Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“I’m not a pussy, Josh. I want pussy.”
“From competition to teamwork,” Josh says as Heath lines up. “Better be careful. If we tangle piercings, we’ll be a mess.”
“Good job we know each other so well then, isn’t it?” Heath says, watching Josh’s dick pumping into me. “Let’s fuck your girlfriend’s cunt on the same fucking pitch.”
Josh pulls out so both men can work their cocks together, and I smile at the ceiling, drunk – heady and waiting. They normally use rubbers for two in one.
Taking two is going to hurt… especially without a warmup.
My cunt has to strain like fuck to take them both at once. Their cocks are so in sync that there is no wiggle room, nothing but one solid double pole that forces its way inside, and then uses me – with deep, long thrusts that have me moaning like the slut I am.
Josh and Heath are two teammates working in perfect union as they savage my pussy, and they are still in perfect union as they reach the crest – Heath striking a delight of a chord for my benefit, with his thumb on my clit.
Excellent work, partners.
We are all on the same team as we come together, my tits bobbing as I groan and swallow them up, crazy for deep, deep, deep, fucking DEEPER!
Heaven is a place on Earth.
It’s in a villa in France, on a weeklong vacation.
The guys are very careful in the aftermath, pulling out slowly to check out their cum slick cocks. Phew. They haven’t tangled. No piercings snagged.
“Great work,” I say as I catch my breath. “Top marks for that dare. You got me good.”
Heath smiles down at me, with a dirty sparkle in his eye.
“About what you shared earlier…” he says. “About a man you call Daddy…”
I lick my lips. “What about him?”
He spreads my thighs, checking out my cum dripping pussy.
“You said he uses a flannel to clean you out when you’ve been a naughty girl… in freezing cold water…”
“Yes, he does.”
Heath tips his head towards the doorway.
“I’ve got another suggestion for a party game,” he says. “Show not tell.”
Josh nips at my shoulder.
“Fuck, yeah. You’d better get your ass in that shower for Heathy baby,” my boyfriend tells me. “I think our client wants to try out fatherhood.”
“Gladly,” I giggle, and let Heath help me to my feet.
The energy has changed and lightened by the time we each take another glass of wine with a cheers, and Heath is back to our client again. All fun and games, and kinky proposals.
But the truth is out there now. Its face has been unveiled in the room.
Morning after syndrome has nothing on how Josh and I feel about Heathy baby.
Leaving him behind always hurts.
And it’s only going to get worse.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Heath is seriously bloody good when it comes to disguises. I barely recognise him when he appears from the dressing room in his baseball cap and sunglasses. His hair is twisted up so tightly, you can’t see so much as a glimpse of it, and his glasses block out any hint of his iconic eyes. There is no hint as to the shape of his brows, his shades are so big, and he’s dressed in a faded black t-shirt and bland grey shorts. Boring. Safe. Just a tourist set to blend into the background.
He told us to tone it down ourselves, so as not to draw any attention, hence I’ve opted for a basic cami dress and slathered myself in suntan lotion, rather than makeup. It feels odd to be bare faced, without fake lashes or scarlet lipstick on when I’m heading out for the day. Hell, I even wore eyeliner to the supermarket I worked at.
Josh looks different today, too – his hair styled flat and dull, the purple streak hidden under a blue baseball cap. He’s wearing one of Heath’s outfits – a beige vest top and some cutoff jeans.
We look so unlike our usual weirdo selves, I could almost laugh.
This isn’t the red-carpet style glamour I’d ever have expected around a superstar like Heath Mason. I used to imagine plenty of red-carpet encounters with him when I was fangirling through Nighttime Whispers over the years, revelling in my imagination and doing Connor’s head in. Yet, when the cab pulls up to the villa, set to take us to our vineyard destination, I find those previous fantasies don’t mean shit, not in the slightest. I don’t need glamour around Heath. The simplicity of him being him in a stupid disguise is way more than enough to have me grinning my head off – over the moon, in fact.
“I’ve chosen somewhere deluxe for us,” he tells me and Josh in the back seat, as though we would be expecting anything less for our reward. “They do gorgeous whites, still and sparkling.”