7. Wren #2
I turn my head—barely, because Lev's still pounding into me—and Kostya's standing right there, close enough to touch. His hand comes up and cups my jaw, thumb brushing over my lower lip.
"Open," he says.
I do.
He unbuckles his belt with one hand, the leather whispering harshly against denim, and then his cock is in my mouth—heavy, thick, scalding hot, the salty-musk taste of him flooding my tongue like a drug I didn't know I needed.
I moan around the impossible girth of him, the vibration pulling a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest. His fingers twist into my hair, yanking just hard enough to sting my scalp in the most delicious way, sending sparks racing down my spine.
"Vot tak," Kostya mutters, voice like gravel dragged over concrete. "Takaya poslushnaya. So obedient."
The words sink into me, filthy praise that makes my pussy clench hard around Lev, fresh slick flooding out around his relentless cock. God, I'm their toy right now—spread open, stuffed full, and I fucking love it. The shame burns so sweet I could cry from how perfect it feels.
Maxim appears on my other side, his body heat rolling over me like a wave, carrying the faint scent of pine soap and something darker, purely him.
I reach for him blindly, my fingers trembling as they find his belt, fumbling desperately with the buckle because my brain is melting under the onslaught.
He helps me with a soft chuckle that vibrates through his chest, and then his cock is in my palm—velvet steel, fever-hot, already leaking steadily, the slick fluid coating my fingers as I squeeze and stroke him.
"Bozhe moy," Maxim breathes, the words rough with awe. "Look at you, solnyshko. Taking all three of us at once like you were made for it."
Lev's rhythm picks up—brutal now, hips snapping forward with wet, obscene slaps that echo through the great room. Each savage thrust slams me forward onto Kostya's cock, forcing him deeper down my throat until my eyes water and I gag, throat convulsing around the thick invasion.
The burn is exquisite, my jaw aching, saliva dripping down my chin in messy strings, but I can't stop sucking, hollowing my cheeks like the greedy slut they've turned me into.
"Careful," Lev says, his voice low and edged with warning, the words punctuated by another punishing drive that makes my clit throb violently against nothing. I can't tell if he's talking to Kostya or me, and the uncertainty only coils the heat tighter in my belly. "She's mine right now."
"Ours," Maxim corrects, his hand sliding over mine, fingers lacing to guide my frantic strokes along his leaking length. The added pressure makes him twitch in my grip, more precome spilling hot over our joined hands. "She's ours."
I whimper around Kostya's cock, the sound broken and pathetic, vibrating along his shaft.
It's too much—Lev's massive cock inside me, spearing that perfect spot over and over until white bursts across my vision and my walls flutter helplessly; Kostya's thick length stretching my lips and throat, demanding every inch of obedience while his grip in my hair borders on pain; Maxim's cock pulsing in my fist, so hard and slick it feels alive, the veins throbbing against my palm as I work him.
My body is a live wire, every nerve screaming in overload. The air smells like sex—sweat, arousal, the sharp tang of precome—and the wooden table creaks beneath me with every brutal thrust.
I'm drowning in them, in the sheer overwhelming presence of all three at once, their scents mixing, their low growls and heavy breathing filling my ears, their hands branding my skin.
I shouldn't want this, shouldn't need to be used like this, but fuck, I do.
I want them to break me apart and put me back together, over and over.
The thought spirals through my head as another wave of pleasure crashes higher, threatening to drag me under completely.
"That's it," Lev says, and his thumb finds my clit, circles it in tight, deliberate strokes. "Come for me. Let them hear you."
I can't. Not with Kostya in my mouth. But my body doesn't care—the orgasm slams through me anyway, violent and all-consuming, and I moan around Kostya's cock as my whole body locks up.
Lev follows seconds later, his hips stuttering as he comes inside me.
"Moya," he mutters. Mine.
He pulls out carefully, and I slump back on the table, boneless and shaking.
Suddenly, Kostya's massive hands clamp down on my hips, his calloused palms scorching against my sweat-slick skin as he hoists me.
The rough drag of his tattoos brushes my ribs, and the raw, masculine scent of him—sweat, gun oil, and that sharp pine clinging to his clothes from the woods outside—floods my nose.
He flips me onto my stomach, the cool, polished wood of the table shocking my heated breasts and belly, nipples tightening instantly against the unyielding surface.
My knees scrape lightly as he yanks me up into position, forcing me onto all fours with a growl that vibrates through his chest and straight into my bones.
"Stay," he says, the word clipped and final, like a command barked at a misbehaving animal. No please, no softness, just that blunt edge that slices right through me.
I stay, trembling, my mind a chaotic whirl.
God, I'm actually doing this—kneeling here naked and dripping while three men who are supposed to be my stepbrothers use every inch of me.
This should feel wrong, violating, but the ache between my legs only deepens, a slick, filthy need that pulses with every heartbeat.
I want to be ruined by them. I crave it like air.
Maxim moves in front of me, his thick cock bobbing heavy and flushed, the musky tang of his arousal mixing with the faint woodsmoke drifting from the den's fireplace. "Open up, krasavitsa," he says, that charming lilt in his voice turning rough at the edges, like velvet over gravel.
I part my lips without hesitation, the salty-bitter taste of him exploding across my tongue as he pushes in deep. His fingers thread gently through my tangled blonde waves, cupping the back of my skull with a tenderness that makes my chest clench.
The wet, obscene sounds of my mouth working him fill the air.
"So good for us," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Taking everything we give you like you were made for it."
Behind me, Kostya's rough hands shove my thighs wider apart, the cool air of the lake house kissing my exposed, swollen pussy before his massive cock nudges at my entrance.
He's thicker than Lev, stretching me to that burning, exquisite limit as he sinks in with one powerful thrust, bottoming out so deep I feel him in my throat.
