by Pam Godwin
I wanted to be smothered by them until the only thing I smelled was the musk of their arousal. Until all I felt was the slide of hot, tight, sweat-soaked skin. My pussy clenched painfully, aching to be filled by their tongues, their fingers, their cocks.
Not their cocks. They wouldn’t give me that, but I’d come…I’d most definitely, assuredly come just thinking about it.
Jesse pushed off the door. My lungs didn’t contract once during the long second it took for him to close the distance. His eyes never wavered from mine, a dark and devious intent sparking in the copper depths.
Would he let me touch his cock? Wrap my lips around it? Sweet holy fuck, I wanted to see him tremble with release, taste it on my tongue, and feel his relief slide down my throat.
“Take off your clothes.” He crowded my space, arms braced on the counter on either side of my hips.
I’d never stripped so fast, especially in such a confined area. My elbows banged against the vanity. My knees bumped into Jesse’s legs. As I tore at the laces on my boots and wrenched them off, he didn’t back up, didn’t give me an inch of wriggle room.
Roark watched me wrestle with the button on my shorts, his expression tightening as if he were seconds from launching off the edge of the tub to help me along.
Socks and shorts off, shirt next, I stood naked and breathing heavily in the rigid prison of Jesse’s arms and chest.
In those lust-filled seconds as he watched me, drawing out the anticipation, I reached for the waistband of his briefs.
My fingers dipped beneath the elastic and brushed against a patch of thick hair. My eyes begged, Please let me touch you, as I said, “I still owe you for last time.”
“No.” He grabbed my wrists, pulled my arms behind my back, and held them there with one hand.
Was he afraid his seed would get on my fingers and I’d inadvertently touch myself and become pregnant?
His free hand traced my collarbone, fingers dragging over and around one breast. He caressed my ribs, my hip, the crease between my thigh and pelvis, and dipped between my legs. He lingered there, cupping, the pads of his fingers lightly dancing over my folds.
Tremors rippled down my legs, and I widened my stance, unabashedly pleading for more.
Roark hadn’t moved, elbows still resting on his knees, his head tipped down, and hooded eyes locked on mine.
“Come here,” I mouthed at him.
He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting.
He likes to watch.
I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, playfully pouting, even though I trembled at the idea of Jesse bringing me to orgasm while he watched.
The hand between my legs slid along my seam, fingers teasing without entering. I moaned against the diabolical sensation, jerking my hips toward him, struggling to keep my arms still in the manacle of Jesse’s hand. The desperation constricting my pussy demanded to be stroked harder, rubbed deeper, and pounded into ecstasy.
All three of us had desires to fulfill, but beyond that, I sensed another need from Jesse and Roark. A need to erase any interest I might’ve had toward the Link’s men. Sharing me among three men was hard enough. It would’ve been harder to share me with a fourth or a fifth or more, especially since neither Jesse nor Roark would have actual sex with me.
They were staking me as theirs.
When I released another moan, Jesse’s mouth caught it, our lips sealing our breaths, his tongue rolling against mine. My body stilled, all thought and feeling zooming in on the warm, wet seduction of his mouth.
His breathing, frenzied and hot against my lips, had the most intoxicating effect. He was as turned on as I was, and dammit, I was leaking all over his curling fingers.
I twisted my arms against his hold at my back and spread my legs wider, rocking my hips. “Inside.” I rubbed my tongue against his, the kiss intensifying, growing faster, wetter, harder. “Please, Jesse.”
He tore his mouth away and buried a groan against my neck, his fingers working deeper with each pass, spreading me open and slipping around my drenched opening.
Roark still hadn’t shifted. His hands, folded between his knees, didn’t budge to stroke the hard length of his cock, which lay trapped against his leg beneath the tight stretch of his boxers. His lips parted to accommodate his labored breaths and the heat in his eyes melted my insides.
Footsteps passed outside the door every few minutes, and muffled voices penetrated the walls. But all distractions disappeared when Jesse’s fingers burrowed inside me, fucking me hard, harder, so jarringly rough my legs gave out.
