Tollivers After Dark #3
That satisfied him—or perhaps nothing could have satisfied him then but the sight of her lowering her arse, inch by careful inch, onto Gainsford.
The first pressure stole the air from her lungs.
“Oh, my good girl,” Jasper breathed.
Lottie shuddered violently.
Gainsford clearly felt it. “Christ, do not say that to her unless you mean to kill me.”
“She likes it,” Jasper said.
“I know she does. I can feel it.”
Lottie laughed once, breathless and broken, and then the laugh became a moan as Gainsford seated himself fully beneath her.
Jasper knelt between her spread thighs, his own cock thick and flushed, stroking against the wet heat of her cunt. He entered in a slow thrust, and the sound she made was barely coherent. She had never felt so full.
Jasper stopped when he was fully inside, closing his eyes. “God,” he said hoarsely.
Lottie clenched helplessly around them both, and both men cursed.
Jasper began to move, slowly at first, and Gainsford followed beneath her, lifting his hips into her carefully. The rhythm was impossible at first, too much and too full to bear. Then Jasper caught Gainsford by the jaw and kissed him, and somehow their bodies found it.
One thrust in. One thrust up. Lottie between them, taking both.
Her head tipped back, and Jasper caught her jaw, holding her gaze as Gainsford’s hands tightened on her hips, sliding down to grip her backside, spreading her around him, holding her exactly where he wanted her as his cock drove deep.
She was riding Gainsford and being fucked by Jasper, her body trapped between them in a rhythm that grew rougher with every thrust.
Jasper’s mouth found hers. The kiss was devouring, his tongue in her mouth as his cock drove into her cunt. Beneath her, Gainsford’s hands slid from her hips to her breasts, cupping them from behind, his thumbs dragging over her nipples until she cried into Jasper’s mouth.
“God, she tightens when you do that,” Jasper said against her lips.
Gainsford did it again and Lottie moaned, loud and unrepentant.
Jasper laughed, but the sound was strained, close to breaking. “Again.”
Gainsford pinched both nipples and Lottie bucked between them.
Jasper’s rhythm faltered, and Gainsford groaned beneath her. “I can feel you,” he said to Jasper, voice rough and almost disbelieving. “Every time you move.”
Jasper’s eyes had gone dangerous. He leant past Lottie and caught Gainsford by the jaw.
The angle was awkward and obscene and perfect.
Lottie was between them, full of them both, and her husband’s mouth was on Gainsford’s while both men fucked into her.
Gainsford groaned into the kiss, hips driving up harder.
Jasper answered with a rough thrust that made Lottie cry out between their bodies.
She could feel their hunger changing. They had found the rhythm now—Jasper thrusting into her cunt as Gainsford drove up into her arse, both of them feeling one another through the slick, stretched heat of her body. Lottie reached down with one hand and found her clit.
“Yes,” Jasper rasped. “Make yourself come while we spend in you.”
Her fingers circled the swollen, aching peak, and the pleasure was so sharp she nearly collapsed forward against Jasper. His arm caught her around the waist, holding her upright, exactly where both men needed her.
Gainsford moaned. “I cannot last.”
“Nor can I,” Jasper said.
Lottie shook her head, frantic now. “Do not stop.”
Her fingers moved faster, and Jasper’s thrusts grew brutal. Gainsford was driving up hard beneath her. The bed slammed against the wall.
Lottie came first, crying out so loudly it was a mercy the rain still battered the windows. Her body seized once more, clenching around both of them, her body milking and gripping as pleasure broke over her in wave after wave.
The men came together. Jasper buried himself deep in her cunt and spent with a long groan, kissing Gainsford again as his body shuddered.
Beneath her, Gainsford thrust up once more and came inside her too, his moan lost against Jasper’s mouth, his fingers biting into her flesh as the pleasure took him.
For a long moment, they remained like that, breathing hard. Lottie trembled between them, one hand still caught between her thighs, still stretched around both men.
Eventually, the human body made certain practical demands, and the three of them were obliged, with great care and very little grace, to separate.
Later, when the fire had burnt low and the rain had softened against the windows, Gainsford was invited to stay the night.
Such things may be awkward in novels written by people with poor imaginations and poorer lovers, but Lottie found there was nothing awkward in being tucked between two warm male bodies while London rained itself grey beyond the glass.
Lottie smiled into the darkness. She was tired in every limb, sore in several places, and so outrageously pleased with herself that she suspected it was visible even in the dark.
Marriage, she had long ago decided, was a much better institution than anyone had advertised.
There was more laughter in it than sermons allowed for, more appetite than mothers admitted, more wickedness than bishops could survive, and, somehow, far more love than any respectable person would know what to do with.
And if anyone in London thought marriage made people dull, Lottie Deverell could only pity them. They had clearly married the wrong person.