by Logan Fox
He forced a swallow, and slowly drew out of the girl. “Milo, fuck—”
Milo fumbled, found his dick, forced it back inside Cora. She cried out and sagged again.
He was losing patience. Or maybe he was just as close to coming as the both of them. Milo stepped back, knocked Cora’s leg off the coffee table, and stabbed a hand to the bed.
“Go.”
And Lars went, dragging a half-delirious Cora behind him. Because he’d seen that look before, and if he didn’t start upping his game, Milo would take it out on him.
The thought was a vicious, if intoxicating one.
The room swam as if she was about to pass out. Her breath was ragged and heavy, her head so light it floated somewhere by the ceiling. She could smell herself, and that just made all of this that much more delicious. Her feet tangled under her when Lars suddenly tugged her over the floor. But she couldn’t resist him. She could barely move. Could hardly think.
Then she was on the bed, the sheets cool and smooth under her. Fabric burned against her hips as the soaked, torn pajamas shorts were ripped from her.
Warm, strong hands lifted her shoulders. Finn. He made her sit up, and then urged her onto her knees.
Why?
Her head felt so woozy, like she was fall-down drunk. But she’d been sober when Finn had thrown Lars against the wall, what seemed like an eon ago.
Love drunk.
Sex drunk.
Fuck drunk.
Her giggle cut off as Finn grabbed her hands and yanked her down onto all fours. She looked up at him, her mouth parting around a harsh pant as she tried to get air into her lungs. At least she wasn’t gagged anymore. Although…that had been some kind of bliss, that fabric between her lips. Being trapped between these two men. Their slave. Their sex toy.
And then Finn kissed her. She made a surprised sound, but it was muffled by the insistent caress of his lips. His tongue forced its way inside her, easing another low moan from her.
Behind her, the mattress dipped slightly as Lars climbed onto the bed. She stiffened, more in anticipation that in unease, but then Finn’s hand twined into her hair and yanked her head back. She stared up at his face, her mouth open and lips still tingling furiously from their kiss.
Lars pulled her legs apart more than a foot. Her chin quivered, but she tried to maintain eye contact with Finn, hard as it was. Releasing her, Finn tore his shirt over his head and then stepped out of his sweats and boxers. Naked. Dick standing proud from his body.
And then he stepped closer, putting that glistening tip less than an inch from her mouth.
She must have breathed on him, because he shuddered and gripped his dick, stroking it. Keeping it at that same tantalizing distance. She could feel heat coming off of him—it strobed over her lips. She licked them, and Milo bucked forward as if his body had done it without him wanting to.
Behind her, Lars ran his hands over her ass, and then yanked her cheeks apart. Cool air slid between her legs. Wetness oozed from her, and she shuddered as shame heated her cheeks. She had no idea what she looked like down there, what Lars was seeing.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Lars murmured. And that made her blush even harder.
“She is, isn’t she?” Finn said. His cock touched her lips just as Lars’s dick brushed against her entrance. Both slid in a quarter inch. Milo’s cock was warmth and so smooth, slightly salty. She sucked gently at him, gaze fluttering up. He looked mesmerized, his lips parted and jaw bunching as if he was clenching his teeth.
Lars inched inside her, as did Milo. Both filling her. She squirmed, bucked her hips hard into Lars. An orgasm sped toward her at the speed of light. So close that, when Lars had filled her entirely and his fingertips touched her clit a second later, she came.
Her orgasm forced a spluttered cry from her. It vibrated over Milo’s cock, and seconds later thick, bitter liquid filled her mouth. She gagged, both because his dick had struck the back of her throat and from the taste, but he simply tightened his hand in her hair and forced her to swallow or die from suffocation. She did, but sloppily. Some of that liquid dribbling down her chin while the last of her climax shuddered its way through her.
Lars was still fucking her. Slowly, lethargically. As if he had all day. And, to her shock, a deep ache began building almost immediately. Milo slid his cock from her mouth, using his thumb to wipe cum from her chin. And then slid that thumb back into her mouth as if it was precious and couldn’t be wasted. Her mouth watered around the taste and she shuddered violently, but she would have done anything for him then just to see that look of utter satisfaction on his face.
