DoubleTeamHer

Titania
Ladley

Book two in the
eXcitation
series.

Miami cop Frank Lyons has moved on
with his life yet he continues to harbor a secret addiction to his ex-wife
Jazmine, the sexiest and most sought-after stripper in the city. To appease his
obsession, he’s nabbed a new girlfriend, stunning and lusty Giovanna.

When Gio reveals her fantasy of
being double-teamed by Frank and another woman, who else to seek out for the
hot ménage but Jazmine?

Yet Gio and Jaz don’t expect their
attraction to one another to be so strong, and Frank doesn’t expect to be swept
up in the kinky whirlwind the two sex kittens put him through.

Inside Scoop
: Contains GLBT,
f/f love scenes.

An Exotika®
contemporary erotica
story from
Ellora’s Cave

“You’re shitting me. Really?” My new girlfriend Giovanna and
I had just had a phenomenal orgasmic explosion—well that is if her sexy mewls
had been an indication. With her I could have an overwhelming release even in
missionary…just like it’d been with Leah, a prior bartender at Puss ’N Tush who’d
turned out to be an undercover at my precinct.

Hell yeah. The sex with Leah had been amazing but in a
different way due to my obsession with craving anal all the time, and her
fetish with needing to receive it. To top off the intensity of it, we’d then
added her ex-husband Ned to our relationship so she could get
double-penetrated.

It had been good while it lasted, the novelty of having a
threesome with a woman and a man instead of two women. At first I’d been hesitant
since I could feel his cock rubbing against mine and our balls slapping
together. But I’d grown used to it, even become addicted to it for a while.
Boredom had eventually set in for all three of us right around the same time
she’d announced that she and Ned were getting back together and remarrying.

In truth, sex with my ex-wife Jazmine had been tenfold more
hot than it had been in those threesomes with Leah and Ned. But what else was I
going to do? Jaz had been forced to leave her stripping job and had married
that lawyer asshole Rob. I hadn’t heard from her since.

So now there was this hottie divorcée Giovanna. God, how I
dug her sexy name. Loved to whisper it in her ear right before all my control shattered
inside her.

“No, Frank, I’m not ‘shitting’ you.” She was quite the
vision, so damn stunning. A head-turner, the brunette version of Jaz.

Fuck. Enough, you moron. Jaz is gone. Happily married
with a moon-high credit limit, the one thing you couldn’t provide her during your
chaotic marriage.

Now there was Gio, a satisfying replacement and a twenty on
a zero-to-ten babe scale.

Just like Jazmine.

Goddamn it. Stop bringing her into this.

I shook that she-demon from my mind and focused on Giovanna.
Her dark hair spread around her on the white pillow like the wings of an angel.
But Gio was no angel, I could definitely attest to that. She wrapped her arms
around me, squeezed on my dick with her pussy muscles and gave me one of those
beguiling smiles, one that always got me hard in five seconds flat. Damn but
sex with her was incredible. Smokin’ incredible.

I kissed her delicious mouth and nibbled on her bottom lip.
Factor in her tongue and she could do crazy things to my cock. “Oookay, let me
get this straight. You want to have a threesome—but with me and a
woman
instead of a man?”

“Yes. That’s what I said.” She pushed me away until my penis
slid from her warm sheath.

I sat on the edge of the bed, reached for the glass tumbler
on the nightstand and threw back the shot of whiskey. A shudder rippled through
my body. It was followed by the usual warmth in my belly and the almost instant
beginnings of a pleasant buzz. “Surprises me. Never thought you’d go for
anything but men. You’re a maneater. Can’t picture you as a womaneater.”

Not that I was complaining.

“I know I’ve never told you before but to be sandwiched
between a hard hunk like you and a soft woman could get interesting. Can’t you
see? I already know what a man feels like. There were all those men in
college—one at a time, mind you—then my ex-husband Nolan, then a few dates
after my divorce and now you. So why would I want more men? I can get a man in
a snap. I want to try a woman now and see if it has the same effect, see if it
turns me on just as much.” She shifted around so her head hung off the bed next
to my hip and her hair cascaded to the floor. Her full, tasty tits shifted
downward, closer to her collarbones. I shivered when she grabbed my hand and
slid it down her belly, guided my finger to her clit.

A horny gleam lit her dark-brown eyes when she forced my
finger through her slit and into her pussy. Nasty stickiness with a mixture of
my cum and her juices enclosed my finger.

“I want to know what it feels like, that’s all.” She
shrugged one creamy shoulder, lifted her hips and thrust against my hand. “Ah
yes, just imagine having two women. Letting me be the link between you and her.
And you teaching me how to please her.”

