Three Men and a Woman: Annabelle (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

He wouldn’t have thought to go there with Annabelle. Though he fucked her wildly, it was about love, too. She wasn’t his sex toy, but his woman. And for sure, she wasn’t someone who would accept his dominance in day-to-day life. More by far than any woman had ever been to him, she was his partner.

Nonetheless, one night when he’d been fucking her hard from behind, he’d lost it. In the wickedly powerful moment it was, he slapped her ass. He’d paused, meaning to soothe her, to apologize if needed. But she’d pushed back on him, needy and crying for more.

He wasn’t sure if she was asking for more spanking or more fucking. But he took and chance and spanked her again and then he knew. “Yes!” she’d cried. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He’d given her what she wanted that time and then others. Nights he bade her to get on her knees and suck him. Mornings when he’d instruct her to open her legs and play with herself so he could watch as he dressed. He’d be fully clothed in his suit and tie, entirely covered except for leaving his hard, pulsing cock out. He’d use it then, when she was already almost there, to fuck a hard, fast come into her.

He’d felt his way about it gently. They hadn’t really talked about it and it was clear that any dom-sub facet of their relationship applied only during sex.

He’d driven her sexually, and she’d been open and responsive. She hadn’t said no to anything he’d asked.

Now, he had her here. He’d found them this condo, a corner space with a great light for her painting and three big bedrooms. It was a huge amount of square footage for the city, and she couldn’t understand why he wanted it. Needed it.

Rowen had his reasons.

His last couple years of college, he’d shared a house with his two best buddies. They were also theater majors and the house had pretty much become the department’s party place. Kevin was destined to become a director and Braeden a screenwriter, but like him, they had toned, muscular bodies and hot good looks. At the house, there were always plenty of appealing chicks willing to put out. Sometimes they’d have three or more and party all together, getting it on with whatever pussy or mouth was within reach. Sometimes, they’d have only a couple, and they’d figured out ways to share.

And two or three times, they had just one. They each found a way to get happy, and they kept the girl very happy, too.

Rowen had loved that. It was totally hot, seeing his buddies fuck a woman while he was fucking her, too, watching as she screamed out her multiple orgasms. Each of them finishing off in her at the same time, while she was nearly comatose with the overstimulation of a triple fuck. It was fucking over the top. Literally. He’d never had anything like it since. And he wanted it.

If things went according to plan, he was going to get it.

Annabelle didn’t know it, but Kev was coming to town today. If she didn’t get home soon, he wasn’t going to have a chance to get her warmed up to the idea. To, ah, prime her pump, so to speak.

There. He stroked himself a little, anticipating. Annie was coming down the street.

And he had a couple more boundaries to push.

* * * *

Annabelle Talbot ran up the four flights to the condo she’d shared with Rowen for two months now. She still couldn’t believe he’d taken the property. It was huge, way more space than just the two of them needed, and way more cost than she could ever manage alone. But he was paying for most of it, even though her income was entirely decent—looking up, even, after today’s meeting at the botanical garden. So she didn’t really complain or try to stop him when the time came to sign on the dotted line. The place had such great light with its windows to the north and east giving perfect illumination for painting. Most days she was at work by sunrise, taking advantage of the early morning light. She loved it.

She loved the space, and she loved Rowen.

She’d been so intimidated she could hardly form a coherent response when he’d first approached her at that garden party. He’d been gentle, though, teasing in a smiling way, aware of his effect on her and easing her past it.

He was a wolf donning sheep’s clothing, and they both knew it.

The fact that he’d bothered was what counted.

He’d done nothing more than touch her hand that night, or her arm to guide her through a crowd. He’d charmed her, no doubt, but he’d been entirely self-aware about it. Somehow, he’d communicated that he was as surprised by his behavior as she was.

In the next weeks, he’d shown her that his charm was not just superficial polish. He’d enfolded her into his life, taking her on his arm into his theater crowd as though he was proud to show her off. He made not the least effort to disguise his attraction to her. If he looked at the glamorous women who approached them, it was with amusement that they should think they could draw his interest.

