Three Men and a Woman: Haidee (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 5

  Reminding herself that no one knew better than she did that men lied, she stopped when her phone chimed. Pausing to read the text, she felt the first couple big raindrops. A storm was coming, and she was happy she was on the ground.

  The text was from Michele, a midwife and good friend, one of few in Flagstaff who knew the details of her unintended affair with Kyle. And the news Michele shared sucked, bigtime.

  Kyle’s wife was pregnant. Not so far along that it might have happened before Haidee and he had met, and not so little that it could have happened after she left. Michele’s assessment of the woman’s gestation could be relied upon. Pretty much, it confirmed that last thing Haidee hadn’t wanted to believe—that Kyle was still fucking his wife even as he fucked—totally screwed—Haidee. All that he said was bullshit. He’d deliberately deceived her, and his poor-little-unloved-me story was nothing but one more lie.

  She’d arched back and looked up at the black sky, searching vainly for understanding. When she’d spoken with Danny, she’d told herself she was done, that Kyle and her feelings for him were history.

  But she realized now she’d been fooling herself, because this still hurt.

  Feeling defeated and endlessly stupid, she dropped her head on some stranger’s car, fighting the urge to bang herself into it. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She’d known this. Kyle was a liar and a cheater and a user. He’d never loved her. She’d never been anything to him but a side piece, an easy fuck.

  Struggling with her emotions, feeling a hot flame of anger spark and begin to kindle, she barely reacted when she heard Vashi’s voice. She turned her head and didn’t resist when he took the phone from her hand.

  He caught onto her situation immediately, like he had a sixth sense for female drama. Unexpectedly, he made such an outrageous proposal she actually laughed.

  And then he made it seem perfectly reasonable.

  Now, he had her naked on his bed and had made her come twice—once, unexpectedly gently in his truck and now, aggressively and wildly.

  Unbelievably, he had her opening her legs to him, like it was entirely reasonable that her response to the news about Kyle would be to invite a man—a virtual stranger with a huge cock—to make any use of her body he wanted. And, obviously, the use he wanted was a good, hard fuck.

  Well, fuck Kyle. A good, hard fuck was exactly what she wanted, too. Maybe she was being careless. Okay, there was no maybe about it. She’d live with the regret later. Now, this was what she was ready for.

  So she moved her arms as he instructed and put her tits on display for him. Then she opened her legs and let him look. She let one shudder slide through her body and the end result, she knew, was a little tilt of her pelvis. A beckoning. A blatant offering of her pussy.

  There was a scary edge to Vashi, and she saw it again now as his eyes flared. He was holding that big cock of his, his gaze intent on her cunt. He savored the invitation, the implication of that bit of flex.

  Then he moved. Lithe like a powerful big cat, he came over her. He had one hand at her shoulder, his arm supporting his big body. His other hand still held his cock, and he touched her with it, just exactly at her opening. He held above her, their gazes locked. Through several breaths, he drew it out. Then he breached her.

  Slowly, he pushed in. Very slowly, so she felt every millimeter of stretch, every inch of penetration. Watching her eyes, letting her see the feral satisfaction as he took her.

  It was…unbelievable. Stretch so extreme that she hummed out a little screech of fear. A taking so complete that she felt possessed, owned, and absolutely sure that he intended exactly that. He lowered himself over her as he took her, his hard chest meeting and compressing her breasts, titillating her nipples. His face held over hers, his breath stealing hers.

  “Oh, God,” she said. He just held there, completely filling her, emphatically, entirely occupying her.

  He held himself on one elbow now and reached with his other hand to grasp her nipple again. He took her between thumb and finger and twisted like a dial. She shuddered out a groan, one of unexpected arousal and stunned incredulity.

