12. Flanked
Chapter twelve
Flanked
Cami
I am in so much fucking trouble.
Maybe I didn’t fully think this through.
Maybe I drastically underestimated what the two of them would be like together.
Maybe I’m about to die happy and naked in my own bedroom.
I barely have time to process Ronan’s words before Griffin is kissing me again. His thumb strokes along my neck, while his fingers dig into my waist.
Ronan moves my hair off my neck opposite Griffin’s fingers, as his mouth finds that sensitive spot on my neck and I whimper.
I feel them both smile against my skin.
Without saying anything to each other, suddenly they’re both stripping me.
Griffin’s hand slips under my shirt, pulling it up. He moves his hand off my throat, and Ronan leans back long enough to let him pull it over my head. But Ronan’s hands are in the waistband of my leggings too and pulling them down.
I step out of them and as Ronan’s hands trail back up my legs, he praises, “Good girl.”
My knees wobble.
This is nothing like Micah and Dex.
With them, there’s always another current in the room—something passing between the two of them that I’m allowed to stand on the edges of.
This?
Every look, every hand, every fucking breath is aimed at me.
And apparently that’s something my body is very fucking interested in.
I’m pretty sure I’m about to be manhandled, and I will thank them for it.
Griffin’s thumb grazes over my bottom lip. “She is a good girl, isn’t she?”
The lightness in Ronan’s touch as his fingers skate up my sides causes goosebumps to rise.
“So fucking good,” he answers as his breath brushes my neck.
I might actually die.
The way these men do not need to communicate with each other to act is the most surprising thing.
Griffin’s hands move to my breasts. He holds my eyes as he rolls my nipples.
Ronan’s mouth is on my neck and my shoulder as his hand slides down my ass and between my thighs, his fingers gliding through wetness before he slides them inside me.
“So fucking wet,” he muses against my skin.
I don’t know if he’s talking to me or to Griffin, but Griffin lets out a feral noise as his fingers join Ronan’s.
Griffin parts my folds and finds my clit with his middle finger easily. Then he moves in the ways he has learned to take me apart.
Oh. That’s fucking unfair.
The perfect pressure, the perfect rhythm.
His other hand keeps toying with my nipple while Ronan’s fingers move inside me from behind.
More goosebumps rise on my skin as Ronan’s hand travels up my side to my hair. He wraps it around his hand and pulls back, forcing my head back onto his shoulder.
I barely catch the exchanged glances between the men—the check-in—before Ronan uses his grip on my hair to turn my head, and his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is deep and hungry.
My hands had been resting on Griffin, but now they’re gripping him.
Fingers digging into his arms. I feel the flex with every movement against my clit, and somehow that increases the sensation between my thighs.
Then Griffin’s mouth is on my throat, and one of my hands travels to his hair. My fingers gripping and pulling in response to what he’s doing with his tongue and teeth.
The coil in my belly is tightening, and I know I’m flexing and grinding and chasing my orgasm.
Ronan breaks the kiss and meets my eyes. “You gonna come for us, sweetheart?”
Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes me, and he smiles.
“Show me,” he orders, his words low.
The fire in his eyes is the last thing I see before I close mine shut as my body breaks between them.
Griffin’s mouth is on mine, kissing me and swallowing the sounds trying to escape me.
Ronan’s is now back on my neck.
Their hands are relentless. It only takes a few moments after the first one before I’m coming again.
My thighs are growing slicker and slicker.
“Fuck, baby,” Griffin rasps against my neck. “Such a good girl.”
“I think she has more to give us before we fuck her,” Ronan suggests.
Griffin quickly agrees, “I think so too.”
My knees are weak.
As if he can sense it, Ronan releases my hair and wraps an arm around me, just above my waist, helping support my weight.
Then they continue—both with some kind of relentless, superhuman ability, not changing rhythm or pressure.
Apparently my breathing becomes optional.
“You’re almost there again, Cami,” Griffin groans.
Fuck him for knowing my body that well.
“Fuck, sweetheart, your body loves the way we touch you—fucking show us,” Ronan practically growls into my hair.
I whimper as my knees give out and my body convulses one more time.
If there is some kind of exchange or agreement, I don’t hear or see it, as both of them begin to soften their movements and eventually leave my—somehow—still very needy pussy.
The sound I make at the loss of the touch makes both men laugh softly.
Griffin braces one arm behind my knees, and suddenly I’m fully in his arms as he carries me the few feet to the bed and lays me down.
“Fuck,” I gasp as my back arches when he is almost instantly between my thighs.
