Cooking up a Storm (22 page)

‘But–’ Abby began.

‘For God’s sake,’ Storm muttered.

Abby fluttered her wide green eyes at him. ‘Maybe you could help, Storm. I just can’t imagine how this position looks.’

‘
Putain
,’ he swore. He’d help her get positioned.

Her mouth ‘O’d as he pushed off the wall and strode towards her, the innocence of her expression ruined by the flickering attention she gave his bulge. Look your fill, he thought savagely, his entire abdomen pounding. Without warning, he knelt before Abby, shoved her longest finger between Marissa’s creamy lips and forced it to rub the protuberant blade of her clit.

Even then she didn’t flinch.

‘There,’ he growled. ‘That’s a nice position.’

‘Hm,’ said Jack, as though Storm had moved an apple an inch to the left. ‘Storm, why don’t you lift Marissa’s arm over her head for me?’

Thus he became the photographer’s assistant, manoeuvring the women into the echoes of his most hackneyed male fantasies. The fact that he knew they were hackneyed didn’t lessen the effect of each position on his private parts. By the time he’d worked the two into a
soixante-neuf
, his cock felt hard enough to break off. His hands were shaking. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face. The women were hiding smiles each time he drew close to rearrange them.

‘I’ve got enough of this series,’ Jack said, but before Storm could sag in relief — or disappointment; it was hard to say which — he added: ‘Why don’t you strip off and join them?’

The women sat up, eager as puppies for a treat. Jack turned as well and consequently three sets of eyes watched him peel down to his briefs. His skin crawled with awareness. He could feel the head of his cock poking above the waistband. Abby licked her lips. Jack just smiled.

Storm jerked the briefs down and tossed them on to his other clothes.

Marissa whistled with the enthusiasm of a construction worker. To Storm’s extreme self-disgust, he blushed. To hell with this, he thought, striding towards the women. They rolled apart for him, then rolled together when he settled between them. He shuddered as their flesh pressed him from either side. He’d been with more than one woman before, but never in an atmosphere so charged. He’d happily have fucked either one of them, repeatedly, for broadcast on the evening news.

Jack snapped a single shot of their huddle, then stepped out from behind the tripod.

‘Hm,’ he said, studying the composition.

‘You’ve lost your arranger.’ Abby’s voice dripped honey and smoke.

Jack pinched his lower lip. ‘So I have.’

‘Perhaps you’ll have to do it yourself,’ Marissa said.

‘Oh, no,’ Storm said, though he knew he’d be better off keeping quiet.

Jack grinned at him. Abby nipped the meat of his shoulder. ‘You had your fun,’ she said. ‘It’s only fair you let us have some, too.’

Storm sighed. When she put it like that, how could he refuse?

At first, Jack’s touches were professional — and indirect. He moved the girls so that their breasts rolled on to his ribs or their hair mingled over his groin. He placed Abby’s hand over his pectoral, Marissa’s thigh across his belly. After a while, though, he began to touch Storm himself, lifting his arm, tilting his head. More than once he dragged his hand down the length of his spine, which made him shiver but had nothing to do with getting him into position. In the end, the pretence of picture-taking was swept aside and the girls joined in, moving him this way and that, like a bendable mannequin for an X-rated shop window.

‘This pose is nice,’ Marissa said.

They had him straddling both girls’ hips. His cock hung down between their bodies, hot and thick, fighting its own weight. It didn’t feel like a part of him anymore, more like an alien invader. He was ready to plunder, ready to fuck till morning. Unfortunately, the rules of this game didn’t seem to allow for anything but torment.

He swore in French, not wanting to scare the women with the violence of his need.

Abby must have guessed his meaning. She ran the back of one finger over his cock’s dangling head. Storm groaned at the fleeting touch. She showed the fluid she’d gathered to Marissa. Marissa grinned and pulled the finger into her mouth, sucking it in and out long after it was clean.

Abby flushed. Marissa chuckled. She was rubbing Storm’s nose in it. She’d fucked Abby. He knew it. ‘I feel you, too,’ he said. ‘Both your juices, all over my skin.’

Abby shivered, then Marissa, as if the tremor were catching. He savoured his victory, but only for a moment because Jack was guiding them into their next position. The way he handled Storm was different now. It was more caressing, less businesslike. The change made him nervous. He tried to be a good sport, but when Jack’s hands ventured over his balls he couldn’t help grabbing the man’s wrist.

