Come Play With Me: An Erotica Collection. Madelynne Ellis
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jerk of his hips forces an explosive breath from my lungs. ‘May I bring him off now?’ I ask.
‘Like hell.’ He draws me upright onto my knees, my back pressed tight to his abs, while his hands rake across my chest, leaving the nipples perked up and sore from his pinches. The sting makes me long for the sensation of a warm mouth latched upon them, sucking, soothing the ache. It’s building in my sex too.
Jason’s other hand snakes downwards. Two fingers spear between my curls and trap my clit, squeezing it until it too is unbearably sensitised. Only then does he relent and poke those two fingers into the aching void inside me. Aroused beyond measure I grind myself against the palm of his hand. The torture continues, nipples, clit, pussy, arse – his cock still there, filling me and frustrating me. I want to come. I want more.
‘You could let Saul fuck me too.’
Saul stares at me, his mouth agape, green eyes twinkling in the half-light. Yes, says his expression, even though he doesn’t say a thing.
‘And why would I want to do that?’ Jason’s hand upon my breast moves up to encompass the base of my throat. Saul’s gaze is unblinking as he drinks down the vision of us, and the way our flesh quivers as it smacks together. The movements of his hands upon the sofa are slow now. Slow and steady. ‘It sounds like a bit too much fun for Saul.’
‘It’d be fun for us all, especially you.’ I slip my arm up into Jason’s hair, and pull him towards me for a kiss. ‘Aren’t you just a little bit curious?’
‘No.’
But I can tell just from the hitch in his breathing that he is. Not only is he interested, I’d swear they’ve discussed this, maybe even worked out the best position.
‘I want to feel his cock sliding alongside yours,’ I whisper into his mouth. ‘I want to feel your prick in my arse and his in my cunt. I want that tightness, that edge where the line between pleasure and pain blurs and nothing truly makes sense any more. I want you both to fuck me hard.’
‘Please,’ Saul adds his voice to the plea. ‘You’d still be on top.’
‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘If you think you can keep us both in line, that is.’
The challenge works. ‘Damnit!’ Jason snaps. ‘OK.’
Saul is up off the sofa before any of us can blink. He kneels before me, his hard cock in his hand as he guides it between my spread thighs. ‘Easy now.’ He finds the angle. We all hold still as he presses home. The pressure is intense, as is the feeling of fullness. I moan. I want to jerk away, but at the same time I long to prolong the intensity.
So close! I can barely stand to have them move. God! I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to come so much.
The lips of my sex meet with the hilt of Saul’s shaft. He holds still, deeply buried. Not so Jason, who bucks again and again, driving me forward into his lover’s arms. Saul smears sloppy kisses across my face. Jason bites the unblemished side of my neck, so that I’m left with twin hickeys. If this is what stealing the tea money gets me, I may yet take up a life of crime.
I’m virtually singing as I come, unable to stop the sounds escaping my throat as the spasms grip my body and blank my mind.
Jason pulls out and spills over my bottom. Saul comes into his own hand. Then we flop back onto the sofa in an ungainly pile.
‘That was intense,’ Saul sighs.
Jason reaches for a bottle from the wine rack and twists off the cap. He takes a swig and passes the bottle round. ‘Not bad, even if Freya is lousy at sticking to her role. What happened to being scared and wanting to be used and abused?’
‘Actually, I feel pretty used and abused. I’m not sure I’ll walk straight tomorrow.’
‘I doubt I can walk straight now.’ Saul stumbles as he searches for the tissue box. He grabs a handful and offers them round. ‘Whose turn is it next week?’
‘Can’t be mine,’ I reply.
‘Yours,’ Jason reluctantly admits. All the strutting bravado of minutes ago fades from his posture. He glances at Saul, distinctly nervous.
‘Cool. You know what I want.’
‘A night with Fearne Cotton?’
‘Uh-uh! Jase, you know you’re going to look gorgeous in that dog collar.’
‘And what do I get to be while you two are playing naughty priests?’
‘Only Jason is a priest.’ Saul ruffles Jason’s hair. He smiles at me. ‘You get to be the sinner making a confession.’
‘Ah!’ I wink. ‘You know, I’m liking it already. What are we using as the confession booth?’
Saul wraps his arms around Jason’s back from behind and rests his chin on his lover’s head. ‘Actually, I was thinking we could use your wardrobe. It has those wonderful lattice-work doors.’
I get tingly looking at them and running next week’s meet-up in my head. It’s the same frisson I get every week as we make our plans. Sometimes I get more of a buzz from the excitement of planning than I do from the actual sex. It’s not always to my taste, although tonight’s been good. ‘OK, you can defile my wardrobe. Consider it a date.’
‘Speaking of dates,’ says Jason. ‘I think I have one with a bath. Dirty fuck buddies welcome.’
Sugar Lumps
Rose de Fer
He’s good with horses. I can see that straightaway. The way he stands before them with natural authority, the way he strokes them with a combination of affection and firmness, the way he soothes them with his low voice when they shift skittishly and stamp their feet. Like every girl who’s ever been born, I’ve always loved horses. But I could never get them to trust me like that. Possibly because I’m too skittish myself.
‘Here,’ he says, passing me a lump of sugar. ‘Sapphire wants you to feed her.’
I hesitate before approaching the mare. She’s a magnificent creature. All sleek lines and rippling muscle, with a chestnut coat that gleams like polished mahogany. Her huge liquid eyes watch intently as John guides my hand towards her mouth. He straightens my fingers so the sugar rests on my palm like an offering. With a snort of hot breath the horse dips her head and I feel her velvety lips close over the sugar. My instinct is to pull away but he holds my hand still while she snuffles up the treat and licks my palm. Then she tosses her head and paws the ground in a flirtatious display that clearly means she wants more.
‘No, that’s enough for you,’ John laughs. ‘It’s Cheyenne’s turn now.’
He hands me another sugar cube and indicates the palomino who is nudging Sapphire out of the way. I reach up to stroke her tawny cheek and she gives a flick of her long blonde tail. Feeling a little more sure of myself, I draw my hand down along her sinewy neck and back up to her head. The effect is so calming I swear I can almost feel my blood pressure dropping with every second I spend touching her. I inhale her rich horsy scent and feel calmer than I have in months. She closes her eyes as I scratch her forehead and smooth her forelock out of her eyes. At last I hold up the treat and she snaps it up in a flash, no doubt to keep Sapphire from beating her to it.
Now both horses watch John expectantly, blinking their long-lashed eyes. He displays his empty hands. ‘That’s it, girls,’ he says. ‘No more.’
They nod their heads as though they understand his words before stepping lightly away from the fence. While not as fickle as cats, their affections clearly come at a price.
The horses trot back to the centre of the paddock, where they caper in a private game, kicking up their heels and running in circles. They stop to nuzzle each other before casting a look back our way. I suspect the show is just for us, a reminder of how very good they are, of how