Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
She keeps stroking, keeping up a steady pace, pulling on me with just the right amount of pressure, and I let loose what’s been building up all day.
I don’t think a hand job has ever felt so good or brought out such a powerful release.
“That was amazing,” I tell her when I’m able, and her eyes glow with pride. I wipe her hands with a fresh cloth and pull her close. “Thank you.”
She smiles sweetly and says, “Anytime.” It’s a dangerous offer.
Rafe has his turn, Conal and I work together to give Hazel one more orgasm for the night, then Conal pulls the splattered comforter off the bed.
“We made a mess.” Hazel sounds concerned.
“Will you be warm enough with just the sheet?” he asks her, and she nods quickly.
“I know you’ll all keep me warm.”
And we do.
BRON
In the morning, I wake up as Conal’s getting out of bed. He gestures for me not to disturb Hazel, who’s still sleeping soundly, so I slide out of bed and follow him out of the bedroom.
“It would be good if we can get an early start,” he says, his voice still thick from sleep. I nod, grab my stuff, and head to a bathroom in one of the nearby unused bedrooms. A lot of bands don’t hit the studio until the afternoon or evening, but we like to work first and play later; that’s how we grew up.
In the shower, as soon as my soapy hand makes contact with my dick, my brain helpfully imagines that it’s Hazel’s hand there.
She was so eager last night, so sincere in her actions; her only motivation was to make us feel good. I can’t wait to show her more new things, and my gut tells me she’ll be willing to play some of my favorite games once she’s had more experience.
In bed, her ass was pressed against me at one point, and I have no idea how I managed to go back to sleep. The softness and fullness of that particular part of her body fills my mind as I yank on my dick. Rubbing one out is my only hope for being able to stay focused today, at least for a few hours.
Before I go downstairs, I check on Hazel and find she’s still sleeping. There’s a smile on her lips, and I hope she’s dreaming about us.
Rafe’s out of bed, and somehow beats me downstairs. I find him and Conal in the kitchen, drinking coffee and raiding a platter of pastries. As we head into the studio, arms full of water bottles, coffee, and said pastries, Conal says, “A song came to me last night.”
Rafe and I exchange a look, neither of us surprised. Conal writes most of our lyrics, and his creativity ebbs and flows, as it does for all of us, but someone like Hazel could definitely light a spark.
Before we pick up where we left off last night, Conal grabs an acoustic guitar and sings what he wrote.
You’re a live wire
so much to admire
baby what you’re doing’s got my heart on fire …
It’s only a handful of lines, but the potential is clear. I suggest a couple more lines, and Rafe joins in, strumming a few chords.
This is typical for how we usually come up with songs, Rafe with the harmonies and melodies, Conal with the lyrics, and me filling things in where they’re needed. It’s almost always a collaborative process, but it’s not very common for us all to have the same energy for any particular song.
None of us speak Hazel’s name, but as the song comes together, it’s obvious she’s our shared inspiration.
We work on it until we’re all satisfied, and when it’s done, it feels like the most equal our songwriting has ever been. This piece belongs to all of us.
After just a couple of takes, the song is recorded, and everyone’s happy with the sound. More than happy, actually. There’s talk of it having the potential to be a big hit. I wonder how Hazel will react the first time she hears it.
Shortly after we move on to another track, the woman herself comes in to tell us she’s made lunch, and it’ll be ready anytime we’re able to take a break. When we make it into the kitchen, she brings out a big bowl and quickly tosses a salad with Caesar dressing. She’s also made chicken to go with it, and there are loaves of Italian bread.
There’s also another basket of muffins, and she makes a special point of showing them to me. The smile on her lips and blush on her cheeks make me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her upstairs, but that would confuse some of the folks here who only know her as Conal’s bride.
It’s fucking hot that she’s feeding us. I’ve never wanted a woman to play the little housewife, but thinking about Hazel in the kitchen, thinking about us while she cooks, makes me hard. I want to bend her over the counter and fuck her until she screams.