Page 17 of Poisoning Ivy
“Bring her here.” Killian instructs me, pointing to the space between his thighs, where Monty sat when I first brought him in here. I grab Ivy around the waist and cross the distance to deliver her between Killian’s legs. Her ass perches on the edge of the couch, but Killian pulls her back flat against his front, baring the delicate column of her throat to him.
I take advantage, prying her thighs apart so that her beautiful pussy is bared to us again, red and glistening with the proof of her orgasm, and I have to bite my lip to at least attempt to hold back the groan. My mouth is already watering, and the strain in my cock makes my eyes burn at the discomfort.
“Fuck, that’s beautiful.” I say more to myself than anyone else.
I can’t resist running a knuckle against her wet slit, feeling how silky she is for us. Ivy’s hips buck like she’s going to try and dislodge me, and I groan at the thought that I can’t sink into her right now, but then I hear Cody’s protesting yells as Monty drags him to his feet. He’s still bound, his arms secured behind his back, but the cords that tied him to the chair are gone as Monty shepherds him across the room to us. He kicks the back of his knees so that her husband falls to the ground right in front of her, a reversal of before. I don’t even hear what insults and slurs he’s yelling at us, and I don’t care. None of them are going to stop what’s been set into motion. And he should be thanking us for letting him experience this while he still can.
“All these years, you’ve slept in the same bed, and you’ve never once dipped under the sheets for a taste?” Killian laughs. “She keeps it in such good shape for you, too.” He smirks, dusting his fingers over the space between her legs. His touch sends a shiver through her that makes her thighs shake.
“Let me go.” She huffs, her breath constricted by the grip Killian’s got on her throat. “You’ve had your fun; now call it off.”
“You’ve hadyourfun, Bambi.” Killian corrects her. “Ours has barely even begun.”
He glances at Monty, who places his fingers on the back of Cody’s head. “Time to make your wife come, Doc.”
Ivy’s husband isn’t a large man—Killian eclipses him in just about every aspect. Meanwhile, Monty is on the smaller side, medium height, and lithe like his mother and sisters. It makes it fun to be able to pick him up and throw him around, but every so often, he gets in his head about it. That’s why watching him shove Cody’s face at his wife’s splayed open pussy takes the cake as the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
My balls ache, and I take just a second to commit that image to memory, every beautiful detail, before rejoining the present.
Cody tries to squirm out from his commanding touch, but without the advantage of his arms, there’s not much range of motion.
“Eat her pussy.” Monty tells him, guiding his head between her thighs.
I glance up at Ivy’s face to see it’s a delicious shade of burgundy, and I wonder vaguely if it’s from the pressure Killian’s got on her windpipe or if she’s embarrassed that it took the three of us to finally get her husband to tend his spousal duties. I grip her leg over my shoulder, wrenching her wider, and Monty grips her other thigh, giving her husband a moment to try and figure out a game plan.
“You fucking psychos!” He yells, fighting to get away from her.
After a minute, all he’s done is spew profanity and shake his head, and our collective patience is waning. Monty grips the back of his head and shoves him against her pussy, burying his face against her sweet heat so hard at first that it smooshes his nose against her labia.
Ivy sobs, but it’s a fractured sound, undercut with a gasp of pleasure at the contact. Monty doesn’t let up, and for a moment, I think he actually means to suffocate the guy on his wife’s sweet cunt. But after a moment, when Cody’s thrashing slows enough,he grinds his head there, like he’s rubbing a dog’s snout in its own piss.
Ivy moans, and I wonder if she’s dripping right now, if he’s already got her leaking at the indignation of her former lovers forcing her husband to feast on her pussy.
When he lets him up, Cody’s eyes are watering, and he’s choking, purple with rage and lack of air.
“Motherfuckers!” He screams, snapping his head to glare at me and then Killian. “I’ll fucking kill you all!”
“Sure, you will.” Killian scoffs, and I imagine him rolling his eyes under that mask. “I’ll hand you the knife once you make her come again.”
Cody grinds his jaw together, but he seems to sense there’s no getting out of the situation. He glares at Killian a moment before he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out between his lips and tentatively approaching her pussy. Just before the tip of his tongue can make contact, he squeezes his eyes shut.
Ivy jumps when his tongue brushes quickly over her clit, and her husband gags as she unintentionally brushes more of herself against him. I watch him grimace, pulling away a little to catch his breath, and then she throws her back flat against Killian, submitting to the pleasure as his tongue licks up her slit, collecting the slippery cum from her last orgasm. He wretches a minute, and then, growing annoyed with his resistance, Monty pushes his head back toward her clit.
“Suck.” He commands.
A strangled scream slips through her throat when Cody does as he was instructed, pulling her entire clit into his mouth.
“You like that, huh, Bambi?” Killian chuckles, watching the way her hips strain to move toward her husband, needing more.
I can’t exactly blame her, either, if the stupid fuck’s never given her a single orgasm. And if he kicks her in the cunt every time she gives herself one, I imagine she’s not doing it very often.That’s a fucking shame, because she deserves all the pleasure in the world.
“Tell me how it feels.” I demand, my voice strained with the need that’s gripping my entire body. “Is it good?”
Ivy shakes her head, and for a moment I think she’s telling me no, it isn’t good. But she’s just trying to deny it, still holding tight to the shame and denial of her basic human needs.
“Suck harder.” Monty commands, bobbing Cody’s head against her to set a rhythm.
“Stop.” Ivy pants, her voice constricted like the blood vessels in her throat. “Please, don’t make me—”
