Authors: Jessa Hawke
She looks back over her shoulder and can see it is Iliaro that has speared her from behind, it his cock that is giving her so much pleasure. Behind him she can see Giovanno, his face strained with lust and it is clear that he has entered Iliaro from the rear. This was such a strange tryst, a ménage à trois with a difference, two handsome and sexy men, one fucking her and the other fucking his friend. She whimpered her ecstasy out load as Iliaro built up a steady rhythm, his thrusting given extra urgency and power by Giovanno thrusting him from behind.
On each deep thrust inside of her, Iliaro’s cock end banged against the spot deep inside of her, that gave her so much pleasure. She ground back on him, pushing him deeper and deeper, almost too painfully, but the pain only added to the pleasure. She could feel the inevitable building inside of her, and knew her orgasm was rapidly approaching. It wouldn't be long now. From the grunts and heavy panting of the two men behind her, she felt they were probably close to it too.
An arm reached over her, she realized it was Giovanno’s and it headed straight for her pussy. His fingers searched out to find her clitoris as his tips slid about on the slippy wetness of her juices. The sensation of a man teasing at her clit, while another man embedded his cock deep inside of her, was one sensation too many. The shudders from her love bud sent shivers of pleasure throughout her muscles, and her orgasm thundered through her body like a hurricane, electrifying every nerve ending to its extreme as she screamed out her desire, not caring if anyone heard. To add to her pleasure, she could hear the two men behind her grunt out their own passion, and she felt the erection deep inside of her swell to a new thickness as Iliaro pumped his warm seed into her body. She was certain that Giovanno was doing the same to him.
All three just lay there for a while, basking in the glow of their mutual satisfaction, and sexual harmony.
Annabella reflected on what had just happened, if this was considered kinky, she really didn’t care, it seemed perfectly natural to her. These two men were wonderful and they had worshipped her. They were handsome and muscular, and big and beautiful. What had she done to deserve this, she could not think or reason, but she would make the most of it, while it lasted. Chances are she would probably never see them again.
“Next time,” Giovanno announced, breaking their silence, “I am to orgasm inside of this beautiful woman, and Iliaro can sing for his supper.”
Those words, “next time,” rang in her ears. Did this mean they would ask to see her again?
Feeling pleased with the world, she was soon fast asleep and dreaming of two very handsome men.
Annabella sat day dreaming at her office desk. She was thinking of Saturday morning, awakening to breakfast in bed, by what looked like an English butler. Then after shower, the sassy car arrived and took her home. She hadn’t seen either of her lovers since that night and the butler guy had not been very forthcoming as to their whereabouts.
“Don’t be thinking you’ll be getting invited to any more special overtime, Miss Eaglen,” a familiar female voice broke into her thoughts.
Fortune was looming over her.
“Had my assistant been available, you wouldn’t even have been attending that one,” she said, scowling down at Annabella. “I often dine with the elite, and I can’t say I want the likes of you with me again. I’ve had words with my assistant not to be absent on such important occasions again. That is why I pay her so well, after all.”
Annabella realized that Fortune was unaware of her continued entertainment that evening. She didn’t wish to spoil the memory by having Fortune give her opinion, so she kept it to herself. She watched Fortune’s posterior swaying in an exaggerated fashion, as she stalked off, feeling she had put the lowly secretary in her place.
Annabella smiled to herself and the grin doubled in size when she noticed an email pop up on her screen from Iliaro. She read on of his, and Giovanno’s, apologies for leaving her that morning, but they had urgent business elsewhere. Should she reply, she wondered, or would that be considered unethical, in such a relationship? Deciding to reply, but simply to acknowledge the apology, she set about typing, then pressed the “send” button, feeling pleased with herself for having such an illicit secret from Fortune. Not that she considered Fortune any sort of rival, but her dislike for her immediate boss was intense, and growing every day.
Popping her head up she noticed how busy everyone one was. Some had serious faces in the direction of their computers, others had phones at their ears, and some even stood around in clusters chatting away, all oblivious to her wonderful experience. Only she was aware of her liaison with the company owner and his very best friend.
Attending meetings listening to managers discussing planning permissions and site developments, seemed tedious today. Yet a few months ago she would have given anything for this job. To make matters worse, Mr. Adams from sales, was constantly placing his hand on her knee, she was glad when the meeting finally came to a close. Trying to listen, type and constantly push his hand off of her knee, had been more than her brain could cope with right now.
Once on her own office floor again, she popped in to one of the small kitchens to make herself a strong coffee, which was sorely needed after her experience of Mr. Adams. As she poured hot water into her cup, she felt a hand stroke her bottom. Almost scolding herself, she turned around to confront the annoying Mr. Adams.
“I’m able to offer you promotion if you want to come and work on my floor, Annabella,” he offered.
