Chapter 9
Salay
Three people.
One walk-in shower.
Scorching hot water.
Coconut scented soap.
One dude using it to add slickness to my clit in the front, the other using it to split my ass open in the back.
Admittedly?
I’ve done worse.
But also…nothing has ever felt better.
How is it that two people I barely know, two people I’ve spent so little time with, can worship my body like they’ve been studying it for the last three lifetimes?
Have they?
Is this all some ancient, cosmic connection pre-conspired by Poseidon and Aphrodite and The Fates to be buried in the ocean floor where it was meant to remain until we found our way back to one another?
Sounds insane.
Then again…insane is kind of my thing.
Makes sex so much fucking hotter.
“Fuckkkk…” contently grumbles Zero, teeth scraping the length of my shoulder in between rabid pounds. “Her ass takes my cock,” the word is accentuated with a slightly deeper angle, burn being so delicious, my eyes roll back in delirium, “so well, Master.”
“Such a slutty little princess,” Garcia wolfishly degrades at the same time he plants his foot on the lower built-in shelf of the space for stability. “Tell Master you want more.”
“More,” I immediately echo around the humidity trapped between us.
“How much more?” His hand abandons rubbing my swollen nub to barbarically grab my throat. “How much more do you want?”
“All.”
Feeling the tip of his dick circling my entrance is attached to another question, “How much more can you fucking take from us?”
“Everything.” Meeting his gaze allows me to catch it flaring. “Give. Me. Everything.”
The graying haired beast thrusts inside on a single grunt.
“Then take everything, Princess.” Zero plants a palm firmly on Garcia’s leg not only for support but additional force in his bucking.
“Take.” He jerks forward again. “Fucking.” And again.
“Everything.” And again. “Look at me.” Flexing of his fingers around my neck is mimicked by the ones anchored to my hips by the other man.
“Look at, Master.” I fight against my blurring vision to follow the order.
“Such a good girl.” The praise causes both sets of stretching muscles to simultaneously swell.
“Such a good slutty little princess having us both in you at once.”
Zero’s groaning manages to overpower my moaning.
And that overpowering tips Garcia’s chin up towards the water.
Causes it to cascade down his sculpted chest.
Wash away the suds.
Summon goosebumps in their place.
Pleased murmurs of his own struggle to stay behind his gritted teeth and wanting them free – needing them free – pushes Zero to plow into me harder.
Faster.
More recklessly.
So recklessly that there’s no denying his balls brush against Garcia luring Garcia into pumping more frantically to return the treatment.
Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, I’m slammed into.
Over and over and over again my ass and pussy are spread to their limits, shoved to their screaming point, inspiring my voice to do the shouting that they can’t, yet rather than be deterred or distracted or even redirected by my lecherous howling, the two men devoted to draining my body of every orgasm it’s capable of creating, oscillate their focus between littering my pruning skin with teeth marks and knocking foreheads, almost kissing but never quite connecting.
Their toying with each other is easily taken out on me.
I love it.
I loathe it.
I love to loathe it and loathe to love it.
Feeling as if I’m on fire in spite of soaking in cooling water and anxiously hoping for reprieve in tandem with desperately craving to never receive even an ounce becomes more than my quaking figure can handle.
“Fuck, Master,” pants Zero, both arms tangling around me and Garcia’s torsos.
“She’s…she’s so…” His balls tightening strangles a breath out of both of us.
“So fucking close.” He strengthens his hold.
“Tell him, baby.” Their respective thrusting becomes mutually irregular.
Uneven. Erratic. “Be a good girl and tell Master how close you are to coming on his cock…”
“S…” the word gets wedged in my throat due to a clumsy yet carnal jerk from Garcia. “S…” he repeats the action although this time on purpose, noting the way it causes my toes to curl on top of his. “S…”
“You can do it, baby,” Zero encourages against the shell of my ear. “Tell him.” A tiny nip is taken. “Tell him, so we can fill you.”
“So…”
“So you can drip for us,” precedes another graze to the same space. “So you can keep dripping for us…”
“We want you dripping for us…” Master reassures prior to lightly resting his lips against mine. “And only us.”
My lips move in agreement, but no sound actually graces our ears.
“For the next couple of weeks, we only drip for each other,” he gutturally declares. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Zero eagerly huffs, both cocks thickening in tandem, tipping me over the edge.
“Deal,” airily appears split second before rib splintering screams spew past my lips to echo off of the marble tile walls.
Torrid pulsations clamp down around both men, breaking any remaining resistance to holding back, unleashing fiery rush after rush after rush to melt and meld and mold with my orgasm.
We shake.
Shudder.
Someone pounds a fist on the glass.
Someone else smacks the wall.
Two fists end up in separate portions of my hair while tongues tirelessly take turns overpowering mine, sealing the agreement we’ve come to.
Tied to the two of them and only the two of them for a couple weeks?
That I can do.
It’s foamies to hard top boards type of easy.
It’s what happens when our wave inevitably has to crash back into the shore that I feel may have me needing to call for a rescue.