  Inexplicably, Vashi knew her. Knew her body, far beyond how any other man had known her or even she, herself. Everything he’d done—sliding his fingers down her jeans and making her come, toying deep inside, finding some uber-sensitive spot that kept her simmering on that ride in his truck, grabbing her tits, working her nipples, and using his mouth on her with incredible, knowing skill—it was all as though he held some Haidee code, some previously undiscovered manual outlining her body’s blueprint, her sexual specs.

  She’d come twice already, had barely regrouped after that last, hard orgasm. But he just held over her, gazing intently and meaningfully into her eyes, torturing her nipple and staking her body, and waited. Like he expected her to rouse again. Like, once she had, he expected her to take care of it herself.

  Like she should wriggle under the weight of his massive body, like she should squirm until she felt every bit of exquisite stretch where he penetrated her, until the rough chafe of her clit against the hard pressure of his pelvis tormented her. Drove her up.

  It happened just as he seemed to intend. While he watched, she shamelessly and helplessly writhed under him. Muted by his weight, she made small, bucking movements, grinding onto him, flailing her legs out to take more of him.

  She was frustrated by the way he contained her. She cursed and wailed and then begged him to fuck her.

  But he didn’t. He left it all to her. And he enjoyed it, the sadistic bastard. His gaze was hot, excited. His fingers on her nipple gripped tighter, taking her to the edge of pain.

  Until she was crying out, wailing in frustration and ecstasy all at once. Overcome, exultant and furious, she convulsed in a slaying orgasm. She abused him as she went, grasping her fingers into strands of his hair and tugging hard, pounding a fist against his ribs.

  He laughed, the son of a bitch. He brought his head down and bit at her lip, hard. He growled and kissed her, shoving his tongue down her throat. Lifting just a hair, he allowed her to finish herself off, giving her just enough space that she could hump his cock, blasting herself into a shattering, unholy climax.

  * * * *

  Well, fuck me, Vashi thought, over and over in his head. Fuck me. Haidee Wells was an unexpected woman. No way had he imagined her to be so sexually…game. He really hadn’t known to expect it—ever.

  He could have come a half dozen times over, from when he’d humped the mattress going down on her to when she’d worked herself on his cock to that wild orgasm. But he’d been having so damn much fun, enjoying her going all, well, kind of cavegirl on him. Who knew? Who’d have ever thought?

  But he’d promised her a pounding fuck, and they were both going to have it.

  His head was dropped down beside hers, and he gave her a minute to catch her breath. His boner still claimed her, fitting so sweetly into that hot, tight little cunt. After a bit he took a couple experimental thrusts, and a couple more after that before she noticed.

  She moaned—more an “I object” moan than a “let’s get it on” deal.

  Too effin’ bad. He lifted up to look at her, to make sure she knew that the getting it on deal was a go. A definite go. It looked like she had to work to open her eyes to him.

  “I’m done,” she said.

  He grinned indulgently. “Remember when we talked about my cock pounding your cunt? That hasn’t happened yet.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t think I need that anymore.”

  “Oh, honey,” he answered and added a little stronger thrust to it. “I think you do.”

  “No, really. I’m fine.”

  “You are fine. But you’re not done.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t finish up. Have at it. I’m just going to lie here.”

  He actually chuckled. He was moving pretty good in her now, feeling pretty good, and there he was, laughing. He nipped at her lip. “You’re so cute, darlin’.
Like you don’t think this is going to happen.”

  “It’s not going to. I’m not going to come again.”

  He nipped again, hard. “It is,” he said. “You are. I’m going to fuck you until you scream, baby.”

  “That’s, like, the third little pet term you’ve used. Do you even remember my name?”

  He knew a diversion when he heard one, but he didn’t mind playing along. Though he was fucking her pretty good now, and it was so sweet his eyes were about ready to roll back in his head. “I remember your name, Haidee Wells. I know your height, can make a pretty good guess at your weight, and have a fair handle on your measurements.” He cupped his hand over her breast. “I especially like this top one, here.”