My cock had already grown half-hard. How could it not given
her new fantasy? While I’d been open to a threesome with Leah and Ned, me and
two women had always been my preference.

Two to one. Me being the one. Hot chicks being the two.

Yet I had been in the middle.

I’d tried it a few times ages ago and it had been fantastic.
But finding two women in the same place at the same time who were game for it
had been a problem. So I’d given up and, one at a time, had banged every single
woman who’d come along. The beautiful ones. The high-class unattainable ones
who were picky about their men. According to all these women I had that special
“it”—the supposed good looks and charm and talent in bed—that got their blood
racing and their pussies getting all wet and warm.

Though at Puss ’N Tush most women were already participating
in “relationships”. And I’d had no interest in joining in on the usual orgies
that went on there. No, I’d haunted that place before it had closed down
because of one thing, one person.

Jazmine.

But I’d heard the place had reopened.

Maybe Gio and I could pay for an hour in the party room with
one of the new strippers…

“Come here, you gorgeous nympho.” I slid my arm under her
hips, lay down and rolled her on top of me so her pussy perched over my mouth
and her mouth over my dick. The scent of her sex mixed with my cum wafted
around my face. I inhaled, held it in my lungs as if I’d just taken a drag off
a joint. I’d grown to love the smells of our lovemaking, to crave it. To taste
it. My lower stomach quickened and my cock tingled. I flicked my tongue back
and forth over her rigid knot. The bittersweet flavor of our cream burst on my
tongue.

She moaned and sucked one of my balls into her mouth. Her
hand slid between us and grasped my penis. She stroked it while she released
one side of my balls and sucked the other into her mouth. Her teeth scraped my
flesh with gentle care, her tongue circled that half of my tightening scrotum.

The sensations of her nipples grazing my stomach and her
mouth doing those talented things between my legs made fire blaze through my
loins. I hissed, drew my legs up and planted my feet on the bed.

“Ah baby, you know what I want. Do it.” Her pussy muffled my
voice. I slid my tongue into her vagina, my nose near her tight, fragrant
asshole.

She released me and reached for the lube on the nightstand,
causing her cunt to move away from me momentarily. Anticipation for what was to
come made my cock stiffen to a full hard-on.

Her voice turned breathy, the way it always did when she
knew a good orgasm loomed close. “Yes. Oh yes. Believe me I’m going to do it
all right.”

The sounds of the cap flipping open and the lube squirting
from the tube made me salivate and my asshole constrict. She reached behind
her, slathered a small amount on my fingers. Her right finger dipped into the
blotch of lube in her left palm. She rolled the finger around until it became
coated from tip to knuckle.

I wrapped my arms around her hips and drew her cunt to my
mouth. She screamed in pleasure, rested her lubed hands palms up on the bed and
sucked my cock into her mouth. This was the way it always went when we were in
the mood for sixty-nine. From my initial eating her pussy to get her going to
the near-suspense of the lube preparation and then her brief sucking of my cock
for foreplay.

It never took long from start to finish.

She wedged her hand in between us and slathered the
slickness on her big tits. Her other hand arced around my thigh until she
located my anus. The circling of my hole sent jolts of pleasure through my
loins. I licked her clit and mimicked her move—found her asshole with my slippery
finger. The berry scent of the gel made my eyes roll back in my head and I
licked my lips before returning my tongue to her pussy.

She pulled my balls back into her mouth and sank just the
tip of her finger in my ass. I did the same to her. She moved in a rocking
motion so her pussy rubbed over my face and her tits stroked my cock. A tit
fuck, one of my favorite things for her to do to me.

That and the ass play.

“Mm, Giovanna, you’re making me crazy. I’m almost there.”

“Me too, me too. Oh god, it’s—” She licked and nipped at my
balls, rubbed her boobs faster up and down my dick, intensifying the ache in my
groin and ass. “Do it. Sink it in.”

I was ready too, no doubt about it. The first waves of
pleasure took hold. “Fuck my ass. Now. Now before I—” Our lubed fingers plunged
deep into each other’s holes. We screwed in piston-style motions. The
stimulation of my prostrate shoved me over the edge. The climaxes like this
were always mind-blowing.

Gio’s wild she-cat response resonated in the room. She
growled, ground her pussy over my face and made backward thrusting motions
until my finger disappeared to the knuckle inside her. The ripples of her
release massaged my finger. Her muffled screams as she attempted to keep my
balls in her mouth and continue the rhythm, finger-fucking my asshole, had to
be the hottest thing I’d ever experienced in my entire life.

