Chapter 4 #4
“Shut up.” His voice is rough but controlled, his breathing even. He isn’t desperate or close. He’s using me, and he’s going to use me until he decides he’s done, and the knowledge that I exist right now to be fucked sends a wave of heat through my gut that makes my cock leak against the counter.
His hand slides up my spine to grip the back of my neck, pressing my face flat against the marble. I can see myself in the reflection, flushed, wrecked, mouth open and wet, eyes glassy and red-rimmed from crying. I look like a well-used slut. I look like exactly what I am.
“Look at yourself,” Kieran says, and his hips drive forward hard enough to shake the counter. “Look at what you are. A desperate little cum dumpster who can’t even finish without permission.”
The words go straight through me.
He drives deep and holds there, his cock jerking as he comes. The hot rush of cum floods my ass, his dick twitching with each pulse, and the warmth spreads through me, liquid and perfect. He groans above me, a long, ragged sound, and his forehead drops between my shoulder blades.
For a moment, we’re still. His cock buried in my cum-filled ass, his weight heavy on my back, and the only sound is the two of us breathing.
Then he pulls out, and cum leaks from my hole onto my thighs, warm and slick. I whimper at the emptiness.
Nick is there before I can ask. He helps me up, supporting me as my legs collapse, and turns me to face him. Then he lifts me onto the counter like I weigh nothing. My ass hits the cold marble, cum smearing beneath me, and Nick steps between my thighs, his cock pressing against my wet hole.
“You’re so fucking messy,” he says. “Look at you. Full of his cum.”
“Full of you next,” I say, and I scoot forward to the edge of the counter, spreading my legs wide, and reach for his cock, guiding him to my hole. “Please, Nick, I need it—”
He pushes in, and the stretch is different in this position. Nick is thicker, his cock spreading me wider, and the cum inside me makes everything slick, messy, overwhelming. I cry out, my head falling back. He grips my thighs, holding me open as he fucks into me.
“Fuck, Chase,” he says. “You feel—god, you feel so fucking good—”
He grabs me by the back of the head, pulling my mouth to his in a hot, wet kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist and pull him close, meeting every thrust.
His cock drives deep, touching every part of me, and pleasure explodes through me in white-hot waves.
I’m moaning, begging, my hands clutching at his shoulders for balance.
Nick fucks me with the same unthinking confidence he brings to everything, hard and deep and relentless, and each thrust pushes Kieran’s cum deeper, mixes it with the new wetness of my body taking him.
“You’re obsessed,” Kieran says from somewhere behind Nick. He’s leaning against the fridge, one hand lazily stroking his softening cock, watching us with dark, satisfied eyes. “Look at him. Can’t get enough.”
“I can’t,” I say. “I can’t get enough, I need it, I need cock, I need—Nick, please, inside me, fill me up, breed me.”
Kieran pushes off the fridge, reaches for my chin and kisses me, stroking my cock in time with Nick’s thrusts, and I arch up, my body convulsing between them, clinging to both of them as we crest together.
“Cum for Daddy,” Kieran says, and I scream, my cum pumping across my stomach and chest, the hardest spurt hitting my chin, dripping down in a lewd mess, as my inner muscles milk Nick’s cock, pulling a rough groan out of him.
Nick’s rhythm falters, his hips jerking, and his cock pulses inside me.
Cum floods my ass, hot and thick, adding to the mess already there, and the fullness is exquisite, a warm liquid pressure that makes my vision blur.
Nick groans above me, his forehead pressed to mine, and for a moment we’re breathing the same air, his cock buried deep, pulsing.
Then he pulls out, and cum gushes from my hole, running down my inner thighs in thick rivulets. I slump against the counter, boneless, wrecked, my cock sticky and spent against my stomach.
Nick steps back, his chest heaving. “I’m making eggs,” he says, like he’s just decided. “Anyone want eggs?”
Kieran laughs. “Eggs sound great.”
“At least she didn’t take the food,” Nick says, and he’s already moving toward the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs, a stick of butter.
Like this is normal. Like we do this every morning.
Like fucking your best friend’s ass on a kitchen counter and then making breakfast is just how Tuesdays go.
Kieran opens the fridge and takes out a water bottle, handing it to me as he reaches past me for a coffee mug, his forearm brushing my chest, and he smiles down at me. “You good? Be a good boy and hydrate, okay?”
I’m slumped back on the counter, cum leaking down my thighs, painting my stomach and face, and I don’t want to wipe any of it anyway. My ass is sore and full and blissfully used, and I have never been better in my life. “I’m fantastic. A little hungry, though.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” Nick cracks eggs into a bowl, whistling something off-key, and Kieran leans against the counter beside me, his hip pressed to my thigh. “You earned it,” Nick adds.