Chapter 43 Craving and Control #3
I arch my back, trying to chase more friction. He pinches me gently, sending a trace of pain that is overshadowed by pleasure before running his fingers through my wetness.
“You’re so wet, you’re dripping. Your pussy knows how fucking big I am and needs this to take me.” Daire slips just the tip of his finger inside of me.
Pressure fills me, foreign and slightly uncomfortable, shaking the conscious part of my mind awake.
Daire moves slowly, not pushing in any farther than his first knuckle. Slowly, he withdraws to the tip of his finger and gently pushes back in several times until my core clenches. I don’t know if it’s in protest or pleasure.
“So damn tight,” he says as he strokes me again, more deliberate this time.
I want to spring out of his lap and cross my legs, mortified that he’s going to realize I’m a twenty-two-year-old virgin, but he withdraws his finger and traces my wetness over my folds, outlining that sensitive nub that knocks my critical brain back to sleep as pleasure takes the reins.
“You like clit play,” he says matter-of-factly before rubbing and swirling his fingers over me as my breaths become ragged.
I mumble incoherently, not sure how to respond.
His hand at my waist loosens, and my body instantly objects, wanting his full attention.
Daire shifts, pulling more wetness from my core to my clit, making me so wet, the sound of my arousal is all that I hear.
I lose a moan and he does it again, pressing harder. My body feels like it’s too hot, too tight, too everything as I silently plead with him to make it all stop so I can focus on something—anything—besides how badly I want him. All of them.
Holden’s hard stare pulls my focus to him.
Shame is a whisper across my skin, but I can’t give it a stage.
I’m too far gone into the embrace of pleasure as Daire finds a rhythm that makes my thighs quiver and my breaths turn shallow.
I throw my head back as my legs part, silently begging him when I can’t find the words.
Just when I think I’m going to combust, Daire slows his movements.
I groan my objection.
Daire kisses my neck, and then slips a finger inside of me again, this time farther, but he doesn’t stay inside me. Instead, he slides his flattened palm down my thigh, causing goose bumps to chase his touch. When he reaches my knee, his fingers sweep ticklishly over the same path.
My nipples strain as he makes the same maddening path, inching a little higher with each pass. On his third sweep, his fingers brush my core, and I hold my breath as heat floods me. My breasts are so heavy and sensitive that the air becomes as great of a tease as his touch.
His fingers run down my opening, and my lungs squeeze with the hint of relief.
“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined touching you?” His voice is like smoke before he nips the bottom of my earlobe, and achingly slowly runs his fingers over me again, pressing a little harder to ease the ache that has become my sole focus. He circles my entrance, once, twice.
I think he’s about to push into me again, but instead, he growls his approval as I roll my nipple between pinched fingers. He catches my neck with his teeth. “You’re dripping for us.” He raises his fingers, glistening with my arousal.
Embarrassment heats my cheeks, but then he rumbles a soft groan of approval and grips my pussy.
I’ve never considered someone touching me—holding me—like this, but I find that I like it entirely too much.
His grip relaxes slowly, and he runs his finger over me harder, then lighter, a relentless pace that has my hips shifting and a frustrated growl building in my throat as he avoids touching where I need him to.
He’s painting me with my own lust, and it’s driving me absolutely mad.
A chair scrapes against the floor, inviting fear and panic to clutch embarrassment by the throat. My eyes snap open. I watch Holden—the audience I never expected—pull the chair so close I could nearly reach him.
Daire rakes his teeth over my ear, and then licks the sting away. He slides a finger inside of me then, all the way to his middle knuckle, and I nearly choke on my moan. “You’re ours. All of ours.”
My breath hitches as his finger slides over me again, so deliciously good, but my brain tickles at the word.
“Do you feel it?” he asks. “Do you feel the bond that connects our souls and makes us yours and you ours.” He finally touches my clit, and I hiss as the back of my eyelids turn white.
Cold air dances across my heated skin as he continues tracing my sex.
I moan as pleasure teases every nerve in my body.
I’m too hot and my muscles are too tight, and each breath is too shallow.
I need more. I’m desperate for it.
“That’s such a good girl,” he says, removing his finger before I can revel in the feeling. “Louder this time,” he says, and then thrusts his finger inside of me again.
