MY TWO DOMS: HOT HARD MENAGE #3 (2 page)

“Only photos of women?
Right. That’s the idea.” He stares at me for a moment. “Zoe, are you…? Are you
under the impression that I’m gay?” Then he laughs out loud, a shockingly
raucous sound in the quiet kitchen. “You think Noah and I are a couple?”

Feeling miniscule, and
in an equally tiny voice, I ask, “You’re not?”

Matthew shakes his head
no. “Well, I can’t say it’s not complicated, but we’re both entirely hetero.”

“Complicated how?” I
ask, partly to keep the conversation from concentrating on how wrong I was,
partly to distract myself from the spark of excitement I feel in the pit of my
stomach over the idea that Matthew likes women…fucks women…and subscribes to
hot magazines about how to tie them up and spank them before fucking them.

He clears his throat,
and a hint of pensiveness softens his eyes for just a moment before his usual
mirth returns. “Noah and I grew up together. We’ve been through everything
you’d never want to imagine. Scrapping in back alleys. Issues with screwed up
families. Joining the military and doing most of our service together. We’ve
pulled one another bleeding out of the desert a few times each.”

Matthew pauses before
adding, “Noah left the service with a diagnosis of PTSD. I had intended to go
career, but I wasn’t going to let him come back here alone. It’s been tough
sometimes, but getting that job at the VA and spending all day helping other
vets has made a huge difference for him. We live together because… I don’t
know. Because I want to make sure he’s okay. Because he’s always got my back.
We’ve always lived together, for all practical purposes. We’ve fought together
and gotten shot at together.” Another pause. “Fucked together.”

I choke on my second
glass of wine. “I thought you said you weren’t—”

“We have the same taste
in women.”

I feel my brow knit in
disbelief. “Fucked together as in…?” Fucked the same woman? At the same time?
He nods, and a flare of heat ripples through my body, from my drenched pussy,
like sparks surging over the surface of an ember, reigniting it. It takes me a
second to realize I’m sucking my bottom lip and looking at Matthew like a
starving waif at a candy store window.

“My turn,” he says with
a smile, and I’m sure I look as lost as I feel. “A personal question.”

“Oh.” I nod. “Sure.”
As long as it’s not about how ridiculously
I’m behaving today.

“You found a magazine
in a plain brown wrapper in your mailbox and opened it before you realized it
wasn’t yours.” He leans a little closer, smelling of woody aftershave. “What
magazine were you expecting?”

A person could roast
marshmallows with the heat coming off my face. “Do I have to answer that?”

“No,” he says quietly,
patiently, “but it would be only fair. You saw what my magazine was,
and
you got a personal question.”

“Domination Romance,” I
blurt and look away and fill my mouth with wine again, before I dig my hole of
embarrassment any deeper.

“Really?” His warm
voice sounds intrigued rather than lecherous or incredulous or amused. “Sounds
like an erotica fetish journal.” When I nod, his gaze focuses tight on my face,
until I can’t help looking up at him. “I would suspect, in that case, what
you’re really looking for in a man is a commanding presence, a dominant touch,
someone who gives you an intense sense of being valued and protected…and
owned.” Hearing Matthew speaking so intimately—and so insightfully—has me
feeling lightheaded, desperate to be touched. “But that ex of yours is more of
a domineering bully who expects you to be his semi-regular booty call, and exclusive
on your end only.”

That observation makes
me snicker and sends me back to finish off my second glass of wine.

“You’ve never responded
when I’ve flirted with you, Zoe. Is that
only
because you thought I was gay?”

I look up from the
bottom of my glass. “You’ve never!”

“I have.”

I blink hard a few
times. “You have?”

Matthew nods, and I
frown at the thought of the missed opportunity. Little by little, I’m leaning
toward him, my face turned upward. As soon as his soft, lush lips brush mine, I
open my mouth, hungry for his tongue. He teases me, licking my lips, sucking,
making my mouth tingle. Then his hand is taking hold of my long ponytail. His
dark eyes watch my face carefully as he starts to pull my hair. My mouth bows
in a whisper of a moan.

