Chapter 47 #2
His pace softens, gets lazy, but he’s grinning against me, and I can practically feel every smug intention vibrating through his jaw. I want to kick him, and I want to kiss him until I can’t taste anything but his mouth.
Duke finally comes up for air, face slick, eyes wild with pleasure.
“That’s my favorite sound,” he says, like a greedy fuck, and nips the inside of my thigh.
It leaves a mark. I hope it bruises. I hope I remember exactly how I got it.
There’s a shift. Cody, arms planted on the desk, lifts my wrists above my head and pins me by the crossed hands. His mouth finds my palm, presses open-mouthed kisses into my skin, like I’m a relic and not a living thing.
Silas’s hand is warm against my stomach, then climbing. He palms my breast, thumb running over the nipple so gently it almost tickles, and the contrast against the rawness of Duke’s mouth is overwhelming.
Next thing, my ankles are in the air, underwear gone, and Cody is lining up behind Duke.
“You’re going to black out,” he tells me, “and that’s a promise, not a threat.”
Warm hands are on my hips. Someone’s mouth is at my neck. Silas, always Silas, biting just hard enough to warn me.
Duke enters me first, cock splitting me open so I forget for one nuclear second how anatomy even functions.
He grinds in deep, holds, and won’t let me move. The pleasure is so intense I whimper, wrists straining in Cody’s grip.
Then Cody’s cock nudges at the other entrance, slicked, insistent, and my body panics with anticipation. There’s a pause, a stuttering halt while he lets me remember it’s him.
“Relax,” Cody says again.
When Cody pushes in, the stretch is so profound I think I levitate. My hands find nothing but air and heat while both of them work in tandem, Duke’s cock buried in my pussy, Cody’s inexorably further until the resistance turns to greedy, hungry fullness.
There’s nothing theoretical about this, nothing left to analyze. The precision of numbers, the comfort of spreadsheets, all gone. Only three men built like weapons, using me as their devastation.
I can’t breathe, but then Silas is behind me, mouth at my ear, whispering: “You can take it. You want it.” I believe him.
The rhythm starts slow, Duke and Cody moving out of sync at first, a drunken waltz of grunts and the slick sounds of what they’re doing to me. My hips jackknife with every thrust until Silas fists himself in front of me.
He uses my jaw as leverage, thumbs pressing the hinge until I open for him. He slides his cock along my tongue, not gentle, not even close, and the taste of him, bitterness and salt, clean sweat, obliterates my last pretense at restraint.
I suck him greedily, the back of my throat going hot and desperate, and it’s only because he keeps his hand locked in my hair that I don’t dissolve right there.
I’m a ragdoll, a toy being used at the exact limit of its design specs. Every part of me aches or trembles or burns with a relief so bright it feels like pain wearing a different badge.
Silas’s cock chokes me with every thrust, Duke’s hips hammer into mine, and Cody’s hand slides down to my clit, circling lazily while his cock splits me at the seam.
They use me. But they want me.
They make me a cathedral and then set me on fire, sanctify me in their collective hunger. I want it, even the brutal parts, maybe especially those.
Each shove deeper, each lock of hands on my body, hammers home that I’m not precious, not fragile, but made for this crucible.
Cody’s cock stabs. The pressure behind gets so intense I cry out.
Silas rams it deep and I gag, spit streaming off my chin, eyes watering and sight wobbly bright. Duke’s rhythm changes, short and savage, and the desk beneath me shrieks on the hardwood.
The friction, the heat, the overload, it’s not pain, not exactly, but the part of pleasure that my brain recoils from because it’s too bright, too much.
My body shudders. I come again, shocking hard, and my scream is muffled by Silas grinding his cock into my mouth.
Silas pushes even deeper, cock spasming against my tongue, his whole body vibrating with the force of it, and I want to swallow him so badly I try to drag him down my throat.
He lets out a fractured growl, encouraging, so I hollow my mouth, taking him to the root, eyes streaming because there’s not enough air left in the room for four people breathing this hard.
Duke’s grip on my hips goes vise tight. My back arches and Cody’s cock shoves from behind, stretching me around him until the only thing I can think is how I’m going to split in two for these men. Maybe I want to.
“Fuck, she’s so tight,” Cody pants, and the words are a whip crack straight to my core.
I’m a conduit for need, a wave breaking open at the shore, and I can’t stop trembling. My legs quake, sweat crawling down my sides, and I can’t tell where anyone ends and I begin.
Duke howls something that might be my name or might just be the sound of a man losing his entire sense of self.
His cock pulses inside me, warmth flooding, and he slumps forward, forehead pressed to my collarbone, murmuring “good girl” against my skin. Every molecule of me flares in answer.
Cody’s pace goes jagged, desperate, and then he bites down on my shoulder, hard enough to warn and mark and claim all at once.
He follows Duke with a shuddering groan, cock jerking in slow waves that make me milk him like I was born for it.
My whole body clenches, and I’m not sure which of us is the one keening in relief.
Silas slams his cock down my throat one last time and comes in violent, choking bursts that make my eyes water and my heart nearly stop.
His hand tightens hard in my hair, holding me into each desperate pump until he’s empty and I’m shaking, noisy and raw.
They slide away one by one, gentle hands smoothing over my shaking body, and I collapse on the desk, drool and tears slicking my cheek, the taste of all three of them mapped on my tongue like a secret only I’m allowed to know.
A secret I never want to lose the rights to.