Double Exposure: A Dark MMF Bisexual Romance Page 4

  The sad part is that dude doesn’t even know he’s projecting like a nuclear explosion. My partner’s fucking miserable with that wife of his, that disgusting viper, and he’s lost sight of the world, thinking the problem is him. But who the fuck cares? You marry the wrong woman, so what? Life’s not over. Shit doesn’t stop. Your body keeps going, your brain keeps going, the sun rises every morning still. Hasn’t he ever heard of divorce? It’s not like it’s a big deal these days, you can break it off as fast as you put a ring on it.

  So yeah, Bri’s been humming with energy, throwing looks my way, massive hard-on hidden behind that desk. And who can blame him? Alpha males have needs, we’re well-honed machines that need to be tuned, finessed, and most of all, used. We have sex drives through the roof, banging pussy left and right, doing our best to get our dicks wet at all hours, and poor Brian’s had his castrated, unable to get any satisfaction. So yeah, I’d been sensing repressed energy from the big guy for the last couple months, the hungry looks, how he’d watch me for too long, gaze drifting over my broad chest to take in the bulge wrapped around my waist.

  Because my dick’s a big one, hard, thick and strong, the python can do a lot of damage, and I’ve used it well on both men and women. Unlike Brian, I’m totally comfortable with my sexuality, and although publicly I’m hetero, actually I’m totally down with the dudes too. I like a hard, assertive cock, one to wrap my tongue around, to suck deep into my throat. And I like tiny male anuses as well as dick in my butt, the bigger the better. Opportunist? Maybe, but I just call it liking sperm.

  So yeah, after the nasty interlude with Brian watching, I fully intended to confront him about it. What better way to bring things out into the open? It’s totally obvious he’s into male-on-male, the semen stains on my office door proved it, the hot bubbly streaming down the varnished wood.

  But by the time I got rid of Vicky, Brian was gone, like a fucking disappearing act. I sat back at my desk, contemplating. No worries, let the guy have some time to adjust, he’s always thought of himself as straight and to realize he’s a raging bi can be a shock. I’d give him time to think about it, tomorrow was another day.

  But when 9 a.m. rolled around, the alpha still hadn’t made an appearance. What the fuck, that was strange. Brian is a hard worker and lately, he’s been going at it like a slave, at the office all hours to get away from that whore of a wife. So when 10 a.m., and then 11 a.m. rolled past, finally I decided to take action. Jumping into my Lambo, I raced to his mansion, pulling up in the circular driveway. Fuck, this place was nice with an ornate garden and bubbling fountain, the building itself at least three stories high. Too bad Brian was never here to enjoy it, leaving Hannah the spoils of his hard work.

  But whatevs, it was his choice. Bounding up the front steps, I banged on the heavy door, calling out, “Yo bro. Yo, anyone home?”

  There was no sound, but squinting my eyes, I could see the Maserati parked in the drive in back. So he was here, and raising a fist to pound again, I grunted loudly, “Yo!” Not exactly the most graceful way to make an entrance, but then I’m a straightforward guy, no need to beat around the bush. I was just about to batter down the door when it swung open, Brian looking worse for the wear.

  “Hey,” he muttered, not looking me in the eye. “What up?”

  It was a little awkward because yeah, he’d caught me having sex and practically admitted he wanted in, gulping my sperm, swallowing my dick whole. But it was hard to say all that in broad daylight and I squinted up at him.

  “Yo,” I said again. “What’s up? What digs?”

  The big man continued avoiding my eyes, instead running a hand through his ruffled hair. I have to admit, the alpha looked fucking fabulous, even tired and dressed in a rumpled suit. Some dudes just got it, and with Brian’s six four frame and heavily muscled chest, the dude can make anything look good.

  “Come in,” was all he said, gesturing to the interior. “Come in.”

  I stepped into the gloomy interior. The foyer was massive, with a huge double staircase going to the second level, antiques scattered here and there.

  “You wanna put on some lights?” I asked wryly. “Or you guys using candles around here?”