Except for sex with Jaz.

Damn you. Stop with the Jaz shit.

When we came down from our high and collapsed in fits of
wheezing and “Jesus” and “wow” comments, I smacked her ass.

She jolted to a sitting position. “Ow.”

“You have the sexiest ass.” I rubbed at the pink handprint
on her rump. “Now. How about we get a shower, get a bite to eat, head out and
go on the prowl, search for that other woman?”

Gio glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Now?” She spun
around until she lay flat on my stomach. Her lips grazed and sucked my mouth.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of late for that?”

“Uh, no.” I sat up and eased her to the bed. “In fact I
think I have just the right place we can go to set your fantasy in motion.”

I wasn’t sure how it would feel to walk back in there and
not see Jaz, but Gio had proposed a tempting scenario about adding a woman to
our bed with Gio in the middle. What better place than the club to find the
perfect chick?

Her eyes gleamed with mischief and anticipation. “Really?
Where?”

I rose from the bed, reached for her hand and led her toward
the bathroom. “A crazy sex club and strip joint. You’re absolutely not going to
believe your eyes. And if there’s any place in this whole goddamn world where
we can find that woman you crave, it’s Puss ’N Tush. We’ll find someone so
scorchin’, you’ll have the best first-woman experience of your life.”

I twirled around the pole and played with my clit. It did
nothing for me. Not even my vibrator could get me off lately but I gave what I
hoped was an alluring pout at the heavyset man waving a twenty-dollar bill. He
leered at me and a chill of disgust rippled up my spine.

God how I hated this job here at Miami Beach’s Puss ’N Tush nightclub.
It had reopened with a new owner Clive Greville following the arrest and
conviction of the previous asshole owner Tito “Sawshark” Faggini. From the
gossip I’d heard around the club Clive and Tito had been business associates in
the past. Like a fool, Tito had laundered drug money through the club and been
caught by undercover cops. Now that Tito was in prison Clive had taken over and
had allegedly kept the scams alive.

Really, they should’ve just burned the place down after all
that mess with Tito.

Yet here I stood humping the pole as if it were some huge
cock I tried to get hard.

Why had I agreed to take my job back? Why oh
why
?

What I knew for sure was that it wasn’t because Clive had
offered me a base salary in addition to my hefty tips. He and his management
weren’t idiots by any means. I lured droves of customers in due to my local
fame of being the most sought-after stripper in Miami Beach. A salary for me
was worth it to them, an investment that would gain them huge returns.

Still, it wasn’t the money that had made me accept the job.
No. Money wasn’t an issue for me at all, not like it used to be with my first
husband Frank Lyons. We’d scrimped to get by. I sighed. Okay, so the massive debt
had been because of me and my shopping addiction. I could admit that now since,
according to my divorce lawyer, I’d soon be sitting on a tidy settlement from
my second husband—upcoming
ex
-husband—Rob. A seasoned lawyer.

A lawyer with tons of money, half of which would soon be
mine.

So my decision to come back here and work baffled me. The
love-hate relationship seemed similar to what I’d had with certain lovers in
the past. Same as it had been with Frank. Funny. Here he was a cop and I
practically whored myself. He’d disregarded it in order to be with me after our
divorce.

I wonder where he is these days.

Huh. Maybe I’d come back here in hopes of seeing him walk
through that door again?

Nah, that wouldn’t happen. Rumor had it he’d dropped out of
this kinky scene when I’d married Rob after that night here at the club. I’d
heard from one of the bartenders that he’d taken up with an undercover cop
who’d worked here for a bit and had contributed to putting Tito behind bars.
Someone named Cindy. Or was it Sandy or something similar?

Oh well. It didn’t matter. The post-divorce planned
encounters with Frank and I had ended following Rob’s discovery in one of the
back party rooms when Frank and I were having one of our unbelievable
rendezvous. Frank’s cock had been centimeters from entering my ass when Rob had
burst in and dragged me home.

Sex with Frank had always been magnificent. He could get me
hot in ways Rob never could.

I slid downward with my back to the pole. My long hair
covered my chest, my nipples poking through the strands to tempt and draw money
from the gawking customers.

What a jerk of a husband Rob had turned out to be.
Controlling, selfish and jealous as hell. But I’d hung on for a couple of
months so I could divorce him and wring a decent settlement out of him.

I palmed my breasts and tweaked the areolas, circled my
tongue around my red-painted lips. The crowd whooped and roared. After the
emcee had introduced me for my spotlight appearance, the seats spoked around
the stage had filled in no time and the swarm behind them had packed in
elbow-to-elbow.