Lars fingered her clit, thrusting into her again and again. A second climax began building, but it felt as far away as a train at the end of a very, very long tunnel.
Until Milo took hold of her shoulders and urged her up to her knees. He wrapped her hands around his softening dick, and began stroking it. Showing her. Guiding her.
Her orgasm built up speed. And Lars hadn’t stopped. She could hear his panting behind her, more desperate than the thrusting of his dick. Milo reached under her like he had done before.
And god damn, that had been so fucking hot. Feeling his fingertips guiding Lars’s dick inside her? That had been what had put her in this semi-comatose state.
And now he did the same—grabbing Lars, using the tip of the man’s dick to find her opening while she stroked Finn’s cock back into a massive erection.
But, this time, he didn’t slowly feed Lars inside her. He grabbed the man’s dick and slammed it into her as soon as he’d found her opening. She gasped, floundering when that fist sent a shockwave through her. Then another. He was fucking her with Lars’s cock. She jerked him off harder, trying to match his violence with her own. Glaring at him despite herself, trying to communicate just how much that impact hurt—and pleasured—her.
Again. Harder. She cried out, feeling tears prick her eyes. Lars groaned loudly behind her, and his hands squeezed her breasts until her flesh oozed between his fingers.
Finn used his free hand to swipe a thumb over her lips, and then grabbed her jaw so he could kiss her.
Now she couldn’t breathe. Trapped between them, she couldn’t struggle. And that insistent pounding between her legs—inside her—didn’t stop. Her climax screamed toward her.
Lars came a second later. He slammed so hard into her that Finn’s teeth grazed her lips and brought blood to the surface. Again, Lars pounded into her, squeezing her breasts hard enough to bruise. Finn’s cock was back to its full size, hard as rock between her urgent hands. Lars yanked out of her, and something warm and wet spurted onto the small of her back. His dick slid between her cheeks and rested against the puckered flesh of her backdoor. Warm and pulsing, and still spurting out more cum as if the man had a truckload of it in storage.
And then Milo tore free of her hands and speared into her. He barely got in three violent thrusts, lips still stealing her breath and making her ache for him to split her open, before she came.
She screamed into his mouth. Lars rubbed the tip of his dick hard against that tight circle of flesh, sending pulsing tendrils of pleasure through her as Milo fucked her orgasm out of her. She had his shoulders under her hands. Fingertips slipping on wet skin. But her eyes were glued shut as her orgasm rocked her and made her quake around Finn’s dick.
His palm was on her clit, massaging her hard, forcing even more from her than she thought possible to give.
And then he came inside her. Stretching her around him as he buried himself deep inside her. His pelvis ground against hers as he tried to force every inch of him inside.
Lars’s fingers were around the base of Milo’s dick. She could feel them now, massaging both her and Finn. And then Finn groaned and thrust a final time, just as the last of her orgasm tore through her.
His lips had never left hers. He began kissing her again. Softly, and so slowly that she shuddered fiercely and almost wanted to move away in case she came again.
He stayed inside her. Lars encircled them with his arms, hands trembling as his breath warmed the back of her neck. Then the man kissed her spine, her shoulders, the side of her neck. Milo drew away from her.
His eyes were the crystal blue of a lake, gleaming above flushed cheeks and parted lips. She brought her fingertips to his mouth, touching his lips and trailing her fingers over him as he watched her. As Lars showered her skin with kisses so light, they could have been a dream.
And then she saw the red she was streaking over Finn’s face. She jerked, pulled her hands away. Curled her fingers against her palms.
Blood.
Her eyes twitched up to his shoulders. His chest.
She’d left furrows through his flesh. Some oozed with thickening blood, some barely more than a scratch.
Finn ducked his head, caught one of her fingers between his lips, and sucked it inside his mouth. Cleaning off the blood as he slowly, reluctantly, drew out of her.
