Authors: Helena Maeve
To Jackie’s relief, Marten shook his head infinitesimally. Her socked feet made scarcely a sound as she dizzily covered the distance that separated her from the pair. “Do that again,” she heard herself murmur.
Beg, really
, but that part went without saying.
Marten was flushed pink, his gaze flickering to her and back to their would-be partner. “What, this?” Tony didn’t have to be told twice. He caught Marten’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucked it into his mouth. Jackie watched her boyfriend sag against him, seeking more. Marten cupped his cheek, holding him there for a long moment before he finally deigned to open his mouth to Tony’s onslaught. It wasn’t anything like the movies—too slow for porn, too dirty for anything below an R-rating, but as Jackie watched the kiss unfold, she discovered in it an odd sense of comfort.
She found the small of Marten’s back, the fleshy dip of his spine right above his ass. She meant the touch to be encouraging, a kind of
Okay, you can do this. You have my permission
. He didn’t need it, though. When Marten had told her about his bisexuality, she had understood it to be a university phase that he had outgrown for reasons to do with pleasing his fiercely religious family. It had taken her a couple of months to grasp that he neither regretted it nor pretended to be over his attraction to men. Rather than cause a rift between them, that shared secret had only brought them closer. There was a sense of honesty in being able to admit to finding the same things exciting. Their sex life certainly hadn’t suffered.
All the same, Jackie hadn’t realised just how much she could get out of seeing her boyfriend with another man until now that Tony was here, moulding Marten to his desire right before her very eyes.
“Come here,” she heard, and found Tony hovering close, his dark gaze trained on her lips. She licked them instinctively, tasting waxy lipstick. He didn’t have to reel her in. She went willingly, just barely clutching Marten’s shirt for an anchor.
Her boyfriend was the one to shift her grip and slot in behind her, his breath hot and harried against the shell of her ear. “Happy birthday to me, huh?” he muttered, huffing out a laugh. He circled her waist with his hands. In the tight press of their bodies, Jackie could feel the rigid bulge in pants.
“It can get even happier,” Tony drawled, nipping along Jackie’s neck with sharp teeth and a warm, wet tongue. “We can take this somewhere more comfortable…”
“Bed.
Yes
.” It should have come as no surprise that coherent speech fell just outside of Jackie’s grasp in that moment. She made up for it by tilting her head back onto her boyfriend’s shoulder and relishing the sweet sensation of his hands gliding up over her cashmere sweater to cup her breasts. There were many layers between her skin and the warm clasp of his palms and she wanted them all gone yesterday. “Off,” she told Tony. His hair was too short to pull, so she settled for tugging him off her by the shell of his ears. He groaned a little, looking flushed and needy, but offered little resistance. Marten wouldn’t have been nearly as malleable in his place. Case in point—he didn’t release her breasts until he’d managed to pinch her hardening nipples between thumb and forefinger, a cheap trick he knew would lead to Jackie’s knees turning weak and useless.
With a foot barely inside the bedroom, Jackie struggled to shrug off her sweater and start on the clasp of her jeans. It was as far as she got before Tony’s strong arms circled her hips. “Let me,” he begged and she turned to find him kneeling on the carpet, all sex god fallen from his divine perch. Who was she to protest?
“What about the birthday boy?” she quipped, or tried to, voice shaking a little as she felt Tony unzip her fly. He traced his thumb over the seam to the apex of her thighs, where she was already so hot, so ready for him.
It was Marten who answered, “Oh, I have enough to keep me busy.” He wasn’t kidding. Tony withdrew his hands obligingly as Marten wrestled him out of his shirt. The wrists caught and he gave a low, protesting growl—possibly the sexiest sound Jackie had ever heard, on or off camera. Marten started helping him out when Jackie shook her head.
“No, leave him like that.” She would miss his hands, but those soft, full lips and the rasp of his ginger beard had its own appeal.
Tony looked up at her, a glint of something like smugness in his eyes. He gasped a little when she grabbed him by the nape and gently pressed his face against her denim-covered cunt.
Marten swore and Jackie looked up to find him stroking himself through his jeans.
“Like your surprise, baby?” Jackie asked, grinning. She could do nothing to conceal the catch of her breath when Tony rubbed the arch of his nose against her sex. He played dirty and she loved it.
