Kristen Blooming (28 page)

He sealed that silent vow with a kiss that had Kristen twisting into his body and rubbing her own against him as she teased his with the swollen feel of her breasts, the hard tips of her nipples, and quivering softness of her stomach. It was too much. He needed her now.

The last threads of Dylan’s self-control snapped in that instant as his hands flew toward her hips, only to find Brandon’s already there and pulling the butterfly off of her. The vibrator was next. Then Brandon was reaching for the dildo, but Dylan slapped his hand away.

He was going to be Kristen’s first at something.

With that thought, he latched onto the base of the dildo and began slowly fucking her with it, making Kristen gasp and break free of their kiss as her body began to sway in beat with the motions of the dick pumping into her ass. Dylan wanted to be that dick. He was done waiting. She was ready.

Still, Dylan found himself hesitating, and he pulled the dildo free and stepped into the shower stall to take his position behind her. He brought the throbbing head of his cock to the tight entrance still clenched and barred against his entry and paused. Gripping Kirsten’s hips, he held her still as he pumped his heated length up and down the heavenly crease of her ass, teasing her with what was to come, even as he asked for permission.

“I love you, Kristen,” he whispered out, his own voice broken by the need clawing through him. “And I want to love you this way. Say yes.”

For a long second, Dylan held his breath before Kristen finally answered.

“Yes.” Despite the tears, despite the strain of pleasure so clearly gripping her, despite even the magnitude of the moment and the step she was taking, Kristen managed a small smile as she tacked on a “sir.”

Dylan couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a lightness flood his soul that had him nipping at her ear. “You’ll pay for that attitude, princess.”

* * * *

Kristen didn’t think so. She figured she’d already paid. Now she was about to be rewarded. Kristen’s breath caught as Dylan slid the thick length of his dick slowly back so that the flared head of his cock pressed against her virgin entrance, and she couldn’t help but tense in preparation for his penetration, but Dylan hesitated.

“You need to relax, princess,” he warned her, nothing but love and want thickening his voice.

“I don’t think I can,” Kristen whispered back, knowing she couldn’t.

She was too strung out on the pleasure to be able to relax even the slightest bit. The need clawing through her echoed out of her cunt and throbbed out of her ass, the two sensations combining into an intense whirl of delight that had only bloomed higher and thicker. There seemed to be no end in sight.

Kristen didn’t need to explain. Her men knew. They knew her that well and treated her even better as Brandon sank to his knees, his big, broad hands coming to press her thighs open. The hot wash of his breath over her already sensitized flesh was like a stroke of pure, searing heat, leaving her whimpering as she knew what he intended.

Brandon didn’t disappoint her, covering her pussy in wet, suckling kisses that quick evolved into deeper, longer strokes of his tongue as he alternately teased her clit before dipping down to fuck his velvety length into her pulsing sheath. With a speed and mastery she’d come to know and love, he drove her right to the pinnacle of the greatest release she’d ever dared to reach for and flung her body and soul into the devastating explosion of her own climax.

In the rush of rapture that tore through her, she felt her muscles relax for just a second. A mere breath of time, which was all Dylan needed to pound the thick, full length of his cock deep into her ass.

Kristen swallowed a hard breath, but there was no stopping the avalanche of delight that bloomed out of her ass as Dylan began to move, fucking her with slow, loving strokes that had her twisting in delight as her release collapsed into the next one building inside of her, warning her that this time her climax just might be her last.

Surely nothing could ever compare.

That was Kirsten’s last rational thought as Brandon rose back up to his feet and fitted the bulbous head of his cock against the weeping opening of her cunt. Then he was sliding in, making her eyes all but roll back into her head as the pressure inside of her twisted into a tight knot of throbbing need.

Dylan was still pumping himself in and out of her ass as Brandon joined in, setting a rhythm that had Kristen writhing between them. She bucked and flexed her own hips, trying to force them faster to match the frantic beat of the need inside of her while sometimes they delighted in holding back, making her beg and plead and cuss as she used words that would have shamed her mother.

That wasn’t all that would have shamed her mother, but Kristen felt no guilt in being caught between the two men she loved and the two men who loved her. How could anything they did be wrong? If this pleasure was wrong, then Kristen didn’t want to be right. She didn’t want to be taunted either.

Now was not the time, and her two men seemed to understand that as they picked up speed until both Brandon and Dylan were grunting and staining against her. They were pounding into her, driving home one bolt of rapture after another until Kirsten was squealing and shattering into a million pieces as she heard them roar. They came together in one glorious release that left Kristen limp and dazed.

She was dimly aware of being released from the cuffs and then carted off to another bathroom for a shower that had their hands working over her body in a soothing massage before they finally carried her back to bed and tucked her safely between them. Kristen was just drifting off when she heard Dylan murmur a warning to Brandon.

“Kristen is marrying me.”

“In your dreams.”

Kristen smiled, thinking that they were certainly in hers.

Friday, June 6
^th

The rest of the week flew past in a delirium of sexual delights Kristen had never believed could exist. Brandon and Dylan kept her up all night and yawning all day. It seemed now that she’d agreed to indulge their need to dominate they couldn’t get enough of her.

The truth be told, she couldn’t get enough of them. Kristen might have blushed whenever she thought about the things she let them do, but she didn’t regret a single one. Just the opposite. She craved more.

Unlike Cybil’s dire warning about things that burned hot burning out, there seemed no end to either her or her men’s need. In fact, it seemed to only grow, which was why she was a little irritated to get a call from her mother informing her that her dad was demanding to see her that night.