  The chandelier overhead flickered on just as I spoke, and Brian came into better view then. Shit, the man is gorgeous, all dark hair and blue eyes, appealingly scruffy with a five o clock shadow. But exhaustion was in his eyes, and I hoped as all fuck that it had to do with me. I hoped he’d been up all night dreaming about my dick, re-living the images of me fucking Vicky, fantasizing about joining into the fray, taking a role in our trio. But no such luck because my law partner scrubbed his face again and came out with it flatly.

  “Hannah’s dead.”

  What the hell? I definitely didn’t expect that one, that was a curve ball outta nowhere. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no love lost between me and that blonde bitch, but still … dead? That seemed a little extreme. So I took a cautious approach. Maybe he was kooky in the head after the hard sex last night, maybe the image of me with Vicky had been burned into his eyeballs and he wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Yo bro, relax,” I said. “Let’s sit,” I said smoothly, gesturing to some chair in the living room. “Drink?”

  It was ironic that I was offering him a drink in his own home, but the liquor cabinet was right there, stocked with top shelf goods. So when he nodded, I poured us two shots of vodka each. No sense in holding back.

  And Brian threw his back like he was dying of thirst.

  “Take it easy, bro,” I grunted, eyebrows raised. “This shit is like fire in your belly, it’ll burn away your stomach lining if you’re not careful.”

  He shrugged carelessly, reaching for the second one, and threw that one back like it was water as well. Shit, my partner was worse than I thought, maybe this “death” thing was real after all. So I decided to treat it seriously.

  “You wanna tell me about it?” I asked, face impassive. “What happened?”

  For the first time, Brian turned to me, fixing me with that blue gaze and looking into my eyes. There was torment there, sure, but also a mix of a dozen other emotions that couldn’t be pinpointed. But the big man shrugged, broad shoulders lifting before dropping with exhaustion.

  “Hannah was having an affair with the tennis pro over at the club,” he said woodenly. “They found her nude with him last night.”

  I was silent for a moment.

  “Cause of death?”

  He shrugged.

  “Who knows? Probably a heart attack from the hot sex she was having. We clearly weren’t having any,” he snorted.

  I schooled my face into a mask because this was a surprise. Brian wasn’t banging that pussy? Granted, I hated Hannah, she’s always been a leech on my man, but still, free cunt’s there to be used and he could always put a bag over her head or something, pretend it wasn’t her. So to hear the alpha hadn’t been having sex with wife threw me for a loop. Had he been banging someone else? Or god forbid, had he been celibate all this time, stroking one out in the shower, morning after morning? Shit, that’s hard, and my own body shuddered, imagining the pain. But this was no time to get into it.

  “What are you gonna do?” I asked carefully.

  The big man shrugged again.

  “I dunno. What can I do?” he said in a monotone, staring at the drink in hand. “Go to the morgue, claim her body, I guess. Tell her parents, her sister, that Hannah’s gone. Try to make sense of the circumstances.”

  I squinted for a moment.

  “Was she banging Alexis at the club? That dude from Russia with the heavy accent?” I’ve got a membership at Courtside too, and I’m passing familiar with the staff there. The club pros are generally young and good-looking, muscled and athletic although dumb as rocks. They’re not exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, if you get what I mean. No, let me rephrase. Some of their professions require written tests, and these guys can’t pass that most times. Imagine. A golf pro being unabl
e to pass a written test about golf. But trust me, it happens, and that about describes the level of intelligence among this crew.

  Surprisingly though, it wasn’t Alexis, our local Russian Casanova, nor was it Timmy, the lifeguard who’d just graduated high school with peach fuzz on his cheeks.

  “It was Jorge,” growled Brian. “The tennis pro. Hannah’s been taking lessons with him for I dunno … three years? This has probably been going on since before we were married,” he snarled. “Before I put that ring on her finger, before we even got serious.”

  I shook my head, appalled. Shit, that fucking sucked. To know that your wife had probably been fucking another man all along was pretty much the worst of the worst, even if she was no prize. So I did the only thing I could think of. I got up and poured him another drink.