He lifted me, planting my ass on the counter, and swallowed my scream with his mouth. His fingers thrust mercilessly, working me into a panting, back-bowing creature in heat. I didn’t even recognize the noises garbling from my mouth.
Without breaking the kiss, I bent my knees and dug my heels against the edge of the counter. The position tilted my pussy upward, giving him easier access as he fingered me harder, pounding his knuckles against my swollen flesh, and hurtling me closer toward the bliss of release.
If he had any reservations about Roark’s presence, he didn’t show it. Maybe he’d completely forgotten about our voyeur in his crazed fever. I’d never seen him like this, the wild look in his eyes, the out-of-control breathing, and the frantic thrusting of his erection against my inner thigh. He was two-hundred-pounds of desperate, starving insistence, and I was spread wide open for him, slick, aching, and ready.
He released my arms, shoving his hand between us to join the other. Then I felt it, the wet head of his cock, free from the confines of his briefs, nudging against my center and blocked only by his fingers. Holy fuck, he was stroking himself, his fist jerking along his shaft, his breaths hot against my mouth.
A roaring fire exploded inside me, stealing the oxygen from my lungs as it spread through my body, building, shooting me toward the scorching horizon. I pushed my hands through his hair, his face pressed against my neck, and leaned back to look at him between my legs.
His hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Yes, it was just a cock, but it was more beautiful than anything I’d envisioned, the length hard as steel, throbbing with veins, and angry red.
At the edge of my vision, Roark stood, towering over us. But I was too far gone. Too much pressure, unraveling, tearing apart. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to.
My inner muscles pulsed around his fingers, and I felt like I was ripped open with spectacular force, coming, coming… Holy fucking motherfuck, I was screaming, every cell in my body catching fire and blowing up, over and over and over.
His fingers continued to slam into me, the shaft of his cock rubbing against my folds. The tip rubbed across my clit, the base ground against my center, and his mouth…fuck, his mouth consumed me, sucking my air, drinking my cries, and drawing out my orgasm with a sinfully talented tongue.
He choked, a pained sound at the back of his throat, but he wasn’t done. His chest collided with mine, his fingers shaking as they swirled through my wetness. The head of his cock replaced his hand, growing more urgent, sliding, pressing, and punching aggressive spasms through the aftershocks of my climax.
“I want in.” He rubbed himself against my clit and slid back to my center, nudging, demanding, his breaths rushing out in wild pants.
I shivered, dazed from the magnificent force of the orgasm and so damned turned on I couldn’t see straight. “Jesse—”
“Just the tip.” He clutched my hips and lined himself up. “I won’t come.”
“Ye will.” Roark launched to my side, his breathing erratic as he looked at Jesse, at me, back to Jesse. “Did ye feel the string? The IUD?”
Jesse stabbed two fingers inside me, curling and searching, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit and sending unholy shivers through my body.
“I— I can’t…I don’t know.” He yanked his fingers away and gripped his cock.
Shit. I flattened my hands on their chests, trying to catch my breath. “Some
times it shifts deeper in my cervix. Even if you can’t feel it, it’s still there.”
Was I certain? Was it worth the risk?
Fuck yes! warred with visions of carrying a life to my uncertain death.
Roark grabbed Jesse’s forearm, his eyes hard shards of green glass. “If she gets pregnant…”
The rest of his sentence hung in the air. The world-saving child, my grim fate, the harrowing fucking mystery of it all.
I could tell from Jesse’s labored breathing and the insistent thrusts of his erection against my opening that he was beyond listening. Would he turn on Roark, spitting and throwing punches? He had a delirious look in his eyes. But maybe he’d wanted Roark in here all along to stop him from going too far?
He began to sink deeper, breaching my entrance, and I shoved my hands between us. He swung his hand, and despite the force with which he knocked my arms away, the pressure of his cock eased, cautious, uncertain.
His chest heaved, and his desperate breaths hissed out. But so did mine and Roark’s. There wasn’t enough air in the room to accommodate our sexual tension.
Roark pressed against my side, crowded around me, his arm at my back, his other hand now flat against the clench of Jesse’s abs, his hard glare on the precarious location of Jesse’s cock.
