Three Men and a Woman: Annabelle (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (10 page)

Annabelle adored him for it. It was a hot turn on, letting him claim her there, in front of all those bitchy theater women who thought they had a chance with her man. He was on her like stink on a skunk, not that she, a born and bred city girl, had ever smelled skunk.

When Kev came up for air, he looked over to the table where Rowen sat watching them. Kev turned her enough that she could see him, too. Ro gave her a hot look followed by a wicked smile.

She knew what was coming and braced herself for it, burrowing her face into Kevin’s chest. Even so, when it came, she startled a bit and couldn’t hold back a sultry moan.

Her guys had brought her wired for their own personal sex party. Before they left the condo, they’d had some warm-up play, taking their time placing the butt plug up her ass just so and then experimenting with a little butterfly vibrator.

Now she had Kev’s fingers working one nipple as he massaged her breast while Rowen fired up the vibrators in her ass and over her clit. Her body tensed as her breath shuddered out. She was barely able to contain her groans against Kevin’s chest.

The vibrations came faster, driving her higher. Of its own accord, her body writhed, her pelvis rocking up against Kevin’s hard body to get maximum pressure from the butterfly. He took his hand from her ass—he hardly needed it there now to keep her rubbing against him—and cupped her head with it.

“Here, puss,” he said, speaking into her ear above the loud, harsh music. “Look at me. I want to see your face.”

Annabelle couldn’t imagine it. She needed the shelter of his chest. If it were an option, she’d crawl right into him. She shook her head.

But he nudged her, giving her nipple a hard tug. “Come on, puss. Mind me.”

She forced herself to lift her head. She knew what he saw. She was flushed, trying to stifle her anxious, needy breaths. Her eyes practically rolled back in her head. She was ready to come, and it wasn’t going to be a quiet, ladylike little orgasm. It wanted to roar through her, convulsing her body and tearing out of her throat in an earsplitting, ferocious scream.

And the bastard loved it. He knew what it was doing to her, forcing herself to hold back while he looked her over. His eyes burned as his hard mouth came down on her. He fucked her mouth with his tongue and then grasped her lower lip with his teeth, nipping and scraping as he gradually let her slide away.

He knew she was on the edge. Rowen knew it, too. She’d thought the vibrators were on as high as they went, but she was wrong. She started shivering as he turned them higher.

“You’re so fucking hot, puss.” Kevin took his hand back to her ass and squeezed hard. “You need to come, don’t you, my insatiable little cunt?”

“Yes. Please, Kev.” She had to come, yes. And she needed to bury herself in his chest again or she’d scream, wild and uncontrolled as a lunatic.

“All right, puss.”

He brought her in, then, wrapping her closely with one arm. He kept working her nipple while the vibrators and her hips rocking against him did the rest. She tried to mute her harsh breaths against his chest, thankful for the blaring music.

She let it take her. His hands on her, the vibrations in her ass and against her clit, all of it drove her over. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clutched, providing an illusion of a little, sheltering cave of privacy.

Inside that cave, she did scream, though she muffled it hard in Kev’s jacket. Her body spasmed, held up solely by his strong arms. Frenzied, she gripped his shoulders, wracked over and over by fierce tremors of ecstasy. Her ears rang with it, like thunder inside her head.

She wasn’t even coming down yet when she found herself being pulled, half carried, from the dance floor. Her gaze was unfocused, her mind still in bliss-land, unable to process what was happening or where she was being taken.

But she knew that, a minute later, Kevin’s cock was filling her pussy, fucking her hard. He held her up against a wall, her legs wrapped around him, and pounded into her. The butterfly was still buzzing her clit, the plug was vibrating her ass, and Kev was groaning and huffing as he pumped into her. He was chanting, “love,” “fucking,” and “cunt” in that endearing little mix that was part cursing, part loving.

Then he turned her and Rowen was there, behind her. He gave the butt plug a couple thrusts before tearing it out, none too gently. Then he was there, pushing into her. Telling Kevin to hold her steady, telling her to ease open for him.

She squealed a little then, louder, realizing they were alone, locked into a bathroom. Kev tore her tits out of her blouse and sucked her nipples while Ro worked his way in.