I snorted. Pussy to dick, ass to dick more like it.

Losers. All of them. Why couldn’t they just stay home and
get some from their partners, wives or whomever?

I gyrated and finger-fucked myself while scanning the room.
The ogling and cheers of my fans faded into the far-off distance while I took
in all the illicit activities.

A group of three couples sat at a long table crowded with
cocktails. They clinked glasses and passed around a joint. Their topless female
companions hiked up their skirts and took turns straddling and bouncing on each
man.

Not far off a thin man went down on one knee and sucked the
cock of a seated buff dude. A third man lay on the edge of the dance floor,
tongued the head-bobber’s ass and jerked himself off. Ugh. This place made me
sick. It bored me so fucking much.

But then I caught sight of two naked women on a leather sofa
in the lounge area. Their curvy bodies were twisted together in a sixty-nine,
reminding me of a soft, tasty pretzel. I wondered what that would feel like. My
mouth watered, and to my surprise my loins stirred.

What?

Other than teasing some customers around the bar or in one
of the back rooms to wring money out of them and partially fulfill a couple’s
fantasies, I’d never been with a woman like
that
before. I’d certainly
not put my mouth on a female customer’s pussy or allowed a man—with the
exception of Frank—to penetrate me in this crazy place. There’d also been a
little onstage foreplay with a few of the strippers to up the tips but that was
as far as it’d gone. Most of the strippers here engaged in girl-on-girl play in
their personal lives too—even all-out sex—but it had never interested me.

Before now anyway.

Maybe I should give it a try?

Nah, I really missed Frank. Frank’s scrumptious cock was
what I longed for.

I squinted my eyes and searched through the smoky room
toward the door where more patrons filed in. Men, women, transvestites, dykes,
you name it. They all came to fuck on the dance floor, snort a line of cocaine,
engage in threesomes and foursomes and more in the corner, at the bar, wherever
their horny genitals led them.

But most came to see me.

Whatever. It used to make my ego swell but not now. I needed
something more in my life yet I couldn’t pinpoint it.

Damn my feet hurt in these stupid stilettoes. I slithered
around the pole and got on all fours to relieve the pressure on the blisters,
crawled toward Mr. Gag-Me Twenty Dollars and let my bare breasts dangle and
sway. He ogled my tits and licked the drool from his mouth.

“Baby, you are so fucking hot.” His voice sounded nasally
and gruff. He swiped the back of his hand across the sweat on his upper lip and
inhaled snot into his sinuses.

My stomach turned. Great. He had a cold or the flu or
something. Good thing I’d gotten a flu shot.

There was no room to sit down and set my heels on either
side of his seat so I kneeled and bent forward, sliding my hands around his fat
neck. I winked at him. “Thank you, handsome. You’re not so bad yourself.”

I pulled his head between my breasts and squeezed them
together. No way was I going to rub his germ-infested snotty face between my
legs like I did some customers. He’d have to settle for this. Boy would I ever
love to hold him here and smother him so he’d just die.

While his muffled grunts of, “Ah Jazmine, Jazzy baby, I
wanna fuck that tight little asshole of yours” faded into the head-pounding
rock music blasting from the overhead speakers, I scrutinized the room again.

Searching.

Searching for something, someone. Other than being certain
about craving Frank’s delicious body and handsome face, I wasn’t sure who or
what else that urge could be.

Then I noted a tall man passing through the door between the
two bouncers. He had dark hair. Yes, I could see that even through the smoky
air. Frank? Was that Frank?

My heart skipped a beat and my pussy warmed. I pushed the
customer’s head from my chest and lay on my back, did a few enticing quick
splits in the air with my legs to stall while the man at the entrance moved
closer. When I grabbed the pole and dragged myself up, grinding my pussy into
the hard surface as I slid upward, the man moved nearer and my heart sank.

It wasn’t Frank. In fact the patron wasn’t nearly as
handsome as he’d looked from a distance. Not even close to Frank’s breathtaking
handsomeness.

Well crap.

At least my timeslot on stage was almost over. Maybe five
more minutes or so. Hopefully my feet would hold out. Thank goodness I didn’t
have any private sessions lined up. My mouth was dry and my stomach growled. I
needed a snack and a cool drink. All I wanted was to go hunker down in the
break room and inhale a bag of chips and a Pepsi.

Actually that wasn’t all I wanted. I’d trade those chips for
Frank any day.

But that wasn’t happening. Ever. Never again.

I let out a long breath, plastered on a seductive smile and
slithered toward my next subject. A woman. A mannish one.