My lips part with a nearly silent pant, and he tsks. “Moan for us, Spitfire.” He thrusts again, taking exactly what he intended. I moan as my hips surge forward, seeking more friction, more contact. More.
“That’s it,” Daire says, rubbing that ache inside of me that is so intense, it’s becoming painful. “Just like that.”
The sound of a zipper has me looking up to see Holden shove his tented pants down.
His eyes are heavy, watching where Daire’s hand is penetrating me.
Without looking away from me, he pulls out his cock, and grips himself.
My heart is a thunderstorm. His cock is so wide that his fingers don’t meet around it.
“You like watching him?” Daire asks, pushing inside of me again.
My moan is a garbled cry as Holden strokes his length that’s long enough for three fists to stack from base to tip.
Daire slips his finger out to my entrance and presses around my edges as though he’s stretching me, preparing me for what I hope is a second finger again. “God, you’re so fucking tight.”
Holden groans as his fist slides over his length again. A bead of liquid escapes the head of his cock, which is turning a light shade of purple.
“I need you to…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence because I don’t know what I need, just that there is an ache so deep that I can feel it in my chest.
“The bond wants to be completed,” Daire tells me. “We feel it, too, Spitfire.” He presses inside me again, going deeper until pain has me shifting away.
Daire stills and Griffin’s gaze snaps to my face, as though sensing my discomfort.
“What is it?” Holden keeps one fist around his cock as he sits up, jaw clenching like it’s uncomfortable to stop.
Daire runs his fingers over my swollen sex, touching my clit again, and then pushing inside of me. He stills. “You’re untouched.”
Griffin’s eyes grow wide. “Stars, we need to take our time. She deserves slow.”
I want to protest. Lie. But Daire moves his fingers to my clit and has me spreading my thighs wider.
“Oh, Gods. She’s dripping.” Holden groans.
I crack my eyes open and find him running his hand over his cock again.
“Please,” I beg.
“She smells you,” Daire says.
“I know. I fucking ache.” Holden groans again.
Griffin moves then, dropping to his knees in front of me.
His hands bracket my thighs, pushing them wider.
Daire is still running his hands over my clit, making me forget which way is heaven and hell, and then Griffin licks my entrance.
The world spins, and he groans before fusing his mouth where I need him and eating me like a starved man, and I’m his sustenance.
My eyes roll back in my head, so consumed by pleasure, I can barely speak. Barely breathe.
His tongue turns teasing, and then he brushes a finger over my entrance, and every one of my muscles draws taut.
Daire grazes my ear with his teeth as he runs the pad of his thumb over one peaked nipple.
Warmth blooms, and the heat of Griffin’s mouth on me awakens a new web of nerves and desires.
The rough scratch of his jaw paired with the softness of his tongue and the ministrations to my clit and breast are too much and still not enough, but before I can voice that, pleasure races down my spine, and my entire body tightens, and then my sex contracts as I cry out my pleasure.
Griffin laps at me as he moans, deep and long, as Daire pinches my nipple and teases my clit, prolonging my release.
Griffin settles back on his heels, eyes fixed on my sex. His chest lifts. “Tonight, you sleep, but tomorrow, we’re talking about the bond.”
Daire licks the pulse point at my throat.
My head feels like it’s filled with cotton. Holden has already pushed his chair back, tucked his cock away, and straightened his clothes that don’t hide the bulge in his pants as he takes another fleeting look at my breasts.
I make a half-hearted attempt to cover myself.
“I’m going to go swim a few laps,” Holden says, rising abruptly.
Our eyes meet, and I’m surprised there isn’t disgust or indifference but desire, still bright and apparent, warring with his restraint.
His jaw feathers as he turns away.
My heart protests his absence, wanting him—all of them—close, but there’s no way I can voice that. Not when I barely understand it myself.
“If it becomes too much again, tell us,” Daire says. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. This is part of the bond—part of what makes us who we are.” He slips his hand inside his pants to adjust himself.
I feel both sated and oddly empty.
Griffin flashes another wide grin. “See how well we avoid jealousy?” His lightness breaks some of the tension but doesn’t erase the significance of what just happened—what we shared.
Daire kisses my temple. “Let’s get some rest.”
They curl around me, and though sleep should be impossible, in their arms it becomes inevitable.