  “Here,” I rumbled. “Take it.”

  But this time, as he reached for the glass, our hands brushed and Brian’s eyes flickered up at me.

  “Jed, about last night,” he began.

  “Naw buddy, forget it,” I ground out. “There’s been a death in your family, forget it.”

  Brian took a deep breath, gazing into the recesses of the hallway while collecting his thoughts.

  “The thing is, I didn’t care about Hannah,” he said, quiet and restrained, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t give a fuck about that woman, she’s just someone who lived here, a warm body spending my money. I usually didn’t see her for days on end, we never crossed paths anymore.”

  My mouth opened but no words came out, and I merely closed it, giving him space and time.

  “I didn’t give a fuck about her,” he said again slowly. “I didn’t care about my wife. I’ve been thinking about other people. About her sister. And about you,” he said, swinging his eyes to meet mine finally, that blue blazing hot, making my skin sizzle. My dick jumped at the opening, going from rubber to steel in two seconds, but there was no sense in giving it away all at once. So instead, I took the casual approach.

  “Oh really?” I asked lazily, leaning back. “What’s been on your mind?”

  Brian’s head dropped between his shoulders, big frame hunched, confused and defeated.

  “Everything. Nothing,” he repeated, staring at his drink again before looking at me again. “I dream about …” his voice trailed off.

  My brows arched at him and I gestured for him to go on.

  “I dream about fucking my sister in law,” he muttered under his breath, eyes fixed to a point on the rug. “I dream about fucking Hannah’s younger sister Angie, it’s so damn wrong. I dream about hauling that woman back to the house and spreading her legs, drilling that pussy deep. And then,” he took a deep breath, eyes swinging towards me, blazing hotly. “I dream about you doing the same to her. You pounding into that wet, used cunt, our sperm mixing together. Is that fucked-up or what? I’m such a fucking bastard.”

  Hell yeah, it was messed up to the nth degree, beyond the dirty, beyond what I’d ever hope for. Because I was on it, absolutely one hundred percent. If the opportunity came, I’d pay through the nose, I’d pay just to be a fly on the wall as Brian rammed some young, virginal nymph, taking her hymen. But there was more to it than that. Brian wanted me in on the picture, and his words made me horny as all get-out, craving more.

  “Is that all?” I rumbled smoothly. “So we’d take turns drilling some sweet little nothing? Your dick in, and then my dick in, the little cunt filling with two types of sperm?”

  The big man nodded his head slowly.

  “Yeah, absolutely,” he said, breathing ragged. “I wanna fuck Hannah’s sister so hard that my dick comes out the roof of her mouth, sperm squelching from all her holes.”

  I nodded again.

  “And?”

  He knew what I was getting at, what I was fishing for.

  “And after we fuck her, I want you to …”

  I held still, waiting, my body tense like a violin. Oh shit, was he gonna say it? Was he gonna give into his deepest fantasies, do some hot man on man?

  And finally, Brian was ready. Maybe it was his wife’s death, maybe it was the tumultuous events of the night, but the alpha was done and he could no longer keep it bottled in. Pure and simple, he was done living a lie, and the truth came barreling like a freight train down the tracks.

  “And after we finish with Angie, I want you to do me too,” he rasped harshly, dark streaks of color slashing his cheeks. “I want your dick in my ass, making me forget, making this fucking life feel more real,” he ground out, gesturing to the mansion furiously. “This is such a fucking lie, all this shit,” he practically roared this time.

  Ah ha. So the man was operating in some kind of fantasy land, he was so messed up from the circumstances, from the lie he’d been living, that he needed some hard dick in his ass to shake him up, to provide the jolt he craved. Dude, haven’t you heard of cocaine? It’ll do the trick and only costs a couple hundred. But in this case, no need for narcotics because I was only too happy to oblige. Call me an opportunist, but I’m always up for sex and when a gorgeous male presents himself, practically begging me for it, who am I to say no? Like I said, I’m an ass through and through, and it’s gotten me further than I ever thought possible. So I did what came naturally next.

