66. Dre
Chapter sixty-six
Dre
I 'm on the edge, teetering between observer and master—a role I've played too many times to count. But this is different. This isn't some back-alley fling or a bout of rough, forgettable sex. It’s my snowflake.
Her green eyes are glazed over with desire, her body a siren's call I can't resist. I want to hold back, I do. I know Saint won’t like me taking control, but I need it. So, 'he’s just going to have to deal with it.
"Saint," I command, my voice thick with authority, "sit down."
He moves, a shadow in motion, his dark curly hair brushing against his forehead as he settles onto the bed. Addy's breath hitches, anticipation painting a flush across her pale cheeks. I guide her gently, a stark contrast to the storm of demands brewing inside me.
"Ride him," I breathe into her ear, and she shudders, complying with an eagerness that stokes the fire within me.
From my vantage point, I take in the sight before me: Addy astride Saint, lost in the rhythm they're creating. My hands find their own tempo, mirroring the urgent need building like a crescendo within my veins. I'm not just watching—I'm part of this symphony, conducting each moan, each gasp, each shudder.
It’s a fucking masterpiece.
"Good girl," I murmur, my voice laced with approval and something darker, hungrier. Addy's body moves with a grace born of raw pleasure, her blonde hair cascading around her in waves. I can't tear my gaze away from where she and Saint connect, the sight sending a jolt straight through me.
"Fuck, Princess," Saint groans, his voice guttural and strained. His hands grip her hips, guiding her down onto him with a possessive urgency that only spurs me on further. “Fuck.”
"Keep going," I instruct, my hand moving faster over myself. The power to direct this scene, to ensure that Snowflake's cries are of ecstasy and not pain, thrums through me like electricity. Watching her unravel is a privilege I don't take lightly—it's a testament to the trust she's placed in us, the unspoken bond that ties our broken pieces together.
Saint’s voice floats through the haze of our passion, gentle yet laced with an edge that only heightens the moment. "You're perfect, Princess," he murmurs, his praise a contrast to the filth spilling from my lips. And she soaks it all up, revels in it—the dichotomy of dirty and divine.
"Snowflake," I call out, my voice low and steady despite the turmoil raging inside me. "Take Chess in your hand." My eyes lock onto hers, green flames dancing within them, as she complies, her fingers wrapping around Chess's length. His sharp intake of breath is a sound of pure pleasure, and it echoes in the room, stoking the fire within me.
I stand back, watching her stroke him, witnessing the expert movements of her hand. But when she glances over her shoulder, seeking me out, those emerald eyes are like a beacon calling me home. The need that grips me is visceral, undeniable.
"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, and without another thought, I'm moving towards her, my body acting on its own volition. I press myself against her back, feeling the heat of her skin against mine. My hand snakes around her throat, a gentle but firm reminder of my presence. Her breath hitches, and I can't help the dark smile that tugs at my lips.
"Keep riding him, Snowflake," I whisper into her ear, my voice rough with desire. Saint's hands are on her hips, helping her move, but my focus shifts to Chess. "Touch her, Chess. Make her feel good."
Chess doesn't hesitate; his fingers find her clit, and together we create a rhythm that has my snowflake gasping for air. Her movements become erratic, spurred on by the dual sensations. I can't resist the urge to explore further, so I dip my fingers lower, gathering the wetness that proves her arousal before pressing against the untouched part of her.
"God, Dre..." Her voice breaks as she looks back at me with a mixture of longing and anticipation. There's a promise in her gaze, an unspoken plea, and I know I'm not the only one teetering on the edge of control.
"Shh," I soothe, even as I continue my teasing assault. "Just let go, Snowflake. We've got you." My words are a vow, a pledge to push her to heights she's never known, to be the conductor of this carnal symphony until the final note is played.
My breath comes out in heavy pants as I watch Snowflake, her skin flushed with desire and the exertion of riding Saint’s cock. His dark curls are plastered to his forehead, his eyes locked onto where their bodies meet. The sight is intoxicating, but it's the promise of what's to come that has my blood thrumming through my veins.
"Snowflake," I growl, low and demanding. I reach around and gather some of her arousal on my fingertips before pressing them to that little rosebud between her cheeks. "I'm going to take this last piece of you soon." My fingers press more insistently at her entrance. "And when I do, I want to see you unravel between me and Chess."
She responds with a keening moan, her movements growing more frantic as she seeks her release.
"Ah, Saint..." Snowflake's voice trembles, and I know she's close. I can feel it in the way her movements become more frantic, less controlled.
"Let go, Snowflake," I urge, my own release simmering at the edges of my control. "Come for us."
