43
ALBY
My desire rivals my anxiousness as I absorb all the incredible sensations rushing through my insides, my humungous eyes glued to where Tiger’s fingers sink in and out of Ezla while the pads of Scotty’s now rub her clit in rapid, tight circles.
Her body stiffens, and Cooper grabs her hips, urging her to take more of Tiger’s digits, forcing her to ride them.
In response, her eyes flash, and one hand claws at the pillow by her head while the other moves to her side to sink her nails into Cooper’s thigh.
And although he won’t be able to feel the sting through his Avri suit, I can tell from the hunger written all over his darkened features that he likes her holding on to him like that.
Closer to the plush obsidian headboard, Tate reaches his hands into the narrow gap between her chest and the silk-shrouded mattress, and he groans, spewing streams of lewd thoughts from his mouth to Ezla while he cups and squeezes her breasts in his hands, the sight making my erection pulse needily.
And all the while, the scent of her infiltrates every one of my senses: the light sheen of sweat on her forehead that brings a faint salty tang, the natural smell of her enhanced by the cinnamon-scented oil coating her skin, and the sweetness of her pussy that’s so, so lovely to both my nostrils and eyes . . . It’s all so much. Too much.
And I never want it to stop.
I’ll be gladly overwhelmed for the rest of my life if this is what I’ll get to experience over and over again in return.
I want to taste her . . . I really, really want to taste her.
But I’m too much of a coward to ask, so I’ll probably miss my chance.
And I know I have when a shiver-inducing hoarse moan soars into the air and the groans and praise of the other men echo through the room.
“That’s it, Love. You come so prettily for us,” Scotty murmurs with a loving quality that I’m not sure he meant to let spill over as he and Tiger drag out her orgasm, keeping up their movements but gradually slowing down in unison like they’re in one of their sparring sessions where they can anticipate each other’s next actions and easily dance together.
“So beautiful,” Tiger agrees breathlessly, and I find myself echoing the words in an indiscernible whisper, my fingers twitching towards Ezla when he takes his hand away along with Scotty, both of them licking their fingers clean.
Tate moves his own hand from her breast to massage the nape of her neck firmly, and Cooper rubs her lower back with a tenderness I wasn’t aware he possessed, his other palm still on her hip as if he can’t bear to let go.
Panic spears through me. I don’t want this to end. I haven’t— I didn’t—I didn’t get to touch her.
Beg me. Beg to taste me, Alby.
I jolt, inhaling a harsh breath.
Whimpering at the cruelly seductive notes of Ezla’s voice in my mind, my hands clench on my thighs, and I quiver, trying to force the words out. Come on, Alby. Don’t let your fear control you. Ask for what you want, I urge myself.
But I can’t mess this up. I’ve never wanted something as badly as I do her, but my entire life, so many people saw me as pathetic.
She’s never once made me feel that way, not even in the harshness of her training, despite my constant embarrassment, but I’m worried I’ll do something that will make her finally realise just how inadequate I am.
I will only be pissed if you do not beg to lick my pussy in the next five seconds.
I choke on nothing, drawing everyone’s attention and a sullen complaint from Tate: “Why does he always get to speak with you mind to mind? I want that.”
But in the next second, he’s too distracted by her hair to ask exactly what it is we’re talking about, though I think he might have some idea as he runs his hands through the glossy chestnut strands, thoroughly fascinated by the way it trickles through his fingers like liquid.
Everyone else stays silent, watching the exchange between me and our Bonded and giving me this moment, no matter any small wisps of jealousy twining through the room.
One—
My yelp startles everyone, as does the way I scramble forwards and grip Ezla’s warm thighs in both hands when she’s hardly finished the first number, heart rate skyrocketing and breathing no quieter than the stands during a Bonding Game.
“Please! Please let me lick your pussy!” I blurt out, then continue, mouth moving faster than my brain, “I’ll be such a good boy, I swear! Please let me, Ezla!”
Everyone gapes at me.
Not blinking once, I plead with my eyes.
I don’t even bother with a glance at the other guys, hardly feeling the humiliation I’d think I should be because I’m so focused on my Bonded, more scared for her response than I could ever be of anything else.
She steals all my attention, leaving zero room for it to stray.
Her lips slowly crawl up into a wicked smirk, and my chest stutters. “You would like to taste me?”
Fingers clenching on her thighs, slippery from the cinnamon-scented oil, I nod my head frantically enough to make me dizzy, my erection trying its very best to poke a hole through the sinthine encasing it.