Then he’s pulling
harder, making me arch, his other arm circling my waist to support me.
Matthew’s lips, his rugged, scratchy chin and jaw, work up and down my exposed
neck. My gaze grazes the ceiling before my eyes roll back in my head.

“Open your knees, Zoe,”
he growls low against my skin. When I comply, he advances, pushing his swollen
hard-on against my pussy through my skirt and panties.

I gasp at the
sensation, at the pressure on my swelling clit, at the size of Matthew’s
bulging cock. His response is to reach between us and pull my skirt up, out of
the way. One less layer of clothing shielding my cunt from his hard dick. He
grabs my ass and jerks me forward, so that my pussy lips spread to cradle his
hard-on. I keen with need, with months of pent-up sexual frustration, with
astonishment at my own brazen reaction to his touch.

Matthew’s hot breath on
my ear leaves me shuddering. “Do you want to know what I’d do to you if you
were my submissive, Zoe?”

“Yes,” I mew.

“You know better than
that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

I panic for a moment,
before realizing and blurting, “Yes, sir.”

He licks my ear with
his silky, warm tongue, while pulling my hair hard enough to make my scalp
prickle with stinging pain. The intensity of the sensation leaves me limp in
his corded arms.

“I’d make you strip
down for me and show me how wet your pussy is, to prove you’re ready to please
me. Would that excite you?”

Pressing my nipples to
his chest and digging my fingernails into his biceps, I whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“Then I’d put you on
your knees on the floor so I could bind those delicate ankles together and your
little hands together, and then your wrists to your ankles.” He gives me a
moment to picture this, to imagine my arms bent back and my bare tits thrust up
in invitation, my thighs spread wide. “Then you’d suck my long cock while I
held your head and fucked your beautiful mouth. I’d make you do the same for
Noah.”

My eyes fly open when
Matthew adds this last detail. The idea of both of them touching me, of both
men using me at the same time, leaves me breathless. Shouldn’t I be
scandalized, offended, frightened, instead of riveted by the thought?

Noah, while different
than Matthew—leaner, not quite as tall, with loosely curling brown hair and
blue eyes just a little paler than mine, and a demeanor at once dreamy and
haunted—is no less attractive. Would he handle me more gently than Matthew
does? More roughly? Would he also growl dirty, delicious things into my ear? Or
would he silently force me to bend for him?

Matthew’s hand shifts
from pulling my hair to cradling my head, urging me to straighten and look at
him. “Would you do that, Zoe? Give yourself to me and to Noah? Serve both our
pleasures?”

My mouth is so dry I
can hardly speak. “Is that what you want?” I ask in a weak, cracking voice.

He nuzzles my cheek
while pulling my hair again, wringing another moan from me. “That’s just the
beginning of what I want from you.”

It’s like someone
else’s voice, someone else’s gloriously aroused body, when I say, “Yes, sir, I
would. I would gladly serve you both.”

He gathers a deep
breath. I feel his chest expand against me, his arms tighten around me. On
exhale, his breath is rougher, halting, hungry. His excitement elevates mine,
until the anticipation is a vibration tormenting my every nerve. Part of me
would give anything for Matthew to bend me over this stool right now, this very
minute, and tear into my tight little holes with his hard dick.

Steeling himself with
one more breath, Matthew slowly releases me and stands back. His expression is
firm, concentrated. “I want you naked, Zoe, now.”

Oh
my god. This is really happening. Right now.

I slide off the stool
without being told, grateful to find my trembling legs will support me. It’s
like I’m living out one of the stories I’ve been reading, one of the scenes
that had me playing with myself and shuddering hard as I came. My nervous
fingers fumble over the buttons of my silk blouse, before I slip it down my
shoulders and pull the shirttail out of my skirt. I feel Matthew’s gaze against
my skin, with every movement, every heartbeat. I drape my blouse over the
leather seat of the stool and work at the hook and zipper of my flowing skirt.
The black chiffon pools around my high heels.

I have just stepped out
of my shoes onto the cool white kitchen tiles when the front door opens and
closes, off to my left, past the open living room. Blushing furiously, I peek
up to see Noah’s reaction to finding me standing in his kitchen in nothing but
my black lacy underwear and stockings.

