Chapter 20 #2
While I’m still panting, coming down from the post orgasm high, Cyrus carries me, gently but without asking, toward my bedroom.
The bed is a familiar island in the storm, sheets rumpled and welcoming.
I was too anxious earlier to make the bed.
He gently places me on the bed, and I lie back.
They surround me, these strong, powerful men, so much stronger than me, deadly and dangerous, yet I don’t feel helpless—I’m never that with them.
I feel cherished, surrounded by protection and love, worshipped.
I watch them through half-lidded eyes. Flint positions himself at the head of the bed, those gray eyes still piercing as he watches me, slowly stroking his still, half-erect cock.
Hunter prowls at my side before moving to the foot of the bed, parting my thighs and stroking me languidly, feeling the wetness between my thighs, his touch possessive, claiming me.
Cyrus never breaks eye contact as he settles close, brushing his thumb over my cheek, then kissing me softly.
I kiss him back eagerly, reaching out to stroke him through the denim of his jeans, my fingers working at his belt.
“Look at you,” Hunter says, admiration roughening his voice. “Still hungry for more.”
“Always,” I say, and it’s true, my body hums with need.
“Good, because I need to be inside that perfect, tight pussy,” Hunter grunts, removing his clothing.
He flips me over onto all fours, a caveman in need of an animalistic fuck. He thrusts inside, deep and hard, filling me up in that perfect balance of pleasure and pain. Cyrus removes his clothes too, moving so I can suck his cock while Hunter fucks me from behind.
“Fuck, Tori, that feels so good,” Cyrus moans as I take him deep in my throat.
Hunter’s fingers grip my waist as he fucks me faster, my ass jiggles, audibly slapping against his thighs, which only turns him on more. “Fuck, Tori, you’re so fucking tight.”
“So fucking perfect,” Flint says as I meet his gaze. He moves closer so he can stroke my clit with his skilled fingers, a musician playing a familiar instrument.
It doesn’t take long for another orgasm to start to build.
I know I’m close, and I can feel that Hunter is too, his thrusts becoming frenzied.
I can taste that Cyrus is, too. I want us to cum together, with me.
Without needing to voice that desire, they know since they both grunt that they’re about to cum seconds after each other.
I taste the salty-sweet cum of Cyrus’s climax a moment before Hunter spanks me and shudders, cumming deep inside me and sending me hurtling over the edge.
The climax is abrupt and intense, making my legs buckle from under me.
It continues to ripple through me long after we’ve moved to embrace on the bed, slowly kissing and touching each other.
Now that the initial rush of the first orgasm is over, we take our time to rediscover our bodies and feel every inch of skin.
We shower together, and I wash away the dirt, blood, and grime from my men’s battle-sore skin.
After showering and eating, we climb back into bed together, not satiated yet.
I want them to make love to me all night.
The night stretches, elastic and timeless.
They kiss me until my lips ache, touch me until I lose track of where one sensation ends and another begins.
Flint’s control anchors me, his quiet directives keeping everything balanced, never too much.
Hunter pushes me right to the edge with a wicked grin, constantly testing my limits and pushing my boundaries while making me laugh even as I gasp and scream.
Cyrus catches me every time I think it’s too much, steady and patient, coaxing me back with a softness that borders on devotion.
My pleasure crests again and again, like a wave, rolling through me, leaving me breathless and boneless. I cling to my men, to the solidity of their bodies and the certainty of their presence. I feel loved in a way that goes deeper than skin.
Later, when the world finally slows, I’m curled between them, sweat cooling, heart still racing. Flint’s arm is a reassuring weight across my waist. Hunter’s fingers trace idle patterns on my thigh, restless even now. Cyrus presses a kiss to my temple, lingering.
“You okay?” he asks.
I smile into the darkness, surrounded by leather and warmth and the steady rise and fall of their breathing. “More than okay,” I say. The words fall from my lips as easily as breathing. “I love you, all of you.”
“I love you too, Tori,” Cyrus says without hesitation.
“Ditto, I love you, babe,” Hunter says with a shrug as if it were obvious.
I don’t expect Flint to say it. Maybe he didn’t either, because when he says, “I love you, Tori,” he even seems surprised. “I love you,” he says again, awed, like he’s only now realizing it’s true.
Outside, the night settles. I let myself rest, safe in the circle they make around me, the worry of the night and what’s to come forgotten for now.
But still, inside, there’s that niggling guilt.
What if they knew the real reason I started this relationship?
Would they ever forgive me? Would they believe that my feelings are real, that I want them for them and only them now?