Jubilee is a young widow—alone in her home, alone in her life. She gets the three friends warmed up, feeds them, and puts them up for the night. When they leave in the morning, each of them is thinking of seeing Jubilee again. And she is thinking of them.
In a week’s time, each of the men shows up again, unexpected, unannounced, and unaware that the others were coming. They each want to repay Jubilee for rescuing them, and they each want…her. Jubilee is already attached to them all. She can’t choose—even when Henry says he’s not willing to share. But Keith and Brody know their buddy. When they make their love for her public, at Henry’s own New Year’s Eve party, Henry can’t resist.
Keith noticed. His eyes were on her as his fingers found a hook on the coat tree by the door and he toed out of his dress boots. “You look good.”
Probably he was a little surprised and relieved that she didn’t dress like his grandmother all the time.
He took the box back, and they walked to the kitchen together. “I thought we must have put a pretty good dent in your freezer supply. I wanted to replace it.” He lifted a shoulder. “Wegmans, you know.”
The locally-grown grocery was famous for its ready-made foods. He set the box on the counter and handed them out to her—plastic quart containers of New England clam chowder, Italian wedding soup, shrimp and roasted corn chowder, and more. She took them and set them in her freezer. “Thank you,” she said. “Do you need some? Have you eaten?”
He smiled. “Now, what sort of guest would show up on your doorstep, uninvited and hungry, too?”
She smiled back at him. “My favorite sort, I guess.”
“I’ll take a beer. And I’ll fetch your wine glass, so you can refill.”
“It’s okay I came?”
"It’s wonderful you came.”
“Good,” he said.
Jubilee unwrapped the flowers from their protective plastic. They were very pretty—Wegmans did a good job at a lot of things. Keith came back and poured her wine, then he followed her with it and his beer as she carried the flowers to the living room.
She stopped as she passed by the entry, though, because someone else was at her door.
Through the glass, Brody looked back at her, although his gaze flicked to Keith once. She set the flowers at the entry table and opened the door.
“Hello,” she said.
“It’s okay I came?”
“Of course.” Jubilee stepped back and he came in. He carried a box, too—six-packs of beer in it, and…flowers.
His pretty brown eyes looked down at her. He was taller than Jubilee by a good four inches. “I—”
Keith interrupted. “I thought you were back in San Francisco.”
Those brown eyes went there. “I was,” Brody said. “Now I’m here.”
He looked at Jubilee. “Hold this, please,” he said, and handed over the box. “You look good,” he added. Then, without asking permission, he slid out of his coat and boots.
He’d gussied up, too. Oh, he wore jeans still, but they were dressed up with a gray sport coat over a darker gray vest. He wore a white dress shirt under, closed with a prettily patterned gray and white tie. His sun-streaked long hair was brushed back. He looked…really good.
Keeping his eyes on her, he took the box back, and, after a moment, they all walked back to the kitchen. Brody set the box on the counter and handed the flowers to her. “For you,” he said, gaze lingering.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jubilee saw Keith put her wine on the island, settle there on one of the stools, and take a swig of beer as he watched the pair of them.
“Thank you, Brody,” she said.
He nodded and grabbed a six-pack of beer. He hefted it before he put it in the fridge. “This, I thought we owed you.”
The cut flowers needed a vase, so she took them to the sink. When she opened a cupboard and reached to a high shelf, he came close, reached up, and handed it down to her. “This one?” he asked.
Jubilee enjoyed arranging flowers, but this was a bit awkward. She filled the vase, then took it and the flowers to the island. Brody opened a beer and walked to the other side to take a stool—the two men pretty much locking gazes as she moved.
Using her kitchen shears, she made fresh cuts in the stems and worked on a good arrangement. She was aware that their attention was on her now and made more of the job than it required.
She looked up, though, gaze going from one to the other as they all appeared to hear it—her front door opening once more. After a little pause—no doubt, the amount of time it took to remove one more set of dress coat and boots—during which the two men’s eyes stayed on her, one word was spoken.
“Brody, I thought you were in California.”
“I was. Now I’m here.”
Henry wore black cords with suspenders, a white dress shirt with a black and brown patterned stripe, and a dark brown sport coat, collar flipped up, that worked surprisingly well with the black. He still had a flannel muffler with fringed ends slung around his neck.
Drop-dead gorgeous, he walked up to Jubilee. He set the two bottles of wine he carried on the counter and handed the bouquet of flowers to her. “I brought these,” he said, notably not asking if it was okay that he’d come. He looked at the two men on their stools, who looked back. “But I really came to do this.”
He took the flowers from her, moving slowly, and dropped them on the island. Then he put one hand on her hip and one at the back of her neck, brought her close, and kissed her.
It wasn’t a simple greeting. His lips brushed hers and then teased them open. She was very aware of their audience, so he had to work at it a good bit to draw her attention away from that fact.