He was hers. He conveyed it with every word and touch.

Even before the two of them had ascertained that she was his.

Rowen made no effort at all to disguise his intent in that regard. He wanted her and took advantage of every opportunity to secure her. Still, he was honest about it.

He’d come to appreciate and enjoy the natural beauty of the gardens and preserves she studied. Well, it might be more accurate to say he appreciated
her
enjoyment of them. Nonetheless, the feeling was sincere. But his eyes would glaze after a few minutes if she rambled on out loud about how to capture the play of light in a particular scene, how to achieve the correct mix of color, or brush technique.

Whatever they did together, a garden stroll, a night at the theater, a meal shared at home, or dinner out, he put his full attention on her. She knew he was aware of her response to a play, her reaction to a wine he had her try, or her enthusiasm for crème brûlée.

He had a sharp mind, a wicked sense of humor, and an unveiled desire for her, Annabelle.

He’d approached her so gently when they first met, moved so slowly with her. By the time he finally touched her, she’d been ready to explode. Somehow, his measured, gradual seduction had kindled a fire in her she hadn’t known was there.

She’d had boyfriends before. She’d had fine sex with them, but never had she had fire. She hadn’t even known she’d been missing it.

Rowen wanted her all the time, and it was hot, hot, hot. Lately, she’d begun to remember the way her parents had so often disappeared into their room. When Annabelle turned four, they’d moved her bedroom to the opposite side of the house. As she grew older and began a little secret reading and exploring, she came to understand the reason for the move. A couple times when she was thirteen or fourteen, she’d stood silently outside their bedroom.

They weren’t gentle in their lovemaking, and they surely weren’t quiet.

She’d begun to realize that they’d wanted each other the way she and Rowen had come to do. She’d gotten over being embarrassed or ashamed. Every time Rowen pushed her to do something new, she came to like it. She trusted him now—very clearly, he knew more about what would feel good to her than she did.

To her significant surprise, Annabelle had even come to take pleasure in those moments when Rowen displayed his domineering tendencies. She liked to, um, submit.

Nothing about her past, not her accomplishments as an adult woman, not her previous sexual experiences, had given her a clue what a turn on it would be to bow to those darker inclinations.

He’d spank her while he fucked her into orgasm, and the sting of it would drive her into an oversensitized, exquisitely sharp climax. He’d put her on her knees while she took him in her mouth, and she loved it. That feeling of giving over, of giving up control, was a secret delight.

Perhaps it wasn’t politically correct. Perhaps it was lamentable behavior for a modern, independent woman.

But it seemed to speak to some basic, maybe primal desire in her to be owned by her man.

She wouldn’t accept it outside of their lovemaking. She wouldn’t allow it in any other aspect of their relationship. And it wasn’t even an issue. Annabelle knew without question that Rowen respected her intelligence and competence, her self-determination. They shared decision-making and control in all other realms of their lives together.

But when he fucked her, Rowen was in control. She submitted to whatever he wanted. And she always, always loved it.

His theater was dark tonight, and so she knew he’d be home waiting for her. Like it knew what was coming, her pussy had already begun to throb. On the stairs she flicked quickly at her nipples, making them hard. She remembered his stern instructions, weeks ago now. Whenever she was with him, he wanted to see her erect nipples poking out from behind her blouse.

Most often, when he was home before she was, he’d be ready when she opened the door. He’d push her back against it and start finger-fucking her pussy before she even dropped her purse and folio. He’d stick his tongue down her throat and tug at her nipple.

Sometimes he’d turn her around and fuck her right there. Other times, he’d bring her to climax with his fingers, or even just get her nearly there and then leave her hanging. All through dinner he’d give her hot looks and little prodding touches and caresses to keep her smoldering until finally, while they were on the couch watching TV, or later, when he took her to bed, he’d fuck her with a dick so hard it felt like a Louisville Slugger.

She never knew what it would be. But it would always be something, and always freaking hot.

She stopped when she got to the fifth floor to catch her breath. Between the stairs and frequent trips to the gym, she kept in shape. She needed it, to keep up with Rowen’s demands on her body. But it was never wise to cross her threshold already out of breath.