It was Friday, and they were supposed to go dancing, but Kristen knew better than to disobey her parents, even if she knew what they wanted to talk about. No doubt her dad was concerned about her dating and her mother distressed that she hadn’t come to church the last Sunday.

Her independence was a difficult notion for them, and Kristen knew that avoiding the lectures and nags coming her way would only entice them to panic even more. So, she informed both Brandon and Dylan that she would be having dinner with her folks and they would have the night off.

That didn’t sit well with either man, and both vowed to wait up for her. Kristen didn’t have the heart to turn either one down, promising that she’d come back to their house when her dinner was over, even though that would mean she hadn’t spent even one night at her cousin’s house.

Not that Gwen seemed to notice. Every time Kristen ran across her cousin, Gwen remained silent and sullen. Kristen figured things were not going her way, especially given the sheriff’s engagement had turned out to be a reality and not a hoax. While Kristen felt bad for Gwen, she couldn’t help but notice that every time she saw the sheriff at lunch, he was smiling now.

The man was clearly happy, and she suspected a Cattleman, given the rumors that Heather hadn’t just taken up with the sheriff but also with his best friend. Kristen couldn’t cast a stone at that rumor, especially not when she knew there were ones circulating about her.

It turned out that the problem with riding a pink scooter was that everybody knew exactly where she was, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed that she had been parking it in Brandon and Dylan’s drive every night. Cybil even asked her about it, but Kristen could only grin. Her relationship wasn’t anybody’s business anyway.

Not even her parents’, but that certainty was tested Friday night.

Kristen knew she was in trouble the moment her mother opened the door. Marissa looked worried. More than that, she looked afraid and her father sat at the head of the table, clearly steaming through the whole meal.

Worse, neither one of them asked her about Dylan, which meant he was likely the source of their agitation. Kristen couldn’t help but wonder if the rumors had reached them down there in Dothan as she followed her father into the living room, leaving her mother to clear the table and cast fearful glances after them.

“Shut the door, young lady, and have a seat,” her father commanded as he settled into his normal seat. “We need to have a talk.”

That didn’t sound good, and Kristen hastened to obey, unnerved by the tone in her father’s voice. It was one she very rarely heard, and one that warned her he was beyond mad. Dylan would have said he was pissed, but Dylan had a potty mouth.

“I received this in the mail the other day,” her father began as Kristen settled down onto the loveseat.

She watched him reach for a large vanilla envelope resting on the side table next to his chair. While she couldn’t guess at what was in it, she couldn’t help but feel the ominous weight of dread as her father passed the envelope to her. Her father’s steady look didn’t help, and she pulled back the flap slowly, certain she didn’t want to know what was inside.

There was no way to avoid it, and the truth turned out to be worse than anything she could have imagined. Kristen felt herself flush and start to tremble as a set pictures fell out into her hands. They were of her and Dylan…and Brandon locked in an intimate embrace on their back porch. There could be no denying what they were doing or how the snapshots had ended, or her father’s reaction to them.

“To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement,” her father began in a strained tone as he continued to glare at her in disapproval.

“I…I…” Kristen didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to say? Her father didn’t suffer from that dilemma, and his command came instantly.

“You’ll be moving home, obviously.”

Kristen just gaped at him. Move home? She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t go back to living her life in a shell. She had dreams. She had plans.

“And never seeing either one of those men again,” her father continued on, seeming completely oblivious to Kristen’s internal battle.

It was instinctive to obey her father, but everything he said had her shaking with a rush of pure panic. Never see Dylan and Brandon again? She couldn’t do that. She loved them. She wanted to build a life with them. She’d never give them up. She couldn’t.

“God willing, Mr. O’Leary will be willing to accept you as you are now and
⎯
”

“Accept me?” That insult snapped Kristen out of her stupor, and she found herself instinctively puckering up. “I don’t need Mr. O’Leary to accept me. I don’t accept him.”

“Now, young lady
⎯
”

“And I’m not moving home.” Kristen rose up with that proclamation, feeling as if she were shedding a set of shackles that had weighed her down for far too long. “I’m sorry you are disappointed, Dad, but this is my life. I have to live it my way.”

“How dare you.” Her father rose up slowly, his face flushed with his outrage. “Your mother and I have provided for you for twenty-two years, and this is the respect you show us? The gratitude?”

“I am grateful,” Kristen insisted, clutching the photos to her breasts as she held on to them as tightly as she wanted to hold Dylan and Brandon. She wished they were there to give her strength, but she refused to buckle without them.

“I’m my own woman,” Kristen said aloud, needing to hear it almost as much as her father did. “And my personal business is mine. Now, I love you, Dad, but I can’t live my life for you. I have to live it for me.”

With that, Kristen lifted her chin and headed for the door. This conversation was over. Permanently.

“You walk out that door, young lady, don’t you think you can walk back through it,” her father warned her, making Kristen’s heart break. She paused to look back at him.

“You know my door is always open,” she assured him softly and then fled.

She flew past her mother and made it out of the house before she started crying. Kristen didn’t let those tears stop her, though. Neither would she allow the shaking to keep her from moving forward. She fumbled with her helmet, securing the envelope with the pictures in her purse before mounting her scooter and heading back for home.

Home, where Dylan and Brandon were. She needed them now more than she ever had before. She needed their strength and assurance that she had chosen wisely. That struck her hard as she putted back down the main highway toward Pittsview, leaving her to wonder if she’d simply replaced her father’s authority with theirs, but then Kristen remembered all the little ways they catered to her and gave her the freedom to do as she wanted and knew that their relationship was something more. Something special.