Night Owl Top Pick!
“a fantasy come true for many healthy red blooded women single or attached, old or young.” Night Owl Romance
Two very different yet 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?
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Warning, sexually explicit content
Rena rode him hard. God, it was so right. He was so right, his body toned and powerful between her thighs, his strong hands molding to her rib cage, supporting her as he met her thrust for thrust.
“Oh God,” she whispered, head back, eyes closed. “That feels so good.” The angle of her body heightened the friction over her G-spot as Grant pumped slowly, inexorably. Oh, how he filled her, thick, long, hard. He could keep it up for hours.
She bit her lip. All right, slight exaggeration, but his control was as mammoth as his magnificent cock.
Sometimes she wanted nothing more than to shatter that control, to hear him shout, scream for her.
“Yeah, baby,” he crooned. “Squeeze me just like that.”
Her thighs trembled with tension. She wasn’t consciously aware of working her muscles on him, yet he claimed she drove him crazy on the inside.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded.
Dropping her chin, she met his gaze, his eyes dark cerulean pools in the moonlit bedroom. His short hair was deliciously thick and dark, a few strands of gray through the black. Gorgeous, hard muscles, a smooth chest with only the barest amount of hair.
Grant Tyler was prime.
“Make yourself come,” he urged.
“It won’t be me. It’ll be all you.” His cock inside her, that unwavering friction. But he liked to watch her too, and the truth was that a little help from her vibrator made her absolutely mad with his cock riding her G-spot. Luckily it never seemed to offend his masculinity or question his competency.
Grant handed her the toy, molding her fingers around it. “Play with your pretty little pussy, baby.”
“You have such a way with words.” She laughed, then gasped as she laid the vibrator to her clit. “Oh God,” she moaned.
He held her hips steady, pumped relentlessly. She began to quiver, shudder, tiny spasms working their way out from the pressure points of the vibrator on her, his cock inside her.
“I love how you lose it, how tight you are around me. Christ, that pussy is so sweet.”
Then her bucking became frantic, her breath harsh, her skin hot, a pinpoint of heat shooting out from her clitoris -- stronger, harder, hotter until it was a flash fire across her flesh.
Rena cried out as pure sensation took over until she was nothing but nerve endings and sexual energy against the pulse of his orgasm deep inside her. The pleasure seemed to go on and on until everything was too much, and tossing the vibrator aside, she crushed herself against the smooth, hard flesh of his torso.
Moments later she lay flush against his side, deliciously sweaty, fused to him. “God, you’re so good at what you do.”
Grant chuckled, tipped her chin, kissed her sweetly with a quick foray of his tongue, then backed off. “You can’t possibly know how good it feels on my cock when you come. I’ve never known a woman to squeeze so hard. It’s all I can do not to come too quickly.”
He talked a good game, but Grant came when he was ready, always timing it to her fifth or sixth orgasm. Heh, sometimes it had been the tenth. Suffice it to say, he made sure she had her fill before he allowed himself to come, her pleasure more important than his own.
Yet she dreamed of what it would be like were she to walk in the door to have him simply shove her up against the wall and do her in a fit of passion. She loved his words, his total focus on her needs, but sometimes she wanted down-and-dirty, no-holds-barred fucking because he was completely crazy for her and couldn’t help himself.
“You spending the night?” he asked. There wasn’t a hint of sleepiness in his voice.
“No. I’ve got a board meeting, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes.” She couldn’t give her quarterly financial presentation to the board wearing the same red power suit she’d had on today.
Grant rolled, then pulled her beneath him and clamped his hands on either side of her face. “You should leave some clothes here.”
They’d been lovers for eight months but had known each other eight years, having worked together at Sutter Circuits, a Silicon Valley manufacturing firm. Now he was CEO of a Fortune 500, and she was CFO for Sutter. There’d been a spark, but he’d been married back then, and neither had acknowledged the attraction. They’d reconnected at an investors’ conference. And he was no longer married. The long-ago spark had become a conflagration.
But they weren’t a couple and had both agreed there would be other lovers. “I wouldn’t want anyone to come upon my clothing in your closet,” she quipped, stroking his chin.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”
Her stomach turned over. “What?” She was afraid she knew. She’d been sensing something in him the last month, nothing she could put her finger on, just a piercing look or finding herself the object of his scrutiny. Grant didn’t act in haste. He thought things through. He weighed all the possible outcomes and came up with strategies for bringing about the result he desired. It was another facet of his control, but sometimes she felt like an item on his agenda.
He moved sinuously against her, exciting her nerve endings all over again. “I’m not interested in having anyone else in the condo who might have an objection to your clothes in my closet.”
Oh yeah, that’s what she’d been afraid of -- what a big part of her wanted, but another part didn’t know what to do with. She stalled by making him spell it out. “You mean…?”
“I mean that I haven’t had another lover in the last few months. And I have no desire for one in the foreseeable future.” Even the way he said it was diplomatic and controlled, yet he stared at her with those deep blue eyes, darker now as the moon outside the window suddenly disappeared behind a cloud.
How many months, she wondered but didn’t ask. “Umm.”
He dropped his head and buried his face in the hair tangled around her throat. “I want only you, Rena.”
Her heart thudded. The words thrilled her, made her pulse race. She couldn’t deny the physical sensations, the giddiness. Of their own volition, her arms wrapped around him, hugged him tightly. And yet…
“It’s not like I’m hopping from bed to bed,” she told him. “I want you to know I’ve had only one lover besides you in the last six months.” Yes, she’d cut off her other lovers, but still, she didn’t know if she could do what Grant wanted.