  “Brian,” I began silkily. “I’ve known you a long time.”

  “I know,” he growled, dropping his head into his hands again, a man in pain. “I know, man, I know.”

  “And I’d be happy to indulge, if that’s what you want,” I continued smoothly. “No problem at all. In fact, I think it’ll be good for both of us.”

  The big man lifted his head sharply, that deep blue gaze confused and yet lusting for more.

  “Both of us?” he parroted slowly. “What do you mean?”

  My eyebrows raised, amused.

  “I only date women,” I said wryly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t see men.”

  My partner’s brow furrowed as he stared at me.

  “I’ve never seen you with another man,” his voice came, low, sexy, and aroused. “You’re Jed Walker, dirty motherfucker.”

  I nodded carelessly, sipping my drink.

  “Sure I am, never said I wasn’t. But there are parts of me you don’t know,” I drawled lazily. “And that includes the parts of me that are bi. I’ve done men before, absolutely, and in some ways, it’s even better.”

  Brian shook his head, confused.

  “But you’re Jed Walker, dirty fuck.”

  “Dude let’s not become some type of repeating cow, okay?” I said lightly. “Like I mentioned, I do dudes too, and in some ways, it’s better and easier. Guys are no drama, the pants are down, the dicks are out, and it’s a good time for all. There are no flowers, no wining and dining, no godawful tantrums. There’s just hard, hot cock and plenty of sperm.”

  I waited to see the effects of my words, and sure enough, the streaks across Brian’s cheeks grew even more pronounced, his eyes lighting with internal fire, that frame tensing with repressed energy.

  “How many guys?” he growled.

  “I don’t keep count,” I said carelessly, “but probably even more guys than women.”

  Brian sat back then, disbelief in his eyes.

  “Shit, I never knew this about you,” he muttered, appraising me in a whole new way. “Never woulda guessed.”

  I shrugged again.

  “Everyone’s got secrets, and now that you know mine, all’s fair. So tell me … since when have you wanted men? Since when did this start?”

  That threw Brian into a whirlpool again. His eyes grew far away, like he was searching desperately for answers and coming up with nothing.

  “I dunno,” he rumbled, confused. “It happened when Hannah started being distant, when we started growing apart. I was horny as fuck with no outlets …”

  I interrupted.

  “You never thought to use a working girl? A fine piece of flesh for sale? Come on, there are so many postings all over the internet, i
t never crossed your mind?”

  But the man shook his head slowly, fists gripped, eyes a stormy blue.

  “Well, at least our local AMP then,” I continued persuasively. “You at least did that to relieve some of the stress.”

  His face crinkled, perplexed.

  “AMP? What’s that?”

  I feigned shock.

  “Holy shit bro, you’ve been living under a rock. Asian Massage Parlor? AMP? No one’s ever taken you? I lost my virginity at one when I was fourteen, China Whyte was the cutest thing with the biggest gazongas, not to mention that tiny snatch, perfect size for a man-boy. Shit dude, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  The alpha’s hackles raised then, my law partner shooting an angry glare my way. But I was happy to see it, it proved he was alive with a fire within and not some hapless sack, pussy whipped and beaten down.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

  “No worries, just saying,” I said lightly, both hands raised. “There’s a lotta life you’ve been missing out on, Hannah had you on lockdown while playing you for the fool. I’m sorry to say, but there are a thousand ways to get out there, and now that you’re not technically married anymore, you can get out there and sample some,” I said, leaning back casually.

  A pause.

  “I might still be married,” he ground out, staring at the floor. “Shit, can you be married to a dead person?”

  “Beats me,” I shrugged. “But give it a try. Live a little. What do you have to lose now? Especially knowing what you know.”

  Brian stared at the floor again.

  “It’s just that …,” he began in a tight whisper.

  I waited, nerves singing, body ready. Although on the outside I looked relaxed, it was like I was standing at the edge of a three-story diving board, about to take the plunge into raging waters below. Raging waters that would consume me, that would completely transform my existence, filling my lungs while giving me a new life.