23 Everleigh Come on Mess Me Up—Cub Sport #2
“Now, Fletch here gets to decide what to do with that gorgeous mouth of yours while I fill this pussy up.” Sterling soothes the fire his hits have stoked. “How does that sound?”
“Yes,” I mewl. “It sounds . . . good.”
“You’d like that, would you?”
“I would.” My walls clench around him, spasming at the thought.
“Us filling you up, taking control of this perfect body one at a time,” Sterling taunts. “I bet you’d take us both.”
Focusing on Fletcher’s approach reveals the painful bulge straining the front of his dark jeans. It’s weird to see him dolled up for the outside world. I wasn’t expecting him to show his face at the gallery opening, but he’s dressed for a rare night out.
Rubbing his erection through strained denim, Fletcher searches over me, cataloguing every last detail. He doesn’t show even a hint of shyness at seeing his best friend balls deep, which both confuses and exhilarates me.
In fact, he looks intrigued.
And . . . ravenous.
Clasping my shoulder, Sterling pulls me upright, then steers me into Fletcher’s path. Bent at the waist, I’m free to clasp his jeans, staring up at him through my lashes. Inky pools peer back, writhing with hunger.
“Is this okay?” I ask huskily.
Fletcher licks his bottom lip, nodding again.
“You don’t mind this? Sharing?”
A headshake. Right. He isn’t shy at all.
“Take his dick out, Eden,” Sterling orders me curtly. “We’re going to fulfil that little fantasy of yours.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Swallow him down while I fuck into you from behind.”
His filth never fails to rile me up. I follow his orders and unfasten Fletcher’s jeans to reach inside his boxers, locating smooth, heated skin. Much like the other two, his cock easily fills my hand, thick and generous with a crop of dark curls at the base.
As Sterling glides back into me, Fletcher pushes past my lips to enter my mouth. My first instinct is to tense up and gag a little. It’s an odd sensation, feeling him hitting the back of my throat. Adjusting takes a few seconds.
“Good,” Sterling praises. “Now suck, baby.”
Forming my lips around Fletcher takes a few attempts. I’ve given a couple of blow jobs, mostly as a teen, but never like this. Pulling him deep into my mouth, then circling my tongue over his velvety shaft elicits a wordless response.
He begins to oscillate his hips, flowing in and out of my mouth in time to Sterling’s thrusts. The pair somehow coordinate without talking. Caught in their prison, they’re free to toy with me.
I quickly reach the point of overwhelm. A hard force repeatedly presses into my mouth, mirroring Sterling’s long strokes. Between them, it’s too much to handle, and a system overload rapidly builds.
“How does it feel to take us both?” Sterling growls, his fingers digging deep into my hips. “You’re doing so good.”
A hand sinks into my hair, grasping the strands tight. Fletcher uses his grip to hold me prone, allowing his hips to do the work, roughly fucking into me at a brisk pace. Even without words, I can sense his frenzy.
Keeping one hand on his waist, I lower the other to find his balls. The soft swell is tucked underneath his shaft, close to my saliva-streaked lips. Cupping them causes him to falter, and a sharp intake of breath sounds out.
“Whatever you’re doing, he likes it,” Sterling observes.
Tightening my lips around Fletcher causes him to jerk, thrusting wildly into my mouth. He definitely likes it. It feels unnatural to pleasure him with Sterling inside me, but the oddness soon gives way to forbidden delight.
I might be the one taking them, but in their prison, I feel liberated. Wanton. And oh-so-desired. Two men are willing to shed their morals and take what they want with no care for the consequences. Their fearlessness emboldens me to toss aside any reservations I have left about how this will work.
Because they want me.
And it feels so good to be desired.
When his relentless pace stutters, I know Sterling is close to finishing. He’s panting hard behind me. The driving force drilling into me takes him to the edge and lets him free-fall with a loud bellow.
Without protection, I can feel every ounce of his release. Treacle-like heat spills into me, spreading his essence into every corner. Cum seeps from my opening when he pulls out, still bracing my waist to prevent me from toppling.
“Goddammit,” he curses throatily.
As promised, his fluids leak down my legs, irrefutable proof of what we’ve shared. But my brain misfires when I sense his finger sliding up my inner leg to scoop his own release and press it back into me, causing my swollen folds to sing.
“Hold me inside you,” Sterling whispers into my ear. “You’ll need it for what comes next.”
“Next?” I pause to moan.
“You’re not done yet, love.”
The grip on my hair grows firmer, pulling me free from Fletcher’s cock. He’s staring down at me in fascination. No sooner than I’ve caught my breath does he pluck me off my feet and plonk me down on the bathroom counter, just left of the sink basin.
Behind him, Sterling wipes himself off, keeping his attention fixed on us. Then Fletcher blocks him out of sight by seizing my chin and crashing his mouth onto mine. His kiss replaces Sterling’s touch, attempting to tunnel into my very soul to stake his own claim.
Our tongues twist and meld, exchanging passion that doesn’t need words to be expressed. I’m already slick with Sterling’s cum and my own release, but if I wasn’t prepped, Fletcher’s kiss would be enough to melt me into a puddle.
“Do you want him?” Sterling communicates, still watching us.
Pausing to catch my breath, I lick over Fletcher’s bottom lip. “So badly.”
“Then the same rules apply. Say the word and he’ll stop. Right, Fletch?”
Nodding, Fletcher grasps the side of my head, giving me no option but to stare deep into his intense eyes. I know he’s searching for my consent. So I stare back, allowing the frustration and desire for him that’s built since we first met to take form.
“I want you,” I murmur shakily. “The time or place doesn’t matter to me. All I want is this. Us. All of you.”
The fragile whisper I’m longing for stutters and wheezes, straining his abused vocal cords. He can’t seem to squeeze the words out, despite his lips moving. Only a single sound materialises.
“Ev . . .”
“Yes. I’m yours, Fletch.” My smile feels genuine for the first time in years. “I’ve always been yours.”
Those lips seal shut without need for further confirmation.
He sees me. Understands me. He knows me.
My back arches, taking the weight of his advance. Between my legs, Fletcher finds the right position to enter, using Sterling’s lubricant to slide in to the hilt. The sound that escapes my mouth is inhuman, a high-pitched whine of jubilation.
“Yes!” I cry out. “Oh, Fletch. Yes.”