He appeared perfectly willing to take all the time it required. And he had…skills. Before it was over, he had his tongue in her mouth, and she was kissing him back. Her hands had lifted to grasp his waist. When he raised his head, she was breathing unsteadily. His green eyes held hers, and she almost jumped when Brody spoke.
“Funny,” he said. “I came for the same thing.”
“Keith,” she said, and it was a small whimper.
He picked up more of the oil with his fingers and then worked two of them into her. His mouth at her ear, he told her what he wanted. “I want to fuck your ass, baby.”
Going farther with his fingers, he had her moaning. “Keith.”
“Let me,” he urged.
Keith took his arm out from under her head and moved fully over her. He slid his left hand under her, centering his fingers at her clit. Working from his knees, he squirted some of the oil onto his cock. Then he pressed the nozzle into her anus.
* * * *
There was that cool pressure right into her ass, the rough plastic spout of whatever oil he’d brought to her bed. Her coconut massage oil, she’d thought. He must have pilfered it from her bathroom. If he’d found that, he would have found her small collection of vibrators, too. She added that to the list of things she wasn’t going to think about right now.
And she wouldn’t…couldn’t think now, because he pressed it into her, the tip of the bottle and then a good spurt of the oil…the lube.
She’d known for several minutes his intent. The end goal of his sweet massage, his little seduction. She’d known, well before he’d told her that he was going to fuck her ass.
He hadn’t asked permission so much as seduced her into it with the confidence of…well, of a man who’d gotten his hands on a woman willing to fuck him and his two friends, too.
Another thing she’d think about later, because the man was good at what he did, and she really ought to pay attention to what he was doing, and…
She moaned, because she was pretty sure that now it was his cock right there at her opening, and she wasn’t telling him no. She flexed a little, or arched, and, intended or not, that made room for his fingers to stroke her clit. And then his cock—she was certain of that now—pressed in.
He’d been right. The fingers the guys had worked into her ass the night before had been surprisingly, wickedly stimulating.
This, though…was a different thing.
Her breath huffed out, a little edgy, as he pressed until she was stretched around him, the full girth of that big cock, it had to be. She kind of wanted to screech at the exquisite strain of it, the taking, engulfing, devastating mastery of it. The dominance.
Instinctively, she pushed up, raising her head. He came farther over her, putting weight on his right elbow and opportunistically reaching for her nipple with his fingers. His cock was still there, holding its place, not…thrusting.
“Jubilee,” he said, but she barely heard him. His fingers worked her clit and her nipple, so very distracting. “Do you want it? Tell me.”
He bore down just a little, the big circumference of his cock just inside her sphincter now, stretching, compelling. “Tell me.”
She pushed her head into the bed. A shudder ran through her, a flex of her body that asked for more. An invitation, without her conscious agreement.
He felt it, obviously. His cock pulsed and his fingers clutched harder at her nipple. He growled, a feral indication of his need. “Use words!”
“Yes!” She arched again, wanting, needing him to do what he meant. He didn’t take even a moment to process. Even as she cried out, he shoved into her.
The whole length of him. His big, pulsing cock. Deep into her ass.
He filled her, a primal, organic taking. An intimate invasion into the private core of her body. It was compelling, overpowering, crushing. Just the presence of him, the breadth and depth of him inside her.
Keith groaned mightily. He held rigidly over her, shivering just as she did. He moved his right hand, maneuvered his body above her, and, in a moment, she knew what he was doing. She felt it and heard it—a vibrator, her largest one, no doubt—being inserted into her pussy.
It added to the stretch, as he filled her everywhere, making her accommodate what seemed impossible. She hummed out a fearful breath. But he left the vibrator there, held his cock still in her ass, and moved his fingers back to toy with her nipple. Jubilee shuddered out a few more breaths, then rested her head down.
Keith took that as a signal. Burrowing his head into the crook of her shoulder, he started to fuck her. He said her name and she said his. He grasped at her everywhere he touched. And she sought him, pushing up with her arms, rocking back into to him. To meet his thrusts, to welcome him, to…take…all…of…him.
He ground into her and she ground back. She wailed as he frantically rubbed her clit and pinched her nipple. Each of his thrusts jarred the vibrator inside her, like a double-fuck, like he was taking, using, controlling her in every way. Finally, he collapsed over her, the whole weight of his body humping over her, into her.
“I can feel that,” he practically hollered. “In your cunt. It’s fucking nuts!”
She cried out with each breath now, wild and frantic. He did the same, muscling his cock into her, stretching and…pounding.
They came together, crazy, unholy orgasms that increased the frenzy of their actions, the ferocity of his thrusts and the completeness of her acceptance, her fully active acquiescence.
He growled and crowed the end of it while she sobbed and wailed. She felt the hot spurt of his semen, the slight easing of friction as he emptied into her. He shuddered, and she did, too. And moaned again, until finally, her breath came out in a whimper.
After many whimpers, Keith seemed to notice. He drew out of her, wrapped his arms around her and held her hard. “Jubilee,” he said. “Jubilee.”