  That was nothing but the truth. She was a bit out of proportion there, those full, pert breasts compared to her otherwise long, slim body. Really, really nicely out of proportion. He kind of got lost in admiration of them until he was reminded about how playing with her tits really lit her fuse, so he started that up again.

  She gave him what he figured she thought was a badass look and flattened her hand over his, stilling his action. “We are really done with that.”

  He got her point. He’d maybe been a little rough with her there, though she hadn’t complained at the time. “We’ll go this way then, sweetheart.” He added that last just for fun. Leaning up on his other elbow, he went after her right nipple instead. “I can find something else to do with this hand.”

  The strategy didn’t fail him. He tweaked her a little, and pretty soon she closed her eyes, arching, tilting a bit like she was welcoming his cock, savoring the way he took her. He was thrusting fast and hard now, not quite pounding, but he was getting there. She rocked her pelvis, keeping time with him, and huffing out a breath with each fuck.

  “That’s it, baby.” He kissed her, sucking at that sweet mouth. “Look at me. I want to see you.”

  “Vashi,” she said, tossing her head a couple times. He stopped her with his forehead against hers, and, when he lifted, she opened her gaze to his.

  “Haidee,” he answered. He did have something to do with that other hand, so he let himself down onto the bed, his head beside hers, and used his palm to turn her to face him.

  Under his chest, he still worked that one nipple. He tried not to overdo it, but he didn’t have a lot of control. Watching her, he took his hand from her face and slid it down her shoulder. Further, down her flank to her hip. He squeezed her there, giving her a hand as she rocked to receive his every thrust.

  Then he slipped under her, his palm along her ass until he reached her little rear hole with his middle finger. He circled, toying with her there, shushing her when he saw the objection form on her lips.

  “Vashi.”

  God, he liked it when she said his name. “Shush, baby. I want this.”

  He pressed in, reaming a little, and she let out a shudder. “Vashi!”

  “You can take it, sweetheart. You can.” He was pounding now, and it was fucking heaven. She was so tight and hot, surrounding his cock, clasping like her pussy was made just for him. He groaned, just about out of his mind, and shoved his finger in. Then two fingers.

  Haidee squealed, but it wasn’t exactly an objection. At least, not one clear enough for him to process in his extreme arousal. He fucked her with those fingers and gloried in it.

  Fingers, cock, tongue, whatever, he loved fucking a woman’s ass. He loved the way a woman would go feral with it, her guttural groans, her utter capitulation, her surrender. Nothing signaled a woman’s submission more blatantly than when she let you take her ass.

  She was tight there, too, and she squirmed and shuddered as he worked his way in. With a wild howl, he understood what he had. A virgin ass. A fucking virgin ass.

  He cursed and swore. “I’m the first, aren’t I?” He fucked her hard. “Aren’t I? The first in your ass? Say it.”

  She moaned in answer, and he wasn’t satisfied. He rose up on his knees, lifting her ass so he could plunder deeper. His fingers, his cock, everything deeper.

  He had her now. She was nearly panicked, shuddering her breath out, quivering in extreme excitement, lost to it. He plunged into her, hard and deep and so fast that in the end she lost the rhythm of it. She just gave over, gave herself up and let him have her.

  He reamed her and fucked her, blowing his own fucking mind. She went over first, crying out, screaming like he’d predicted, convulsing hard and long. The spasms of her pussy drew him in, and he went, too, blinded with the ecstasy of it, his ears ringing, his throat letting out a savage roar.

  It rolled over him like a semitruck, leaving him collapsed on her, still shuddering into her. Beneath him, she still quivered, too, moaning when, after long minutes of total shut down, his cock and fingers slipped out of her. With heroic effort, he tilted a little, letting her out from under his weight, letting her breathe. She rolled, turning away from him, but he didn’t let her go far. He grasped her around the waist and tugged her close, draping an arm and a leg over her. Holding her to him embarrassingly, like he was a foolish youth, smitten by his first girl.