Then they were both fully seated, and she was stretched, burning, filled as she could be by her two men. They held her, suspended between them, by her ass and her thighs. Then they started going at her, fucking and fucking, until they were all three coming, an orgy of male and female groans and fuck words, exclamations and exhortations. Bodies clutching and spasming. Cum spurting. And bliss, three-way bliss that left them all spent, collapsed against each other, holding each other, loving.

* * * *

They made her stay longer at the party. Rowen knew she wanted to escape. It couldn’t have been more obvious, as they all three practically limped out of the bathroom. Anyone who’d paid any attention at all, and many had, knew they’d just had a rip-roaring three-way fuck.

Annie was sweetly embarrassed by it, blushing as he and Kev walked her, between them, each with a hand, back to their table. Just a little bit, he enjoyed her embarrassment. Mostly he was fucking happy.

Here, among theater people, at least, where they could count on a crowd of relatively open minds, they’d made it obvious that the two men were sharing their woman, and that hot sex was involved. Freaking hot sex that left them all weak kneed with satisfaction.

He knew that in other settings they’d have to be more cautious, less open about it. But here, Annie had committed. She’d let him claim her, kissing and fondling her openly while they’d danced. And then the same with Kevin, having a not-that-subtle public orgasm right there in his arms.

Then that mind-blowing fuck in the bathroom and their obvious post-coital walk through the crowd to their table. He’d have strutted for that if he’d had the energy.

Rowen wanted to stay and enjoy it a bit. Wanted to cement that feeling, not let Annie flee like she’d done something to be ashamed of.

So they sat there, sharing a bottle of good red, with Annie between Kev and him. He smiled indulgently, feeling all superior, as a few men came one at a time to hit on Annie. More fools they, they thought that if she put out for Kev and him, she’d put out for all. He could feel a little sorry for them as she shot them down.

Annie was a two-man woman. But only two men. At least, until he said otherwise.

And that, though Annie didn’t know it, would happen soon.

Braeden was coming to town.

* * * *

A week later, Annabelle knew something was up, but she didn’t know what it was. Rowen and Kevin were both home. Through dinner, they’d seemed unusually intent, aggressively playing with her to keep her turned on.

They did more of the same when it was—her favorite—couch time. They continued torturing her—sucking, nipping, rubbing, and squeezing—all her various sex parts. But they didn’t let her have any dick, not even in her mouth. And they didn’t let her come.

As a consequence, she was a hot, needy mess when they stopped what they were doing for Ro to take a call from the lobby. Kevin got up, too, and pulled her to her feet. Then he tucked her breasts back in her sweater, though not all the way. They weren’t fully out like he usually wanted them, but there was still plenty of tit showing, and her reddened, swollen nipples just peeked out.

He admired his work and then kissed her, with tongue, while Rowen opened the door.

Hot stud number three stood there. This one, she learned, was their old friend Braeden. She’d heard the stories and knew that he was part of the college threesome. She knew he’d been part of the sex parties at the theater house.

Like his friends, he was hot. He was tall like Rowen and Kevin, and just as muscled. She knew he was a successful screenwriter and he had that California surfer-boy look. Blond, carefully-styled-to-look-windblown hair, tanned skin, blue eyes. All full of cocky attitude.

The attitude was at least partly pretense, or so Kev and Ro thought. They’d spoken of him at length on a night that they’d all sat together and watched a DVD of one of Braeden’s films.

As a freshman, he’d joined the theater department like a lamb coming to slaughter. He was a sweet, boyish innocent, appearing just primed to fall to the hedonist theater crowd.

But he hadn’t. To Rowen and Kevin’s knowledge, he’d resisted all temptation by the fast crowd and chosen for himself a sober, rather naïve, and slightly dull girlfriend. Ro and Kev didn’t understand it, but Brae had seemed devoted to her, to the exclusion of all others.

Then Brae came back late after winter break. His brother, a college senior, had committed suicide on New Year’s Eve, just after he’d been harshly dumped by his fiancée.

It was a loss that totally changed Braeden’s behavior. He never spoke to the girlfriend again and spent the next months in an orgy of sexual debauchery. He’d fuck anyone, they said, anytime, anywhere. The bashes that earned their house its designation as the theater department party house had largely been his doing.