She does—with a cry that sounds like freedom, her body shaking as she clings to Saint. Saint groans beneath her, his body tensing as he reaches his climax. Watching him come apart under her only fuels my anticipation. I can't hold back any longer, and with a few final strokes, I give in to the rush, my vision blurring at the edges as pleasure consumes me.
For a moment, we're all suspended in the aftermath, breathing hard, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat. Then, slowly, we begin to move again, ready for the next act in this dark, delicious play.
The aftermath of her release still clings to the air, but the hunger in me is far from satisfied. I watch Snowflake, her chest heaving with each breath, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat and satisfaction. She's a vision of raw desire, and my commands have sculpted every moan that falls from her lips.
As Saint's grip slackens, we carefully lay Snowflake out on the bed, her blonde hair fanned around her like a golden halo. She's stunning, utterly debauched and yet still so innocent in the throes of passion. My gaze sweeps over her; every curve, every quiver, imprinted in my memory.
"Chess," I say, my voice laced with authority even as I can’t help but marvel at her beauty. "Your turn."
He nods, and I step back, granting him space. As he positions himself between her legs, I hear Snowflake whisper something, her voice barely audible. But the words carry weight, sinking into the silence of the room.
"I love you, Chess."
It's raw and real, and Chess freezes for just a moment before he leans down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.
"I love you too, Addy."
Their exchange is a stark contrast to the dominance running through my veins. It’s soft and sweet and it scares the ever loving shit out of me but it doesn't quell the fire inside me. If anything, it adds another layer of intensity to the moment. This isn't just about the physical—it's about the connection, the twisted and beautiful ties that bind us together.
"Show her how much," I instruct Chess, my tone brooking no argument. And with a look that speaks volumes, he begins to move, claiming Snowflake in a way that's all his own while I stand sentinel, waiting for the moment to reclaim control.
I can't hold back any longer. The sight of Chess moving in that slow, deliberate rhythm, the way Snowflake's breath hitches with each thrust—it ignites something primal within me. My control snaps like a frayed wire, and I move forward, my hands finding Chess' hips. I grip him firmly, guiding him, increasing the tempo to a pace that matches the pounding of my heart.
"Like this," I growl into his ear, my lips brushing against the sweat-dampened skin of his neck. I kiss up his neck, each touch a brand, as I reach around to collect some of the slickness from where he and Snowflake are joined. I don't break stride as I let my fingers explore further, circling Chess' entrance before slipping inside.
Chess gasps, a ragged sound that fills the room, and it drives me wild. "Dre…" It's all he manages before his body tenses, and I feel the clenching around my fingers that signals his release.
The moment Chess shudders and spills himself into Snowflake’s pretty pink pussy, I know it's my turn. I gently push his limp form aside, and my eyes lock onto Snowflake's. Her chest is heaving, her green eyes wide and shining with a mixture of desire and apprehension.
"Hands above your head, baby," I command, my voice dark with promise. She obeys instantly, her arms stretching towards the headboard. I capture her wrists in one hand, pressing them into the mattress. "Keep them there."
Her nod is timid but eager, and I can't help the smirk that pulls at my lips. I'm close now, so close to her that I can feel the heat radiating from her flushed skin. "I won't be gentle," I whisper, my mouth hovering just above hers. "I hope you're ready for what's coming, because I'm going to take everything you have to give."
She whimpers, a sound that's both frightened and filled with longing. "Please, Dre..."
"Shh," I soothe, even as my body prepares to claim her in the most primal way. "Just feel."
I roll the condom on quickly before I lose myself in this. I line up at the entrance to Snowflake's slick heat, and I take a deep breath to steady myself. This moment, the anticipation, it's almost too much to bear. But I can't deny her or myself any longer. I need her, need this connection. I don’t have pretty words or pretty emotions. But, this is a language I understand.
I growl like a feral animal as I enter Snowflake, her tight warmth surrounding me like a glove. She's so wet, and it feels fucking incredible. Nothing and no one has ever felt like this. I’m not gentle; I can’t be. And, I did warn her. I grip her hips, using them for leverage as I thrust into her, each stroke deeper than the last.
The moment ripples with raw energy, and I'm the storm at its center. My hips drive into Snowflake like a relentless tide, each thrust eliciting gasps and moans that fuel my desire to dominate, to claim. Her hands wander down, reaching for something—anything—to hold onto, but I'm not having any of it.
"Saint," I bark out without breaking rhythm, "keep her hands above her head." Saint's dark curls bob as he nods, his large, rough hands clamping over Snowflake's wrists. His imposing presence is a silent force in itself, but right now, he's just an extension of my will.
"Chess," I command, locking eyes with him, "play with her clit. Make her feel it." The mischievous glint in his hazel eyes tells me he's more than ready to indulge in this debauched concert we're performing together. His fingers dance over Snowflake's clit, guided by the rhythm of my own movements.
