ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories) (167 page)

                      There is a moaning and squeaking coming from Amy’s room and he does not know its source.  He edges towards the door, the noise blanketed by the carpet; what if Amy is being attacked?  The door is closed, but he turns the knob by degrees until the slightest squeak is emitted as he pushes the door open, hoping to catch whoever is inside by surprise.

                      Except that the surprise is his.

                      In the years to come, Paul will remember this moment; it is seared across his memory the way grill marks, once imprinted, cannot ever be erased.

                      The first thing that hits him is that Amy’s nipples are pink.  He somehow did not expect them to be pink.  The next thing is that she and Sandrino are completely naked, and the position they are in is often referred to in those magazines he likes in high school as the backwards cowgirl.  Sandrino’s face is scrunched in ecstasy and concentration as Amy undulates her hips over him, and quite suddenly, all the little details, combined with the way the waves of Amy’s hair are cascading down her snowy back, gel together in one awful, terrible realization.  Paul’s premonition was true.  He should have trusted it.

                      Because Amy and Sandrino are now consummating their relationship.

                      Paul knows.  Of course he knows.  Anyone who ever saw the three of them together knew how terribly uneven the whole thing was; Sandrino was clearly head over heels for Amy, and Paul always knew, somewhere deep inside, deeper than the place where he hid his own feelings for Sandrino, that as soon as Amy was able to put aside her five year plan, she’d return his emotions.  Hearing the two of them moan in tandem now makes Paul realize, finally, that he has no place in this room, in this house, in this relationship.

                      Overcome by his jealousy, overcome by his shame, Paul tries to back out of the room, tries to close it quietly.  He can feel and see his hands shaking, and suddenly, there is a squeak from the door that freezes the action on the bed.

                      “Who’s there?” Amy asks, shock stilling her body, a queen upon her splendid throne.  “Oh my God, is someone there?  Paul, is that you?”

                      Who else would it be? Paul wonders, and tries to decide between running away and stepping forward.  Amy is fast climbing off of Sandrino, who has also just realized there is another person in their midst and is pulling on his pants, but not before Paul catches a glimpse of his fully engorged penis, glistening with Amy’s juices.

                      Paul lingers near the door, too embarrassed to run, too enraged to step forward.  He does not want to feel this way, but he does, because the question that burned in him all those years ago with Father Andrew burns in him now.

                      Why me?  Why me, why me, why not me?

                      Amy has wrapped herself in a light pink bathrobe and is pulling Paul forward so that he is standing before her and Sandrino.  “Paul, I’m so sorry that this is the super-awkward way you had to find out, but I guess you should know.”  She beams happily.  “Sandrino and I are in love.”

                      “I figured as much,” Paul answers acidly, hating himself for it.

                      Sandrino’s forehead wrinkles as he catches Paul’s tone.  “What’s wrong, man?  I figured you of all people would be happy for us.  This has been a long time in the making.”

                      “A lot of things have been.”

                      “What does that mean?”  Amy asks, incredulous.  Except for that brief stint in high school, Paul has never been anything but selfless.  Why does that particular word pop into her head now, she wonders.  She could have thought of Paul as generous, as kind, but when she looks at the way he is glaring so fiercely at Sandrino that his look could fell a village, selfless is the word that comes to mind.

                      “Why are you looking at Sandrino that way?” she demands.  As Paul looks away, clicking his tongue, it hits her, all of it, the full force of twenty four years of the shame Paul must have felt, especially given his chosen profession.  She walks up to him, not noticing the way her bathrobe falls open.  “Paul?  Is there something you want to tell us?”

                      Paul looks defeated.  He does not whose eyes to meet, and his gaze slides over first Sandrino’s, then Amy’s questioning eyes.  He sinks down to the floor, and his two best friends join him.

                      “It didn’t start at the very beginning,” Paul says, heavily, dully.  “I didn’t feel any differently towards him than I did towards you.  We were friends.”

                      “We
are
friends,” says Sandrino firmly.  Paul looks up at him, then continues.

                      “And then one day, he was everywhere.  All my dreams, all my thoughts.”

                      “Who?” Sandrino asks, and Paul lets out a hoarse, shaky laugh.

                      “Jesus, thank God you’re pretty.”

                      “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Amy says, and the trio bursts out into laughter, a laughter that rings loudly in the tenseness of the room, that breaks it and heals.

                      Amy looks at Sandrino.  Sandrino looks at Amy.  A silence pact is made and sealed.

                      Sandrino sidles over to Paul and runs his hand up his arm.  Paul glances up at him through his tears.  He is numb from shock, so numb he almost does not feel Sandrino’s hand slide down his leg over his pajama bottoms.

                      “What are you doing?”

                      Amy lays crosswise to the two men and opens her robe just enough to reveal the swell of her breasts and the fine triangle of hair between her legs, which are pale and long and lean, perfectly curved, toned, and tight.  “We are giving you a farewell.”

                      “You mean...” Paul swallows hard.  “You mean we’re not friends anymore?”

                      Sandrino swats at him, then places a kiss on Paul’s neck so intense that it’s all Paul can do to keep from passing out.  “No, stupid,” Sandrino says, his voice thick with desire.  “We are giving you a fond farewell before you go off and become a celibate for life.  This is something special only the three of us are ever going to have.”

                      “Yeah,” says Amy, fully aware that Paul’s gaze has now slid over her body and his pupils are wide with arousal.  “So shut up and let it happen.”

