Willow #2
He makes a wreck out of me in seconds. My fingers are in his hair, yanking at the roots, clawing down his back, anything to stay anchored while he fucks the sense out of me.
Every sound I make turns him on more. I can see it, the wild dial of his pupils, the sweat breaking at his temples, the way his jaw grinds with the effort of not coming too soon. He’s holding out for me…
“Well, well, well.” I glance toward the door to see Julian’s cheeky smile. “Look what’s happening here.”
I laugh, but it’s embarrassingly high-pitched. Every nerve sings, because I’m half naked and spread open on a desk, and Julian just glides in like it’s a goddamn pajama party.
Xander’s movements don’t falter. He pounds through me, all the harder now that there’s an audience.
Julian leans over me, palms braced on either side of my hips. He’s so close, my breasts brush against his chest with every jolt of the desk.
Xander buries his cock so deep it feels like gut punches, brutal and exquisite, and Julian grins, tracing a finger through the sweat at my temple.
“Looks like I interrupted,” he murmurs, his mouth ghosting the shell of my ear. “Should I watch, or…?”
“Join in,” I gasp.
Xander’s hand fuses against my lower back, his cock driving me down on the desk while Julian’s face appears right in front of mine.
He’s still grinning, that sureness in his eyes, daring and philosophical at once. He brushes his thumb across my cheek, then tips my face up to meet his mouth with mine and pours a kiss into me, whiskey warm and sweet.
It’s a different flavor than Xander’s. Silkier, slower, but no less hungry.
My own moan is caught between them, one man fucking me deep, the other kissing me like there’s nothing left in the world but this.
Julian tangles his hand in my hair, winding it into a leash and drawing my head back, exposing my throat and trailing his lips down my jaw, over my collarbone, down to where my pulse throbs in my neck.
Then Xander whips me off the desk, and places me on my hands and knees on the floor. “Take us both.”
My brain short-circuits, but my body is already obeying.
My palms land on the plush rug, knees scuffing the slick floor, and in the next second Xander’s hands are rough at my hips, yanking me back and open.
My breath comes ragged and wild, every inch of me exposed. Head down, ass in the air, nothing but sensation, Xander’s cock rutting into me from behind just as ruthless as before.
Julian wastes no time at all.
He drops to his knees in front of me, palming my jaw, his eyes gone dark in the dim light. He traces my lips with his thumb, then replaces it with the flushed head of his dick.
“Open,” he tells me, a murmur threaded with velvet command.
I do, tongue out, letting him rest there, heavy and warm.
He feeds it in gently at first, letting me taste the salt of his skin, and then deeper, a relentless pressure that makes my jaw ache but I don’t care. I want all of him, every inch.
His palm strokes my hair lovingly, thumb swiping a line along my cheek.
“You look so good like this,” Julian whispers.
He rocks forward into my mouth, his cock heavy on my tongue, the taste of him blooming electric at the back of my throat.
A strangled groan rips from me, muffled by the thick heat of Julian and the ragged slam of Xander’s hips behind me. My body is split between two impossible hungers, both urgent, both overwhelming.
I suck at Julian with greedy pulls, tongue swirling, matching the frantic pace that Xander sets in my pussy. The push pull burns through me, nerves lit up like sparks on a power line.
“Look at you,” Julian groans, and his hand tight around my jaw, holding me, not just fucking my face but worshiping it somehow, like he’s in awe I’m letting him do this.
My moan vibrates up his length and he shudders, hips pivoting forward, and I can feel him restraining himself.
Xander isn’t careful at all. He’s holding me by the waist so tight it’s like I’m part of him, each thrust electric and ruthless, slapping skin loud enough to wake the dead.
There’s a brief moment in which my body genuinely can’t keep up, overloaded, senses fighting for supremacy.
I try to breathe through my nose, try to hold on, but Julian’s cock is thick and insistent and fills my entire mouth until my eyes go wet and my hands curl into desperate fists at the rug.