This time, the door opened before she even got there. Rowen stood leaning against the jamb, like the hot sex god he was. About as casual as he ever got, he wore a dress shirt all undone, soft white silk caressing his muscled chest and then draping over his ripped abs. Neat, dark-blue jeans fit tightly, holding back the long, hard cock that was already at half-mast. And rising.

He was ready for her. She swallowed slowly. She didn’t have to touch her own nipples again to please him. They were hard and tingling all on their own, and her cunt was already wet.

He stayed there in the doorway, though, and watched her in his knowing way. There was never a response her body had that he didn’t know about.

After a while his gaze came back from her tits and her pussy and met hers. “How’d the interview go?”

How sweet, a little foreplay. She smiled. “It went great. I got the job.”

He smiled back. “I knew you would.”

He was telling the truth. He had the greatest respect for her work, and on the rare occasion that someone turned down one of her proposals, he cussed the idiot out as a blind fucking asshole. His confidence in her was its own warm kind of turn on.

Now that very sexy mouth formed more of a quirk. “Feel like celebrating?”

Oh, yeah. She nodded slowly, but still he didn’t move.

“Open your purse. I want to see inside.”

Busted. With a mild blush warming her cheeks, Annabelle opened her purse for him. A little bit of white lace nestled on top of her wallet and makeup cases.

He peeked, and she saw his cock twitch.

“Annie,” he said. “You stopped on the third floor landing and took your panties off for me again, didn’t you?”

She was quiet but met his gaze unashamedly.

“Good girl. I like the white lace. It means you’re wearing that little white demi-bra from Le Mystère, doesn’t it?” She lifted her brow, daring him to find out.

Never one to resist a challenge, he grabbed hold of her jacket—a little, tight-fitting, peplumed, silk-and-linen blend of gray with pink pinstripes. The matching skirt was short and tight, with a slit in the back that Rowen was especially fond of. She liked it, too. She’d taken more than one subway ride with him standing behind her, middle finger up her cunt.

It was all part of a wardrobe that was new since he’d come into her life and pretty much taken over her shopping. She thought of it as her classy, call-girl style, kind of like a governor’s-hooker sort of outfit.

He pulled her in far enough to close the door then pushed her up against it. Ah, home at last.

“Are you wet for me, baby?”

He knew it, and set about finding out for himself. He started with unbuttoning her jacket. Underneath, nothing but a little Le Mystère, with two swollen pink nipples jutting out above, just waiting for someone’s hot mouth.

They weren’t kept waiting long. With a groan of excitement, Rowen bent and sucked one roughly into his mouth. At the same time, he pushed his hand up under her skirt and found her wet pussy. He shoved three fingers in deep, stretching her open, fucking her forcefully with them. So much for foreplay.

He had her other nipple in his fingers, pinching and tugging with the same rhythm he used in her cunt. Within minutes she was panting harshly, ready to come. At the last second, leaving her on the brink, he gave her one more good pinch and then stopped.

“Not yet, baby. I want to be inside you. I want to be fucking you hard when you come.”

Ah, she thought in relief. Not just a little tease today.

She cooperated readily as he turned her and pushed her up against the door. He kept a hand at the small of her back, prodding her forward. Her breasts, the tips still sensitive from his stimulation, were squeezed against the smooth wood of the door.

She could hear his rough breathing while he stood behind her, not speaking for a moment. He left her wondering what would be next, while her nipples and her pussy ached for him.

Then he spoke quietly. “Lift your skirt for me. I want to see your ass.”

Rowen loved her body. She’d spent years at the gym, trying to get rid of her generous curves. Within a month, he’d gotten her over her dissatisfaction with her shape. It was a womanly body, just made for a man to fuck. This man, he’d said. Now her days at the gym were all about stamina.

He’d coached her well, so she knew exactly what he wanted. She slipped her fingers down to the hem of her skirt. Ever so slowly she raised it, separating it at the slit so he got an early little peek at the very center of her ass.