Chapter Thirty Seven #2
Clasping my thighs to lock me in place, Clay uses my exposed position to his full advantage.
His stubble rubs my clit, his tongue feasting on me.
He sucks and bites at my inner thighs, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys across my pussy.
I don’t care what he’s doing back there, as long as he doesn’t stop.
The salty taste of Rhys’ precum spreads across my tongue, his face strained as he fights to stay in place.
“Touch me,” I plead, done with this game.
Rhys responds by plunging his fingers into my hair.
I can’t fight my smile, my teeth accidentally grazing his piercings but he moans loudly.
His hands travel, gripping the sides of my head to set the tempo for me to follow.
Dragging my head down, his hips buck to meet me halfway, the rounded head of him soothing in and out of my throat.
An insatiable hunger builds within me, and in this moment, I’d do anything either of them asked.
I want them everywhere, their hands on me, their dicks in me.
My hooded eyes lower, the pleasure building in my core tainting my fantasies to follow.
Sounds escape my throat, some of them in my control and others not.
My hips grind shamelessly against Clay’s face.
Fingers slip inside of me, lazily drawing in and out before switching to rubbing my clit and back again, spreading my wetness all over myself.
“Hey Clayton,” Rhys says, speaking directly over me. “Did you know our girl has a fantasy of taking us both in her tight pussy at the same time?”
“Is that so?” Clay chuckles, the vibration of it rolling from his lips and into where he’s kissing my inner thighs.
“In that case…” The fingers slipping inside of me double in size, more digits working me into a frenzy.
Every time Clay drags his fingers back, I groan a prolonged rumble around Rhys’ cock.
I forget to move, simply holding over Rhys, allowing these men to fuck me in their own ways.
Clay works through my wetness, stretching and pulling.
Preparing me for what’s to come. In the immediate future, that would be me.
“That’s it, Beautiful,” Clayton praises, slamming his fingers into me as my walls clamp down.
I rear back from Rhys, gasping and mewling through the pleasure crashing into my body like a battering ram.
Shamelessly, my juices run down my thighs, which Clay scoops up and continues to push back into me, twisting his fingers back and through.
My climax lasts forever, stealing all of my energy.
I wobble on my hands and knees, thighs trembling and eyes clamped shut.
Thankfully, arms band around me, relieving the need to stay upright.
Flipping me around, I’m pulled into Rhys’ lap once more.
Although this time, as I’m lowered onto his pierced shaft, it’s with my back pressed against his chest. Before me, Clay stands, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.
The stretch of Rhys draws a satisfied groan from my lips as Clayton holds my gaze, slowly stripping out of his t-shirt and cargo trousers.
It's all too much already, the way Rhys drills into me from underneath whilst witnessing Clay’s own cock springing free of his boxers.
He’s an Adonis, standing tall with the daylight molding itself to his muscles.
His skin is golden, his stance broad and erect cock weeping.
Shifting the coffee table back with strong hands, Clay steps over and seats himself upon it, his shins nestled between Rhys’.
I can only watch, lost to the prospect of what’s about to happen.
Bracing himself, Clay directs his cock towards my entrance.
“Hold her steady,” he directs. Rhys obeys, lifting me by the ribs, holding me high so only the tip of his pierced head is inside of me. Pressing forward, Clay pushes his head inside by sheer will, my head rolling back.
“I don’t…know if I can,” I moan, the fullness already causing me to break out in a sweat. Rhys’ hold on my ribs is joined by Clay’s on my thighs, keeping me lifted while my whole body trembles.
“You can, Babygirl. Just relax, we’ve got you,” he mimics back what I told him earlier.
Ever so slowly, I’m lowered and lifted, gentle inch by inch.
The stretch burns, the sheer thickness of them together almost too much.
But behind my closed eyes, I picture how it must look.
The rivals who couldn’t stand to be in the same room, now sitting shaft to shaft, wholly committed to my pleasure alone.
Spitting into his hand, Clay’s fingers work around my slit, slickening the descent.
He rubs my clit in delicate circles, drawing a moan from me.
I remain in a state of disbelief, my head thrown back.
Already entranced by the sensations happening between my legs, a mouth closes around my nipple.