Griffin’s mouth works my pussy in ways that are both soothing and damning. His tongue is soothing against my sensitive clit, before he moves and fucks me with his tongue.
Somehow, I manage to open my eyes and see Ronan taking off his clothes.
Fuck me, this is really happening.
At this point, I don’t know why any of us ever thought this would be awkward.
There is less orchestration and talking than with Micah and Dex. It’s like they can read each other’s minds.
“I bet she tastes perfect, too,” Ronan observes.
“Oh, she does,” Griffin says against my sensitive skin before licking up my seam. “Why don’t you taste her too?”
Suddenly I’m turned on the bed, and Ronan’s mouth replaces Griffin’s. I hear the rustling of Griffin’s clothes, and suddenly a surge flows through me. It’s like lava in my veins. I don’t know that I’ve ever been more turned on in my life than I am right now.
I feel handled.
I kind of feel like their toy.
And I am absolutely fucking here for it.
As Ronan’s fingers join his mouth, I gasp, then suddenly Griffin is there.
His hand cups my face as I open my eyes. Those hazel eyes meet mine and hold long enough—I know he is making sure I’m good, that we’re good.
Smiling softly at him, I reach up and put one of my hands on his face. But then Ronan’s fingers curl perfectly, causing my body to arch and gasp.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Griffin whispers just before his mouth meets mine.
The kiss is soft and gentle. A dramatic contrast to everything else so far.
It’s only when he pulls back that I realize my fingers are tangled in his hair tightly and pulling him closer.
My mouth chases his, and he presses one more soft kiss to my lips before his mouth dips to my ear. His voice is a low whisper, quiet enough that I know Ronan won’t be able to hear his words.
“I love you, Cami,” he begins. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
A kiss presses to my neck and then stays there as my body begins to break again. One hand still tangled into his hair, the other digs into the muscles of his upper arm.
As my body stills, Griffin leans up, meeting my eyes again.
Ronan begins trailing kisses slowly up my body, leaving heat in their wake.
Griffin’s voice is just a little louder as he says, “Try to keep your hands on me, okay?”
My heart tightens in a way that almost competes with what Ronan is doing between my thighs.
Griffin isn’t just enduring this.
He wants to be here.
He wants to keep Ronan’s needs in the forefront, too.
I nod softly.
Ronan grunts some kind of approval.
Griffin adds, “I’ll help you, but I don’t really want to restrain you…” he pauses, a slight evil lilt added to his tone when he continues, “at least not this time.”
Ronan laughs lightly against my skin.
Somehow I find my sass, my eyes locked on my husband. “You’re doing surprisingly well.”
“I’m doing more than well, baby.” He kisses me then deeply.
Ronan’s mouth reaches one of my hardened nipples. And again, without communication, Griffin’s hand finds the other one.
The sensations that flood me as they work together are intense. My breasts start to feel heavier as my thighs clench together under Ronan’s weight. Grinding and flexing with the little movement I’m allowed, I help work my body toward the edge.
One of my hands is still tangled in Griffin’s hair, but when I begin to fall over that edge, my other one reaches toward Ronan—his shoulder, his hair—I just need to grip something.
Griffin’s hand is on my wrist, pushing it into the mattress before I even fully register I’m moving.
His mouth trails down to my ear again. “You testing me, baby?”
A shake of my head is the only answer I am able to give.
“Be good,” he adds before releasing my wrist.
I whimper at the words.
Suddenly Ronan’s eyes are on mine.
“Color?”
“So green.”
He smiles. “You ready for us to fuck you?”
A surge of heat slides down my whole body.
Griffin inhales roughly.
Smiling, I nod. “So ready.”
There’s another one of those nonverbal exchanges between them before Griffin wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me off the bed completely.
Handled. I am absolutely being handled.
Ronan repositions himself so he is lying on the bed on his back, stroking himself slowly.
“You want to ride him?” Griffin asks quietly next to my ear.
I swallow and then manage to answer, “Yes, but only if you want me to.”
Griffin’s arm tightens around me. His breath catches against my ear before something dangerously close to a growl rumbles out of him.
Oh.
Apparently, handing my husband decision-making power is a fucking kink for both of us.
He proves his chiseled physique is far more than just something pretty to look at as he places me over the top of Ronan and arranges himself behind me without ever letting me go.
My eyes meet Ronan’s approving green ones as he lines himself up under me. Griffin loosens his grip slightly, allowing me to sink down.
Ronan bites at his bottom lip as his hands settle on my thighs.
“Can you ride him until you come?” Griffin asks, mouth near my ear, but I can tell from Ronan’s face that Griffin is looking at him.