‘Bad,’ Abby scolded, squirming out of the tangle to face him. ‘Marissa and I posed for you, didn’t we?’

Storm couldn’t answer, merely pant.

She touched Jack’s wrist, the wrist that Storm had trapped, then cupped the fingers that cradled his scrotum. Neither Storm nor Jack let go, though Jack did resettle his fingers and give him a squeeze. Storm tried not to squirm, but the touch was excruciatingly pleasant. Jack’s hand was so much bigger than a woman’s. His palm was rough, with a working man’s calluses. He knew a few tricks, too. One of his fingers slipped behind Storm’s scrotum to rub the internal root of his cock. Already stiff as iron, his skin tightened a fraction more.

Seeing the tiny surge, Abby lifted her hand and tapped the bulging crown with the tip of her finger. The blow fell just hard enough to sting. He groaned a plea for mercy.

‘You seem to be enjoying this,’ she said. ‘Are you sure you want us to stop?’

He looked at the question in her eyes, then at the quiet smile in Jack’s. His body tingled from head to toe, driven to a rare pitch of arousal. He wanted to come; wanted to throw himself over the abyss and fuck the lot of them. He simply couldn’t bring himself to say so out loud.

Abby must have read the conflict in his face. The corners of her mouth curled upwards. ‘Perhaps I could make this easier for you,’ she said. She stepped away to rummage in one of the boxes that sat against the wall. She emerged with a tangled black extension cord. Storm’s heart began to race as she wound it around her arm. The cord reminded him of his shiny latex ties.

‘Oh, no,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No, no.’

But he remained where he was as if his knees had been glued to the floor. She wouldn’t bind him, not in front of the others. That was his private vulnerability, not meant to be shared with anyone but her.

His body hair stood on end as she looped the cord around his chest.

‘Say no like you mean it,’ she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.

Storm shut his mouth and swallowed.

Marissa helped Abby tie him up. He closed his eyes under the euphoria of two women’s hands trussing his arms to his torso. One pair of hands was long and hard, the other small and soft. One stroked, one pinched, and both were covered in warm, silky skin. As they tied him, breasts nudged him between the confining strips, and thighs, and arms, and damp, clutching pussies. They rubbed against him, both of them, and left their sex marks on his skin.

The effect was so devastating he almost forgot that Jack was there, waiting.

The women fell away once they’d finished binding him. His arms were immobilised, but the rest of him was free. The final loop of the cord pressed the base of his cock in the front and the curve of his buttocks at the back. His blood beat hard beneath the constriction. It rushed in his ears. He felt dizzy, as if he might fall, but also as if he wanted to fall, no, wanted to plunge down an endless cliff. Could they see how he felt? Could they tell what they’d done to him? The uncertainty was like a pinch administered to a pleasure centre, painfully arousing. He dreaded moving any further into the mystery. His body, however, would not tolerate inaction. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes.

Jack stood above him, naked now, his hands on his hips. His long, curving cock jutted towards Storm’s face as though daring him to do something about it. He stared at it for a moment, mesmerised by its unusual configuration, by its vigorous throb. As he watched, a bead of moisture seeped from the pointy tip. The man wanted him — badly. Unnerved, Storm’s eyes slid upwards, past the flat belly to the cloud of silver hair that covered the other man’s chest.

The colour sparked something in his subconscious. He looked into Jack’s face, saw the smile lines, the confidence, the reined-in excitement.

He’s old enough to be my father, he thought before he could push the awareness away. He didn’t want to be thinking that. He was too old to be thinking that. But the silver hair, the secrets in his eyes…He knew things that Storm might know, too, when he reached that age.

As though sensing his agitation, Jack reached out and stroked his cheek. How can he be so unselfconscious? Storm wondered. How can he swing from man to woman without a qualm?

‘Tell me what you’d like,’ Jack said, but Storm couldn’t answer. ‘This?’ he suggested, and rubbed the tip of his crooked cock across Storm’s shaking lips.

All he had to do was open them. It would never be easier than now, when his whole world throbbed with sexual meaning. He moaned and drew the first few inches inside. Ah, it was so smooth, so warm and silky. It tasted of salt and something else — his seed. Yes, it tasted of oysters, even had the same slippery charm. Intrigued, he sucked gently, then lapped the crown with the flat of his tongue. The cock shivered in his mouth.

