Bad Girl by Night (34 page)

She tried to speak, but all she got out was an, “Unh.”

“I think she liked it,” Shane said, and as the guys’ low, masculine laughter echoed around her, she bit her lip, her need for orgasm thoroughly met now, but her body still ready to keep going.

“Fuck me some more,” she whispered.

Jake slanted her a wicked grin. “I’m planning on it, but I thought you might need a rest.”

She just shook her head. With all these erect cocks around her, there could be no rest—their very presence provided too much stimulation.

“Well, what if
I
need a little rest?” He arched one brow, and the question reminded her exactly how long and hard he’d fucked her already, stopping only to lick and suck her to orgasm. He’d performed more than admirably.

Her first thought:
I have two other perfectly good penises here ready to serve me.
Her second: She didn’t know if anyone had condoms, and maybe Jake’s invitations to his friends didn’t extend as far as actually fucking her. So she sat up and said, “I’ll do the work.” Then she stood up, even if her legs remained sore and a little wobbly, and pointed Jake toward the lounge. “Lie down. But stay where I can get on top of you without the arms of the chair getting in my way.”

The amused look he gave her said she was suddenly back to being bossy—but that he’d let it slide right now. Then he followed her instructions. And she thought he looked pretty damn beautiful lying there naked and erect for her.

So she didn’t waste another second before straddling the bottom of the chair and slowly lowering herself onto his lovely shaft. He groaned, and Rogan said, “Damn, baby, that was hot.”

Well, if he thought
that
was hot,
this
will blow his mind.
Having long abandoned the need to be sweet or cute or docile, she looked to Rogan and Shane. “I want your cocks. In my mouth. Or on my tits.”

“Shit,” Shane whispered, clearly turned on.

And then she reached out, one guy on each side of her, and boldly took an erection in each hand.

Oh Lord. Talk about feeling powerful. It felt as if she’d just reined in all these tough guys and had them at her very mercy.

She drew Shane’s cock to her lips, took it inside. At the same time, she pulled Rogan’s meaty rod to her right breast, running the thick head up and down over the sensitive nipple. And she began to move on Jake.

And on it went. Trading Shane’s erection for Rogan’s, over and over as she rode Jake’s dick, bouncing on it for a while, then slowing down, undulating in hot circles. The whole time, the three men whispered dirty things, about their cocks, her mouth, her tits, her cunt. Jake watched her, no longer her blue-eyed stranger but her lover extraordinaire who was giving her an experience she could never have imagined and would certainly never forget.

They molded her breasts, fingered her clit. As Rogan stroked the top of her pussy, she realized she liked the idea of how close his fingers were to Jake’s cock, liked looking down, seeing that they actually mingled in his dark pubic hair. Everything was pleasure, everything was stimulation. Nothing else existed.

And then she came again—from Rogan’s fingertips strumming her while Jake fucked her—and she held tight to the other two hard-ons at her disposal as she screamed her way through the hot pulsing thrums of pleasure that vibrated from her cunt all the way out to the tips of her fingers and toes.

When it was over, she instantly felt a little more docile—that was her true nature most of the time and there was nothing wrong with that. So rather than draw one cock firmly back into her mouth, instead she tugged Shane’s to her lips and gently licked at the side, almost as if it were an icecream cone. And Rogan’s hot sigh filled the air around them.

“Will you lick the little slit, lick the pre-come off?” Shane asked.

The breathy request made fresh desire flare low in her belly and she gladly obliged him, being very thorough and making sure he felt it.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come,” Rogan said, and then he began slapping his erection against her breast, almost as if spanking the hard nipple.

“Do it on her tits,” Jake instructed.

They all watched, Carly continuing to nibble at the tip of Shane’s dick, and moaning at the shock of pleasure she experienced as Rogan smacked his cock against her breast, finally saying, “Fuck, now.” He aimed at her chest as spurts of white semen shot from the tip to leave jagged lines of it across her tits and stomach.

“Aw God,” Jake said, voice thready, eyes on the two wet mounds, and she followed yet another impulse. Letting go of Shane for the moment, she licked her upper lip and used both hands to slowly begin rubbing the come into her skin. She met Jake’s gaze, knowing that would do it for him, and his eyes fell half shut in pure lust. And when Rogan used one finger to scoop up a trail of white fluid just above her navel, then held it to her lips, she closed her mouth over the offering, sucking it off, tasting it, swallowing it, totally caught up in being a dirty dream girl for them all.

That’s when Shane said, “Shit, here I go,” and Jake followed with, “Aw hell—me, too.”

And she found herself pushing her breasts together for Shane as his come spewed across her in three, then four long torrents at the very same moment Jake gripped her hips and thrust upward, groaning his orgasm as he literally lifted her from the chair with his cock.

And then all their hands were on her, rubbing in the sticky juices, caressing her breasts and stomach as she bit her lip and simply watched, drinking in the final moments of such wicked bliss.

S
he and Jake lay naked in the lounge chair, alone. Moments after the sex had ended, Shane and Rogan had taken turns giving her a soft, tiny kiss, and Shane had said, “That was spectacular. Thank you for making this night far better than I thought it would be.”

Rogan had followed with, “Good night, honey. Jake’s a lucky guy.”

And then they were gone and Jake was falling into postsex sleep as she rested quietly in his arms, thinking.
Oh God, I just took on three guys. Three.

Only it felt better,
infinitely
better, than anything I ever did as Desiree. It felt better as me.

And how the hell did this even happen?
Apparently, Rogan and Shane had been unable to sleep after all and had decided to come back out for more socializing. And they’d ended up getting a whole different kind of social interaction than anyone could have anticipated.

Can something be wonderful and shameful at once?
The truth was, despite her sense of elation, both emotions warred inside her—a familiar feeling from days past. She lay looking at the stars, still in a bit of disbelief.