Why not? Even though she seemed sort of butchy it would be
an interesting break from all these leering men. Yeah, but still I couldn’t
understand why any woman who wanted a woman could go for this masculine type.
If you were a lesbian didn’t that mean you wanted a woman? I would go for the
lipstick lesbian type if I ever got with a woman. So this was just for Ss and
Gs to pass my time and get the fuck out of here.

With one last flash in my head of the memory of hot sex with
Frank, I approached the drooling dyke and said, “Hey good-looking. Your pussy
all wet watching me? You wanna fuck me?”

She smiled, raked her gaze in a zigzag along my body and ran
a hand through her spiky mohawked hair. In a deep voice she replied, “Ooh yeah,
you goddamn hot whore. Pussy’s gone but my dick is hard as hell, baby. And
since I hope to buy an hour with you in a private room, you bet I’m going to
fuck you. Every hole you got.”

Panic leaped in my throat and choked me. I couldn’t bring
myself to even touch her—or was it a him? Did she mean she’d had a sex change
operation? Really I had nothing against women who wanted to transform into the
male gender. Or the other way around. But it wasn’t my thing, that I knew.

I longed to get the hell off this stage and go to management
and see that this woman’s private party didn’t happen. I could come up with
some sort of excuse. Maybe that I had to leave for an emergency. And hopefully
get one of the other girls to fill in for me if Dyke got the party with me
slotted in the club’s schedule.

One last time I examined the bouncer area where patrons
continued to pour in.

Frank. Oh god, Frank. Will you ever return to the club?

The emcee approached with his microphone and stopped at the
bottom of the steps. He reached for my hand and assisted me down the stairs.
His hold was tight, more likely because he knew these heels were feet-killers
and that it wouldn’t do for a stripper to tumble off the stage and sue. Or
totally negate all the sexiness and money she’d just racked up.

He pressed a chiffon red robe and a matching G-string into
my hand. “Here ya go, Jazmine.”

“Damn, ain’t she such a bangable piece of ass?” The crowd
roared and whistled. “Give our hottest, most talented dancer a huge round of
applause for all that hedonistic pleasure she provided you horny bastards and
bitches.”

A rumble of laughter flowed through the pack of pervs and as
usual the deafening sounds of clapping and more whistling echoed off the walls
and drowned out the overhead music.

I slid into the short, skimpy robe and sighed at its soft
feel on my skin and the sense of protection it offered from prying eyes. The
emcee held my shoulders, blocked the view of ogling customers and steadied me
so I could slip on the skimpy thong.

“Let’s go, doll.” He leaned close, perched his mouth near my
ear and raised his voice over the drone of losers. “So far no private bookings
in the back so go take a load off your feet, get a bite to eat and do a line or
two to get you revved for the next round.”

A line or two. Hooray. I hated doing coke but it was a
requirement of the job just before appearing on stage. They wanted us horny,
ripe, enticing, at our sexiest. To bring in top dollar to the club. I did my
best to fake it. I’d gotten down the routine—pretend-snort then wipe it off in
my lap with the heel of the same hand. I’d seen it in a movie once and had perfected
it, thank goodness.

“Gotcha. Can’t wait.” My tone came out disinterested but the
emcee didn’t seem to notice or care. He got paid his hefty salary whether I dug
my job or not.

He gave my hand a squeeze, released it and returned to his
raised corner with its thousands of dollars of DJ audio equipment.

Voices swirled around me. Customers leered and groped at me.
I slapped their hands away, smiled at the ones who didn’t dare touch me. After
fending off the rabid wolves I pivoted on my killer heels toward the entrance,
just to swing by before I headed to my quiet haven.

Talk about losers. I was the worst of them all. I still
watched for Frank, for anyone or anything to get me out of this nightmare life.
To at least give me a few minutes reprieve from it and show me a purpose in
this dull existence of mine. I dodged the crowd and searched for the door,
hoping and praying for him to appear.

For heaven’s sake, people, get out of my way.

I moved a few steps closer. The swarm parted for me as if I
were some queen or movie star or something. Finally I got a clear view. But of
course nothing. No one who piqued my interest or thawed my icy blood arrived on
the perverted club’s doorstep.

Just as I started to turn away, a tall man with dark hair
stepped through the double doors. My blood melted just a smidgen. Hope bloomed
in my heart.

“Frank?” I whispered.

I continued to walk—sashay really, in case it was him—toward
the door. The crowd parted farther. Tunnel vision seized me and I moved as if
in a dream. In spite of my sore feet, I would get there, I would. If Frank had
come to see me, not even raw, bleeding feet could stop me.