For a dense moment, I thought Jesse might cringe away, but when he looked into my eyes and an agonized sound burst from the back of his throat, all hell broke loose.
The stoic, untouchable guardian I’d known for two years attacked me like a man possessed.
Every ounce of tension in the tiny bathroom exploded all at once. In a blink, Jesse was all over me, his chest barreling into mine, the momentum banging my tailbone painfully against the faucet. His hands were everywhere, darting back and forth between pushing at Roark, restraining my arms, squeezing my breast, and grabbing his cock to shove it inside me.
Oh fuck, that beautiful cock. I wanted it, invading and stretching and pounding, until all I could feel was the brutal impact of his possession.
I ached for it to thrust us right out of the realm of reality. “Roark, please. Just wait a—”
Jesse’s lips slammed against my mouth, his tongue lashing, only to pull away every other breath to argue with Roark. “Get the fuck off me.” He turned back to me, leaning his forehead against mine, panting, as he tried to line up his cock. Then he was gone again, shoving at Roark. “I won’t hurt her.”
His mouth returned to mine, hot, heavy, and wild with need. I shouldn’t have been kissing him back. Shouldn’t have threaded my hands through his hair. He deserved a knee in the balls. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t push him away. I wanted him as furiously as he wanted me. Somewhere in my fog of lust, however, I had enough common sense to squeeze my thighs together, even as Jesse wrenched them apart.
Roark slammed a fist against his jaw. “For fuck’s sake, I’ll give ye a scrotum of a headache if ye den' cop on to yourself.”
“Roark!” I untangled my hands from Jesse’s hair and grabbed Roark’s arm. Damn his Irish temper!
Jesse clenched his teeth, spun away from me, and launched at him, fingers curling around his throat. They flew backward, the force of their bodies cracking against the tiles, and the next few moments blurred by in a heart-pounding scuffle of grunting, punching, and choking.
“Stop.” I jumped off the counter, my hands balling into fists. “Fucking stop it!”
I fought to keep my vocal chords from waking the entire house, but if I saw a single drop of blood, I was going to leap into that brawl and do a helluva lot more than scream.
Roark swung toward Jesse’s face but didn’t seem to be using the full power of his fists. It was just a graze, enough to momentarily distract Jesse’s hungry eyes away from me. No blood or swelling lips. Yet.
They staggered and twisted through the tiny room, arms clamped around each other, falling and banging against the walls, their biceps contracting with the effort to restrain one another.
Jesse’s briefs hung halfway down his ass, his cock still hard and angry, trapped beneath the elastic band. Even as Roark dug bruising fingers into his jaw, Jesse couldn’t stop looking at me, his eyes clinging to mine as if I could free him, not from two-hundred-and-thirty pounds of cursing Irish anger, but from the pent-up torment I’d unleashed in him.
I stood in a state of suspension, my back against the wall beside the window, my palms pressed flat on the tiles. Could I help him? Should I interfere? Maybe I could talk them down?
No, they were beyond reasoning, their eyes wild with the need to fight and fuck. There weren’t any serious injuries that I could tell, but if I stepped in and accidentally got a hit to the face, oh man, they would both lose their ever-loving minds. As small as the bathroom was, I might get hit in the face anyway.
They crashed to the floor at my feet. Jesse ended up on his back, his thighs trapped beneath Roark’s leg, and his head pinned to the tiles by the shackle of Roark’s fingers around his throat. With their feet by the door, their heads lay directly beneath me, thrashing around, Jesse head-butting, and Roark dodging every strike.
My fingers ached to push Roark off of him, but I couldn’t take sides, and as crazed as Jesse looked, he really did need restraining. His hair stood up in every direction as if he’d just fucked me raw. Which he hadn’t, but my God, he wanted to.
My chest squeezed tightly, choking my breaths as Jesse scraped his heels across the floor, trying and failing to find leverage. His hands shoved at Roark’s face, not even close to unbalancing the man. Roark had thirty pounds and four inches on Jesse, and I’d taught Roark how to fight on the ground. Jesse didn’t stand a chance.
Jesse bucked, gritting his teeth, his eyes locked on mine, and his cock straining against the band of his briefs. “Evie, goddammit. Please?”
