Mason’s touch brought her back as he slid behind her, lifting her hips and reaching between them to circle the pads of his fingers against her clit.

  The orgasm was upon her in an instant, and she screamed with the exquisite release of it. Logan freed her mouth so he could watch as she rode out the crashing waves, her thighs shaking and her toes curling.

  “There’s our good girl,” Mason praised, letting her slump against Logan’s chest. She heard the distinctive metal clink as he unbuckled his belt, felt the jostle as he tugged his jeans down. “Are you ready to take both of us?”

  That was enough to make her raise her head. “At the same time?”

  She shivered as he ran a hand down the crack of her ass, one long finger probing at her puckered hole. “You can take us, baby girl.”

  “I need inside you, Liv.” Logan said, lifting her to shove down his own jeans and leaning back against the passenger door, the tinted window casting a dark edge over his face.

  “O-okay…” Olivia shot them both a look, blood pounding in her ears. “How do we do this?”

  “Get that pretty pussy settled around Logan’s cock. Take him nice and deep.” Mason slipped the straps of her camisole off her shoulders as Logan’s hands held her waist, manoeuvring her until the head of his cock was nudging at her entrance.

  A deep sigh of fulfilment left her lips as he lowered her down onto his thick shaft, filling her up and stretching her good. The movement left her camisole pooled around her waist and her tits bare.

  Mason’s hands covered them, thumbs swiping at her peaked nipples as he mouthed at her neck. “She feels good, doesn’t she?” he asked, lifting his head to watch Logan.

  Logan’s eyes were closed, and he was breathing deeply, not moving a muscle as her pussy clenched around his cock.

  “So good,” he breathed, opening his eyes and staring into her soul.

  Her tits bounced when Mason released them, reaching to pull a small tube of lube from his back pocket. Distracted by Logan bending his head to latch onto her nipple and suckling, Olivia didn’t even notice the gentle insistence on her lower back, pushing her further onto Logan’s chest and creating access for Mason to play with her ass.

  She squeaked at the cool drizzle of lube that landed between her cheeks, and then relaxed into Mason’s massaging fingers as he swirled them around, and then in, her puckered hole.

  The press of both brothers was almost overwhelming; Logan commanded her attention with quick thrusts of his hips, pressing his cock deep inside her pussy, as Mason’s teasing sent a forbidden shot of ecstasy through her.

  Any inhibition she may have felt about taking both of them at once dissipated in the face of unrelenting pleasure. She wanted more. She wanted everything.

  “Lean forward, baby,” Mason said, the blunt head of his cock pushing against the resistance.

  She tensed, not feeling pain at the intrusion, but not feeling good, either.

  “What if I can’t?” Suddenly uncertain, she looked beseechingly at Logan.

  “Don’t fight it. Relax, Livvy girl,” Logan soothed, as Mason stroked a steady hand down her spine. “You’ve got this. We’re going to make you feel so good.”

  “Work her clit,” Mason grunted, the strain evident in his words as his cock sank a little deeper.

  Olivia moaned, the stretch a pleasure-pain flash that electrified her. Mason stilled as Logan wedged a band between them and thumbed her sensitive nub, making her grind down onto his hand and cock as the build of her orgasm renewed its climb.

  As she sank into the pleasure, Mason slid in further, praising her in husky pants until he bottomed out, balls deep in her ass.

  “I can feel you,” Logan hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, she’s tight.”

  “You think you can feel him,” Olivia muttered, succumbing to the instinctual urge to arch her back and… “Oh! Oh, right there!”

  The incredible fullness of two dicks–one hitting her g-spot and one making her every filthy fantasy a reality–coupled with Logan’s continued attention to her clit, had every nerve ending in Olivia’s body fizzing.

  Sweat slicked between her tits and she was chanting nonsensical words, chasing a high she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from.

  “That’s it. That’s our good girl.” Mason braced a hand on the window beside Logan’s head and pumped his hips, surging inside her. On his withdraw, Logan pushed deeper, the two creating a rhythm of give and take that had Olivia whimpering–begging–for release.

