Take Your Pick is a reissue of my 2010 LooseId release with a sexy new cover by Rae Monet. I know many of the other ladies on 69 Shades of Smut write extremely hot male-male stories—enough to really fog up the glasses! But I’d never written male-male scenes before, and I was a little worried that I might not handle it correctly. But when combined with a ménage, I found it was very exciting material to write! I loved the competition between the two men. I mean really, what woman wouldn’t love having two men vying for her, willing to do absolutely anything to please her, taking risks, doing things they’ve never before dreamed of doing? Hmm, maybe that’s a fantasy of my very own, LOL! So here’s a blurb and an excerpt that gets the ball rolling for this sexy menage!
Two very enticing men, one very big choice…
Grant Tyler is sophisticated, intelligent, controlled, and a highly successful CEO of a Fortune 500. He’s Rena Lancaster’s perfect match, same background, same career path, they speak each other’s language. In bed, he makes her see stars. But then there’s Karl Kristiansen. Every bit as virile, masculine and intelligent as Grant, he’s her contractor, earthy, hands work-roughened, body tough, and powerful. And he takes Rena’s senses by storm.
When Grant decides he wants Rena exclusively, he forces a decision on her. And it’s Karl who comes up with the perfect test for choosing between them, make love with them both at the same time and see who does the best job.
When their sexual play becomes a true ménage, with Grant and Karl each trying to top the other, willing to do anything Reba asks, even touch each other, the three of them together are like spontaneous combustion. Now that she’s had a taste of the real thing, how can Rena choose between these two perfect men when they both give her different things she craves?
Take Your Pick
Copyright 2012 Jasmine Haynes
Late-April weather in the San Francisco Bay Area was fickle. It started raining just as Rena pulled her BMW into the garage of her Atherton town house. With the light traffic due to the lateness of the hour, she’d made it home from Grant’s place in less than forty-five minutes. She could still see his face, inscrutable, contained, as if he weren’t applying any pressure on her at all. After unlocking the door to the kitchen, she set her laptop briefcase just inside before reaching for the light.
She never made it. Big hands grabbed her, shoved her up against the wall. She sucked in a breath, scenting him like the bitch in heat he’d turned her into. He yanked up her skirt. When she’d left Grant’s, she hadn’t bothered with her nylons. He went down on his knees, buried his face against her pussy.
“Christ, I can smell him on you. It’s so fucking hot.” He tore her panties to get at her, thrusting his tongue deep into her cleft.
She held his face to her. He was always like this—wild, going straight for her pussy before even kissing her. God help her, she loved it.
“Did he come inside you?” he whispered, warm breath bathing her, making her wet, hot.
“No. A condom.” She barely managed to speak sensibly as he stroked her clit with his tongue, his soft mustache and goatee tickling her at the same time. Hmm, is this what they called a French tickler?
“Fuck,” he growled. “I want him to come inside you so I can lick you clean when you get home.” Then he went back to her pussy with gusto, licking, sucking, stoking the fire she thought Grant had quenched.
She thrust her fingers through his dark blond hair, held him tight, her body rocking to his rhythm, her head lolling against the wall.
He drew back, forcing a moan from her; she’d been so close to coming. “Tell me what he did to you. Describe it. Did he taste your pussy?”
He loved the dirty talk, the details, every filthy, nasty thing she’d done.
“He licked my clit while he finger-fucked me.”
At the words, he attacked her clitoris with renewed fervor. She went on. “Then I sucked his cock.”
He backed off long enough to say, “Tell me about his cock.”
“He’s thick, long. And he gets so damn hard. I love how he tastes. Sweet.” She breathed a sigh of delight at both the remembered ambrosia and the rich and very real feel of a tongue on her now. “And God, when he comes, there’s so much, I can’t swallow it all.”
“Did he come in your mouth?”
“Not this time. He fucked me doggy.” Her body clenched at the tactile memory. “He took me hard, deep.” She closed her eyes a moment, relishing the sweet spot he’d found with his finger. “Then he flipped me over and made me ride him fast,” she told him on a gasp, “keeping me in place. He knows the perfect angle to hold me at, and he fucks me deep.” With Grant, it wasn’t so much her riding him as him fucking her from beneath with the most amazing intensity. She loved Grant’s intensity. It was the closest thing to passion he displayed.
