Chapter 22 – Waverly #2
The directness of the question makes me flush despite the vulnerability of my current position.
I’ve thought about this since I woke up in Tristan’s bed with his dick up my ass, and he told me if it was really in there, I’d be moaning.
I thought about it again at dinner when they hinted at it.
If I’m going to experience two men, I want to experience two men fully.
“I want... both of you.” My voice trembles like a leaf in a hurricane.
“You have us,” Tristan replies, his voice rough. “Be specific.”
Braxton’s fingers continue their maddening rhythm, making it hard to think clearly. “I want to feel you both.” I swallow. “Inside me. At the same time.” A flush like I’ve never known takes hold.
Something flashes in Tristan’s eyes—approval, hunger, possession. Whatever it is, I want it. I want to be consumed by it.
“Have you done that before?”
I shake my head. “No.” Not even close. These men are ten years older and worlds more experienced than I am.
I’ve had sex with four men, and my college boyfriend was as basic and vanilla as it gets.
Which is fine. I knew no different. But being here with them is opening my eyes to a world of possibilities.
To things I never knew I wanted but am desperate to try.
“Do you want us here?” Braxton asks, his lips at my ear, as he slides his wet finger back between my ass cheeks to the firm ring of muscles. “It’s okay if you don’t.”
“I do,” I tell him while keeping my eyes on Tristan, surprised by how much I mean it. “I trust you both.”
Tristan cups my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “Good girl.”
He kisses me then, hard and deep, while Braxton’s fingers return to my pussy and increase their pace. I’m caught between them, my body responding to their touch with an eagerness that should embarrass me but doesn’t. Not anymore. Not with them.
“Let’s move you somewhere more comfortable,” Tristan suggests, breaking the kiss, his eyes glistening with a hunger that has me clenching around Braxton’s fingers.
He leads us away from the windows to where a thick, soft rug covers the hardwood floor in front of the fireplace.
With the click of a button the fireplace springs to life, the hiss of gas and the dancing of flames mesmerizing.
It seems odd to have that in a Parisian apartment, but also not, since this is Tristan’s and he’s nothing if not modern and practical.
“On your knees, Waverly.”
I comply, sinking down onto the plush carpet, my heart hammering, blood rushing through my ears so loudly I’m shocked they can’t hear it.
They both finish undressing, and I watch, my eyes glued to their bodies, taking in the long lines and broad shoulders and rigid abs.
Braxton has a light smattering of hair on his chest, while Tristan only has some beneath his navel.
But damn. If they were wearing Santa hats, it would be Christmas porn.
I giggle at the imagery, and Braxton tilts his head, his lips bouncing. “Something funny?”
“Just picturing you both in a Santa-themed strip show. You’d make a killing.”
“You think we should leave biotech behind and explore the world of exotic dancing?”
I shrug at Braxton. “I mean, I’d pay for that. Who needs antibiotics when hard abs and two big dicks can probably cure just about anything?”
Tristan chokes and shakes his head at me. “For that, we’re going to use your toy on you.”
“Um, is that meant to be a punishment?”
“While you’re blindfolded and taking cocks in your mouth and pussy without knowing who’s fucking you where.”
Oh. I try to suppress my shiver, but there is no getting past the bolt of lust that hits me.
I shrug again, trying for nonchalance and falling way short. “Whatever you say, boss.”
Braxton smiles like a kid at, well, Christmas. A little too excited by this. “And her ass. We’ll get her ass ready.”
“Stop dimpling me. You’re making me nervous.”
He laughs. “But it’s my dimples that sell you, Sunshine.”
There are certain moments in a woman’s life when she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that nothing will ever be the same after it.
This is one of those moments, and I don’t just mean the sex.
I mean the two men looking at me with something in their eyes that makes my heart speed up and my chest clench at the same time.
Tristan grabs a tie he has sitting out, one he left out the other day and never bothered to put away. The cool silk goes over my eyes, and he kisses me as he ties it behind my head. “If you don’t like anything, you simply tell us to stop.”
“And if I like everything?”
“Then we might have to marry you.”
I smile at his teasing tone. There will be no marriage with this. I already know it’s sex and that when we return to Boston, this fantasy is over. It has to be. There’s no way the three of us could be real in the real world. It doesn’t exist. Not with men like them. Not with situations like ours.
Besides, I overheard Tristan’s mom and grand-mère mention how Alain had called them into his office to talk to Tristan about how it’s time he moved back to Paris now that we’ve taken over Smithfield. So I can’t give him my heart. My world is in Boston.
Braxton is another matter, but he’s also still my boss, and there are rules about that sort of thing. But for now…
“Such a good little princess for me,” Tristan murmurs and kisses me.
I hear Braxton move, the metal sound of a purse unclasping, and then the telltale buzzing of a vibrator. Holy shit.
“What about the asshole spray?”
“I figured you used it all the first night you slept in my bed as an incantation.”
I laugh and bite my inner cheek as the buzzing draws closer. “But you fucked me the next morning.”
“Pleased to say it didn’t work. We’re going to make you come. Then we’re going to take turns fucking you.” The crude words almost have me coming on the spot. “And then, if you’re very good, we’re both going to have you at the same time. Now open your pretty mouth for me.”
I open my mouth, and the vibrator slips between my lips. Just for a minute. Just so I can suck on it enough to get it wet, and then it’s gone, and something else replaces it. A dick. There’s a dick in my mouth when there was a vibrator before it, and how is this my life?
I hum, my lips stretching and my tongue flattening as the vibrator reaches my clit. I’ve never used a vibrator before. It sat in my purse after Jennie gave it to me, and before that, I couldn’t afford one. Those bitches can be damn expensive, and I figured my fingers were good enough.
Well, let me tell you, my fingers were clearly not good enough.
Because oh wow.
I instantly start rocking into the toy as the cock in my mouth starts fucking me. I’m chasing both sensations, unable to grapple with which one to focus on the most. But then there’s the other thing. The way I’m being moved and positioned, and suddenly I’m bending forward and…
“Oh, fuck!” I garble around the dick that I think belongs to Tristan if we’re going by the way he’s fucking my mouth and groaning above me because Braxton’s big dick is in my pussy and his wet—lubed?—finger is in my ass and there’s a goddamn toy on my clit.
My knees shake only to buckle, and suddenly the dick is gone from my mouth, and I can breathe, but I’m on my back with my legs spread, and “Oh!”
Because someone is inside of me again, pumping slowly as the toy buzzes and hums aggressively against my clit. My toes curl, and my hands lash out, needing to grab… something. Anything.
The one inside of me pulls out, and then another is in me, fucking me, and this feels so dirty.
So depraved. I feel used, and it should be shameful, but it’s not.
It’s goddamn glorious, and I revel in the filth of it.
I want them to use me. I want to do every imaginable thing they can conjure up in their brilliant minds.
And I don’t want them to stop. Maybe not ever.