“And you don’t want to be tied down,” he interpreted, pulling back, his gaze moving across her face, registering the nuances of her expression.
She did want to be tied down. She was thirty-five, established in her career, owned her own home, had achieved financial security, and she was actually ready to try out a relationship. Not marriage and babies -- she wasn’t the motherhood type -- but a full-time, ongoing relationship. The problem was that she didn’t know with which man.
Grant was so perfect. He moved in her world, and they spoke the same language, had the same career goals. He respected her opinion, even changed his own mind sometimes based on what she had to say. They liked the same books, the same movies, the symphony -- so many things in common. At forty-five, he was ten years further up the ladder than she was, but they were both climbing in the same direction. He was sexy and funny, and God, the things he made her feel physically kept her in a constant state of fantasy. She’d never felt so sensual, so sexual. She admired him, respected him, had lusted after him. He was exactly the kind of man she would have dreamed up for herself: intelligent, handsome, a commanding leader with a charisma that earned him buy-in on almost every venture he chose to undertake.
Yet she felt he held himself back, as if he was always thinking before he acted, measuring and weighing the consequences, every move thought out. A necessary quality in a leader, but in seduction, occasionally she wanted the wild man. She wanted to feel that his emotions for her sometimes overwhelmed him. Oddly, she didn’t remember this same level of control in him when they’d first worked together. In fact, she clearly recalled a couple of incidences where he’d lost his cool in a meeting. Then again, he hadn’t been a CEO. He’d also been married and going through a difficult time at home, though she wasn’t aware of that until later, of course.
Could it be he’d never truly gotten over his wife? The idea chilled her blood, but no, if that were the case, Grant wouldn’t be asking her to move some of her clothes into his closet.
“I need more time.” She didn’t want to lose him. But she couldn’t say she was ready to choose either.
“Is this other lover someone important?”
She wanted to lie, give herself time to think. Then again, she couldn’t think away the truth. “Yes.”
He tensed, the lines on his face deepening, and his nostrils flared slightly. Then he rolled to his back. Pulling her with him, he tucked her tight to his side. “The truth is I don’t want to share you anymore. I want all of you.” He paused so long, she thought her heart might pound right out of her chest with the wait. “You need to decide if you want the same thing.”
Oh God. An ultimatum.
What the hell was she going to do?
* * * * *
Grant Tyler stood before the second-floor window of his San Francisco condo and stared out over the dark bay waters as if they were a black hole in the middle of his universe. Rena had left only a few minutes ago, and he could still smell her sensual musk in the room, on his skin, still taste her on his lips. He was used to issuing ultimatums, even if he didn’t like to be forced into it. In the business world, you started with diplomacy, but there was always the situation or the person that pushed you to the edge, and you had to take the my-way-or-the-highway approach.
Rena Lancaster was gorgeous, with blonde hair past her shoulders when she let it down -- literally and metaphorically -- a firm figure, luscious breasts, and skin soft and smooth to the touch. In her midthirties, she was one hell of a piece of perfect womanhood. She’d become his private obsession and his private hell. She wasn’t aware of that; over the last six years since his divorce, he’d grown as used to controlling his emotions as he was to giving orders. And he knew Rena might choose to walk away.
But the idea of her choosing someone else made him fucking crazy.
He’d thought to eradicate this kind of emotionalism. He’d lost his wife over it. He was lusty and hot-blooded, and his wife had been overwhelmed by his desires and emotions. And his jealousy. He fully admitted she hadn’t done much to inspire it. It was simply part of his nature. If another man got too friendly, he stepped in. He’d learned too late that sometimes a man needed to change his nature. He’d sworn he wouldn’t ruin another relationship. He’d therefore bottled up his jealousy and, ever since, had given his women all the freedom they required. Rena had required more freedom than most.
Yet sharing her with nameless, faceless lovers was killing him. He’d pretended he never even thought about it. He kept himself in check so she wouldn’t have a clue, concentrating on her, on making her feel so good she wouldn’t need another man.
Obviously it hadn’t worked. There were other considerations as well, the kind of woman she was being paramount among them.
She’d never been married; her career came first. She wasn’t interested in raising a family, and she didn’t need a man to keep her financially secure. She never demurred about her sex life; she loved sex and lots of it. She didn’t mash it into his face when she had a date, but there were times he’d asked to see her, only to have her tell him she was busy. If it was something innocuous like drinks with a girlfriend, she told him. It was the times she gave no explanation that crawled beneath his skin like parasites worming deep into him.
He’d always admired her business acumen, always found her sexy. She was strong, independent, and knew exactly what she wanted. He’d gravitated to her for those traits, but they were now the very qualities that made him insane.
There was hot, obsessive sex, lust, and desire, and there was his wanting to wake up beside a woman, to watch her over the breakfast table, to think about a future. He felt all those things for her. He didn’t know if it was love. He only knew that he needed to find out.
And he couldn’t do it when he was crazy thinking of her with another lover.
He was actually quite proud of how controlled and emotionless he’d sounded. “You need to decide if you want the same thing.” Yet it drove him nuts that she withheld pieces of herself, that she might possibly give those pieces to someone else.
If she decided she didn’t want him, he didn’t know what he’d do. His heart climbed into his throat, choking him. He feared what he might be capable of.