I lean forward, closing the distance between Chess and me, our breath mingling in the heated space. Our lips meet, a clash of dominance and desperation, and I taste the sin and sweetness of our tangled desires. It's a kiss that speaks of shadows and light, of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
Pulling back from Chess, I refocus on Snowflake beneath me, her body a canvas for my darkest cravings. I feel her tighten around me, her pussy contracting in waves that beckon me closer to the edge. But I resist; I'm not ready to surrender to that peak just yet.
"Snowflake," I growl, my voice strained with the effort of holding back. I pound into her harder, driven by instinct and the fierce need to mark her as mine. Leaning down, my mouth seeks her skin, kissing, nipping, lavishing attention on every inch I can reach. My teeth find the tender junction where her neck meets her shoulder, and I bite down, a primal claim that draws a strangled cry from her lips.
"Mine," I breathe against her flushed skin. My mouth claims hers again, a heathen's kiss filled with all the darkness and light that churn within me. She's beautiful, she's broken, she's everything. And in this moment, she's unequivocally mine.
I pull out and quickly turn her over, disregarding her muffled protests. With Snowflake on her hands and knees, I spread her thighs wider, reveling in the sight of her exposed pussy. I run my hands over her back, tracing the curves and dips, feeling her muscles tense and relax under my touch. With a sharp slap to her ass, I thrust back into her, causing her to arch her back and cry out in pleasure.
The sound of skin slapping echoes in the room as our bodies move together in a passionate frenzy. This need for her—this raw carnal urge—is more than just a physical yearning. She's sopping wet, quivering around my length.
I can't deny that I'm absolutely lost in this moment, in her, in us. Her scent, her taste, her touch—it all feels so intoxicating, overwhelming. I need to claim her, to mark her, and the thought only fuels my desire. I spank her harder, my hand leaving a stinging imprint on her pale skin. She whimpers, a sound that's both frightened and filled with the same rawness I feel coursing through me.
Again. Again. Again.
My hips move in a relentless rhythm, each thrust harder than the last. I'm not gentle, I can't be. She's so fucking wet, her pussy is gripping me like a vice. I'm not done with her yet; she's only just begun to feel the brunt of what I feel for her.
Her moans fill the air as she succumbs to the pleasure, her body shaking beneath mine. My thrusts become more erratic, her cries prompting me to lose control. Driven by the need to taste her submission, I pull out and flip her onto her back.
I’m sliding back home before she even has a chance to cry out. I plaster my body over hers, releasing her hands from Saint’s hold and burying them in my hair.
“Dre…”
“You’re such a good girl, Snowflake. So good. Are you gonna cream my cock like the pretty little slut you are?”
“Yes!”
“You hold it. You don’t come until I say. Do you understand?”
She whimpers, but I feel her nodding against my cheek. The crescendo builds within her, a melody of whimpers and gasps that rises above the symphony of our bodies. Snowflake's insides flutter around me, a vice-like grip that pulls at my restraint.
"Let go, Snowflake," I command, my voice a ragged whisper. "Now."
Her release crashes over her, a torrent of ecstasy that shatters the silence with her cry. The sound is pure, unadulterated bliss, and it's the final note that shreds my control. I surrender to the pulsing pleasure, my climax ripping through me as I spill myself into her.
"Fuck, Dre..." Chess pants from beside us, his voice laced with awe and exhaustion.
I barely hear him, my senses consumed by the aftershocks that quake through my frame. My breaths come in heavy heaves, mingling with Snowflake's soft sobs of pleasure. Saint's hands run through her hair as we all succumb to the gravity pulling us down.
We collapse together in a tangle of limbs, a heap of spent desires and quivering flesh. The room is thick with the heat of our lust, the air a tangible weight against our cooling skin. I press my forehead to Snowflake's, my blue eyes locking onto her green ones, seeing the wild storm they've weathered.
"Are you... okay?" It's a whisper meant only for her, a drop of tenderness in the ocean of our debauchery.
She nods, a lazy smile curving her lips. "Never better," she murmurs, and the sincerity in her voice wraps around my heart like a vow.
"Good." The word is a rasp, filled with the raw edge of emotion I rarely let show. I draw her close, sealing the space between us with a kiss, a gentle brush that speaks of protectiveness and possession.
Saint shifts beside us, his dark curls matted to his forehead as he catches his breath. Chess leans back against the headboard, hazel eyes half-lidded but shining with a mischievous light that never quite fades.
"Next time," Chess starts, his grin infectious even as he fights off the fatigue, "we pace ourselves."
"Speak for yourself," Saint counters, his voice still carrying that commanding timbre that so often defines him.
I’m never letting her go.