Rather than answer, Marten slid his own hand around Tony’s throat, pulling him back against him and bending down to kiss his soft lips. Flushed up to his ears as he was, Tony wasn’t about to do much to protest the treatment. He could have freed himself if he’d wanted to, no doubt—he was a strong guy and the buttons on his cuffs didn’t look like they’d be missed—but for some reason he chose to stay on his knees between them, a prisoner by choice. As Jackie watched him submit to Marten’s kiss, she shimmied out of her jeans and dropped down to the bed. Her pussy gushed, muscles clenching deep inside when Marten scratched his fingers lightly down the broad, hairy expanse of Tony’s chest. It was a delight to fuck a man as hirsute as he was, something undeniably carnal in the experience that Jackie could sense her boyfriend enjoyed, too.
It didn’t matter that Tony was bigger than both Jackie and Marten, his muscles chiselled for the camera through long hours in the gym—he was at their mercy now. He licked his kiss-swollen lips when Marten finally let him go and staggered to his feet. A step closer to the bed was as far as he got. “Not yet,” Marten whispered, peeking around from the long, white tangle of Tony’s shirt to lick a path up his awkwardly bent arm.
Standing none too shyly before them, Jackie finished her hasty undressing, no strip tease possible when all she wanted—needed—was relief. She was naked now, her breasts exposed before their eyes and her cunt glistening. Tony’s nostrils flared as though he could scent her arousal. She sincerely hoped so.
“I want his mouth,” Jackie murmured, speaking to Marten rather than the gorgeous demi-god between them. This, too, was part of the game.
Her boyfriend shook his head. “He has to earn it.” She had always known there was a slightly Machiavellian streak to Marten, but sex between them was too much of a wrestling match to discover just how far her boyfriend could go with a more obedient partner.
It hadn’t crossed her mind that a guy like Tony might fit that bill, given his on-screen persona, yet as she basked in the sight of his body being slowly exposed to her scrutiny, she realised her mistake. She had assumed real-life Tony would be like the roles he played—all bluster and harsh, gritted slurs. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might also be receptive to playing the other end. That he might enjoy being ravished for a change. Jackie let her foot brush his freshly denuded thigh, red toenail scraping against the soft hairs that disappeared into black boxers. Tony’s eyes fluttered shut as she brushed his length. His breaths were coming sharp and quick, knifing in and out of his lungs while he stood there, deftly and faithfully accepting their caresses.
“Look at me,” Jackie said and was gratified when Tony sought her heated gaze. Pleasure coiled in her belly. “Good boy.”
Marten hooked his fingers in Tony’s waistband, slowly prising off the last scrap of clothing protecting him from their assault. His hard length sprang out, thick and flushed with blood, familiar to Jackie from one too many flicks. She didn’t expect to hear Marten compliment him for doing well, but it seemed right somehow, as if Tony hadn’t come here knowing full well there would be sex.
As if he was doing them a favour.
She watched as Marten folded his hand around that thick cock, fist so pale against the engorged length, and gave it a leisurely stroke. Moisture glistened over his knuckles. Tony breathed out nice and long, his fingers twined behind his head. It looked like some strange version of a police pat-down, except there was nowhere for him to hide any weapons and Marten was only stroking his side with a free hand meant to soothe.
Jackie spread her legs a little wider and dipped a finger into her cunt. It was too much to try to wait them out—her body felt as if it was burning, arousal soaking into the bed sheets as she sat there, playing spectator.
Marten caught her moan with a crooked grin. “Getting impatient,
schatje
?” His accent betrayed him—as did the stiffening of his prick, still constrained in his pants. Jackie tried to remember why he was still dressed but found she couldn’t—everything was need and scorching red heat threatening to consume her from within.
“If one of you doesn’t fuck me soon, I’m going to take care of myself,” Jackie challenged. “Tony, come here.”
This time, Marten’s hands were more of a guide than a manacle, helping their new friend step out of the tangle of shoes and clothes pooled around his ankles and kneel down on the carpet. He steadied him as Jackie scooted forward and grasped Tony by the shoulders. “Go on, baby…” She remembered holding his hand as they had left the movie theatre. Had that really happened only a few hours ago? She remembered watching him smile as he sipped his Rooibos tea, this maddeningly easy-going Englishman with his soft, lush lips—lips that brought Jackie back into herself as his beard rasped against her sensitive folds. Every thought in her mind obliterated, ignited, until all that was left was this—a rough, lapping tongue and clipped breaths fanning over her cunt.