“I’m very happy on this floor, sir,” she replied, curtly.
“Rubbish, no one likes working for the beast,” he laughed, inching closer to her body, infiltrating her private space.
“Who’s that?” Annabella asked, moving away from him. “Who’s the beast?”
“Well, who do you think? Fortune, of course.”
Annabella had managed to get herself to the other side of him, her back to the door, groping for the handle to make good her escape.”
“I am sorry Mr. Adams but Fortune is the perfect boss and I’ll be staying on this floor,” she announced.
“Well, well, Annabella,” Fortune’s voice sounded right behind her, “thank you for your support.”
Annabella turned to explain, only to see that Iliaro was stood right behind her.
“It turns out that you won’t be staying on this floor as you have been internally promoted,” Fortune informed her, clearly unimpressed at the news. “It seems you dazzled Mr. Cavalchi on Friday evening, as, of course, I knew you would. I’ve given my permission for the move, so go pack your desk, you’re leaving with Iliaro, here.”
Annabella stood stunned, she looked at Iliaro, who gave her a knowing smile. Life was so good.
Her new office was amazing and she ran around it like a teenager with a new bedroom. Giovanno was there to greet her, and all three of them enjoyed a glass of bubbly as they celebrated her promotion to Iliaro’s Personal Assistant. Giovanno explained that Iliaro was his PA , and could do with some support.
“Why?” she kept repeating as she rushed to the huge window that overlooked a panoramic view of the city. “Why me?” she asked again, turning around to confront the two men.
“Okay, I will be honest with you Annabella,” Giovanno spoke up. “Not all women are comfortable with our relationship. You did not question it at all, and we both enjoyed your company, so we feel you are perfect for the part.”
“Absolutely,” Iliaro joined in. “We cannot have just anyone for this role, we both want you, not just sexually, but also to help with our work. Now, enough of the niceties can we discuss your new job as there is much to learn?”
“Pah!” Giovanno began to speak in Italian, to Iliaro, clearly annoyed with something.
“Hang on, guys,” Annabella decided it was her turn to say something. Both men stopped arguing and waited for her to talk.
“Either you teach me Italian, or you stop doing that to me, going off in your own little world of words. It’s very unnerving. I don’t have a clue what you’re saying.”
She looked at their handsome faces, both smiling at her.
“Oh, one more thing” she continued, “I love my new job and I think I’m falling in love with you guys.”
Both men cracked into huge smiles and approached her together, “Group hug,” Iliaro laughed out. All three embraced together and Annabella seriously doubted whether life could get any better than this.
“Now tell me what you’re both disagreeing about, as I don’t understand a word you’re saying,” Annabella asked.
“Giovanno wants you to settle in slowly, eat some food, make love, you know, taking a slow, slow pace. Me, on the other hand, I need you to learn your job quickly as I need help with some new contracts. Whilst I would like to make love to you again, I have pressing matters, work before play is my motto.”
“Pah!” Giovanno turns his back on Iliaro and pretends to look at the view from the window, a view he must have seen many times before.
“Okay,” Annabella, joins in, “I think we can settle this quite easily. No fun during the day, Giovanno cannot play, because Iliaro and Annabella have to work, that can be our motto,” she said, smiling and very pleased with herself.
This served to set the men off bickering again, so Annabella sat at her new desk and started to go work through the mountain of files that she guessed had been left for her, and she left them to their argument.
Annabella and Iliaro worked well into the night, he teaching her the new computer systems, how to set up meetings, how to organize Giovanno’s diary, the list of tasks were endless. They had chased Giovanno out of the office, Iliaro reminded him that he also had much to do. Finally, as the lights were starting to twinkle on in the city, they both agreed that they should all go for dinner.
“We are meant to make decisions together,” Giovanno complained, “I feel like you two are forgetting I am here,” he said, sounding like a sulky child.
Annabella knew he and Iliaro loved each other dearly, and this was going to be a whole new experience for her. She had no intention of coming between the two, just being included in their relationship was good enough for her.
They ate at a more modest restaurant this time, and the two men told her of their upbringing, how they had been best of friends in Italy and had both come to the US to earn their fortune. How Giovanno got a big break in the industry, and how they had both worked hard to fulfill their American dream.
These two really were the best of friends, there was no rivalry between them, although Giovanno was the successful business man and the owner of a multinational company, he treated Iliaro as his equal. He paid him more than necessary for the role he performed. For his part, Iliaro was a true friend, forever watching his friend’s back from their rivals in business, and keeping Giovanno on the straight and narrow with his honest and valuable advice.
“Without this man,” Giovanno nodded towards Iliaro, “I would not be where I am today, what is mine is his, and what is his is mine.”
Illaro repeated his agreement, and they both embraced.
