Chapter 24 – JINX #3
"Keep going," he tells me, and there's zero room for argument in his tone. "Make her come until she can't remember her own name."
Fuck yes.
I dive back in, this time with more purpose. My tongue circles her clit while my fingers work inside her, curling and thrusting in a rhythm that has her writhing in Cyrus's grip. He holds her tight, one hand splayed across her stomach while the other moves up to cup her breast through her tank top.
I can only imagine how the friction of her soft body pressed to his feels, the curve of her ass so deliciously torturing his stiff cock.
"No bra," he notes in a musing tone, his thumb brushing over her nipple. It immediately pebbles at his touch. "Were you expecting this, Princess?"
She can't answer, too lost in the sensation of my mouth on her pussy and his hands on her body. But her back arches, pressing her breast more firmly into his palm, and that's answer enough.
I add a third finger, stretching her, and she gasps. The sound makes precome leak from my cock, soaking into my boxers like I'm some idiot getting his first hand job instead of a grown man who's done this plenty of times.
But never with her.
Never with the girl who's haunted every fantasy, every dream, every desperate midnight when I let Cyrus bury himself in me and pretended I was her.
"She's going to come again," Cyrus says, pinching her nipple hard enough to make her cry out. "I can feel it building."
He's right. Her pussy's clenching around my fingers rhythmically, her clit swollen and throbbing against my tongue. I focus all my attention there, sucking and licking while my fingers pump faster, and then she's breaking apart again.
This orgasm is harder than the first, her whole body going rigid in Cyrus's arms as she screams. Actually screams, loud enough that I'm sure the neighbors can hear. Good. Let them hear. Let the whole fucking world know she's ours now.
When she finally comes down, she's limp in Cyrus's hold, breathing hard and looking absolutely wrecked. I pull my fingers out slowly, bringing them to my mouth to lick them clean while maintaining eye contact.
"Delicious," I murmur, and her pupils dilate even wider. "You taste so sweet, Princess. Like a pink lollipop, sugary sweet and all fucking ours."
Her eyes glaze even more at my words, and she squirms in Cyrus' lap, making him wince slightly. He's already painfully hard. So am I, for that matter. Every movement that's not squeezed inside her tight, hot cunt is blissful torment.
"My turn," Cyrus says, his voice strained with need.
He maneuvers her again, this time flipping her so she's on her hands and knees on the bed, facing him.
He shucks his slacks down the rest of the way to his knees—chinos, of fucking course—and I watch Eleanor's eyes track the movement with eagerness.
I see the exact moment she notices the silver glint of the studs adorning the bar running just above the head of his dick.
She's going to enjoy those.
"Remember," I say to Cyrus, moving to kneel behind her on the mattress. My cock presses against my jeans, so hard it's painful. "Kade said no fucking. But he didn't say anything about using her mouth."
"Or about getting off with her in other ways," Cyrus adds, taking himself in hand and giving his cock a few languid strokes without taking his eyes off her. "Just don't put it inside her."
Like I need the fucking reminder from him.
Okay, fair enough.
I unzip my jeans, pulling myself out. My cock springs free, already leaking, and I position myself behind her.
Not inside—fuck, not inside even though every instinct is screaming at me to bury myself to the hilt in her pussy—but close enough that my length presses between her ass cheeks and beads a pearly droplet onto her lower spine. Her muscles jump at the touch.
"Open," Cyrus orders, and Ellie obeys immediately, her pretty pink lips parting open to take him.
He doesn't ease in. Just grabs her hair and shoves deep, making her throat work around him. Not quite as rough as he is with me. I can tell he's holding back, just a little.
He still cares. Still wants her to enjoy this. I can see her struggle to adjust, see her breathing through her nose, and it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever witnessed.
When he hits the back of her throat, she gags and I almost come then and there. He pulls out just slightly enough to avoid triggering the reflex again, smirking. "What's the matter? The rich boys at that college don't hit that deep, Princess?"
She can't speak, but she manages to adjust herself to free a hand so she can flip him off. I give a throaty laugh. "That's our girl."
I start grinding against her, using her ass for friction while Cyrus fucks her mouth. The position is degrading and perfect, her body sandwiched between us, used for our pleasure in every way except the one Kade reserved for himself.
"Fuck, her mouth," Cyrus groans, his hips setting a brutal pace. "Feels perfect."
Ellie makes a sound around his cock, something between a whimper and a moan, and I feel the vibration travel through her body. My hands grip her hips, pulling her back against me harder, chasing the friction that's building in my balls as they tighten up against my body.
"You like this?" I lean forward, speaking directly into her ear while I grind against her. "Like being used by both of us at the same time?"
She can't answer with Cyrus's cock in her throat, but the way she pushes back against me, the way she hollows her cheeks and sucks harder, tells me everything I need to know.
She loves it.
My Ellie—our Ellie—loves being passed between us like a toy. Loves the control we're taking, the choices we're making for her.
