Page 30 of Guarding The Phoenix: Vol. 2

It was all too much. Between one breath and the next, I came. The orgasm slammed into me. Undiluted ecstasy left me clinging to him, moaning his name like he was a new deity, and I was his latest acolyte.

But my climax didn’t stop him. The man didn’t slow his thrusts down, not even a hitch in his stride. Flexing his hips, he pumped inside me like my pussy was his sustenance and he needed it to live.

I clung, meeting his thrusts. My body was in tune with his as our mutual desire lifted me up and swept me out to sea. Was it possible to die from too much pleasure?

He grunted and rammed his shaft again and again. My next climax grabbed me by the throat and shredded me. My moans grew louder, echoing in the bedroom. If one of the others was in the kitchen, they’d hear us—me—because I wasn’t quiet. Because how could I be quiet when Chase was giving me the fuck of my life?

“What did you just think?” he grunted, never stopping his brutal pounding. He didn’t even slow as he questioned me. Just acted like it was no big deal that he kept impaling me on his big dick.

“That the others could hear us, and it made them hard,” I admitted, feeling the blush spread into my cheeks. It was hot as hell that they all wanted me like they did.

“Not us. You. You’re the one being loud. But I don’t mind it. In fact, I fucking love the sounds you make. Keep it up. Let them hear how much you love my cock. So, they know I’m the one making you scream with pleasure.”

“I’m not the only one who enjoys being overheard. Who wants them to know my pussy adores your cock?” I countered, even as I felt my body spiraling toward its next release.

“That’s why we’re perfect for each other.” He grunted, fucking me with a frenzy.

Could my pussy take his exacting lovemaking?

Over the next few hours, I lost count of how many times I came. Chase fucked me like he was shipping off for two years. But with every climax, he seemed more intent to continue fucking me. I had no idea how the man was still hard.

We made a mess of the bed. Every time I thought I couldn’t possibly take any more, that my pussy was too puffy and swollen from use to go another round. And yet, he would roll on top of me, thrust his hard cock in my pussy and my body simply took over.

I had never experienced a night quite like it with anyone else. And the way he fucked me, hard and brutal with a side heaping of intensity, drove me wild. I held on to him, rocking my hips, meeting him stroke for stroke.

When we finally collapsed in a sated tangle of limbs, I panted, “See. I told you.”

“You did.” He nodded and grinned.

I shifted, turning into him, and rested my head on his shoulder. It was five in the morning, and we’d been at it for hours. “Promise me we will do that again.”

“Am I turning you into an addict?”

“I think you all are. I’ve never been this way with anyone else but you guys. It’s like you guys bring it out of me.”

“I’m glad we could help.” He pressed a chaste kiss against my forehead.

My heart sighed. As much as I loved having sex with him—all of them—I enjoyed the post coital cuddling just as much. “I also don’t know a lot about you. Beyond that you’re a bit of a daredevil and served in the Marines.”

“What do you want to know?” He had this sated, heavy-lidded appearance, his body totally relaxed.

I found it sexy as hell. But I also wanted to know more about him. Hell, I wanted to know everything. But for starters, “I don’t know. You guys seem to know everything about me. Tell me something no one else knows.”

Because I realized I wanted more with these guys than just being fuck buddies. Not that there was anything wrong with that stance. I had feelings for them that were deepening and growing each day.

He stared for a moment, like he was trying to figure how much he wanted to divulge. “I grew up in foster care just like you did. But I got lucky, and the first foster family they paired me with loved me and wound up adopting me.”

Strange that we had that in common, but no one who hadn’t been in foster care truly understood the emotions that came with it. Although we had vastly different experiences. “What happened to your real parents? And how old were you when you entered foster care?”

“Never knew my real dad. He was never in the picture. My real mom died. Car accident. I was five.”

My heart broke for the little boy he’d been, to be that young and lose his mom. “There weren’t any other relatives for you to live with?”

Chase shook his head. “No. But my parents took me in. They gave me a home and family.”

“Are they still living?” I wondered, and not for the first time, had there been a foster family that had taken me in and really tried with me, tried to be my parents and cared, instead of all the ones who simply wanted the government check that I came with, would I have fallen for my husband’s lies. Because I wound up an easy target. So desperate for love that I looked the other way despite all his red flags.

“Yeah. They’re in Milwaukee, in the suburbs. And being adopted by them gave me two siblings, Josie and Marcus. I wound up having a normal childhood from that point on. Or as normal as anyone can have.”

---