36
A fatherless child
Cora’s eyes flew open at the sound of a loud knock. They felt grainy from lack of sleep, aching. As did most of her body. Hair hung in her face, and she swiped it away as she propped herself onto her elbows, blinking blearily at her unfamiliar surroundings. And then she saw the two shapes lying to either side of her. One bulky, the other slim. Lars’s mop of pale hair could be seen from under the sheets, but he’d drawn those up all the way to his ears, hiding his face. Finn’s modesty was retained with barely a strip of sheet, most of that tangled between his muscular legs. She glanced from one man to the other, giving her lips a slow lick as her mind scrambled to remember what the hell had happened last night.
One particularly vivid memory flooded into her brain about the same time as another loud knock to her bedroom door.
She was at her Javier’s villa.
Lars. Finn. Her on the bed between them.
“Elle?” came Javier’s voice from behind the bedroom door. “It’s almost nine, mi reinita. I was hoping you would join us for breakfast.”
Javier. Her eyes widened.
“Mierda.” She grabbed Finn and Lars each in a hand and gave them a violent shake. “Get up. Get up!”
Finn sat bolt upright, eyes narrowed. There was another knock at the door, and his eyes flew to it. He assessed the situation in a millisecond before leaping from the bed and heading for the closest door—her en-suite closet.
“Lars! Get up!” she whispered furiously. Finn doubled back, dragged the man from the bed, and urged him into the closet ahead of him. Cora heard a mumbled, “Breakfast already?” from Lars before Finn closed the closet door quietly behind them.
Her bedroom door opened. Cora grabbed her sheets and gathered them at her chest. She was still naked, last night’s pajamas lay heaven knew where in the room.
“I thought you’d be up already,” Javier said, stepping into her room. “Breakfast is getting cold.”
She half-cringed, expecting Lars to shout out something about how he could eat a horse from the walk-in closet. Luckily, there wasn’t a sound from that room. Javier walked across her room, but stayed several feet away from her bed, perhaps noticing she was naked beneath the sheets.
Her cheeks burned then. She probably looked like shit—hair mussed and makeup streaked.
“I…I overslept.”
“You did have a fair amount to drink last night,” Javier commented wryly. Then his eyes did a scan of the room, and shot back to her with a delicate frown between his thick, black brows. “Are you alone?”
“Wh—” she cleared her throat. “Of course, Tío.”
“It’s Javier,” he murmured, but absently. His eyes focused on something on the floor, hidden from her by the chaise lounge, and a knowing look filled his dark eyes. That generous mouth of his slid into a cold smile. “I will tell the chef to cook us some fresh eggs. Please be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
He turned, hands clasped casually behind his back, and looked at the walk-in closet as if he could see the two men standing behind that flimsy door.
The bedroom door closed softly behind him, and her breath whooshed out of her in a hot stream that made her body sag back against the velvet-lined headboard.
A few seconds later, the closet opened. Finn stuck out his head, scanned the room, and stepped out. He wore one of the many robes that had been hanging inside the closet. Her lips squirmed, wanting to smile at how ridiculous he looked in pale satin that barely came to mid-thigh. But then Lars stepped out in a hot pink robe even shorter than Finn’s—probably because he was a taller—and she burst out laughing.
Finn glared at her, and strode over to where he’d shed his sweats, tugging them on with purpose. Lars leaned against the doorframe of the walk-in closet and struck a pose, hand on his hip, smile so wide she could see his teeth.
“Like what you see?” he purred.
She clapped her hands over her mouth as another lurid memory surfaced in her muzzy mind. She burrowed her head in the sheets and ran hands through her wild hair, trying to will away the image of Finn’s expression when Lars had been standing behind her, fingers—
“You leave first,” Finn said. “Make sure no one sees you. I’ll leave a few minutes after.”
“Oh, so it’s back to this, is it?” Lars said dryly, his smile evaporating. “You know, Milo, you’ve got some fucking nerve—”
“I’ve got some nerve?” Finn bellowed, rushing to his feet and taking a hard step toward Lars, fists at his sides.