Noah starts through the
living room, sees me, and stops mid-stride. Raking my bare body with his
stunned gaze, and tugging his longish brown hair back from his face, he
mutters, “Zoe? What…?”

Matthew, hidden by the
doorjamb, turns and leans into the doorway. “Look who came to play with us.”

There’s a moment with
Noah looking from Matthew to me and back again. Then he shakes his head. “No,”
he says firmly, before turning his back to us and dropping heavily onto one of
the two black leather couches in the living room.

I bite down hard on the
inside of my cheeks, willing myself not to tear up. Matthew seems less
concerned, less surprised, shaking his head. He looks back at me, at the
dejected look on my face, and holds his hand out. Numb, I take it, so he can
pull me toward him and plant a quick kiss on my forehead.

“Don’t fret. Come on,”
he mutters softly to me.

Then he leads me to the
place I’d least like to be, into the living room where Noah is sitting on the
couch, bouncing one knee in agitation. Matthew positions me directly in front
of Noah, between his splayed legs. From behind, Matthew circles my waist with
his arms. I resist the urge to press back against him, to retreat from Noah,
who refuses to look up at me.

“Zoe knows, Noah. She
knows what we like. She knows what
she
likes. She understands she’d be serving both of us.”

Noah shakes his head no
again, very slightly. “No, she doesn’t. She’s got no idea,” he says under his
breath, like he’s talking to himself more than to us.

Matthew pulls one strap
of my bra down my shoulder, laying a warm kiss on the skin where it used to be.
His warm breath swirls against my neck, making me shiver. “You’re over-thinking
this, buddy. This is what we’ve talked about for months. Are either of us her
type? Would she consider a threesome? Would she enjoy being tied up?”

The idea that Matthew
and Noah have actually talked about me, fantasized about me, wanted me, leaves
me with unsteady legs again. I press me back against Matthew’s chest and
stomach, which subtly sifts my pelvis forward for Noah. My heart jumps when his
gaze fixes on my damp panties, on the curve of my neatly trimmed mound.

“She doesn’t know what
it means,” Noah insists again, and the look on his face is so wounded I can
hardly fight off the urge to drop into his arms and cover his face with kisses.

“Was there…?” My voice
fails me as Noah’s eyes flash in sudden anger, or maybe agitation, and his gaze
confronts mine. “Was there someone else?
 
Someone who didn’t understand?”

Matthew, kissing and
scraping the sensitive skin of my shoulder with his rough face, grows still. A
meaningful look passes between the two men. I can’t quite read it, but it makes
me suspect I’m right.

Noah challenges me with
those cool blue eyes again. “What is it you think you’re doing?” he demands.

“I’m giving myself as a
submissive to two Dominants,” I whisper, then raise my chin and go on in a
firmer voice, wanting Noah to know I’m certain of my choice. “I’m giving myself
to you, to serve your every whim and pleasure, whether that’s cooking your
dinner or sucking your cock.”

There’s a fleeting note
of surprise on Noah’s tanned face, but his expression tenses again immediately.
“And what do you think you’ll be getting out of it.”

I take a deep breath
and blow it out slowly, my stomach fluttering at the thought. “Sensations only
my Masters can provide. The beautiful powerlessness, the security of knowing
that you control and I serve, that you give and I receive, the loss of blame
and guilt in granting the ultimate consent to let you take me without asking my
consent. Something sexual, and spiritual, and emotional.”

Against my shoulder,
Matthew smiles. “She understands, Noah. She’s ready. She
needs
it. Jesus, just feel her fucking pussy.”

Watching my face, Noah
lifts his hands. He skims the backs of his warm, curled fingers up my
stocking-clad thighs, as my lips part and my breath catches. Matthew’s big
hands move to my tits, squeezing them hard through my bra, just as Noah is
dragging my panties down my legs, as far as my garter belt will allow. And for
an instant I wonder if I can actually handle all the different sensations
coming over me at the same time, the sheer level of pleasure these two can give
me. Am I already in over my head?

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