Jackie sank down to her elbows, then to her back, only to find Marten tumbling to the bed beside her. He kissed her hard, unconcerned about her stilted gasps, or the fact that she felt like she was coming apart at the seams in the most delicious way. That he was a demanding, controlling lover, Jackie knew full well. It was one more thing they had in common, but mostly she found herself exasperated by his need to hold the upper hand. Not so today. Today his eyes were so clear, so focused on her and Tony that she would have given him anything.
“Take your clothes off,” Jackie bit out between kisses, her hands too busy holding Tony’s head to her to be of much help. “Please, babe—”
She didn’t have to beg. Marten stood up and all but ripped free of his shirt and jeans, peeling off his socks before he dropped back to the bed in his white briefs. His erection had painted a small, dark stain against the fabric. Jackie could scent his arousal, it drove her mad. “Show me,” she pleaded, and watched as her boyfriend deftly drew out his cock. He was so hard, his length glistening wet with pre-cum. It was more than lust—Jackie could feel the same raw need thrumming through her own body.
Tony was the spice they’d needed for some time.
“You want him to—?” Marten didn’t get to finish the thought, as Jackie was already nodding.
Yes, anything
. She’d do anything he wanted her to, she was too far gone to care what that meant. “Okay.” Then Marten was moving, somehow still coordinated enough to grab a condom from the box on the nightstand even as he reached for Tony.
Jackie all but mewled when that talented, lapping tongue was wrenched away from her. She’d been so close. So close. But when she peered up, it was to see Marten freeing Tony from the twist of his shirt and rolling the condom on with a nimble hand. He didn’t have to speak to urge Tony to climb onto the bed. Jackie seized onto his waist as the other man settled above her, legs bending under the pressure of his hips. His thick length slid in slowly, all but spearing her open. She was too excited, too slick to experience any discomfort at his girth. Any lingering alarm at the thought of being with another man perished as she felt Marten’s hand between her legs, guiding Tony inside. It felt so right that she couldn’t stop herself from pulling Tony down for a kiss.
She could almost imagine coming from that alone. Almost.
“Enough,” Marten said, his barked order reaching Jackie from somewhere high up, in the vague stratosphere just north of Tony’s shoulder. A sharp smack echoed around the room—Marten’s hand on Tony’s ass, swatting at a pale cheek to get his attention. Tony bucked, cock twitching as he drove himself deeper into Jackie’s pussy. His moans were ragged, needy. He was enjoying this.
It took Jackie a moment to realise why he had begun to slow down after the first fierce pumps of his dick, but then she tilted her head just a little farther, and saw Marten’s erection being squeezed in a tight fist—Tony’s hand on her boyfriend’s member. No wonder he couldn’t concentrate.
Much as she would have liked to protest, Jackie had to admit that it was a very pretty sight. It only got prettier when Tony craned his neck and Marten shuffled a little closer and—
yes
—Tony took him into his mouth, lips snug and very red around Marten’s length. The sound of it was incredible and filthy. Jackie was glad she couldn’t slip a hand between her thighs to work over her clit or she would’ve come in seconds.
She could see Tony’s throat work as he swallowed, but Marten felt it, moaning loud and steady as he savoured the sensation. They had watched Tony suck cock before, camera angles so close the freckles on his skin stood out, but the experience left so much to be desired. He was so much better in the flesh.
Jackie touched a reverent hand to Tony’s cheek. “That’s it. You like that, don’t you?” She was distantly aware that she was babbling, that none of the things coming out of her mouth were really subject to serious thought, but Tony didn’t seem to be complaining. He hummed low and sweet, maybe an answer, maybe just another trick designed to make Marten lose his mind. It must have been hard for him to suckle at the thick length, what with trying to thrust into Jackie’s cunt at the same time and his knees slip-sliding in the tangled sheets, yet he seemed strangely relieved when Marten took him by the back of the neck and canted his hips into that gorgeous mouth.
Not too far—Jackie had been on the receiving end often enough to know he had some self-restraint—but far enough to let Tony feel the tapered cockhead brush the back of his tongue. His hand flew up to grasp the base, almost as if to stop him.