  * * * *

  Thunder and lightning came and went, storms rolling in nearly on top of each other. Haidee thought she dozed, but she was aware always of the powerful body behind her, and over her—containing her, possessing her just as he had done through that wild, way over the top, sexual…rodeo…festival…jubilee.

  She’d never experienced anything like it. In the last hour or two, she’d learned that, up to now, her experience of sex had been out and out tame. It was like what had happened with Vashi was a whole other category, not even the same thing.

  He was powerful, domineering, and extremely sexual—in an earthy, primal kind of way. He was thrilling. A little scary, a very lot thrilling. Like he could be her master, and she could be his slave. He’d done things…well, he’d introduced her to a side of herself she hadn’t known was there. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that newfound knowledge, but she was pretty sure she was never going to unknow it.

  At the least, he’d been right about a revenge fuck, because Kyle was so not on her mind now. And she was absolutely certain he never would be again.

  And, if she didn’t know what she was going to do with her new awareness, it seemed Vashi Vanchenko did. Behind her, he shifted to make room for his stiffening cock against her ass, and he started giving direction to her fledgling, Amazonian sexual self. Like a maestro to a neophyte.

  He let his cock press against her butt and stroked his hand—big, strong, warm—along her flank and hip. “There’s something I need to do,” he said. “I need it.”

  He said it almost as though he resented it. As though she wasn’t the only one who felt out of control, who’d discovered something new about sex and pleasure and…need.

  “I want you to give yourself to me, to…let me.” He didn’t explain further, just let that heavy hand keep stroking.

  He’d let her go, if she refused him…probably. He wouldn’t beg, not any more than he had, anyway. And, though Haidee waited, he didn’t explain further.

  Perhaps that was part of it, an essential aspect of his need. That she would give over—to anything. That she would trust and give herself up to him.

  “Will you, Haidee?”

  She’d known what her answer would be from the first, though it took something to admit it. “Yes.”

  He got up right away and took her with him, like he didn’t want to give her a chance to reconsider. He took her off the bed and walked her a few steps away to face the far wall of his room. Wood panels were interspersed with doors—some mirrored, some pretty, carved walnut. He stopped her in front of one of the mirrors and left her to turn on dim lights at either side. He looked back at her from the side, and, facing the mirror, she knew what he saw.

  Her body, as a sexual…repository, a vessel. His. His vessel. Like that was the sum total of her, Haidee Wells. An instrument for his pleasure. Keeping his gaze on her,
he opened two of the doors in front of her. They accordioned out, revealing a good length of the space behind them.

  It was his…sexual play area. The wall behind it was that same walnut with different textures carved into it and various slots and knobs and, well, she wasn’t sure what all. There were drawers that no doubt contained...something, some things. And there were leather cuffs placed high on the wall and low, too.

  With the doors open, mirrors were sited so they would reflect all that happened there.

  She’d said yes. To this.

  She stood, distracted only when Vashi moved. He went to the bed and then came back, standing behind her but to the side enough that he could see her—her front, in its reflection in the mirrors, and her back. And so she could see him, as he opened another condom and slowly covered that very big, very hard cock.

  He dropped the wrapping carelessly to the floor. Then, keeping his gaze locked on hers, he stepped behind her. With one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip, he moved her forward.

  He took her up to the wall, leaving her facing it, centered where the leather cuffs were. Pressing himself against her back—preempting any thought she might have to bolt—he raised one of her hands and then the other, and bound her wrists with the cuffs.

  She was captured, her arms lifted high, with just a little give. Not uncomfortable, but unescapably bound.

  His hands stroked along her arms and down her sides. “I still have you,” he said, close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. “You’re still okay.”

  Haidee huffed out a breath that was almost an acknowledgement, almost consent.

  His hands had held at her hips. They moved now, up and around, until he palmed her breasts. He caressed them then grasped them, holding them up as he pressed against her from behind.