I cry out around Maxim's length, the vibration making him hiss sharply between his teeth, his grip tightening just enough to send sparks down my spine.
"Ty nravish'sya eto, da?" Kostya rumbles, his stubble scraping my shoulder as he leans over me, his broad, tattooed chest pressing hot and heavy against my back. The words rumble like thunder in my ear. "Being fucked by all of us."
It should cut deep, should make shame flood my veins, but instead it lands like liquid fire in my core—his voice wrapping it in that rare, rough-tender growl that betrays how much he wants this, how proud he is to wreck me.
I'm not their whore; I'm their everything.
Their kotyonok, pinned and claimed in this house that smells of pine and smoke and pure raw sex.
My mind screams that I should hate how much I love it, but my body arches back into him anyway, chasing the brutal fullness.
"She does," Maxim says, his breath ragged as he rocks shallowly into my mouth, the veins along his shaft pulsing against my tongue. "Look at her. She's perfect."
Kostya begins to move, at first with agonizing slowness that lets me feel every thick inch dragging along my sensitive walls, the wet squelch of my arousal echoing obscenely.
Then he snaps his hips forward harder, each punishing thrust slamming me forward onto Maxim's cock, my breasts swinging heavy and aching with the motion.
I'm trapped between them, helpless and impaled, the table creaking louder beneath my palms and knees, and a dark thrill coils tighter in my gut.
This is what drowning feels like—suffocating in their heat, their scents, the way Kostya's balls slap heavy against my clit while Maxim's fingers massage my scalp like I'm fragile glass.
I shouldn't beg for more, but the words claw up my throat anyway.
"Harder," I gasp out when Maxim pulls back for a breath, strings of saliva connecting my swollen lips to his glistening tip.
Kostya's low, dark laugh rolls over me like smoke, vibrating through where we're joined. "Greedy."
"Please."
He gives it to me without mercy then, his hips pounding into mine with savage force, the impact jolting through my bones and making my vision blur at the edges.
The stretch borders on pain, delicious and overwhelming, every drag of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me while his fingers dig bruises into my hips.
Maxim slides back into my mouth, his touch in my hair feather-light and worshipful, creating a maddening contrast—Kostya's unrelenting roughness splitting me open from behind, Maxim's sweet praises murmured like prayers above.
It spirals me higher, faster, my inner walls fluttering wildly as another climax builds like a storm off the lake.
"That's it, solnyshko," Maxim says, his voice breaking with restraint. "Let go. We've got you."
The orgasm rips through me like lightning, my entire body seizing and shaking violently as I sob and gag around Maxim's cock, juices flooding hot down my thighs.
Kostya snarls a string of filthy Russian curses—possessive, guttural words that sound like ownership branded into my skin—before his rhythm stutters.
He buries himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he spills deep inside me, the heat of his release pulsing in thick jets that make me clench around him all over again.
He pulls out with a wet sound that should embarrass me but only leaves me aching for more, and I collapse forward onto the table, my cheek pressed to the cool wood now slick with our combined sweat.
Maxim catches me before I can fully slump, his strong arms easing me down flat, then flipping me onto my back with surprising gentleness.
My legs fall open shamelessly, spent and trembling, the cool air teasing my oversensitive, cum-filled pussy as he positions himself between them.
"One more," he says, his voice roughened but laced with that tender warmth that always sneaks under his charm. "Can you give me one more, solnyshko?"
I nod weakly, even as doubt flickers through my haze.
My body's wrecked, every muscle liquid fire, but the way he looks at me—like I'm the sun breaking through these endless woods—makes me want to give him everything.
I don't know where this endless hunger comes from, but it's there, clawing for him too.
Maxim pushes into me slowly, carefully, his trimmed beard brushing my throat as he watches my face with those intense eyes, drinking in every flutter of my lashes.
The stretch is familiar now but no less profound, his cock gliding through the mess of Lev and Kostya's cum, the lewd sounds making my cheeks burn even hotter.
"You're so beautiful like this. Flushed and fucked out and ours. "
I reach up, fingers tangling in his slicked-back hair, and yank him down into a desperate kiss, tasting the salt of our shared exertion on his tongue.
He groans into my mouth, the vibration traveling straight to my core as he starts to rock—long, deliberate strokes that hit every nerve, unhurried and devastating.
Unlike the others' frenzy, this feels like worship, each thrust pulling toe-curling pleasure from depths I didn't know existed, his body heat enveloping me completely while the distant hoot of an owl filters through the windows.
"I'm close," I whisper against his lips, my voice hoarse and broken.
"Me too." His thumb finds my swollen clit, circling it perfectly in time with those deep rocks, the pressure building soft and inexorable like waves lapping the shore. "Come with me. Let me feel you."
The peak washes over me gentler this time, a deep, shuddering bloom that radiates from my center outward, making my walls milk him rhythmically as I cry out softly into his neck.
Maxim goes rigid above me seconds later, his body taut and straining, every muscle corded as he empties himself inside me with a low, broken groan that sounds almost reverent.
The warmth floods me, mixing with the others, leaving me utterly claimed and floating in a haze of satisfaction I never imagined possible.
He collapses on top of me for a second, his weight comforting and solid, and then he's pulling out and easing me into a sitting position.
I slump against the table, boneless and spent. Maxim kisses me—soft and sweet, like I'm something precious.
"You okay?" he murmurs against my lips.
I nod, because I am. Better than okay. Satisfied in a way I didn't know was possible.
Lev hands me a glass of water. Kostya drapes a blanket over my shoulders—where he found it, I have no idea.
And Maxim just keeps holding me, his forehead pressed to mine, smiling like I've given him something he didn't know he needed.