Chapter 50 Nina
Nina
The edging is deliberate. Calculated. Every time I get close, Wyatt changes his angle, slows his pace, denies me. Chris is in front of me now, cock only half hard, but he shoves it down my throat anyway and he hardens within moments of me sucking my own juices off him.
If anything, Wyatt’s fucking is more torturous.
He knows how much I enjoy ass play and he uses it to push me closer, fingers teasing, barely penetrating, while he rocks into me deep with his cock.
My clit throbs almost painfully by the time I feel him let go.
But Chris is fully hard again and they swap once more.
“Please.” I’m begging now, tears pricking at my eyes. “Please, I need—”
“What do you need?” Wyatt’s voice is gentle, even as he resumes his spot in front of me, cupping my chin and painting my mouth with the tip of his wet cock.
“I need to come. Please let me come.”
“Not yet.” Chris punctuates the words with a hard thrust. “You’re going to wait until we say you can.”
I sob in frustration, but greedily take Wyatt’s cock again, sucking like my life depends on it.
As much as I hate this, I also love it. I especially love how in sync they are with each other.
I love making them come. And even more unexpectedly: I love the way it feels when they can come inside me without anything between us.
When Chris finally comes for the second time, with my name on his lips and his fingers bruising my hips, I feel every pulse of his release. He stays buried deep for a long moment, catching his breath, then pulls out slowly.
I feel empty without him. Empty and dripping and desperate for more.
My pussy is hot and throbbing, and the wet squelch when Chris retreats is enough evidence of how full I am with them both, but the wetness coating my thighs almost to my knees drives it home.
I’ve never been inhibited when it came to sex, minus my one simple rule about protection.
But this is a new experience I don’t think I could have predicted enjoying so much.
“Wyatt.” Chris’s voice is commanding even now. “I think she’s had enough. Eat her out. Make her come on your tongue.”
My entire pussy aches at the promise of finally getting release. I almost sob with gratitude.
Wyatt pulls away, crouches once more for a slow kiss filled with promise. Then he moves around behind me. With both hands he spreads me open, his thumbs parting my folds.
“Fuck, look at you.” His breath is hot against my skin. “All coated in cum. You’re so beautiful like this.”
Then he descends on me, mouth covering my entire pussy and tongue lapping low to tease my clit, and I almost levitate off the sofa.
He’s thorough. Filthy. He licks through the mess they’ve made of me, tongue swirling through the combined slick of my arousal and both their spend.
The depravity of it, Wyatt licking another man’s release out of me, his own release, makes my whole body clench.
When he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, my back arches and I claw the sofa.
“Stay still.” Chris’s hand is firm on the small of my back, keeping me bent over.
But he doesn’t make it easy. He reaches beneath me with one hand and tweaks one nipple, then the other, teasing them each relentlessly while Wyatt’s tongue flicks in tortuous patterns over my aching, swollen nub.
As if to add insult to injury, Wyatt presses his thumb to my ass and pushes deep, fucking my tight rear opening fast while he torments me with his tongue.
And then he switches, fingers at my clit while his tongue glides up to the cleft of my ass. He traces the wet tip around my rim, soft and shockingly intimate. I let out an almost guttural moan.
“Oh my god—”
“Too much?” His breath is hot against my skin.
“No. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He spreads me wider with his thumbs, buries his face between my cheeks, and goes to town.
His tongue circles my rim, probes gently, the tight ring of muscle fluttering under his attention.
He’s not pushing inside. Just teasing, worshipping, making me feel things I didn’t know I could feel.
He keeps working my pussy with his fingers curled against my g-spot then alternating, sliding back down to circle and tease my clit, and the dual sensation is overwhelming.
“Wyatt—I’m going to—”
“Come.” Chris’s voice, somewhere above me. “Come for him. Let us hear it.”
I shatter. The orgasm rips through me like a freight train, clenching my whole body so hard it almost hurts.
I scream into the sofa cushion, my hips bucking against Wyatt’s face, and he works me through it.
Doesn’t let up until I’m shaking and oversensitive and making sounds that aren’t quite words.
“That’s one,” Chris says, like he’s keeping count. “My turn.”
They switch places. Chris’s mouth replaces Wyatt’s, and he’s gentler at first. Long, slow licks that soothe my oversensitized flesh.
