Page 193 of Craving Consequences

I’d forgotten all about them. Forgotten, we weren’t alone in our isolated little bubble. But they mean nothing when the sheer madness of this moment encompasses everything else.

I do wish I had two hands, though, as I unsheathe my nails from his wrist and move up to fist his hair. I pull him down to me, to my lips. His hand moves automatically, and I push my tongue between his teeth. Swallow his groan as I pump my hips and ride his friend.

“Play with me,” I order him.

He does not refuse, asks no questions when slipping a hand between our sandwiched bodies and finds my clit. He watches me with every stroke of his thumb. Watches me. Stares into my soul.

Smirks and pushes his finger up inside me alongside Lachlan’s cock.

He does not stop my howl this time.

He says nothing to Lachlan when he roars behind me and bucks in deeper.

He watches us with sly amusement as he stretches me and strokes Lach at the same time.

“Tight,” Lachlan grits, hips slamming up into mine. Grinding. “Too fucking tight. Gonna cum. Fuck, Van, I can’t ... don’t stop ... shit!”

“Do it,” Van forces another finger, and I scream. I flailand thrash. “Cum in our little whore. But don’t pull out. Cork her cunt.”

Lachlan is not listening. He’s pumping mindlessly, bruising my hips as he uses me.

Van says nothing at all as he watches us, twisted enjoyment hungry across his face as he hooks his thumb around the shaft, using it as leverage to curl his fingers. To stroke Lachlan’s cock through the walls of my pussy, pressing higher, searching ... pressing.

White hot electricity punches through me.

I seize around them both. It coils in anticipation as Van moves in slow, deliberate strokes right against the swollen knot buried deep inside me.

“Van...” Lachlan chokes.

Van ignores him. He fucks his fingers along side Lachlan’s thrusts, dragging them in perfect rhythm curling them to hit that spot again and again until I’m bucking. Legs thrashing. Nails ripping crimson ribbons down Van’s back.

“Van ... Van ... wait...” My vision wavers. “Oh God, wait...”

He hums deep in his throat. A sound that is more mocking than humor.

“He’s covered in you,’ he taunts. “His cock is soaked. I can barely hold on. I could probably fit my whole hand in your hole. Wrap it around his dick and let you take me to the wrist. Wear you like a puppet.”

“No ... I can’t...”

But his fingers curl just right and I break.

There’s no sound when there is no air in my lungs. It’s a bomb that detonates only in the cavity of my skull while the rest of me simply erupts in a white haze of raw pleasure. The violence of it shakes me to my core as I fight to scream. To breathe. To shove Van off me as he continues to slam into that place, giving me no chance to hit the floor.

I am simply a quivering, rocking mess, drenching them in gushes of heat that soak Van. Drench Lachlan and ruin the bed.

And still I can’t find my voice.

I barely know where I am.

Even when their voices filter through the fog of agonizing pain and coiling pleasure, I am buzzing.

“Fucker! You fucking fucker!” Lachlan’s wheezing.

“Shut up and hold still,” Van growls. “My turn.”

Lachlan groans and falls back. I’m aware of his cock still nestled in me. still twitching and spraying my walls. I’m aware of his heaving chest. The crashing of his heart against my back.

But none of that comes close to the power of Van’s hands on my shuddering hips. To the nudge of his cock against my dripping entrance. I’m too weak to protest when he forces his way in. Stretches my greedy channel to take him.

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