  She was mindless. Lost to the heaving bodies surrounding her. In her. Nothing else existed but the three of them, consummating their fate.

  And then she was crying out as her orgasm crested, frothing in waves of carnal satisfaction, dragging her under. She was barely aware of Logan groaning–long and guttural–as his cock pulsed cum deep into her cunt, and of Mason’s increased determination as he pounded into her ass before he came with a shout, burying his cock inside her.

  Mason crashed on top of her, pushing her further onto Logan’s chest until she was lodged between them; breath panting and bodies heaving.

  She was hot and sweaty, unable to move and with cum dripping from the two cocks stuffed inside her, and she’d never felt happier.

  Society might frown on what they were to each other, but Olivia knew they would make it work. Together.

  THE END

  DESPERATE DESIRES

  CHAPTER ONE

  LILY

  The dance studio may have been cool, but Lily Rutherford was sweating.

  “Again,” demanded Tyler, her coach. “You’re not getting enough height in that straddle jump.”

  He stood with hands on his lean hips, watching through the wall mirrors as Lily tried to catch her breath. They’d been going over her lyrical routine for the last three hours, and she was exhausted.

  Not that she dare show it. Tyler was exacting, and Lily couldn’t stand to disappoint him. Besides, he was right. Her energy was waning and she could do better.

  Closing her eyes, she breathed deep, focusing on the sequence of steps she needed to perfect. It was less than a month until her audition for the Paris dance school, and Lily’s chest constricted just a little tighter as the day drew closer. The choreography was ambitious, but showcased her technical perfection. If she could just bring a deeper level of emotion to the dance…

  Her brow furrowed as she opened her eyes; she could swear someone was watching her. Someone other than Tyler. But they were the only two left this late in the evening. Shaking off the prickle of awareness, she nodded to Tyler, who cued her music.

  As the haunting opening strains came over the speakers, Lily centered herself, sweeping out her arm in a flowing gesture and gliding immediately into a series of pirouettes.

  She danced the routine flawlessly, holding her final pose as the last notes faded. So caught up in the moment, she startled when a slow clap rang through the studio. Releasing her position, Lily looked over at the imposing man leaning languidly on the doorframe as he brought his hands together in applause.

  Her heart rate picked up.

  “Mr Astor-du Pont?” What was he doing here?

  “Who are you?” Tyler said sharply, stalking to the door.

  Tyler wasn’t a small man by any means, but he had nothing on the height and bulk of Conor Astor-du Pont.

  “I’m Lily’s legal guardian.” Conor crossed his arms over his powerful chest. “And you’re the man who’s kept her forty minutes late.”

  Scowling, Lily grabbed her water bottle and dance bag. That was a total exaggeration. She had to live with the Astor-du Pont’s while her parents were in Dubai for six months, but he wasn’t her guardian. And they’d gone over by half an hour, max.

  “Where’s Pete?” she asked.

  “Pete?” Conor raised an eyebrow at her, and she swallowed. Fuck, he was gorgeous.

  “Uh, your driver?”

  Typical that he wouldn’t know the man’s name. The Astor-du Ponts were even wealthier than her own family, and that was saying something.

  “Busy with Olivia and your brothers, apparently.” Conor shifted, obviously impatient to get going. “Are you ready?”

  “I could have caught an Uber.” She walked to stand beside Tyler, beyond uncomfortable with this whole situation.

  It was bad enough she had the hots for a married man the same age as her father; the dance studio was her ground, and him showing up was unnerving. With his sharply-cut bespoke suit, Conor should have looked out of place next to Tyler in his low-slung sweatpants and hoodie.

  But he didn’t.

  Lily suspected that with the formidable energy he projected like a force field, Conor Astor-du Pont would dominate any situation.

  “Thanks, Tyler. See you tomorrow,” she murmured, furrowing her brow at her coach’s pissy look. What was his problem?