I whimper at even that light contact, my clit throbbing, my whole pussy swollen and tender.
But he doesn’t stop. He spreads me open with his thumbs, licks me from clit to ass in one long stripe, and when he moves back down to my clit and sucks gently on the swollen bud I feel another orgasm building impossibly fast.
“Already?” He sounds amused, his breath warm against my soaked flesh. “You really have been starving for this.”
“Too fucking long.” My voice is wrecked, barely human.
“I know, baby. I know.” He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, two fingers pushing inside me, and I come again. Almost as hard as the first time, my body clamping down on his fingers while I wail into the cushion.
“Two,” he says against my skin, kissing my inner thigh. “I think we can do better than that.”
By the time they finally help me up, I’ve lost count.
They take turns, eventually flipping me over onto the sofa and pushing my knees to my ears while they kneel and eat me out from the floor.
Four, maybe five orgasms—my legs are trembling so badly I can’t stand on my own, my pussy is a swollen, sensitive mess, and I’m floating somewhere outside my body.
The fireplace has kicked on. I hear the soft whoosh of the gas igniting, feel the warmth starting to radiate into the room and only now realize how chilly it’s gotten.
The storm outside is in full force now, rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky almost black despite it being …
late morning? Mid-afternoon? I don’t even know what time it is.
“Come here,” Wyatt says, draping a soft throw around my shoulders and pulling me up against him. When I don’t immediately stand, he hooks an arm beneath my knees and lifts me.
He carries me to the fireplace, kneeling down on the soft faux-fur rug spread in front of it. Chris joins us as I sprawl there like a boneless thing, staring up at the ceiling while my body throbs with aftershocks.
“You okay?” Wyatt smooths my hair back from my face, his touch tender.
“Mm.” I can barely form words. “More than okay.”
“Good.” Chris settles beside me, one hand resting on my hip. “Because we’re not done yet.”
I laugh. Or try to. What comes out is more of a breathless wheeze. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Never.” He kisses my temple. “We’re going to take care of you. That’s all.”
The warmth from the fire is seeping into my skin now, the heat licking along my side, counteracting the chill of the storm outside.
The faux-fur rug is impossibly soft beneath me, and I feel loose-limbed and liquid, but my body is already responding to having them both pressed against me, skin on skin.
Chris’s chest hair rough against my arm.
Wyatt’s skin warm where his thigh presses against mine.
“I want to watch you kiss,” I say.
Both of them go still.
“You don’t have to,” I add quickly. “But if you want to—if that’s something you—”
Chris leans over me, reaching for Wyatt. He cups Wyatt’s jaw, thumb stroking along his cheekbone, and tilts his face up. For a moment they just look at each other—something passing between them that I’m not part of, some silent conversation I can only witness.
Then Chris closes the distance, and they’re kissing over my body.
It’s tentative at first. Careful. Two men who almost destroyed something precious, finding their way back to each other.
Chris’s mouth moves against Wyatt’s softly, questioning.
But then Wyatt makes a small sound in his throat—something between a whimper and a groan—and Chris deepens the kiss.
I watch their tongues meet, watch Wyatt’s hand come up to grip the back of Chris’s neck, watch the hunger take over.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
When they finally break apart, they’re both breathing hard. Chris’s lips are wet. Wyatt’s eyes are shining.
“I meant what I said.” Chris’s voice is rough. “I love you.”
“I know.” Wyatt’s hand comes up to cover Chris’s, still resting on his jaw. “We’ll talk about everything else later. But I know.”
My hand finds Chris’s cock, thickening again against his thigh despite having come twice already. He groans when I wrap my fingers around him, stroking slowly.
“Less talking,” I say. “More fucking.”
Chris laughs. A real laugh this time, surprised and warm and so different from the broken man who stood in this room an hour ago. “You’re insatiable.”
“I’ve had eleven days to build up an appetite.”
They help me up onto my hands and knees, the soft fur tickling my palms and shins.
This time it’s Wyatt who positions himself behind me while Chris kneels in front, his cock fully hard again and bobbing inches from my face.
Wyatt notches himself at my entrance—I’m so wet, so open from everything they’ve already done—and slides home in one smooth thrust.
I gasp at how different he feels. Longer than Chris, leaner, hitting different angles. He bottoms out and holds there for a moment, and I feel every inch of him stretching me, filling me.