Chapter 34 Wyatt
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Wyatt
Saturday
My hands are shaking.
The deeper the kiss gets, the more on fire I am. All I want to do is devour her, but I know I’m not alone, especially now.
I wait, lips parted, breath heavy, until Jesse’s mouth pulls away and his hands cup her jaw.
Marshall lifts her dress, guiding it slowly up and away, before sinking onto his knees. Then, he tugs her panties down, but instead of rushing, he just… pauses. Lifts one of her feet, kisses the inside of her ankle.
He’s being gentle. It makes my chest ache, the way he can’t stop being protective even when he’s wild for her.
I’m the opposite. My pulse is churning so loud I can’t think. I need her. I want to break her open, pour myself in.
Whenever I try to hold back, it just gets worse, sharp and hungry and impossible to ignore.
So I edge myself behind her, and she arches for me, her hair spilling down her back.
Jesse leans back on his heels, watching. His mouth looks wet, raw above the neatness of his beard. She makes this little noise in her throat, half irritation, half pleasure, and twists to glare at me.
“You’re being greedy,” she says, eyes shimmering with accusation.
“Yeah,” I say, “I can’t help it.”
I bite her shoulder. She shudders, butting back into me, and I feel her go boneless. So sensitive, all the nerves right at the surface, begging for anything.
I lick the edge of my teeth marks and then work my way down, tongue along her spine while Marshall’s still worshipping the planes of her legs.
Jesse doesn’t wait anymore. He lowers to the floor, guiding her down until she’s seated on his lap, her back resting against his chest. Goosebumps ripple across her skin at the contact.
He arranges her arms above her head, hands knotted together. It makes her arch so beautifully that I have to bite my lip just to keep from begging for more time, more space, more of her.
Marshall nudges me aside with his shoulder, and then his mouth is on her core, tasting her where she’s tensed and bright with anticipation.
Our girl is the axis we revolve around.
I hear her breathing metastasize into little gasping, wretched noises.
It’s fucking gorgeous.
She squirms, which makes Jesse’s grip tighten.
“You want to move?” he asks. She nods, hair shivering. He kisses behind her ear. “Not yet.”
Marshall spreads her thighs with both hands, forearms settling along the insides of her legs as he leans in again, grounded on his knees. He licks up, slow as a tide, and she whimpers, a sharp little whine.
I nearly lose my shit.
I want to rip Marshall off of her, just to find out how her skin tastes where he’s left his mouth.
But I clamp down on my urges, force myself to watch, to feel the electric build as she keens and shakes, as Jesse holds her and Marshall devours her.
There’s a holiness about the way she comes apart. We’re all there to worship at the altar of her pleasure, and I’d be lying if I said the jealousy didn’t spike and thrum in my chest.
But I want it. I want it for her, and for us.
She starts writhing so hard that Jesse’s grip can barely hold her.
Marshall shifts closer, bracing one hand to the floor while the other steadies her hip as he laps at her until she’s almost sobbing.
“Don’t you dare,” she hisses, “don’t…” and then loses the rest to breathless, animal sound, half laughed, half torn.
Marshall groans deep and thick in his throat, and I ache for the feeling, being right there, drowning in her, getting lost. It’s almost as good from this side, watching her sweat and shake and then go limp in Jesse’s arms like a stringless marionette.
Jesse strokes her hair and murmurs words I can’t hear. I don’t need to. Her face is turned up, eyes shut, lips parted in a half-cocked grin—smug and dazed at the same time.
As she catches her breath, I grab my cock in my hand. Those pretty pink lips of hers are crying out for me. I can’t wait.
I inch forward and stroke her jaw with my thumb, feel her melt under my fingers, feel Marshall’s eyes on me, hungry and approving.
The craving in me is total. I line up against her lips, and she doesn’t hesitate—just opens up, takes me deep, the tip of her tongue tracing the underside until I almost black out.
She moans low and throaty, her mouth a velvet trap. I clench my hand in her hair, and Marshall dips two fingers into her, all of us moving in a perfect, greedy clockwork.
Jesse still has her wrists, but he lets her writhe just enough to snake her other hand upward, pressing between my thigh and hips until she finds the spot she wants and grips hard—nails and all.
I groan and surge, losing rhythm, but she steadies me, bobbing her head, starved for the taste.
Before I even know what’s happening, Jesse guides her forward onto her knees and lines himself behind her. She reaches out for me again, and then, she’s split wide open, whining around me while he pushes into her.
The sight is obscene, blessed: her lips stuffed and stretched, and Jesse so thick he forces her gasps down my shaft, each groan vibrating through me.
Marshall grabs her by the hips as she takes us both, greedy and wild, a tangle of golden hair and flushed skin.
I lose track of time. There’s only the white-hot flare of sensation, her tongue and lips, Jesse’s rolling rhythm, the harmony of shudder and moan and need.
Then Jesse reaches around and finds her clit, pinching just as she yanks me in with the hook of her tongue, and I damn near come right there.