  “Don’t be late,” Tyler said.

  She was never late. But she swallowed her retort when he patted her ass as she stepped away from him. What the hell was that?

  Conor was already striding through the foyer to the exit, and Lily had to jog to catch up with him.

  “I don’t like him,” Conor said as he held the door open for her.

  “Who? Tyler?” Lily shook her head as she walked ahead. “Too bad. He’s the best dance instructor in the city, and the godson of the director of the French dance school I’m trying to get into.”

  “Too bad?” The deep gravel of Conor’s baritone skated down Lily’s spine, causing her nipples to peak beneath the leotard she was wearing. Thankfully, the streetlights didn’t illuminate this far into the carpark.

  As she reached out to open the passenger door of his Bugatti, his muscled arm shot out, bracing against the vehicle and caging her against it.

  Gasping, Lily pressed herself back, all-too aware of the man bearing down on her.

  “What is your problem?” she snapped, hoping her attitude would deflect any attention from her obvious arousal.

  “You’re such a brat.” He huffed humorlessly. “I’d put Olivia over my knee if she spoke to me like that.”

  “Lucky you’re not my daddy, then.”

  The flash in his eyes should have made Lily afraid. No one goaded Conor Astor-du Pont and got away with it.

  Blood thrummed low in her pussy, and she clenched her thighs together. The only thing she was afraid of was him discovering this secret crush.

  “Don’t push me, little one,” he warned, the hand leaning against the car clenching into a fist beside her head. He looked dangerous–menacing–cast in shadow as he loomed over her, and the fizz of adrenalin coursing through Lily demanded she give into her fight-or-flight instinct.

  Too bad it wasn’t fight, flight or fuck.

  She licked her dry lips, obsessed with the way his eyes tracked her movement.

  “Get in the car,” he said gruffly, pulling away from her.

  She blinked, immediately missing his proximity. But he was rounding the back of the vehicle for the driver’s side before she could process his words. Did that actually happen the way she thought it had, or was her over-active imagination reading way too much into the situation?

  Because she could have sworn Conor Astor-du Pont was just as turned on as she was.

  CONOR

  This was madness. Conor wasn’t accustomed to feeling out of control, but, as Lily buckled up in the seat beside him, he was very close to losing it.

  His jaw ticked.

  He started the car, and even the powerful purr of the engine didn’t bring its usual calm. Pulling into the city traffic, he tried to ignore Lily. An impossible task, because the sweet scent of her sweat permeated the space between them, and in his periphery he could see her puckered nipples. Was that from the cold, or something else?

  The intense awareness between them was insane; she was the same age as his daughter.

  Where had this sudden desire come from? He’d known her since she was a child, and she’d never inspired any interest. It was only to appease his wife, Victoria, that he’d agreed to take on the Rutherford kids while their parents were away. Fuck knows, he didn’t like the idea of Olivia’s boyfriend sleeping just down the hall from her.

  Victoria. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. Neither he nor his wife had ever stayed true to their wedding vows. But he, at least, was discrete about his extramarital affairs.

  Conor could suffer a loveless marriage, but he refused to be made a fool. His lawyer was already drafting the divorce papers.

  Lily shifted in her seat, raising one shapely leg to rest against the dash.

  Seriously? Did the little brat know what this car was worth?

  “Take your foot down,” he demanded, keeping his eyes on the road even as her supple skin begged to distract him.

  “I’m stretching,” she protested, raising her hands above her head to prove her point.

  All she proved was that she would benefit from a spanking.

  “Lily. Remove your foot, now,” he growled, bringing the car to a stop at a red traffic light.

  He turned in his seat to face her, not missing the hitch in her breath. But she stared back at him defiantly, those plush lips of hers slightly parted and fuck if he didn’t want to shove his cock between them and force himself down her throat.

  “Or what?”

  He growled, hardly believing she was game enough to push back. This little show of taunting him deserved a reaction, and Lord knew she wasn’t getting any parental discipline from her own absent parents.

