3. Ivy #2
When the rough pad of his thumb circles my swollen clit, the sensation punches the air from my lungs in a sharp, broken gasp. Pleasure borders on pain, every nerve ending raw and screaming.
“Sensitive there, aren’t you?” His voice drops into that warm, filthy register that ruins me. He circles again, firmer, watching my face like he’s memorizing every twitch. “Can you come for me, baby? Let me feel this tight little pussy milk my cock.”
“I don’t— I’m not sure I can again?—”
“Yes, you can.” His fingers twist into my damp hair, tugging my head back with just enough pressure to expose my throat while forcing my eyes to his.
The gentle restraint only makes me wetter.
“I want to watch you fall apart. Want to see exactly what you look like when you come all over my cock, sweetheart. Give it to me.”
Oh God.
His words strike like lightning straight to my clit. Something inside me snaps. I ride him harder, faster, thighs screaming, hips rolling with desperate, sloppy need.
The wet squelch of my arousal coats us both, dripping down his balls, and still Knox keeps talking—low, filthy praise poured directly into my ear. How perfect I feel squeezing around him. How he’s never seen anything as stunning as me losing control. How he’s going to ruin me for anyone else.
“Knox—”
“Right here. I’ve got you.” His thumb presses harder, relentless, dragging tight, precise circles over my throbbing clit while his cock spears up into me again and again. “Give it to me, sweetheart. Let go. Let me feel you break.”
The orgasm crashes into me without mercy, a white-hot explosion that rips a raw, desperate cry from my throat. My entire body locks up, back arching so violently my spine cracks, inner walls spasming violently around his massive length.
I hear myself sobbing his name, the sound broken and animal, while wave after wave of blinding pleasure tears through me. Knox groans like he’s been gut-punched, hips jerking up hard as my pussy clamps down on him in rhythmic, greedy pulses.
“That’s my girl. Fuck, Ivy?—”
He thrusts deep one final time, grip turning bruising on my hips as he spills inside me.
Thick, scalding pulses of come flood my already overstuffed pussy, so much that I feel it leaking out around where we’re sealed together, dripping obscenely down my thighs. His forehead drops to my shoulder, breath sawing harsh and uneven against my skin while aftershocks ripple through both of us.
We stay locked like that, trembling, his cock still buried to the hilt as our heartbeats hammer against each other.
The smell of sex—musk and sweat and my own sharp arousal—hangs heavy in the warm night air. My thoughts scatter, incoherent, nothing but the overwhelming sensation of being completely, utterly full of him.
“You good?” Knox asks after a long minute.
I manage a shaky nod against the damp curve of his neck, too wrecked to trust actual words.
His palm strokes slowly up my spine, gentle now, soothing the tremors still racing under my skin. “Words, baby. Need to hear it.”
“I’m good. That was—” I swallow hard, throat raw from screaming. “Yeah. Good.”
He chuckles, the low sound rumbling through his chest and straight into my overstimulated body. “High praise.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it. Only boneless, shattered affection I don’t want to examine too closely.
“There she is.” His lips brush my temple, soft and lingering. “Thought I broke you for a second.”
“You almost did.”
“Mmm. Almost doesn’t count.”
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, intending to deliver something sharp and sarcastic, but the open, devastating warmth in his expression steals the words from my tongue.
That smile—unguarded, real—makes my chest tighten with something dangerously close to longing.
Before I can spiral into overthinking the ache blooming behind my ribs, a new voice slices through the post-orgasm haze, low and certain.
“Still have strength for one more?”
West.
I turn my head, pulse spiking all over again. He’s closer than I realized, those piercing blue eyes dragging over every inch of my flushed, naked skin with slow, predatory focus.
He’s been right here the entire time. Watching Knox stretch me open. Watching me come apart screaming.
The realization sends a fresh, traitorous gush of heat flooding through my exhausted core, and I clench involuntarily around Knox’s softening cock.
“I—” The word scrapes out hoarse. I clear my throat, but the sentence dies there, lost somewhere between overwhelming want and the terrifying realization that I’m nowhere near done with them. "Maybe?"
West's lips twitch. "Not exactly a ringing endorsement."
"Give her a second," Knox says, his hands still anchored on my waist. "She's had a busy night."
"I can see that."