The explosion of sound from her, guttural, animal, fuck-drunk, is enough to send tremors through my whole body. I hold on to her hair, steadying myself, but I can’t keep from bucking, letting her use me however she needs.
Marshall groans, his fingers digging prints into her hips, and Jesse’s arms flex, anchoring her while she splinters and comes so hard the floor shakes beneath us.
My own orgasm edges close, a slow rolling freight train I know I can’t stop. I pull back, but she chases after, hungry, lips and teeth and slick heat.
Damn, she’s perfect, a drug I’d let ruin me. I want to see her swallow me down, want to own the bliss she wrings from me.
Marshall’s watching, clutching hold of his own rock-hard cock, pupils blown wide, mouth slack, rolling his wrist while his other hand teases lazy circles over her hip. Sweat and heat and a riot of need, all of it wound tight in me until I’m sure I’ll split open too.
She pulls off me with a gasp, and my cock glides out, wet and throbbing against her cheek. She’s looking up at me, eyes glassy and savage, lips swollen from work.
She doesn’t move, just breathes, mouth open, full of me and Jesse and the taste of her own skin. Then she leans in, suckles the tip of me, and grins wickedly. She wants to see me undone.
Jesse’s pace is breaking down, hips jerking with staccato urgency. He’s louder now, voice all gravel and worship, and I watch him bend over her back, graze teeth on her neck, bite down hard enough to shake a curse word under his breath, the kind that means “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
He loses himself buried in her, and the sound and sight of it destroys what little restraint I have left.
She’s grinding between us, insatiable, her whole body tensing as Jesse comes, driving so deep I worry she’ll break in two.
The aftershocks make her writhe, make us all a little wild—she claws at the small of my back and pulls me forward until I’m almost straddling her, and Jesse is still moving slow, shallow, savoring what’s left.
Every thrust between her lips brings me closer to the edge.
I can’t… fuck, I can’t remember a single thing about how I got here, just the tightening coil and the salt sweat in my eyes and her mouth… her mouth, dragging me under.
When I finally lose it, it’s with a snarl, fingers locked in her hair as I spill across her tongue, as I hear her swallow me down and moan for more.
She digs her heel into the floor to get leverage, shuddering between us.
When Jesse pulls out, spent, Marshall’s already on his knees, sliding in behind her. He grabs her hips with both hands, urgent and possessive, and pulls her back onto him so hard her breath hitches.
I’m still pulsing, sensitive, half-collapsed by the wall, but I can’t take my eyes off her, off the way Marshall needs her so damn desperately. He pushes into her without hesitation, every move so raw I can almost see the electricity ripple along his skin.
She takes it, all of it, groaning through her open lips, her jaw still slack from me.
Jesse drops beside her, completely wrung out. I like seeing him this way. Messy, undone, the cocky bastard brought low by the same need that’s eating me alive.
He reaches up, cages her face, and kisses her hard. I know he’s tasting the mix of all of us on her tongue. The sight makes my head spin.
Marshall is relentless, hands locked tight around her hips, pulling her against him with a brute rhythm that has the whole room rocking.
Every thrust is a statement, an apology, a yes. It’s always been his currency. He tells you what he means by giving everything, by letting you have all of him.
I barely register my own hand moving. My palm drags down my stomach, sticky and sore, and I want to laugh, or cry, or wreck everything.
Instead, I crawl forward, every inch of skin desperate for her.
Marshall drags her back so hard her knees fumble under her, and she gasps, a perfect little mewl that sets my jaw clenching. She’s shaking now, every nerve gone live, but she doesn’t tell him to stop.
He wants her to break, and she wants to let him break her.
I settle in front of her, cradle her chin, and lick the sweat from her temple. Her eyes snap open, and the look in them devastates me.
She could ask me for anything in that moment, and I’d give it, no matter how ugly or hard she made it.
I don’t say anything—I just lean in, press my lips to hers, feel the mesh of our teeth, the slip of tongue against tongue. I taste the spiral of us, the bodies and histories, and every broken thing we’ve used to patch these moments together.
Marshall is a furnace behind her, cheeks flushed so deep the freckles disappear into the heat. He buries himself in her, again and again, and all the words he’d never say come out in the way he fucks, in the shudder of his breath and the way his fingers splay against her skin.
She’s panting now, hips caught in the tug of war between want and overwhelm, but I can tell she’s right at the cliff, and I’m right there with her.
Everything is noise and heat and wet, and the slick sound of skin on skin fills the room loud as a drumbeat.
I don’t know if it’s the sweat or the spit or just the way we tear her open and fill her up, but my mouth is watering again, and I lean in, lick between her panting lips, taste the wild on her tongue.
She bites me, hard, and the pain is so good I see starbursts behind my eyes.
The sound she makes as they both finish is so wild, so crazy, I just know in that moment I definitely want to hear it again.
I just hope she feels the same way.