27 #3
Cooper’s thumb starts pumping in and out of my asshole in time with the movement of his hips, and I begin to shake more violently than before, the orgasm closing in on me feeling unlike any I have previously experienced.
I gasp for breath, skin sliding against Tate’s, the hair on his chest creating a gorgeous friction against my sensitive nipples, mimicking the more prominent feeling inside me as those ridges and veins slide roughly back and forth along my inner walls in a deliciously repetitive motion.
Blood swishes loudly by my ears, and my heart crashes around all over the place in my chest cavity.
Both arms winding around my back again to plaster me firmly to him, Tate grunts repeatedly, and I feel surges of pleasure trying to take over from all angles. It is everywhere, and I do not even know who each burst is coming from. “Gonna cum. Don’t let me come before you, Havoc.”
Mouth opening wider, only a breath of a hoarse cry makes it past my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut. I do not get the chance to reply to him before Cooper spanks me hard, the SMACK! echoing in my ears, bouncing off each wall in the bedroom, and I explode.
Toes curling, I fall into a complete mess in their arms, and I vaguely register the warmth filling me up from two different sources almost in perfect unison.
“Goddammit. Fuck. Shit. Take it. Take it all, Vengeance.”
“Havoc, Havoc, Havoc, Havoc—”
The sounds of their release find me through the haze, and I can feel sticky fluid leaking down my thighs just as Cooper said it would.
I struggle to focus on the image flickering in and out of my internal vision as his own seems to white out in sporadic flashes, but the snippets I do catch have me burning from the inside out, dragging my orgasm out until it is impossible to go on any longer.
My walls flutter and squeeze and pulse around them as their cum floods me in hot spurts, and I watch as more spills over, white running over their cocks and down my thighs.
“Fucking hell, that’s— Christ, you’re fucking milking me.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Blackness swallows me whole before I can hear any more from my beast.
***
I must not have been out for long, seconds at most, because when I come to, Cooper is just collapsing on top of me, pushing a half-hearted grunt from Tate’s lungs with the added weight.
“Ezla . . . Vengeance,” Cooper pants, dragging air into him desperately. “Are you . . . okay? I . . . I felt you . . . gone for a moment.”
I am quite well, I send through the bond, unable to convince my larynx to function properly.
“You sure?” Pushing himself up slightly, a violently trembling palm runs down my sweat-damp back. “Jesus. Jesus Christ. That was— Holy gods.” When he shifts again, Tate grunts once more, and Cooper curses. “Do I just—do I just pull out like usual? I don’t want to hurt y—”
“Yes,” I force out hoarsely, and I do not have the ability to focus on the humiliation of that.
“Shit, okay.” Gently holding on to my hips in contrast to his previous treatment, Cooper draws himself back, his cock slipping from me while both of us groan, unsteady and weak.
Next, he ignores Tate’s mumbled protests as he lifts me from his cock, more cum running down my thighs in a heavier rush, though I unfortunately cannot bathe in the sight with Cooper’s projection gone from my mind and my eyes half closed.
I acknowledge how embarrassing it is as I lie here limply, allowing him to move me wherever he wants, but he is not hurting me.
Nothing about his actions are alarming or cause for me to be on the ready, and I make no attempts to put my guard back up.
I find it is tiring these days when I attempt to do so, and I believe it is wasted efforts when my men are nothing but good to me.
They have never sought to harm me. Never have they wished to give me anything but their care, their affection, their love.
And all they have wanted in return is mine. Nothing more.
I cannot think too much on that now, as I still do not know how to appropriately deal with all these new sensations and emotions inside me, and thinking on it too much makes my head hurt.
And so I simply allow Cooper to reposition me onto my side, Tate bringing a heavy arm around me to draw me into him.
Lashes fluttering, I keep track of Cooper as he shifts away from me, and I am just working on summoning the vicious energy I must entertain to prevent him from leaving when he leans in and plants a torturously sweet kiss to my cheekbone before murmuring in my ear, voice rough, “I’m just going to the bathroom to start a bath. You don’t have to get in right away.”
There is nothing in me that attempts to deny his aftercare this time.
It is so far from the first time a part of him was inside me, when he stroked me with his fingers, and I am not so sure how I got here, but I am not unhappy.
For the first time, in fact, despite what is looming ahead and the ever-present shadow of him in the background .
. . there is no underlying agony. There is almost simply . . . peace, and something like . . .
Happiness.