“Fuck, she’s gorgeous,” Xander snarls, and I feel his fingers dig harder. “Look at her,”
Julian agrees, and suddenly he’s not holding back at all, pushing into my mouth with rougher, hungrier thrusts, his hand fisted in my hair.
The contrast, their differences, makes my head swim.
Julian’s cock is all heat and finesse, a choke and glide, while Xander’s is pure violence, splitting me open with every brutal drive. I want both and I want more, greedy for everything, desperate for the sensation of losing myself entirely.
The room spins. Sound distorts, turning my moans into a drowned-out chorus, but I can feel their pleasure radiating through the way they use me.
Every time Xander slams into me, Julian’s cock bumps against the back of my throat and I choke a little, tears streaming from the corners of my eyes.
I can’t look up, but I know from the strained hitch in Julian’s voice that he loves it, and Xander’s cursing under his breath.
All of a sudden, my body locks, muscles rigid around Xander’s cock while I writhe on Julian’s, and the tremor is so deep it’s almost a sob.
I don’t know if they expect it, if they can feel it building in the way I clench and shudder, but I can, and it’s a thousand times hotter knowing I’m split open and used by both of them, at once, nothing private or hidden about it.
Julian’s muttering a string of praise I can’t make out, but it’s the tone more than the words. A shocked worship, a realization that I’m coming with his dick in my mouth, every pulse of the orgasm squeezing him deeper.
He grunts, hips jerking reflexively, and Julian throws his head back, and in the blue glow of the booth he’s beautiful as sin, jaw wide, throat rippling, every tendon in his neck bared.
His cock flexes on my tongue, and he hits the back of my throat one last time before he seizes, a growl as he spills himself in me.
I try to swallow, manage most, the rest dripping slick down my chin as he pulls out with a shaking gasp. I’m dizzy, pulse a white noise roar, too far gone for embarrassment, too hungry to care.
Xander’s still pounding me from behind, relentless, and I’m shocked to discover I’m somehow not spent, not even close.
Every few seconds my body shakes with aftershocks, clenching tight around him, and the feral way he mutters my name tells me he’s close, too.
From the floor Julian drags a thumb along my jaw. He wipes the mess from my lips, smears it with obscene tenderness, then leans in and kisses me, tasting himself and tasting me and I think my brain melts when he does it.
He pulls back, still panting, and slides his hands under my arms, lifting me upright so my spine arches and my tits jut forward, flushed and streaked with sweat.
Xander’s cock is still inside me, swollen and angry, and as Julian rises to his feet, he plants a kiss on my shoulder, then kneels to watch Xander wreck me from below, like he can’t look away.
I’m loud, shameless, every word that comes out of my mouth filthier than the last.
“Harder, Xander, fuck me, don’t you fucking dare stop.”
And he doesn’t; it’s like I’m wound on a string, and he’ll snap it if he lets go.
The second ball of pleasure nearly yanks my soul out through my pussy, and I collapse, hands fisting the rug, forehead slammed to the floor.
My vision swims; my hearing goes muffled and poppy like an old VHS tape that’s been recorded over too many times. I’m sobbing, maybe actually screaming, and Xander is relentless, pistoning into me, chasing his own edge now while I shiver and jolt around him.
Julian’s hand cups the back of my neck, anchoring me, thumb tracing gentle circles behind my ear. A weirdly sweet counterpoint to Xander’s deep, brutal pace.
I know I’d melt if Julian weren’t holding me up, my limbs gone to taffy, pulse pounding straight through my skull. Xander’s pace stutters.
When he finally comes, it’s with a spasm so forceful we both crash forward, tangled, sweat-slick, and panting, onto the plush rug.
None of us move, just breathing, limbs twined, my chest pressed between their bodies, skin radiating heat.
I register a small, smug satisfaction at the thought that I don’t have to let them go.
Not quite yet.