  It made sense she’d have daddy issues… and if that’s what she needed, he could be her daddy. The first thing he’d do would be to put her over his knee and turn her ass red.

  “Don’t make me ask twice, little one,” he warned, ignoring the traffic light as it switched from red to green. The car behind him beeped its horn and, without taking his eyes off Lily, he wound down his window and gave them the bird. When the car beeped again–longer this time–he sighed.

  Reaching beneath his seat, he pulled out his Ed Brown 1911 signature edition handgun, the engraved metalwork of the weapon flashing under the streetlight.

  Lily’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word. The offending car revved its engine and then pulled alongside them, the driver gesturing wildly at Conor. The passenger and driver both quietened instantly when Conor casually tapped the barrel of the gun against his steering wheel, his head cocked in their direction.

  The car sped off in a squeal of rubber.

  Conor didn’t remove his foot from the brake. How far was Lily going to push this, and how far was he willing to take it? He had few morals and cared little for society’s rules, so what was stopping him?

  Certainly not the fact she was twenty years his junior. Just the thought of her young, tight cunt had him salivating.

  He had zero respect for Aaron, Lily’s father. In fact, it gave him a thrill of satisfaction to think about fucking the man’s daughter; his balls tightening at the thought of taking a photo of Lily’s mouth crammed with his cock, and sending it to him.

  He raised an eyebrow at Lily, smirking when she silently lowered her foot.

  “Good girl.”

  Her cheeks flushed at the praise, and Conor’s smirk deepened.

  Game on, little one.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LILY

  Lily practically ran into the Astor-du Pont mansion after Conor parked in the state-of-the-art garage. She needed distance from that man, and quick.

  “Oh, gross!” She stopped in her tracks in the kitchen, face screwed up. Her brother Mason was sucking face with Olivia, while very obviously finger fucking her. Mason looked up–a shit-eating grin on his face–and Lily realized it wasn’t Mason at all, but Logan.

  Damn identical twins, always confusing people. She wondered if Olivia knew the brother who was knuckle-deep in her pussy wasn’t her boyfriend.

  “Heads up that Daddy is on his way in,” she told Logan, tipping her head in the direction she’d come. “And thanks for monopolizing Pete tonight.”

  “Who’s Pete?” Logan shot her a look as he pulled away from Olivia.

  She rolled her eyes. Fucking entitled men, not knowing the names of the employees.

  “Who’s Pete?” Mason echoed, entering the kitchen and immediately pulling Olivia into his arms. She went willingly, with Logan’s hand still kneading her ass.

  Huh. Guess that answered that question.

  “Forget it,” she huffed, pushing past them and heading upstairs. She was starving, but she’d shower first and hope the kitchen was empty when she came back downstairs. Being around Conor was fucking with her head, and she didn’t want to witness whatever fucked up threesome her brothers were involved in. Thank you very much.

  Not only was it disgusting to think about her siblings having sex, it also reminded her of how little sex she was getting herself. Or, to be more precise, the zero sex she was having.

  Like, ever.

  She was the oldest virgin she knew, which actually wasn’t saying much, considering how slutty the girls were at Vanguard Prep. Still. That knowledge didn’t help when she kept wearing out the batteries on her vibrator.

  Had she imagined the intent radiating from Conor earlier, or was he actually interested in her? The taboo associated with that thought lit her up inside, causing her heart to race. Because, god help her, she wanted him.

  She’d shower, and then eat, and then masturbate.

  And then be hopefully too tired to have erotic dreams about Mr Astor-du Pont.

  Lily hadn’t been asleep long when she came awake with a start, knowing instinctively she wasn’t alone in her bedroom. Her charging cell phone provided the only illumination, and she held her breath as she searched the shadows.

  When Conor stepped forward, she was certain she was dreaming.

  Lying on her stomach with her cheek to the pillow, she watched as he moved closer–a predator stalking his prey. The air was charged between them and she blinked.

 

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