“Guys,” Cora whispered urgently. “Please.”
They turned to her, wearing almost identical expressions of surprise, as if both had forgotten she was in the room.
“Stop fighting.”
Her words didn’t exactly make them relax and give each other fist bumps, but at least some of the tension left their shoulders and jaws. She slid from the bed, awkwardly trying to keep a sheet wrapped around her without tripping over it. Then she pushed her shoulders back, tried to ignore the furious blush burning through her cheeks, and said, “Go get yourselves cleaned up. I’ll see you both at breakfast.”
Finn opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue, but she cut in before he could. “Both of you.” Her voice was hard, if shaky, but for once, Finn gave her a slow nod. She turned to Lars, and he simply shrugged.
Then, before she had time for more than an indrawn breath, the pale haired man was in front of her, crushing his mouth to hers.
And after that brief, passionate kiss, he was gone.
Her lips tingled furiously. She brought her hand up, touching fingertips to her mouth, and slowly turned to Finn.
“I…I’m sorry,” she said.
He was lacing up his shoes. “For what?” he asked, not looking at her.
What was she sorry for? Getting roped into a threesome? Being pissed off enough at him that she’d considered sleeping with Lars as some form of revenge? She lifted her chin and waited until Finn looked up at her with an expectant frown.
“Actually, I’m not sorry for anything.” Her skin prickled, expecting some form of fury to explode from the man, but he calmly rose to his feet, studied her for a moment, and then took a few slow steps toward her.
“Good. You shouldn’t be.” Then he ran his hair down her head, narrowing his eyes a little before settling his gaze on her eyes. “I’m leaving,” he said.
Her stomach contracted so hard, so fast, she thought she’d be sick right there on the wood floor. “But—”
“You don’t want someone like me,” Finn said.
“I’m so sick of everyone else making my decisions for me!” she yelled. Her breath rushed into suddenly tight lungs, and she hurriedly licked her lips. “I mean, if I want to…If we can…”
His arctic blue eyes watched her until she trailed off, words suddenly gone. Then he cupped his face in her hands and pressed his lips to hers. Softly, almost chastely. But that touch electrified her more than Lars’s furious kiss had. When he drew back, she could see regret in his eyes.
But it was there less than a second before it flickered away, replaced with that fierce determination he wore like a goddamn mask.
“My job was to bring you to safety. You’re here now. My job’s done.” He turned to leave.
“You said this stop being a job when we…when you—”
“When I fucked you?”
“When we made love,” she corrected him quietly.
Finn let out a soft laugh. “God, you’re too innocent for this world. It’s going to eat you alive.”
“Then stay,” Cora said, stepping closer. “And make sure it doesn’t.”
He shook his head, eyes closed, and left without a backward glance.
Finn glared at himself in the bathroom mirror. With morning—as always—dawn brought intense clarity of thought. Every ounce of his mind demanded that he leave the villa. By car, by foot, whatever the fuck it took to get away from Cora. But she sung to him like a fucking siren, and his body thrummed at just the memory of her silky hair under his hand.
Strangely, he felt compelled to obey her command to stay. Maybe just for breakfast. A half hour of chitchat, food—if he could stomach anything—and then he’d be leaving all this behind in a dust cloud.
He scrubbed his face, found his laundered and freshly ironed clothes on a neat pile on the foot of the bed, and put them on.
The dining room was empty. He stared at the furniture for a moment, blinking. And then a passing maid murmured to him, “Don Javier takes his breakfast on the patio,” before hurrying away like she’d left the stove on.
He found Javier and an entire entourage of men outside on the patio overlooking the crystalline waters of the swimming pool. Those pools that weren’t disturbed by mini-waterfalls mirrored a brilliant sky unbroken by clouds. Cora sat again to Javier’s left, Ana beside her. Silvia sat opposite Javier, and wore heavy shades and a sunhat despite the deep shade cast by the patio’s roof.
Finn didn’t recognize any of the men scattered about the table. It could hold twelve, and every seat except two had been taken. One opposite Javier, and one beside that.