                      What happens next is something that will forever replace all of Paul’s adolescent fantasies of Sandrino.  Because now Sandrino is running his brown hand over his leg, over the top of his cock, as if by accident, and then over again, just to assure Paul that there is nothing accidental about his motions at all.  He is pressing his mouth against Paul’s neck, opening the blonde man’s mouth with his thumb, and suddenly, everything that has built up in Paul over the past decade and a half is spilling out.  He clutches Sandrino so hard that he leaves finger marks on his arm.  When he kisses his neck and chest, he bruises him, he marks him as his forever.  The only noise Sandrino makes in response is a deep grunt, a welcoming noise that urges Paul on.

                      Watching this, Amy lets her hand slip down to the small forest of hair between her legs.  As she rubs her clit, she watches Paul finally unleash the beast within.  She would have never suspected that her gentle friend was such a forceful lover, but there is a part of her that understands that this has never happened to him before, and this will never happen to him again.  There has only ever been her and Sandrino, and this means the world to Paul.  And then she pushes the sentiment aside as Paul rises and Sandrino kneels before him.  Every inch of Paul that Sandrino takes into his mouth is another cue for Amy to rub herself faster, or in a new direction.  When she sees that Paul is directing the show and that Sandrino keeps his arms locked behind his back, it is almost too much for her, and then it is just enough, just enough to push her over that edge, beyond reason and beyond reckoning.

                      As she gasps, Paul releases his cock from Sandrino’s mouth and Sandrino gasps with her, little rivulets of drool and pre-cum around his lips.  He looks up at Paul with those dark flashing eyes, and sees that Paul is ready, but unwilling to expect more with the last final doubt that all of this is truly happening.

                      The three friends reconfigure themselves. Sandrino gets down on all fours, baring his ass to the world, and Amy positions herself until she lays beneath his splayed legs, his cock directly pointing to its source of entry, her mouth.  Paul grasps Sandrino by the hips and licks his fingers a few times to slick saliva on his cock.  The scene is set.

                      Slowly and hesitantly at first, then faster and faster, Amy begins to suck on Sandrino.  Paul enters Sandrino carefully and Sandrino closes his eyes shut against the fury of the sensations coursing through him.  What a wonderful thing it is, he is discovering, to be entered and entering all at the same time.  Paul slides in and out of Sandrino, feeling the muscle walls of him close and open to accommodate him, and he can hardly believe this is happening; he hears Sandrino moan once, twice, then leans over instinctively and nips him sharply on the ear.  Sandrino shudders and spills into Amy’s mouth, letting out a groan that is animal and lost, and soon after, Paul joins him, reaching the brink of orgasm seconds after.

                      They lay there for many minutes, collapsed nude on top of each other, unwilling to move, unwilling to break the spell.

              “Thanks, guys,” says Paul.

              “We’re best friends and you deserved a proper send-off, one you wouldn’t forget for a long, long time,” answers Amy, and Sandrino smiles.

              Best friends, indeed.

THE END

In Bed With My Best Friend’s Boyfriend

Chapter 1     Friendship

              “I’ve heard about these parties they're nothing more than an excuse to have sex, I’m not sure I should be going?” Olivia just wants her best friend to tell her to stop worrying and enjoy herself, which her best friend, Sara, does. “I wish you weren’t going away, then we could go together. I hate going anywhere without you,” Olivia continues.

              “You’ll be fine, and it’s not as though you won’t know anyone, lots of your work colleagues are going so I’d feel the odd one out anyway. Stop worrying Olivia Quattro, you are a confident and beautiful young lady, you really don't need me to be there to hold your hand. I think you’ll have a great time and probably meet some handsome dude,” Sara assures her. “Anyway, what will you do if I get this new job and have to move away? We’re growing up and not teenagers anymore, we have to take chances that come our way,” she finishes.

              “You’re always the brave one, the adventurous one. Me, I jus
t
like
t
hings are they are. Part of me wants you to get the job, because I know it’ll make you happy, but another part, my selfish side, doesn’t, ‘cos you’ll be leaving this town, leaving me!”

              “Maybe if I go then it’ll encourage you to take the plunge into the big wide world and leave this small town,” Sara suggests. “Expand your horizons, Olivia, you’re a big girl now.”

              “Nah, I’m not as adventurous as you. I’d be too scared to go to a big city all by myself, I don't know how you can do it.”

              “Look, if I get this job, then maybe in a few months, you can follow me. You can visit with me, meanwhile, get used to being away from your mom and dad. It’ll do you good to break those apron strings,” Sara says, keen to help her best friend move on with her life, now they were both in their twenties.

              “One step at a time. I don’t want to work in the store, filling shelves, all my life, but you know, we do have a laugh. Plus, I get invited to cool parties. I’m supposed to be staying there all night and I have no idea how there’ll be enough beds for everyone?”

              Sara laughs at her friend’s innocence, finding it hard to believe that Olivia really is this naive. 

              “Oh, there’ll be beds alright, but I doubt you’ll be sleeping in them,” Sara says, coyly.

              “Hey, I’m not a virgin you know,” Olivia exclaims at her friend’s mockery. “I’ve had sex and if there’s a dishy guy I like, then who knows what it might lead to.”

              “Livvy, it’s a fancy dress party, you’re not going to be able to tell who’s who,” Sara thinks she’d best explain a thing or two about these parties, she’s been to enough of them herself. “That makes it all the easier to have wild sex with someone completely anonymous. They don't know you and you don't know them. No hang ups afterwards. I really should have taken you to more parties, you’re such an innocent.”

              Olivia pokes at her friend’s arm, aware she’s making fun of her, but in a kind way, though she is right, she does allow her parent’s to influence her too much. They’d only recently agreed to her buying her own car. She knew they were over protective and all it did was make her more insecure, than anything else. Whereas Sara’s mom is a single parent and has brought Sara up with an open and trustworthy attitude. Sara is so much more daring than she could ever hope to be, and she’s probably had more sex too.