Chapter Twenty Noelle #2
Mateo watches me with dark, affectionate eyes. “That’s it, baby. Look at you. So eager. You love having three cocks to play with, don’t you? Greedy little thing.”
I moan around Wes, nodding. Grant keeps kneading my breast through my shirt, pinching my nipple until I whimper.
“You’re going to take everything we give you tonight,” Grant says, voice rough. “Every inch. Until you can’t think about anything else but us.”
I pull off Wes just long enough to gasp, “Yes. Please. I want it all.”
They do not hold back.
Mateo lifts me. Their hands are on me immediately. Mateo pulls my shirt up and off. Wes unhooks my bra from behind. Grant tugs my skirt and panties down my legs in one smooth motion.
I step out of them, completely naked between them in the golden candlelight.
Mateo sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. I sink down onto his cock, taking every thick inch until I’m fully seated. The stretch is perfect. I moan and start rolling my hips, riding him deep while the candlelight flickers across his face.
Wes stands beside us. I turn my head and take him into my mouth, sucking him eagerly while I ride Mateo.
Grant stands on my other side. His hands slide around to cup and squeeze my breasts, pinching my nipples hard. His mouth finds my neck, biting softly.
The feeling of all three of them is overwhelming—Mateo filling my pussy, Wes in my mouth, Grant’s hands and mouth everywhere. I moan loudly around Wes and rock my hips faster.
Grant’s hand suddenly slides up to my throat. He applies light pressure, just enough to make my head feel floaty.
“Quiet,” he warns, voice low and rough against my ear.
I shake my head, moaning softly around Wes.
Mateo reaches between us and starts rubbing my clit while I ride him. “That’s it, baby. Ride my cock just like that. You look so pretty taking me.”
I’m already close. Wes spanks my ass hard, the sharp sound echoing in the bay. I cry out around his cock and he pulls out just long enough for Grant to warn me again.
“Be quiet,” Grant says, spanking me harder. “Or I’ll have to gag that pretty mouth too.”
Wes slides back into my mouth. I’m dripping down Mateo’s cock. Grant keeps one hand around my throat, the other spanking me in sharp, stinging slaps every time I moan too loudly.
I pull off Wes for a second, gasping. “Please… I need more. I want all of you inside me.”
Grant’s hand tightens slightly on my throat. “You’ll get it. But first…”
He reaches for the spare string of Christmas lights coiled on a nearby shelf and wraps the flexible wire around my wrists, tying them behind my back. The small bulbs press into my skin.
“Now you’re ours,” he says, voice low and rough, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.
He sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap so I’m facing him. I sink down onto his cock with a broken sound. Mateo is already behind me, one hand on my hip, the other working two slick fingers into my ass with patient pressure.
Wes stays in front of me, watching. He doesn’t speak. He just cups my jaw, tilts my face up, and waits until my eyes find his. Only then does he feed his cock into my mouth—slow, exact, the way he does everything.
Mateo’s voice is warm against my ear even while he’s stretching me open. “That’s it, pretty girl. Breathe for me. You’re taking him so well already. Look at you, all tied up in Christmas lights like a present we’re unwrapping.”
Grant’s hand tightens at my throat—not hard, just present. His eyes never leave mine. “Quiet,” he says when I moan too loudly around Wes. “Or I’ll gag you myself.”
When Mateo finally pushes into my ass, the stretch is sharp. Grant holds still inside me, giving me something solid. Wes’s hand stays gentle in my hair, guiding but never forcing.
They find a rhythm that has nothing careful about it—Grant thrusting up hard, Mateo matching him from behind, Wes using my mouth with that same quiet intensity. The lights dig into my wrists every time I jerk.
Grant’s control frays first. His voice comes out almost involuntary. “Fuck—look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
I come shaking between them, bound and full. Grant follows with a low, punched-out sound, like something finally broke loose. Mateo laughs softly against my neck as he finishes, the sound affectionate even now. Wes pulls free and paints my throat and chest in silence, eyes never leaving my face.
We stay tangled together afterward. I’m in the middle on the couch.
Wes on one side, solid and warm. Mateo on the other, arm draped across me.
Grant sits on the floor with his back against the couch, head resting against my knee.
My hand is in his hair. I do not remember putting it there, but I do not move it.
The candles have burned low. The generator hums under the floor. Outside the frosted windows, the brownstones keep their small battery-lit vigil, glowing stubbornly in the dark.
Nobody speaks. There is no need to.
I lie in the middle of the three of them.
Grant’s head is heavy against my knee. Wes’s breathing goes slow and even. Mateo murmurs something soft against my shoulder. I close my eyes.
I stay.