I didn’t understand the question, but I knew the answer. He needed relief, and he needed it…not yesterday. Not two months ago. He’d needed it for two fucking years.
I climbed around Roark and dropped to my knees behind him, my hand resting on the powerful leg he pinned against Jesse’s thighs.
Roark looked back at me, his eyes narrowing. Then he did the last thing Jesse would’ve ever expected.
In one sweeping movement, he slid off Jesse’s legs. Wrapped a hand around the base of Jesse’s erection. Leaned over those startled copper eyes. Then, with his other hand around Jesse’s throat, he planted a full-on, open-mouth kiss on Jesse’s lips.
I froze, locked in a terrible, beautiful, mind-blowing fantasy. My fantasy.
Jesse punched his hips toward the ceiling, as if to knock away Roark’s hand, but his thrusts only managed to stroke his cock within the clench of Roark’s grip.
He shouted against Roark’s mouth, his words garbled and biting with fury. “Get…off me! Motherfu— Arrrgh! I…killlll you.”
Roark needed affection, needed to give and receive love, regardless of gender. Affection was his vice in a way, the reason he’d adjusted his vows when he found himself alone in a bunker, without the love of his friends and family. When all he had was me.
Threesomes had been around longer than the Bible. It had nothing to do with gender preference. In some cultures, it was an art, a way to wind down and escape the hardships of life. Or in our case, an expression of something much more.
But some men couldn’t bend their minds around omnisexuality. Would Jesse be able to see past another man touching his cock, kissing his mouth, violating him? Was that what this was? A violation?
I would’ve stopped Roark, except Jesse appeared to be kissing him back, his tongue clashing and whipping against Roark’s, desperately, begrudgingly. Consensual wasn’t the word I would’ve used. Not with the way Jesse held onto Roark’s shoulders, pushing, no, pulling…wait, definitely pushing. But his mouth worked beneath Roark’s kiss, lips meeting lips, his muffled voice anguished, despite the frantic drive of his cock within the tight curl of Roark’s fingers.
The scent rolling off them ripened the air wi
th sweat, the musk of testosterone, and the raw exquisiteness of male desire. The smacking of their lips and the deeply-growled grunts in their throats was so arousing and potent I had to press my fingers deep inside myself to ease the painful clenching.
With Roark bent over Jesse’s upper body and out of my way, my gaze locked on his hand and the blood-filled erection gripped between his fingers. It was right there, aching, ready.
I reacted on impulse. Sliding beneath Roark’s arm with my feet toward their heads, I aligned my body along the length of Jesse’s in a sideways sixty-nine. I bent a leg over Jesse’s chest and wrapped my wet fingers around Roark’s fist. A silent request. Let me have it.
Roark broke the kiss and let go of Jesse’s cock, both hands pressing on his chest, holding him against the floor. With Roark arched above us, I had a direct line of sight to Jesse’s shocked face.
Whatever this was, between Jesse and Roark, between me and Jesse, I wouldn’t take anything without asking.
I hugged Jesse’s side, my breasts against his hip, my bent leg clenched across his abs as my pussy slid along the side of his ribs.
With a tight grip on his cock, I strained toward it, my mouth an inch from the tip, and met his wide-eyed gaze, waiting for him to move.
His body trembled beneath me, his eyes flickering with fire and pinning me in place. Even as he was restrained beneath Roark’s hands and shaking with mindless need, he still held the ability to overpower me with a look.
He lifted his hips, rocking toward me and shoving at his briefs as though he couldn’t get close enough, naked enough. “Suck me, Evie. Fucking do it.”
I yanked the last of his clothes down his legs and off. Then, angling over his cock and opening my mouth wide enough to accommodate his girth, I drew him inside.
He shouted something indiscernible, kicking his head back, as violent tremors spasmed along his legs. I sucked harder, stroking my hand along his length in time with the suction of my mouth.
His fingers stabbed through my hair, holding me to him as he drove his cock in and out of my mouth. The flared tip brushed the back of my throat, triggering my gag reflex. I breathed through it, shivering at the sound of his labored breaths and choked groans.