Annabella was so happy to be a part of this, their special friendship now included her and she already felt a strong bond with them.
After the meal, the men invited her back to their penthouse. It was Friday night with the weekend approaching, so she gladly accepted their invitation, knowing it would be unlikely that she’d get much sleep tonight.
They made love together, well into the night. Sometimes all three together, but sometimes just two, with Annabella paired off with Giovanno or Iliaro. Nothing was held back and no act was taboo. The sex was perfect and exactly as she remembered. She reached new sexual peaks that she had never reached before, as both her lovers were thoughtful and attentive to her every needs. Eventually, just before the morning sun rose in the sky, they all feel asleep together in the huge bed, exhausted but content and satiated.
THE END
Desiring the Bad Boy Navy Seals
When I walk into the club, I stride, great big swallowing steps that eat up the floor in front of me like it’s made up of nothing but candy. Except that I’m not sweet. I can feel the eyes on me, the sway of my slender hips cutting the air around me, the black leather skirt I’ve got on swishing from side to side.
The men flock to me like flies to honey. I know what they see. They see the dark slash of my hair, falling all the way down to my butt. They see my eyes and they know; they can feel the dark energy rising up in me. It’s been a month since I’ve doffed the collar of Master Slick, and it’s been a very lonely night indeed. There are still nights when I pick up the phone and for the few moments that he picks up the phone and I can hear his voice and breathing, I find myself aching in all the familiar old ways. We broke up and I haven’t been able to bring myself to find a new Dom, but I think that tonight is my night.
I see my mark, a man relatively well-known around here. The things I’ve heard about him make me think that he’s exactly what I need; so much of what I enjoy about this particular lifestyle is purely psychological. Some subs require the whips, the contraptions, the strappings, but for me, the best part is mental. The idea of surrender, the vulnerability that comes with placing your soul and body into the hands of another—I feel charged just thinking of it.
My moniker is Little Iliana.
The man and I lock eyes, but I look demurely away, sending the signal that I would like him to display his alpha male prowess. There is a communication in this world that goes beyond actual words, and this man understands my meaning. He crosses the room with two Grey Gooses in his hands, sits down next to me and we sip our drinks silently for a while. The only thing touching is our eyes. His are a steely gray, and we take stock of each other. He is powerfully built, a stocky man who has that broody quality about him that reminds me of Master Slick. I sip my drink while he watches, and then pause. He tells me to finish the rest of it. I comply. He tells me to eat the olives off the toothpick. I chew. Then he tells me to dance, and when I get up, his eyes skim my body up and down. I am not sure I like the way he is issuing orders without really getting to know me, but maybe that’s just his personality. In either case, I feel like dancing.
I am swaying, I am rocking, I am totally in my body. I love it when I’m being watched by just one person; it makes me feel special, like I’m the only woman in the world. I am rotating my hips in the infinity signs to the heavy music that is pouring out of the speakers, crossing my midline with my arms, allowing the black bangles to slip all the way down my forearms. I am shaking my long hair from side to side when I spot Hank.
My heart begins to pound so hard that I am sure the Dom can see it pounding against the sharp bite of my ribcage. I quickly look away; Hank appears to be uncommonly uncomfortable and I know that it is very difficult to make a man that disciplined feel out of place. He has weaved in and out of the crowd and is now standing on the fringes, watching me; I can see his reflection in the mirror I am dancing in front of, although I don’t think he knows it. There is something like shock in his eyes, and I know that I’ve just changed his perception of me entirely. God’s blood, what’s a man like that, a decorated Navy SEAL, doing in this club?
Maybe I misjudged Hank all these years.
Maybe he’s even more interesting than I first imagined.
Maybe we’re more alike than I first thought.
I dance and watch his amazement grow. He cannot unlock his eyes from the curve of my waist as I roll my hips forward and back, and then again, as I shimmy my shoulders, the soft swell of my breasts lush against the silk fabric of my top. I am an enchantress in that moment; I can feel it just as surely as a dog feels its owner’s energy through a leash. In our case, the leash is invisible.
Given our history, I find it incredibly amusing that right now, I am the alpha. I was always the alpha. It just had to be in the right situation. I met a man who was a dog handler once; he introduced me to this soft, fluffy little Maltese and told me that when he first had the dog, it displayed dominance and aggression over him and all the other dogs in the house. Then he demonstrated the alpha roll and told me that no other Maltese he had ever met would allow a human being to do that to it.
Watching him alpha roll that dog was a huge turn on. I had him eat me out by sitting on his face in one of my special chairs, the kind that’s like a throne with a hole in it. By the time I was done, he was short of breath and his quads were aching, but he knew who was boss. And he liked it.
