Filthy Doctor(168)

Cory and James were there with her as much as they could be for the next two weeks after work and on the weekends. They were forming a strong bond, and she enjoyed every moment that she had with them, just going out to dinner or coffee shops. They spent as much time in the house as they could, and she let them take it anywhere that they wanted to.

The night that she had them both inside of her was incredible. Maya was riding James and Cory took her from behind after he lubed up his cock. She felt trapped between the men, but she loved it as they moved in sync. She came harder than she ever had in her life and tears slid down her cheeks as Cory wrapped his arms around her.

They spent their last nights together dining at the house on the deck. The guys grilled, and James made them drinks as they avoided the topic of Maya’s dad coming home. She pressed against them inside of the hot tub that bubbled near the end of the infinity pool and took tums kissing her men that were growing to mean so much to her.

Maya gave them each their own time with her after they dried off since she had never just been with one man. They were similar yet different. They made her feel all kinds of wonderful and she knew that she would always want the both of them after this experience. She went to sleep cuddled between them and memorized their scent, one like the sea and one like the trees in a forest though she didn’t care which scent went to what man. It didn’t matter at all.

The following night, she slept alone in her room in anticipation of her father coming home. It was quiet and lonely, and she listened to the sounds of the waves from the beach that came through the open windows in the loft. Paul arrived home first thing, and she cooked him breakfast as she talked about school and all of her classes with him sitting at the same table that she had eaten at with James and Cory.

They made an appearance later in the day to go to dinner, and the glance that Maya shared with them assured all three that they were still going to sleep together. They would take the time they had together alone when they found it and they would since her father was away more than they were.

She watched them leave that night as she forced a smile on her face. Maya’s life would never be the same.



THE END



TRIPLE TEMPTATIONS



Alisha Reyes had only three things on her wish list for her twenty-first birthday: 1) a car, 2) tequilas at the Blue Diamond, and 3) a real, honest-to-God, orgasm. She already knew that the car was out of the question, and that her friends would be taking her for tequilas, but the matter of achieving the Big O was neither impossible nor possible. It should have been possible—she’d been dating Calvin Harris for six months, now, but they still hadn’t gotten busy. For some reason, she liked the way he kissed and she didn’t mind his eyes falling on her naked body, but his touch repulsed her—there was something about the way his fingers moved on her body that made her skin crawl and made her want to join a convent.

The buzzer to her apartment went off. She got off the couch, where she’d been napping, to let the person in without seeing who it was. It was one of those things that she wasn’t supposed to do—it was why she’d gotten an apartment where you could only enter by being buzzed in, after all—but it was four in the afternoon on her twenty-first birthday. There were only so many people it could be, and as she heard heels clacking against the linoleum on the stairs she knew it was Stella. Stunning Stella, Stupendously Gorgeous Stella—whatever, the girl had never looked anything less than gorgeous, with her long, lithe limbs and her body always bikini-ready. It always mystified Alisha, how a girl could be so slender and yet have such a perfect ass.

Stella had been modeling since she was six—her skin and hair were tawny and the perfect blend of white, black, Hispanic, Arab, and Greek features made up her face: the little snub button-nose, the wide gold-and-green-rimmed eyes, and thick luscious lips with high cheekbones. It was easy to see why everybody wanted to fuck her, but Stella had always demurred when they went out together, telling the guy who was hitting on her to see if Alisha wouldn’t be more willing.

Alisha couldn’t understand why Stella did that. Stella may have been the pretty one but Alisha was the one who always seemed to have a boyfriend—ever since she was sixteen she’d never gone longer than two weeks without a man in her life. So it wasn’t as if she was free to date whatever guy Stella dumped into her lap, even if he was cute and hot and had biceps bigger than her thighs. And anyway, a dancer’s life wasn’t exactly conducive to being in a relationship. The only reason she and Calvin had lasted as long as they had was because they were both in the same dance company, though they danced different styles so they mostly did different shows. But the dedication to the physicality of their art demanded a lot from them, and until they’d gotten together the longest relationship Alisha had been in was two months—and that was with the man who would later become her stepbrother.

“There’s my girl,” Stella called, as her head appeared above the floor. The rest of her quickly followed: she was wearing a sheath dress, with leaves on top of nude panels that had been dyed to match her skin so that it looked as if she were in graver danger of exposing a nipple than she actually was. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Alisha said. “Let me get changed,” she said.

“What are you wearing?” asked Stella, as she came in. “I hope it’s something hot.”

“I can’t decide,” Alisha said, beckoning Stella into her bedroom. “This one—” a slinky, strapless number, covered in iridescent green sequins “—or this one,” a gauzy, shapeless dress that was just translucent enough to suggest that there might not be anything underneath; Alisha had paired it with underwear that matched her skin tone—a rich, dark brown—to complete the effect, though with her skin tone it was impossible to tell if she was wearing anything underneath it anyway.

“Go with the white one,” said Stella, without hesitating. Alisha grinned—she’d favored the white one, too, but she hadn’t been sure she could pull it off. “Nothing underneath it, though.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. Fuck, girl, you’re twenty—one. If you can’t live a little why we taking you out?”

“All right, fine,” Alisha said. She shooed Stella out and slid out of her clothes Alisha took a moment to stare at her naked body in the mirror. Curves—she had breasts and hips and muscles on her thighs and calves—stared back at her. For a moment she questioned Stella’s judgment in picking out the diaphanous dress, but when she put it on she was glad she listened. In the dress she looked airy—delicate, even. What costumers never understood about her when they came up with her costumes was how to enhance her curves without making her seem overly huge and busty and heavier than she actually was. Hard enough being the only black female dancer in the New Haven Dance Company—that the costumes never looked right on her added insult to injury. It was a relatively long dress—and though it was breezy it also draped nicely so unless there was a stiff breeze nobody would see. She could make this work, and as she stepped out Stella nodded her approval, saying, “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“I feel like I’m going to flash someone,” said Alisha.

“You probably will,” said Stella. “The key is to control it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You look lovely,” Stella said, handing her a pair of sandals. They were little more than two pieces of leather with a mess of silver cords holding them in place, running up her leg.

“Christ, I do this enough at my job,” Alisha grumbled, as she laced the shoes up to her knees the same way she tied her ballet shoes.

“Yeah, but you don’t look this hot,” said Stella. “I have seen you dance—you are beautiful, but you ain’t sexy up there on that stage.”

“That’s the point,” Alisha said. But Stella only winked and started heading out. “Makita will meet us at the bar,” Stella said, while they headed down the stairs.

Thank God. Makita was the sensible one: she’d majored in accounting and worked in something finance-related. The stories about women who grew up and moved out to the ‘burbs—that was Makita, who’d Succeeded. Stella could get into some pretty wild shit—with Makita along at least the damage would be contained. “Isn’t she pregnant?” Alisha asked.

“Yeah, but they make mocktails these days,” said Stella.

The Blue Diamond was one of the fancier nightclubs in New Haven. Alisha had never been inside it—she couldn’t afford the cover, never mind the cost of drinks, but Stella had somehow gotten her hands on a VIP pass and she’d promised Alisha that she could get them in without any problem. On this night, as with most nights, there was a line a mile long, and Stella waltzed right up to the bouncer, with Alisha in tow, and flashed a gold card at him. “Right,” the bouncer said, stepping aside and undoing the velvet rope. “But not your friend.”

“Oh, but it’s her birthday,” Stella pouted.

“Sorry, I don’t make the rules—”