MY TWO DOMS: HOT HARD MENAGE #3 by Erika Masten Read Free Book Online Page A

feel dampness seeping
into my cotton panties from my moistening pussy. My last thought is to actually
glance up at the title. Instead of Domination
Romance , the strong block letters read Total
Submission .
    Only then does it occur to me to flip back to the
address block on the plain cover. 108 S. Third Street instead of 106. Matthew
Gibbs, not Zoe Baker. Shit, I opened my next door neighbor’s mail.
    I check the seals, hoping maybe I can just fold them
back over the cover. Nope, I didn’t peel them; I tore them. But maybe not all
is lost. Matthew works a few block away from my offices, on the far side of the
Financial District. He usually gets home a few minutes after I do. And his
partner, Noah, always works a little later, trying to squeeze in a few more
veterans waiting to see him at the VA benefits office downtown. Maybe I can
just slip it into their mailbox before they get home. Anyone might have opened
it. It could even have gotten torn during transit, running through sorting
machines, getting stuffed into bags and little postal jeeps.
    Of course, it also makes me wonder about Matthew. He
and Noah have been great neighbors, from volunteering their help when I pulled
up in the moving truck, to coaching me through more than a few DIY home
maintenance moments. They had me over for Christmas Eve, and I’ve invited them
for dinner half a dozen times in the last eight months, and not just because
they’ve refrained from telling me what a pest I am. Though they’ve never been
the touchy feely sort in front of me, it’s clear they’re a couple. Why else
would two attractive men in their early thirties with good jobs be living
together? Now, however, flipping through page after page of women bound in
helpless and suggestive slave positions, I’m wondering if Matthew might be
bisexual rather than gay.
    Not that it would mean… After all, he and Noah are
still a couple, and nothing says he’d be interested in me, anyway… But…it does
make for some new fantasy material. Considering how badly my last relationship
ended, and my vow to take a year off from dating while I figure out why I keep
picking unfaithful, emotionally unavailable bad boys, the importance of hot
male stock for fantasizing cannot be overstated.
    I slip out my front door and glance over at their
porch. Looks quiet. The living room curtains are still drawn. So why, if
they’re not home and I’m hoping no one will see me, am I straightening my loose
black skirt and smoothing the wrinkles from my navy silk blouse? My nipples are
still embarrassingly hard, so I hug the magazine to my chest and stride as
quickly as my high heels will allow along my concrete walk and down the
sidewalk toward the next mailbox.
    Even while chiding
myself for acting like an oversexed teenager, I’m already thinking naughty
thoughts about Matthew, about his broad chest and beefy arms, about what it
would be like to feel him tying me up and touching me. His voice is deep,
controlled, but with a humorous, inviting quality to it. What would he sound
like telling me to kneel and suck his cock like a good little sex slave? That
I’m his to do with as he pleases? That my proper place is legs spread, ready to
service him? God, I’m making myself shiver.
    Matthew has that
mixture of rugged fitness and quiet, intense charm I’ve seen before—and been so
attracted to—in military men. Noah and he have only been out of the service for
three or four years, after joining at eighteen and putting in twelve years
each. Oh my, the military fantasies I could have. The commanding officer
disciplining the disobedient recruit. The officer interrogating his prisoner of
war.
    “There’s my favorite
redhead.”
    I freeze at the sound
of a voice I recognize too easily. He’s caught me with my hand in mid-air,
reaching for the door of his mailbox. No avoiding him now.
    Hoping I’m not blushing
a deeper read than my own hair, I spin on my heels to face Matthew, where he’s
leaning on a post