Side to side and back and forth. I slide my hands down my thighs and use the flats of my hands to slide my skirt up, revealing my ankles and allowing the long slits of it to give flashes of my creamy skin underneath. A highway to heaven that is off-limits to anyone who I do not invite there first. A quick glance up reveals that Hank has turned a peculiar color and is unable to stare at me directly anymore; he’s got his eyes down and his shoulders are turning in a little. I recognize that pose. We’re back to the dogs again—when a dog is submissive, it stops puffing its shoulders out and acting important. Hank can feel who is in charge here, and it is certainly not him. What an interesting change that must be for someone who is a Navy SEAL, someone who is used to being the pack leader and directing others.
He forgets that we are two of a kind. And he has always, but always, underestimated me. And if you know who I really am, you realize how dangerous that is.
* * *
What you want and what you end up getting are often two entirely different things.
For example, when he came home on leave, the last thing Hank Leigh wanted to do was to go to some seedy little club in the middle of nowhere. However, when he learned that Iliana Reed was in town, his natural sense of curiosity got the best of him. After Iliana had dropped out of Stage 3 of their training, neither he nor George had heard from her again, and it had been a good four years since he had seen her last. He was given leave for two weeks and had rushed back to his childhood home, only to find that while everything looked exactly the same, everything was exactly different at the same time.
It was his mother who mentioned that Iliana was back. Nobody knew exactly where she had been over the past few years, but she had returned right after her mother had died and taken back over the house. During the day, she worked in the pet shop over on Main Street, and as soon as she would close the store down for the night, she could be seen hopping into her car, a sleek black beauty, and driving in the direction of the town fifteen miles east, the one that was hopping with nightlife fit for a major urbanized center. She was young and entitled to a life, particularly after such a harsh tragedy, his mother reasoned aloud to him, but for God’s sake, nobody knew where the girl was going and where she was coming from. It was a small town and people talked; Iliana sure was a strange one was how Hank’s mother put it, probably thinking she was diplomatic as all hell.
Hank couldn’t deny that last one, though. Iliana had always struck him as just a little bit left of center in the least political meaning of that particular phrase. She was a loner even during their SEAL days, which was strange because their training focused on creating a unit, people who would support each other and work together to complete their missions. But there was always that thing about Iliana, the way she would look at their training officers that made it perfectly clear she would never display that humility that is considered the proper character for SEALS.
George, one of the other recruits and also hailing from their home town, had seen it a little bit differently. “She’s a girl, man,” he would whine to Hank every time Hank would try to bring up Iliana after she left. “It’s rough on us, but imagine what it’s like for the women, with their delicate lady parts and whatnot. A SEAL has a passion for excellence; maybe she just had a passion for cookies.” Hank would grind his teeth and try to focus, instead, on how good the other man was during their missions; his nervous energy would slough off and he would be alert, focused, and hypersensitive to the positions of his team.
Hank didn’t pause to think much on why he wanted to see what Iliana did with her nights. He spotted her at the pet store one day, looking as shockingly young as she did during her SEAL days, but he couldn’t come up to her and greet her. He was not a man who liked to stand much for unnecessary awkwardness, and that was all he could picture happening if he went up to Iliana and talked to her. Because the truth of the matter was was that all the questions he had for her would not be ones that were appropriate. Where had she gone after the SEALS? If she hadn’t wanted to be there, why did she join them in the first place? Was it weakness that caused her to leave, as George had always theorized, or was it something else? Back when he knew her there, she had always had this look about her like she was waiting for the next hit, the next dangerous training session because she didn’t care if she lost the skin off her teeth as long as she could prove something.
What are you running from? Hank wondered as he drove behind Iliana, making sure to stay three cars behind her on the highway to avoid being spotted, although he knew it was a stretch to imagine that she had been alerted to his presence in town as he had been to hers.
His mind had been a pleasant blank before he had pulled into the shady little darkened parking lot outside the club. Iliana had pulled in and dimmed all her lights; it was already dark out, so he couldn’t see into the car, but she stayed in there for ten, maybe fifteen minutes. When she emerged, his heart almost stopped. Gone was the uniform of chinos and a T-shirt she wore at the store. The woman who stepped from the shiny black car was an ethereal creature if he had ever seen one. With her bird-like slim build and loose flowing hair, encased in silk, leather, and velvet, all black against the pale ivory of her skin, she looked like a dark fairy setting out for a night of frolicking amongst demons.
It never even occurred to him that she might be one of the demons herself.
It is only when he comes across the list of rules that Hank gets his first inkling of what type of club he has wandered into.
1. No booze and no penetration.
2. Everything must be consensual. If you see someone who intrigues you, by all means, ask, but wait until they are finished first.
3. Leave your street clothes at the door ($2). Paddles, cat-o’-nines, and other items available for purchase at the rear end room under the EXIT sign.