“Hmmm . . . good boy.”
Something like a mewl escapes me. I’ve never heard more amazing words. “Y-yes . . . I’m good. I’ll be good,” I stammer out, wide gaze darting all over her face as I wait for instruction.
Her pink lips part to allow her teeth to scrape along the bottom one, and my mouth opens further than it already had been to allow for the harsher breaths puffing out of me. “Yes—you will,” she purrs wickedly.
She pauses, purposely drawing out the suspense, and I instinctively lean closer.
“Pull my thong down, Alby.”
Shaking hands rush to do as they’re told; fingers curling around the stretchy material and pulling it down to her knees, a small sound escapes me at the increased sweet smell and the flawless sight I’m greeted with. She flips over gracefully so she’s laying on her back—
Tate lunges like a wild animal, reaching for her exposed breasts, which I can now take in properly with this new position, and I greedily collect every detail to keep in my mind forever, in awe of her, of those little turgid peaks and the dusky-rose areolas surrounding them, the mounds that are perky and firm and so soft-looking—
Ezla tuts as she snaps her hand out and captures Tate’s wrist before he can grab one of them in his large palm.
“Havoc, please,” he groans, voice gravelly, expression twisted in what I could only describe as agony. “Please let me touch them.”
“It is not your turn.”
“But—”
“Tate.” Scotty cuts him off this time, a stern expression aimed his way. “This is Alby’s moment, yeah?”
Tate slides his intense storm-grey eyes to me, narrowing them not like he’s angry with me but as if he’s at war with himself and figuring out something in his head. Finally he says, “You gonna make her feel good?”
I gulp. “I-I’ll do my best.”
“Hm.”
“Be good,” Ezla taunts in a way that says she knows she’s got us all wrapped around her little finger, and she flicks said finger against the sizable bulge in his boxer briefs, making him grunt and greedily shove his hips forwards in an attempt to get more from her.
Pouting in a way that almost looks ridiculous on his usually intimidating face when she pulls away, he somehow respects her wishes and manages to stay put despite the obvious strain from tamping down his urges.
In silent demand, Ezla extends her legs towards me, and with nervous anticipation, I obey, wanting to hear her call me a good boy again and eager to part her with my tongue .
. . even if I don’t have a clue how to do that properly.
And as I drag her thong the rest of the way down her glistening calves and over her toes, it occurs to me that I’ll be the first of Ezla’s Bonds to get to experience this.
And that means more to me than anything.
We’re each getting to begin with different parts of our Bonded, and although we’ll hopefully get more chances in the future to have our turns exploring everything, I like how it seems to be a silent agreement that everyone is getting to have their own special act to remember as their first with her.
“Good boy,” she croons, and my hips jerk like she’d pulled on my cock by a string. “Now . . .” Her thighs part, and I fist her underwear in my shaking hand, a needy whine escaping me as my widened gaze snaps down to the space between them. “Come here.”
Timidly, in a way that belies my desire for her but amplifies the display of my jittery nerves, I shuffle closer on my knees. “I-I don’t know what to do . . .”
“You obey me.”
Her simple, blunt answer does wonders to settle my nerves. “That’s all . . . ? You won’t be upset if I do something wrong?”
“No.”
My shoulders drop their tenseness, and any anxiety is suddenly much easier to deal with knowing that all I have to do to get this right is listen. I’ve always been good at that.
Hovering my hands by her outer thighs, I glance up at her face to see her dip her chin, and I let out a breath when my palms make contact on that slick skin again.
Knowing this much, I inch my face closer to her centre, constantly flicking my eyes back and forth between the wet heat and her face.
Then I ask with flaming cheeks, “Do—do I just lick you?”
She hums, something chillingly unholy tilting her lips up.
My swallow is disgracefully loud in the silence. “O-okay,” I somehow manage to get past my dry throat.
Gluing my blown-out stare back to her pussy, I tell myself to stop being a wimp. And I flatten my tongue to her flesh, gasping at the foreign feel as I slide it up the length of her.
Oh my holy shit!
Oh.
My.
God.
My tongue’s on my Bonded’s pussy!
“Do you want it inside?” Ezla drawls, something almost playful in there that makes the organ in my chest pump faster in response.
I like that look on her. I like it a lot.
And is it weird that the way she simultaneously looks ready to slice and dice any one of us at any given moment is only turning me on more?