“Would you like that?”
“God, yes,” Embry groans.
“Do it,” Ash orders, and Embry finally guides the huge head of his cock to my entrance, which is so wet now that I can hear the sound of him moving against me. But as he pushes inside, there’s an immediate difference from our earlier fucking, and I suck in a deep breath.
“I’ll go slow,” Embry promises. “I know it’s tight.” His voice breaks on the last word, as if even the thought of it is too much to handle, and from the way Ash’s chest moves with fast, shallow breaths beneath me, I’m guessing he feels the same.
He keeps his word, easing in, although with one thick cock already inside me, I wouldn’t exactly use the word ease for the entry of another. Rather, it’s more a slow invasion; for all that I’m wet, it’s forceful and not a little unkind, and with every cruel inch, the real Embry seems to disappear and the shadow Embry takes over. The Embry that thrives in chaos and violence, the Embry so consumed with his need that he can barely see anyone else around him.
He’s halfway in, driving waves of knifing pleasure up through my belly and into my chest. I can feel the sweat gathering under Ash’s hand on my neck, cool and damp on my forehead, misting the bare skin of my stomach. “I don’t know if I can,” I pant again.
Ash’s teeth capture my earlobe. “You’re going to,” he says in his Sir-voice. “Take it. Take all of him.”
Embry pushes in farther and I cry out, half deep pain, half rapture, and Ash’s chest rumbles with pleasure beneath me, every movement of Embry’s compressing and massaging him. And then Embry’s all the way in, looking down at me with lost eyes. I look up at him with my own lost eyes, pleading.
For mercy maybe, or for cruelty. I don’t even know what.
Embry gives an experimental thrust, and I cry out again, the pleasure-pain like hot iron in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sorry,” he manages to say through gritted teeth. “I’m so fucking sorry, but Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking tight, it’s so good—” Another thrust, and he gives a low, closed-eyes groan and I know I can expect no mercy from him. It feels too good, it’s too tight and hot and wet, too dirty.
“How are you, princess?” Ash checks in, as Embry pulls out and shoves into my tiny channel once again.
Words are beginning to slip from my mind, thoughts. Memories, intentions—I can’t even remember why I’m here now, how I ended up pinned like a butterfly between my husband and my lover. “Full,” is the only word I can summon to mind. “I feel full.”
“Full of whom?” Ash asks. The hand he kept on my stomach is now sliding to my clit, massaging it expertly.
“My Sir,” I say. “And my Embry.”
“Our Embry,” Ash corrects me, and Embry’s head drops down, as if he doesn’t want us to see what Ash’s words do to him.
I slide one hand behind me to rest under Ash’s neck, and then I reach up to cradle the back of Embry’s neck in my other hand. I pull Embry down for a kiss, and he obliges me with a groan, still forcing himself in and out of my cunt. His mouth is warm and sweet, eager and no longer gentle, and then Ash’s hand leaves my throat to fist Embry’s hair and yank him down for a kiss of his own until I impatiently pull Embry back to me. Soon, the two of us are engaged in a heaving, writhing battle for Embry’s mouth, all panting chests and rolling hips and muffled moans. Embry kisses Ash, then kisses me, then Ash kisses me, then the three of us find ourselves in a joined kiss, a breathless, teasing exercise. I begin to forget whose lips are whose, which tongue is which, which cock is taking its pleasure in my ass and which cock is taking its pleasure in my cunt.
It’s like my wedding night—our separate pairings have dissolved and there’s only the three of us, the three of us moving and kissing and breathing as one. There’s no division, no suspicion or jealousy in this moment—there’s only unity. Ecstasy. The primal need to fuck joined with the sacred soul-deep need to love another soul as fiercely as possible.
Mating. That’s what it is. A word that means both: the fucking and the sharing of one’s life.
“Give it over,” Ash murmurs. “It belongs to me, and I want it. Right now.”
I don’t have to ask what he means; he can feel just as well as I can the clench in my muscles, the fluttering pulls around the cocks inside me. I’m going to come, and when I do, it will be for him, for his pleasure.
“That’s it,” Ash says, “there it is.” He presses down on my stomach, just above my pubic bone, and the whimper I give is obscene because it feels so fucking obscene, like he’s pushing down to make things tighter for him and Embry, pushing down to see if he can feel the fullness for himself, and the effect is to press my G-spot hard against Embry’s merciless thrusts. “Yeah,” Ash says to himself as I start to implode, as he presses down harder, “there it is, princess. Make it good so we come hard inside you. Make us give you more than you can take.”
My husband is so depraved and consequently irresistible to me, and I whimper again as the final wind-up finishes winding. As the tension between those two cocks rubbing inside me hovers at a point right behind my clit for one shimmering minute. I can’t catch my breath, not quite, and the pressure is going to crush me, melt me, murder me, and I don’t realize that I’m scratching at arms and backs and bucking my hips until Embry says, “Ash, hold her still,” and I’m being restrained. And then Embry lets loose with his hips as Ash presses even harder against my stomach, and it’s as much the sight of his bunching stomach muscles and flexing hips as it is the deep, fast drag of his cock against my G-spot.