Chapter 15 Nolan #3
Mira's hands found his hair again, but this time she guided him, hips rolling up to meet his mouth.
Blake hummed approval, the vibration sending shudders through her, and he rewarded her by sucking her clit softly, his lips forming a perfect seal.
One finger joined his tongue, sliding in slow and deep, curling just right to stroke that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
He was effective because he was patient—building the tension layer by layer, his free hand splayed over her lower belly to press down, intensifying every sensation.
She whimpered, long and drawn out, her body coiling tighter as he alternated: a gentle suck, a probing lick, a twist of his finger that had her walls fluttering around him.
Sweat beaded on her skin, her breaths coming in pants, and I could see the way her toes curled, the telltale signs I'd been memorizing.
But Blake, too, eased off before she tipped over, kissing her clit one last time before lifting his head. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, but he smiled softly at her wrecked expression. "Your turn, Nolan."
I was already hard to the point of pain, my cock leaking pre-cum onto my thigh, but I shoved the need down. This was science, after all—hypothesis, experiment, results. I'd watched them both, noted what made her gasp sharpest, what drew out the deepest moans.
As I knelt between her legs, displacing Blake, I positioned her just so—pillows under her hips to tilt her at the perfect angle, knees bent and spread wide.
She was a vision: pussy flushed deep pink, clit peeking from its hood, entrance clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.
I leaned in, inhaling her scent—heady, feminine, intoxicating—and pressed a kiss to her mound first, letting my breath ghost over her.
Then I got to work. My tongue traced her slit from bottom to top in one long, deliberate stroke, cataloging the taste: tangy-sweet, addictive.
I used everything I'd learned—starting slow, lapping at her entrance to gather the fresh flood of arousal Logan's and Blake's teasing had coaxed from her.
She moaned my name, low and throaty, and I rewarded it by sealing my lips around her clit, sucking with measured pressure—not too hard, not too soft, just enough to make her hips buck.
My fingers—two at first, then three—slid inside her easily, her walls hot and slick, gripping me like a vice. I curled them upward, stroking that G-spot in firm, rhythmic pulses, matching the flicks of my tongue over her clit: left-right, up-down, circles that tightened incrementally.
Mira's responses were my data points. A gasp when I hummed against her, vibrations traveling deep. An arch when I thrust my fingers faster, knuckles brushing her entrance with wet sounds. A whimper—high and desperate—when I grazed my tongue ever so lightly over her clit.
I drove her higher, adjusting on the fly: slowing when she tensed too much, speeding when her breaths evened out. Her thighs trembled around my ears, her hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging crescents into my skin.
"Nolan, please. It's too much. Don't stop," she babbled, voice breaking on a sob.
We didn't stop. Logan slid in behind me, his hands on my back, whispering encouragements as he watched over my shoulder. Blake took her hand, kissing her knuckles while murmuring praises.
We cycled again—Logan diving back in with renewed vigor, his mouth sloppy and eager now, sucking her clit while his fingers pumped her pussy in short, brutal thrusts that had her screaming his name.
He added a twist, his thumb circling her back entrance teasingly, pressing just enough to make her clench everywhere.
Mira thrashed, tears of overstimulation pricking her eyes, but she begged for more, her body a taut bowstring.
Blake's second round was slower, more intense—his tongue fucking into her deep while his lips tugged at her folds, one hand pinching her nipple in time with his thrusts.
He was devastating, drawing out every quiver, every pulse, until she was keening, her free hand fisting the sheets so hard her knuckles whitened. "Blake... oh fuck, I'm—"
"Not yet," he breathed against her, pulling away with a final, sucking kiss to her clit.
My second turn—I amped it up, using my mouth and both hands.
Fingers in her pussy, curling relentlessly, while my thumb worked her clit in tight circles, my tongue lapping at where they met.
I added a third element: my other hand sliding up to roll her nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send sparks down her spine.
She was sobbing now, pleasure-pain blurring, her body writhing under the onslaught. "Come on, Mira," I murmured against her thigh, voice rough. "Let go. We've got you."
The third cycle was chaos. Logan went feral, his face buried so deep he was practically drowning in her, tongue and fingers a blur as he growled obscenities into her skin. "Gonna make you squirt, baby. Flood my mouth."
Blake followed, gentle laps turning to fervent sucks, his finger joining Logan's tease at her ass, circling the rim while he devoured her front.
And me—last again, but knowing exactly what she needed.
I latched onto her clit, sucking hard while my fingers pistoned inside her, thumb pressing her perineum to intensify the pressure on her G-spot.
The room filled with the sounds of it: wet slurps, her broken cries, our heavy breaths.
She broke on my watch. Her body seized, back arching off the bed like she was in heaven, a wail tearing from her throat as her pussy clamped down on my fingers, pulsing in violent waves.
Gush after gush of her release coated my hand, dripping down my wrist, and I didn't stop—lapping it up, milking every spasm until she was shaking, oversensitive and spent.
Logan and Blake were there in an instant, hands stroking her thighs, lips pressing kisses to her temples and shoulders as she came down, trembling and gasping.
By the time we finished, Mira was a boneless heap, skin flushed from chest to toes, eyes glassy with wonder as she looked at us—Logan with his cocky grin, Blake with his soft smile, me with the quiet satisfaction of a job well done.
"Holy fuck," she whispered, voice hoarse, a lazy smile curving her lips. "You three... you're going to kill me."
We chuckled, piling around her, our bodies a protective cage. Her hand reached for me, fingers tracing my jaw. We'd only just started learning her rhythms. And fuck, I couldn't wait to map the rest.
"But what about you guys?" she asked.
"This was about you," Blake said gently.
"But that's not fair."
"Life isn't fair," I said, kissing her forehead. "Tonight was about making you feel good. We can explore more another time. If you want to."
"I definitely want to," Mira said immediately, then yawned. "After a nap. Because apparently orgasms make me sleepy."
We settled into Blake's bed together—Mira in the middle, the three of us arranged around her like protective shields. It should have been awkward, four people sharing a bed. Instead, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
"We're insane," Logan said into the darkness.
"Probably," I agreed.
"But happy," Blake added quietly.
We were definitely insane. But as I lay there with Mira's breathing evening out into sleep and my teammates—my friends, my chosen family—surrounding us, I thought that maybe insanity was underrated. Maybe sometimes the crazy thing was also the right thing.