Chapter 44 #2
My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate and aching, and my hands fist in the sheets. Because I’d thought about it last night. When Callaway was between my legs and Monty was inside him, I’d imagined what it would feel like to be caught between them. Filled. Owned. Loved.
It terrified me.
And it made me wild.
Monty’s voice dips closer to a growl. “Can you imagine it, baby? Me in your ass. Cally in your pussy. Both of us holding you down while you come all over us?”
I shudder violently, back arching. “Yes—fuck—yes.”
“Say it,” he murmurs. His tongue is back, just barely, brushing where his finger was. “Say you want it.”
“I want it,” I gasp. “Please—I want both of you. I want to feel you everywhere.”
He groans low, like he’s seconds from losing control.
Then, softer, “Someone’s desperate.”
I nod, shameless. My body chasing his mouth, my voice wrecked. “I need you. Please let me come. Fill me with your fingers, with your cock.”
And he laughs—low, dark, possessive.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, sealing his mouth over my clit again. “You’ll come when I say so. And not a second before.”
He sucks. Not hard. Just enough. Just perfectly enough.
My hips jerk, my hands flying to his hair. He doesn’t stop. He just groans into me like my desperation is his favorite flavor.
Then his voice again, right against my skin, the vibration making me cry out.
“You know what I’m thinking about?”
I whimper, too far gone to form words.
“I’m thinking about fucking you with my cock,” he says, tongue dragging down through my folds, slow as sin. “I’m thinking about how hot and tight your pussy will be when I finally slide into it.”
He pauses—his mouth still against me, his fingers circling my clit but not pressing, not giving.
My body thrums. I feel starved for him.
“You think you deserve it?” he whispers. “Think you’ve been good enough to be filled with my cock?”
“Yes,” I gasp, not even pretending to hold back. “Please, Monty. I need it.”
He licks again—one slow stroke that makes me arch.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groans. “You’re soaking the sheets. Begging for me. And I haven’t even given you half of what you want.”
His fingers slide back inside me—two of them, deep and thick—and I cry out. My body clenches. I’m close. So fucking close.
But he slows down. Pulls back just slightly. Cruel in that way that makes me love him.
“You want to come?” he asks, fingers curling inside me, rubbing that spot that makes my toes curl.
“Y-yes.”
He kisses my inner thigh. His breath is hot, his tone deadly soft.
“Then tell me who this pussy belongs to.”
“You,” I whisper, wrecked.
“Louder.”
“You. It’s yours.”
He hums. “And Cally’s?”
“Yes. Both of you.”
“You gonna let us stretch you open together?” His fingers move again, pumping harder now. “Let me watch you take his cock while mine’s inside you?”
I can’t speak.
My orgasm is right there—ready to tear through me.
“Monty—please.”
“Come for me, Vesper,” he growls. “Now.”
My body breaks before I even say his name.
The orgasm crashes through me like a dam snapping under pressure—violent, loud, blinding. I scream, raw and hoarse, the sound ripped out of me as my hips jolt off the bed, thighs clamping around his head. My vision sparks. My back arches. And then—
Wetness floods between my legs. My body convulses, all slick and spasms, and Monty groans against me like I’ve just given him a fucking gift.
“Fuck,” he growls, fingers still working me, mouth still buried in me. “That’s it, baby. So fucking good for me. Look at you—soaking my face. Coming like you can’t help it.”
And then—he moans.
Long and guttural, like he’s devouring something holy.
He licks me again, slower this time. Tasting me like he’s starving. His tongue glides through my slick, and then he drinks me in—groaning as he does, savoring every drop I gave him.
“Goddamn,” he mutters against my pussy. “You taste like sin. Like mine.”
Another slow lick. Another curl of his tongue right where I’m still fluttering, and I jolt—overstimulated and already craving more.
“You’re a fucking dream when you break like that,” he says. “Thank you, baby. Thank you for letting me have that. For coming all over my mouth.”
I whimper, wrecked. My legs twitch. My whole body feels like it’s been turned inside out.
And he doesn’t move away.
Not until I go limp, shaking and gasping, my fingers still tangled in his hair.
When he finally lifts his head, his face is soaked. His mouth is swollen. And his eyes?
Gone. Dark. Ruined.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawls up my body—each movement slow, calculated, his cock straining against his boxers, thick and aching.
“You okay?” he whispers, kissing my collarbone.
I nod, still dazed. “That was . . .”
“A fucking masterpiece,” he murmurs.
His fingers trace down my stomach, slow and knowing, pausing just above where I’m still throbbing for him. His cock presses against my thigh again—still hard, still waiting.
He leans in, mouth brushing my ear.
“You think that was everything?”
His voice drops lower.
“Baby, I haven’t even fucked you yet.”