There's something in West's tone I can't quite parse. Not judgment. Not disapproval. Something else. Something that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
Knox helps me off his lap, steadying me when my legs threaten to give out. West closes the distance in two strides and suddenly he's there, right in front of me, tall and solid and radiating a different kind of energy than his brothers.
He cups my face in both hands, tilting my head back. "Three of us in one night. And you were supposed to be the good girl."
My face goes nuclear.
"West—"
"Look at you. Already blushing." His thumb traces my lower lip. "You like it when I say things like that, don't you? When I point out exactly what you're doing."
"No."
"Liar." He leans in, his breath ghosting over my mouth. "You're dripping down your thighs right now. Don't pretend you're not."
Oh my God.
He's right. I can feel it, the wet slide of?—
"That's Roman and Knox inside you," West continues, his voice low and conversational, like he's commenting on the weather. "Both of them. And now you want me too."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, cataloging every reaction I can't hide. "Your body says it for you."
He kisses me before I can respond, and it's nothing like Knox's slow exploration or the way I imagine Roman kissed me earlier. West kisses like he's proving a point, deep and claiming, his hands anchoring me in place when I try to squirm away from the intensity.
When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
"Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn around," he repeats, each word deliberate. "Face the wall."
I stare at him, my pulse hammering. "Why?"
"Because I told you to."
The command in his voice makes my knees weak. I turn slowly, acutely aware of Knox still on the sofa behind me and Roman somewhere in my peripheral vision. West's hand settles between my shoulder blades, guiding me forward until my palms press flat against the cool wall.
"Stay there."
I do.
His hands skim down my sides, over the curve of my hips, spreading my thighs wider. I hear the sound of his zipper, the rustle of fabric, and then he's right behind me, the thick length of him pressing against my entrance.
"Already? We barely started."
"West—"
He pushes in with one smooth thrust and I cry out, my fingers scrabbling against the wall for purchase. He's thick, not quite as long as Knox but stretching me in a different way, and the angle has him hitting somewhere deep that makes my vision blur.
"Look at you," West murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "Taking me so easily after two of my brothers already. You really think you're some good girl?"
"Fuck you," I gasp out, and immediately regret it.
His hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back. "What was that?"
"I said—" My words cut off in a moan as he withdraws and slams back in. "God?—"
"Try again."
"Nothing. I didn't?—"
West goes death-still behind me, every muscle in his powerful frame locking tight.
The sudden absence of motion leaves me painfully aware of how full I already am, how my walls flutter and clench around the thick invasion of him, and the way my own ragged breaths echo off the wall my palms stay plastered against.
That dangerous, low laugh of his vibrates through his chest and into my spine, sending a fresh ripple of goosebumps racing over my skin.
“You’re going to regret that.”
The warning wraps around me like velvet over steel. He withdraws so slowly I whimper, the drag of his cock against my oversensitive flesh making my thighs tremble uncontrollably.
Cool air kisses the sudden emptiness between my legs, and the loss of him feels obscene, like my body has already decided it belongs filled by one of them.
Before I can draw another breath, his large hands clamp around my waist, spinning me with effortless strength. My back meets the wall with a dull thud that knocks the air from my lungs.
He hoists me as if I weigh nothing at all, my legs instinctively wrapping around his narrow hips, ankles locking at the small of his back.
“Let’s see how much that smart mouth can take.”
He drives back into me with one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The new angle forces him so impossibly deep that a raw scream tears from my throat, the sensation bordering on pain yet twisting into something darker, hotter.
My nails dig into the corded muscles of his shoulders, then scrape up to fist in the short hair at his nape as he fucks me in earnest against the wall.
Each punishing snap of his hips slams my spine into the unyielding surface, the cool plaster a stark contrast to the scorching heat of his bare chest crushing against my breasts. The wet, filthy sound of our bodies meeting fills the room—slick, obscene, unmistakable.
“Still talking?” His voice remains maddeningly calm, barely winded, even as I feel the fine tremor running through the thick thighs braced beneath me.
Sweat beads along his hairline, and the clean, masculine scent of him—something like cedar and salt—fills my lungs with every desperate inhale. “No? Guess I found the off switch.”
“West—please—” The plea scrapes out of me, broken and humiliating, but I can’t stop it. My body is a live wire, every nerve ending screaming.