The realization makes my orgasm build faster than I want. I try to hold back, try to make this last, but Cyrus is fucking her face like he owns it, and she's taking everything he gives her while I'm grinding against her perfect ass, and—
"Gonna come," I warn, my voice breaking. "Fuck, Ellie, I'm gonna—"
"Don't," Cyrus snarls. "Not yet. Not until I say you can."
The icy command in his voice is enough to make me shudder, but it has its intended effect of pulling me back from the edge.
Ellie arches against me and she tries to turn herself slightly, despite being impaled on Cyrus's cock.
Oh. Right.
She doesn't know about our little… dynamic.
Well, I guess she was bound to figure it out eventually.
"Fuck," I grit out, slowing my pace as I force myself to reel it back in.
To rut against her perfect ass slowly, letting beads of precome drip down onto her perfect skin.
I try to focus on the little patterns it's making as it pools into the small of her back, and she arches into me like she wants more.
I reach around to touch her, which at once makes it harder to resist coming and easier at the same time because it gives me something to focus on.
She gives a muffled cry against Cyrus' cock as my fingers circle her oversensitive bud, and her bucking feels even more delicious than grinding against her does.
Cyrus' grip on her hair tightens and his head falls back with a low groan. "Fuck, just like that. Let me feel the back of your throat."
Hearing him talk dirty to our Princess has me teetering on the edge again, but I don't dare veer over it now that he's forbidden me from coming without his permission.
He'd probably refuse to let me get off for a week, and being limited to sneaking around with my own hand in the shower while my own personal brand of temptation is traipsing around the house in see-through tank tops and my sweatpants is more masochism than even I can handle.
After what feels like forever, I hear Cyrus' breathing get faster, shallower, falling into that telltale rhythm that means he's about to explode.
"Alright," he says gruffly, still fucking her face like she doesn't need to breathe. Not that she's complaining, judging by how much fucking arousal is dripping between my fingers. "Good boy. You can finish."
Good boy.
That's my trigger phrase, and I could shoot his fucking cock off for using it in front of her right here, right now, before I've had the chance to even broach the subject of our fucked up relationship.
If you can call it that.
But it's clear he wants to assert his control in front of her, and those words serve their intended purpose.
Frigid bastard.
I pull back just enough to aim, and then I'm coming. Hot ropes of come paint across her back, marking her skin with proof of what we've done. The pleasure whites out my vision, makes my legs shake, leaves me gasping for air.
Cyrus follows moments later, his grip on her hair tightening as he floods her mouth. "Swallow," he commands, and she does, her throat working to take everything he gives her.
When he finally pulls out, she gasps for air, her lips swollen and red. There's come dripping down her chin, and my mind takes a screenshot because it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen.
I collapse beside her on the bed, my heart still jackhammering. Cyrus sits back against the headboard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. And Eleanor stays on her hands and knees between us, painted in our come, looking like the perfect picture of debauchery.
"You okay?" I ask, reaching out to brush hair from her face.
She turns to look at me, her eyes dark, but the spark is back. "Yeah," she whispers. "I'm okay."
"Good," I murmur, dipping my fingertip into the pool of come on her back, not so subtly painting my own name across her skin. "You did so well, taking all of Cy in your mouth like that."
I'm not sure if it's my featherlight strokes across her spine or my words that make her shiver, but I decide I want to repeat them both to find out.
I help her sit up slowly, watching as she becomes aware of the mess we've made of her. Come dripping down her back, her face sticky, her hair tangled from Cyrus's grip. She's blushing, but she doesn't look ashamed.
Instead, she looks almost... content.
"You can go clean up," Cyrus says, jerking his head toward the door. "Jinx will take care of the mess."
She stands on shaky legs, and I watch her walk away, admiring the way her ass looks, swaying with my come still glistening on her skin. The bathroom door falls shut, and then it's just me and Cyrus.
"Well," I say, tucking myself back into my jeans. I need a shower, my hair damp with sweat, but I can't bring myself to wash her away just yet. "That happened."
Cyrus adjusts his glasses, his expression unreadable. "Kade's going to lose his shit when he watches the footage."
"Probably." I grin, because the thought of Kade's jealous rage is almost as satisfying as the orgasm itself. "But we followed the rules. Technically."
"Technically," Cyrus repeats, but there's a hint of a smile on his lips.
We hear the shower start, and I imagine Ellie under the spray, washing away the evidence of what we just did. Part of me wants to join her, to press her against the tiles and make her come again just because I can.
But that would be pushing it. Even I know when to quit while I'm ahead.
"You didn't have to say that in front of her, you know," I mutter instead.
"What?" he asks innocently, leaning against the headboard, even though I know damn well he knows what I'm talking about.
"'Good boy?'" I echo pointedly to remind him, cocking an eyebrow.
He smirks like the smug son of a bitch he is. "She was bound to find out eventually. Besides, what does it matter what she thinks?"
"It matters to me."
"Yeah. That's always been your problem."
I clench my jaw, wanting to drive my fist into his, even with the post-orgasmic hormones mellowing me out. But we've already had this argument a thousand times, and it's not going to go any better just because she's here.
But she is here. And she's ours, for now.
For a year.
Three-hundred and sixty days to convince her—and him—it should be forever.