Between her thighs, she felt the explosion building. His fingers slipped inside her, pushed her higher, fucking her the way she’d told him Grant had done. “I came so hard,” she whispered. She quaked with the feel of it, both his touch inside her and the remembered sensation of her orgasm shooting through her.
“Fuck, I need to be inside you. I’m so goddamn hard, I can’t wait another second.” He rose, jammed his hands beneath her armpits, and shoved her high until she wrapped her legs around his waist. He was six feet four, an inch taller than Grant, his body thick and hard with years of labor. He had twenty pounds on Grant, and it was all muscle. God, she loved the way he always had to pick her up, holding her high, as if she weighed nothing. It was so…primal, making her feel delicate and petite despite being five-seven herself. And his work boots, holy hell, they turned her mad with desire. She braced herself against the wall as he dispensed with belt buckle and jeans buttons and added the tear of a condom wrapper to the harsh sound of her breath, his breath.
“Fuck, I need you. I want this. I fucking have to have it.”
He entered her with no more preliminaries, thrusting deep in one stroke. She clung to him, a tear of pure physical delirium leaking from her eye.
He overwhelmed her with passion, need, emotion, as if she was the only woman who could make him lose control like this. Her back scraped the wall, but she held on, taking every inch of his cock, drowning herself in his earthy, intoxicating aroma.
“Jesus, sweetheart, yeah.” His nostrils flared; his head fell back. “Fuck.”
On his lips, she loved that word. Fuck. It was almost an endearment, but the sex was raw, wild, overpowering her senses, turning her inside out. She cried out as he hit that perfect spot over and over until, like an animal, she sank her teeth into the flesh at his throat.
He hissed. “You dirty bitch.”
And even that shot her higher—the visceral language, the incessant grind of his body. Then he slammed home. With the pulse and spasm of his cock inside her, she tumbled over the edge with him.
Together they crumpled to the floor until he held her in his lap, his cock still buried deep inside her.
* * * * *
“There’s a very simple solution, sweetheart.”
Fifteen minutes later, on the couch in her darkened living room, Karl cradled her in his lap, his big arms engulfing her, his Midwestern drawl as soothing as the rain pattering on the deck outside. She’d told him Grant wanted her to choose.
Karl Kristiansen was her contractor. She’d been attracted to him from the moment he’d begun wandering through her town house preparing the bid for all the work she wanted done. He’d started doing her remodeling a week later, and he’d started doing her a week after that. That had been eight months ago. He and Grant had exploded into her life at the same time. Yes, she already knew Grant, but not the way she knew him now. He’d been off-limits when they’d first worked together, but that’s why he’d made such a good fantasy. When she’d finally had him, that’s what made him so much better, the years of fantasizing. But Karl was big and powerful, full of passion, taking her senses by storm.
Was it possible to have the same feelings about two different men for very different reasons?
“All right,” she mused sleepily, “tell me the solution.”
“Do us both and compare.”
“I just did you both.” She nuzzled his throat. He smelled so good, that tantalizingly earthy male scent. “And I still can’t decide. You both give me different things.”
His chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I mean, do us together.”
She slid off him, curled her legs beneath her on the sofa, and stared. “Like in the same bed at the same time?”
He shook his head, his teeth white behind his smile. With only the hall light stretching its fingers into the living room, the hazel of his eyes appeared dark as a jungle, but the sparkle was unmistakable. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a threesome.”
She shook her head. “The closest I’ve had to a threesome is what I do with you and Grant.” An evening in Grant’s bed, then coming home to find Karl had used her key.
The first time it had been a coincidence. Karl had come by to check a measurement in the kitchen. He’d let himself in; she’d arrived home a short while later. Invading her space as they’d talked in the kitchen, he’d leaned in close to sniff her. Then everything had gotten wild. He’d taken her on the counter as she told him all the things she’d just done with Grant, how he tasted, how he felt. She hadn’t volunteered; Karl had asked. The more explicit she got for him, the harder he had grown. It had become a ritual—a dirty, nasty, intoxicating ritual.
Karl grabbed her chin, his eyes suddenly serious, blazing. “I want to lick you while he’s fucking you.”
I’m joining Drea’s Howloween Blog Hop so be sure to drop by www.jasminehaynes.blogspot.com on Oct 26 and learn more about all the wonderful prizes you can win on the blog hop! I’ll be giving away 10 copies of Twisted by Love, my reincarnation tale!