Annabelle understood that Ro and Kev had willingly taken advantage of Braeden’s fall into decadence. They’d enjoyed the ride. But she heard the subtext, too. They missed their friend, that sweet youngling they’d originally taken under their collective wings.

This was their fallen angel.

Kevin stood next to her while Rowen welcomed him in. When Braeden looked over, she knew exactly what he saw.

Full tits with nipples showing, nipples that were still red from the working over they’d been given. A skirt that pulled tight over her thighs, rucked up as it was behind her, accommodating the way Kevin finger-fucked her.

Kev took his tongue out of her mouth but not his fingers out of her cunt when Ro walked over with Braeden.

He introduced her to the newcomer, and Rowen told her Braeden was in town for a few days. He’d offered him their third bedroom.

Now she knew what that room was for. And what that love-on-Annabelle fest on the couch had been about.

“Of course,” she said flatly, meeting and holding Rowen’s gaze.

Rowen gave Kevin a nod. Kevin slid his fingers out of her, gave her ass a friendly little squeeze, and disappeared with Braeden, helping him move luggage into that third room.

“Really, Rowen?” Annabelle said.

Rowen put his hands alongside her head and kissed her softly, appearing unaffected by her lack of response. After a long moment of it, he looked at her, still holding her gently. “You’re going to fall in love with Braeden, babe.”

“Braden and then who else? Will you invite the world to live with us, to use my body?”

“Shh,” he said, tenderly kissing her again. “There will be no one else, Annie. I’d never let it happen. It will be the three of us and you. Kevin and Braeden have been like brothers to me. I love them, and I want them to love you the way I do. I want you to love the three of us.”

He held her chin to make his point. “And we don’t use your body, babe. We love it.”

Uncertain, she shook her head.

“I think you’ll fall for Brae, baby. I was right about Kev, wasn’t I? You don’t regret that, do you? Sharing yourself with him, coming to love him?”

She took a long breath. What he said was true. She’d admitted it herself, hadn’t she? Rowen knew what would please her. He might push her beyond her limits of comfort, but he’d never been wrong. She’d always loved where he’d taken her. She’d learned she was right to trust him.

He could see she was wavering—his eyes lit with satisfaction, with hope. He kissed her forehead, bringing her against his chest. “Just try it, baby. Please?”

Annabelle thought about what she’d seen in Ro’s eyes. That hope. “You want me to help you fix him, don’t you? He was, what,
wounded
, when his brother died,
lost
? You believe that he never recovered, and you think I can help him. Or all of us together can.”

Rowen brought her up to him, his hands cupping her face. Slowly he nodded once, moved, she could tell, by her perception. He kissed her, incredibly softly, incredibly sweetly. “I love you, you know.”

She didn’t quite find it in her to answer.

Yes, he loved her. And he was asking her this one, serious thing. This wasn’t a mind-if-I-fuck-your-ass? or suck-my-dick-please kind of request. This was meaningful, something important to him.

And to Kev, she knew, even if he hadn’t caught on to Rowen’s master plan about it.

Rowen loved her. Rowen and Kevin loved her.

And she loved them. She’d do almost anything for them.

She went along willingly when Kev and Braeden came back and Ro pulled her into the kitchen.

He left her leaning against the counter while he poured her a glass of Merlot and opened cold beers for each of the men. She took the wine, comforted when he tucked in close to her and Kev took her other side. Braeden leaned against the stove, across from them.

Immediately, Kevin started nuzzling her neck. He ran his beer bottle along her breast, circling her nipple. He used the bottle to catch the edge of her sweater, pulling it to the side so her full breast was exposed. He rubbed the lip of the bottle over her nipple, stirring it back to a hard nub. She felt his hand start massaging her ass.

Annabelle looked across at Braeden, the fallen angel. He took a good look at her tit then met her gaze as he drew on his beer. His eyes sparked with interest—and crude amusement. She sighed a little. He wouldn’t be easy.

She turned her face up to Rowen, her breath catching as Kev stimulated her nipple. It felt so good, and she had to admit there was a wicked little thrill in knowing that Braden watched.