“You okay, sweetie pie?”

She turned to see Jake’s face next to hers in the moonlight. “I think.”

“
You think
? I want you to
know
. Please don’t tell me you feel bad about this.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Jake, I think
most
girls would feel at least . . .
weird
about this. It’s how we’re wired.”

He pressed his lips together and sighed. “That bums me out, though. I wanted you to
love
this.”

“I did. I do. I’m just programmed to think things like—how can you possibly feel the same way about me now as before? Because when we fooled around with Colt, I was nobody important to you—but now I am. And how can your friends possibly not think I’m a slut?”

He lifted one hand to her cheek. “Honey, I love you, that’s how. And . . . I thought of it sort of like . . . what you did with
them
you were really doing with
me
. Except that I don’t have three cocks, so I needed help.” He flashed a playful grin that made her smile. “I want to give you all the pleasure you can take, so when the opportunity came along, I went with it. And seeing you
take
all that pleasure excited me just as much as it did you. Seeing you take all that pleasure because
I
wanted you to have it sort of . . . gave me an even bigger sense of control than usual. Does that make sense?”

She nodded. She already understood very well the subtle ways control shifted between two people and how much of it was in their heads, in simply how they chose to view a situation.

“You know, I liked having control of everything as Desiree, yet . . . maybe I needed it more then—because there was no trust involved, and I had to
take
control to make sure things went as I wanted them to. But now there’s you, and I trusted you to make it good—so in that way, doing what you wanted me to do was easy.” She bit her lip, lowered her gaze, but then raised it back to him. “I can’t
always
give up control to you, but I’m learning to more and more.”

Jake’s eyes sparkled warm and loving on her. “That’s
so
good, baby.
You’re
so good.” He tilted his head then, trying to smile even though his expression flashed a hint of self-deprecation. “If I were half as good as you, I’d be more willing to give up control more often.”

Yet Carly just shook her head. “I really don’t mind. Giving it up. Submitting. Maybe I even like it. I want to make you happy, Jake.”

 

 

T
he plan for Monday morning was to arrive back at Traverse City by noon—most everyone had work on Tuesday and some had a drive of several hours ahead of them.

Carly prepared to exit the bedroom with bags packed, wearing shorts and a beaded tank, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. A glance in the mirror reminded her who she was at heart—Carly Winters, furniture maker, pie baker—and made her wonder again if Jake’s friends could really see her for the full person she was or just for the blow jobs she’d given them last night. At moments like this, it was still hard to believe she’d done such a thing. Still, she blew out a breath and climbed the stairs to the front deck with all the courage she could muster.

“Hey, how do you like your eggs?” Shane asked her first thing.

The question totally threw her off. “Huh?”

“Eggs—how do you like ’em? I’m making a big breakfast today before we take off.” He sounded upbeat, energetic, ready to cook. And not at all as if he was addressing a woman who’d just serviced him and two of his friends last night.

“Um, scrambled or over hard—whatever’s easiest.”

He gave a concise nod, said, “Got it,” and moved on.

A few steps more and she found Jake and Quinn sitting at the oblong table where the group had eaten all their meals. It was set with plates and silverware, and both guys drank orange juice. Apparently, she’d completely missed Quinn and Cameron’s return. Cameron appeared to be consolidating the contents of two coolers; then he drained the empty one over the railing. Rogan came by just then and said, “Orange juice, hon?”

She met his gaze. And unlike with Shane, she saw the sex in his eyes, the memory of last night—but it was nothing judgmental, merely something . . . shared. “Um, sure—thanks,” she managed, then took a seat next to Jake, who instantly lowered his hand to her leg under the table and gave her a quick kiss good morning.

When the whole group was gathered at the table half an hour later, digging into eggs, bacon, and hash browns, someone asked Cameron and Quinn about their night. The two handsome men exchanged glances and Cameron said, “They were real nice girls.”

Shane just rolled his eyes, and Rogan asked, “The point is—did you get laid?”

“Damn straight we did,” Quinn replied.

And after the guys pried a few more details from them, Quinn finally asked, “So, did we miss anything interesting
here
?”

Rogan shoveled some eggs in his mouth, ignoring the question, as Shane simply shrugged. “Nothing I can think of.”

 

 

T
he payback for taking off work on his first Labor Day weekend in

Turnbridge was that on the days following their return, Jake had to work double shifts. He’d agreed to that up front, of course, but now that he was actually doing it, it was—as usual—giving him too much time to think.

Damn, she’d been
so
astounding. Fucking remarkable. The truth was, when he’d suggested the idea of sharing her with his friends, it had been sincere, but he hadn’t thought she’d really do it. At least not this soon.

And now . . . well, something in him felt . . . torn.

When he remembered it—any of it, from fucking her while Rogan watched to sharing her with both him and Shane—he got instantly hard. And it was easy, even almost a little addictive, to revisit those memories. They were so hot that it was just plain pleasurable to return there in his mind. And when he thought of the bravery it had taken on her part—of how far she’d come since they’d met—it blew him away. And then there was the moment when she’d told him how much she trusted him, and how that trust had enabled her to give up so much control to him—that had nearly turned him inside out. It made him feel . . . loved. And like a good man. And it made him love her back even more.

Problem was . . . three nights later, as he drove his cruiser slowly up Main Street, dimly lit by streetlamps, the peaceful solitude forced him to recognize that beneath all the heat of the memory, all the passion it had created inside him, something darker and more worrisome lurked.

His chest tightened, and as he braked at Turnbridge’s solitary stoplight, he shut his eyes for a second, tried to feel better. About what he’d done with Carly this past weekend.

That hard, ugly truth was: He’d gotten selfish, taken
too much
control.