the way the two of them are getting closer and closer on the couch with the various parts of their bodies; Roger has pulled his face unconsciously closer to Keegan’s.

“The direction was asinine.”

“Well, what were you expecting?  He paired with an artist who was barely out of high school.”

“Yeah, but his stuff was off the chain.”

“Off the chain?  What are you, twelve?”

“You shut your face.”

“Make me.”

“Make him.”

The men look up at her.  She has spoken softly, offering it almost as a suggestion, but they all know what it really is.  It’s a command.

Keegan peeks up at Roger; nobody moves for a full minute. This is the moment that’s been the pink elephant in the room from the very beginning.   Carefully, shyly, Keegan moves over on the couch closer to Roger.  Roger watches him like he can’t believe what’s happening; Mary Anne knows that Roger is not really one to let his guard down all that much, so the fact that his eyelashes flutter closed when Keegan reaches out to stroke his hair is unbelievably erotic.  Keegan runs his fingers through it, rubbing Roger’s scalp, trailing his fingers to the light beard that Roger is sporting.  Roger stretches like a big cat under the ministrations, and Keegan attends to his face almost reverently, their closeness growing in increments so small that it is simultaneously almost unnoticeable and a relief when their lips finally meet.  It’s soft at first, and then the men grow bold, tongues tangling; she sees Roger lean down and kiss Keegan’s neck, the cashier boy looking completely undone at the touch.  He is younger-looking now than he was before, and then his face contorts in a look of agonized pleasure and he cradles Roger’s head in his hands.

Mary Anne realizes that she likes to watch.  She has flipped open her robe at the thighs, enjoying the way the soft cotton brushes against her skin, which is burnished and glowing softly in the dim light of their floor lamps.  It’s almost surreal to her, the fact that the boyfriend she found so boring just a week ago is now kissing another man on their couch at her command.

Command.

That’s right, she’s in charge now.

Mary Anne rises from the chair and walks over until she is standing in front of the two men.  They break away from each other, bruised and hungry, to watch as she slowly unties her robe and slides it off her shoulders.  It slips to the ground like the whisper of a dream, and she stands like a superhero before them, hands on her narrow little hips.

“Now kiss me,” she orders, and the men know that it is not her lips that she is talking about in that moment.

Keegan rises and Roger kneels on the floor.  She expected it to be much the reverse, because Roger is far more familiar with her body, but the imbalanced power play excites her.  Roger is running his hands along her bottom, pert and half-naked in her new lingerie, and landing small, hot kisses on her smooth thighs.  Keegan circles her, eyes locked, and leans in for a kiss, one that makes her feel as if there is nothing in the world more lush than her own lips.  He grabs her by the back of the head and crushes her into his mouth, jerking her away from Roger, who rises.  They flank her, and she is sandwiched between the two men, her breasts pressed against Keegan’s chest and the soft round globes of her ass nestling Roger’s erection.

She may be in charge, but it’s nice to have that power slip out of her hands for a minute.  She imagines that she is royalty, and these are her two body guards, sworn to protect her and do her bidding.

She pushes her palms against Keegan’s chest, freeing herself from their vise.  She walks over to the couch and sits down, aware that they are watching her the entire time.  She slowly crosses one leg over the other and smiles.

“Attend to me, boys.”  Seriously, who is this temptress and what has she done with Mary Anne?  More excitingly, what will she do with her body?

It is slow going at first, just the way that she likes it.  Roger’s lips on her neck are soft and insistent at the same time.  When his tongue brushes against her, she shivers, feeling goosebumps trail down her chest and arms.  Keegan sits on her other side, gently sliding a shoulder strap off, nibbling on the bare skin of her arm.  She is losing herself slowly in the sensual onslaught, and then Keegan slides a hand down her stomach, all the way down in between her legs.  She gasps out loud as he lets his hand slide over the most sensitive part of her, parting her legs to allow him easier access.

Roger growls.

Mary Anne smiles benevolently at Keegan.  “That’s his territory.  He’s marked it.”  Keegan looks crestfallen, until she rubs one of her palms over the bulge in his pants.  He lights up and gets up so fast to unbuckle his pants that Mary Anne laughs aloud.  “Easy there, tiger,” she tells him, “there’s no rush.”  Keegan blushes and almost stops, but Mary Anne helps him finish rolling his pants down his thighs.

His dick is even better than she imagined it to be, veiny and purple-capped.  Roger switches his position to bury his head in between her legs while Keegan stands over her and pushes himself into her mouth.  The very idea of having them both at once is driving her wild.  Roger is where he belongs, eating his words, so to speak.  Keegan, the lines of his abdomen clearly defined, tries to grab her by the back of the head to direct her mouth on him, but she slaps his hand away.  They play by her rules or they do not play at all.  She grasps him at the base of his penis and strokes her hand up and down a few times, feeling the fatness of him against the pads of her hand.  He is salty against her tongue, his flesh probing and full.  When she glances up at him, his eyes are closed as he enjoys the feeling of her mouth on him, inadvertently thrusting his hips back and forth in response to her ministrations.  The sounds he is making are exciting her greatly, and she sucks with greater fervor, feeling both straps of her lingerie slide down her shoulders and arms until her nipples are bared to the world.  She imagines that there is a third party in the room, watching the three of them engage in round-the-clock oral, not being able to touch themselves.  It drives her almost to the edge, but she controls herself.

It becomes increasingly difficult to ignore what Roger is doing with his mouth.  He’s slid the lacy black thong all the way down her smooth thighs and calves and is probing her with his tongue, lapping firmly and with authority.  The little lace string of her thong is snapping against her calf, a faint reminder of the violent state of her nudity.  She can feel the blood rushing to the heated core of her body and begins to clamp her thighs a little more firmly around his head.  He resists, knowing that he is seconds away from building her up to the point where he can insert his fingers, one at a time, into her, pushing into the wet pink flesh that is one, big, glistening invitation.  Mary Anne’s breath is coming in ragged gasps that are muffled by the impediment of Keegan’s cock in her, and she feels completely open and vulnerable.  She is being invaded, in the best possible way.

Keegan bucks against her so fast that she knows he is getting close.  She herself is nearing the point where it will all be over, and she’s not ready to get there just yet.  She pushes Keegan off her and signals to Roger that he should move his thumb away from where he is working her.  Mary Anne pushes Roger down to sitting on the couch and takes off his pants, playing geisha all the way down.  She spreads her legs and carefully slides down onto his erect cock, impaling herself in the tradition of good royalty everywhere, anchoring herself in place, bare except for the forgotten lingerie, bunched around her waist.