I tense up on instinct, the sounds from both men bordering on painful.
But when I relax into the feel of Clay’s tongue swirling around my nipple bar, I slide another inch down them. We all groan in unison.
Steadily and slowly, Rhys begins to move.
Rearing up from underneath, his cock slides higher inside of me, the bars of his Jacob's ladder running the length of Clay’s shaft.
The sensation steals my breath, not sharp so much as overwhelming, a pressure that blooms outward until I’m no longer sure where I end and they begin.
My thoughts scatter, dissolving into heat and trust and the wild certainty that I am being held, and anchored, from all sides.
I sink into the heat they’re building within my core, sink deeper into them and the impossible safety of being supported when my body threatens to give out beneath me.
I’m dimly aware of hands that never leave me, of voices murmured low and steady against my skin, grounding me when the intensity threatens to tip into panic.
They don’t rush, they simply attend to every breath I lose, every tremor I can’t control.
The burn eases into something molten and heady, a slow unraveling that pulls me deeper until my spine bows and my pulse roars in my ears.
Distantly, I realize that this is what it means to be chosen.
The last breach of trust that needed to be conquered for us three to become whole.
At this moment, we’re connected. We’re lovers who mean so much more than words can explain.
They gravitate towards me, cherish me, love me, and I feel exactly the same for these rivals-turned-guardians.
Lost to the rhythm Rhys creates for all three of us, our desire builds, my body loosening to take them deeper.
It’s consuming. A white-hot rush that pours through me and leaves me boneless, suspended, cradled in hands that never let me fall.
For as long as I’m able, I take the pounding Rhys provides, the solid weight of Clay nestled inside, the toying of a tongue on my nipples and teeth at my nape until I’m thrown over the edge.
The clamping down affects us all but Rhys doesn’t relent, pounding hard and fast without abandon.
My wetness welcomes him, both aiding and fighting against his thrusts.
I can’t contain my cries, the sounds foreign to my own receivers, as my nails claw at Clay’s shoulders. I’m squeezing them too tightly, clenching my own core with the force of a tidal wave, blinding me with its intensity.
On his own roar, Clay explodes inside of me, the sensation of him pulsating also dragging Rhys over that same ledge.
He doesn’t slow, pumping spurts of cum in ragged groans until his blue balls are finally empty.
Clay grips my thighs, holding me steady as our pace slows to a blissful stop.
I can hardly stay upright, fraught with the tremors of what just happened.
“Holy…shit,” I breathe, flopping against the arm of the sofa. My limbs are rearranged for me, a t-shirt used to plug the spill of cum seeping from between my legs, my back finally hitting the cushions. I can’t see straight, my chest heaving and throat beyond dry. “That was…incredible.”
Chuckling low, despite the strain evident on his face, Clay stands and walks to the kitchen, his slickened cock bobbing with each step.
Rhys leans over me, brushing my hair back with careful fingers before pressing a kiss to my temple.
It’s unhurried, and sweetly reverent. Shifting me, he lies down and his arms wrap fully around my body, pulling me into the solid warmth of his chest. We lie there tangled together, skin still slick with sweat, the world reduced to the beat of each other’s hearts.
“I can never lose you,” Rhys murmurs into the crook of my neck.
There’s something fragile in the way he says it, his arms tightening just a little as if he’s bracing against the thought.
“I wouldn’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am without you.
” My brow furrows, my head lifting to capture his lowered gaze.
“Well, that’s bullshit,” I reply bluntly. “You’re Rhys fucking Waversea. You can do anything.”
“I’m serious, Harper,” Rhys almost growls, his jaw tightening. The use of my name is jarring, considering the evidence of our union is seeping down my legs. Then, my frown lifts and I exhale softly. So this is what today was really about.
“So am I,” I state, brushing my thumb along his jaw.
“You measure yourself against those who have tried to tear you down. Starting over doesn’t mean you’ve lost who you are, it just means you’re free to embrace it.
I fell in love with you long before the truth of your family came to light.
I fell in love with you,” I prod Rhys’ chest, “not the version you wanted the world to see. I know who you are.”
“And who is that?” Rhys sighs, dejected, although he takes my hand in his and holds it safe between us. That move along causes me to smile.