Is this what women feel, he wondered, this sense of both servility and power?

A body pressed behind him — Abby’s, he knew from the soft, round swell of her breasts. She wound her arms around his waist and took his cock in her hands. She stroked him as he sucked, gently, so gently up and down the sides, only enough to keep him hard and high. Her touch soothed him. She was here. She would not let things go wrong.

Somewhere in the distance a camera shutter snapped. Marissa, he thought, glad she’d pulled away. He’d enjoyed her edgy touch, but now he wanted Abby to himself. And she liked this, he reminded himself, as if the pebble-hard press of her nipples weren’t reminder enough. Buoyed by her excitement, he intensified the pull of his cheeks. Jack’s breath sighed out of him. He began to thrust, not too deeply to bear but deeper than Storm had taken him on his own.

‘Steady,’ Jack said, bracing his head with one hand. His fingers burrowed through Storm’s hair. Storm realised Jack wanted to control the rhythm — which left nothing for him but tongue work.

But that was all right. Storm could wreak plenty of havoc with that. He knew what he liked anyway. With a private grin, he kept his tongue wet and his lips tight, creating a slight vacuum for the other man to work against. He made sure the sweet spot under the head got a good, hard massage with every pass.

‘Damn,’ Jack said admiringly, on the fifth repetition of the stunt. He gripped the base of his cock between forefinger and thumb, pulling the penile skin towards his belly as taut as it would go. The gesture warmed Storm’s pride.

Oh, yes, he thought, knowing that trick himself. You pull it tight, old man. You make sure you can feel every lick just as clearly as you can. To reward him for the compliment, he ran his tongue around the head and dug it into the tiny hole.

Jack moaned and thrust faster. The shutter snapped wildly, like a communal pulse run amok. Abby craned her chin over Storm’s shoulder. He could feel how excited she was. Her heart was racing, her body damp and hot.

‘Look at him,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, look.’

He looked. Jack’s balls were drawn up high against his body and a thick blue vein pulsed under the skin of his belly. His cock glistened as it left Storm’s mouth, veering strongly left. The pressure of his lips could no longer pull it straight.

Soon, Storm thought, and hummed his anticipation into the smooth, driving flesh.

Jack clutched his shoulders at the tiny vibration. Storm wrapped his tongue over the head and hummed again. Jack shuddered. Abby gasped for breath and held it. One of her hands left Storm’s groin and touched his cheek. He knew she could feel Jack pushing in and out, and knew Jack could feel the light pressure of her fingers.

‘Christ,’ Jack swore.

The old man’s shaft gave a single, warning throb. He chuffed out a grunt, thrust one more time to the verge of Storm’s throat, then grabbed his cock and wrenched it free. His seed struck Storm’s chest in pulsing sprays of heat. If Storm had had the breath for it, he would have laughed. It seemed the old man had a touch of shyness after all.

But that didn’t matter now. Breathing as hard as if he’d run a race, Storm turned to Abby. Her face was pink. Her breasts trembled with the pounding of her heart. He grinned at her, relieved that it was over, but pleased with himself, too.

He cocked his head towards his groin. ‘Want to finish what the old man started?’

‘Do I ever!’ She laughed and toppled him back on to the red blanket. Trussed as he was, he fell hard. In seconds she’d straddled him and was positioning him for entry.

‘Hey!’ He twisted between her legs. ‘Aren’t you going to untie me?’

‘What for?’ She wagged his cock back and forth. ‘I’ve got the best part right here.’

But he couldn’t let her ride him, not under the watchful eye of the camera. With a grimace and a squirm, he worked the cords up to his chest and yanked them over his head.

‘Cheater,’ she said, but she laughed as he pushed her under him and rolled them both in the blanket.

He sank into her with a noisy sigh. ‘There,’ he said. ‘That’s where you belong.’

‘A woman’s place?’ she gasped, but he couldn’t keep up the banter with her flesh so warm around him.

‘I ache,’ he whispered, for her ears only, ‘and you feel so good.’

She smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss. At once their hips began to rock, the rhythm shutting out the world. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, then lost his breath and had to bury his face in her tousled hair. Ah, she was sweet. He kissed her again, and again broke for air.