Page 31 of Triplets for the Pucking Playboys
I laugh, but can’t answer before Grey lifts me, easy as nothing, and sets me down on the couch. The cold is gone, replaced by a cocoon of warmth, of limbs and skin and breath.
Clothes come off in pieces, scattered across the floor like breadcrumbs. Sports bra, Beau’s sweatpants, then Grey’s T-shirt. I run my hands over Finn’s chest, feel the tremble in his abs as he moves above me. He shivers, not from cold, but from restraint.
Grey settles at my side, one hand on my thigh, the other on my cheek. He kisses me, deep and sure, and then Beau is there too, his hands never still, his mouth everywhere. Finn kisses down my stomach, teasing, drawing it out until I’m writhing.
There is no order to it, no polite choreography. Just mouths and hands and flushed skin. They move like starved men, like they have been waiting for this, for me, for the heat between my thighs and the sound of my voice begging for more.
Finn sinks his fingers inside me, two at first, then three, his knuckles gliding in with a wet suck that makes my hips jolt and my mouth fall open. He curls them just right, crooking to find that spot that makes me choke on a cry, my legs shaking. He groans low in his throat, forehead pressed to my belly as he watches himself disappear inside me again and again.
“Fuck, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with hunger. “You’re soaked. You hear that? That’s your pussy begging.”
And I do hear it. I feel it. I am dripping down my thighs, flushed and raw, my body clenching around his fingers like I never want to let him go.
Grey’s mouth is on my breast, tongue flicking over my nipple before he closes his lips around it and sucks hard. The sudden pull draws a soft moan out of me. I twist under him, hands buried in his hair, tugging him closer as his teeth scrape gently and he growls in approval.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my skin, voice vibrating through the swollen tip of my breast. “That’s it, baby, good girl.”
Beau is beside me now, grinding his cock against the curve of my waist, slick with precome and panting like he is momentsfrom losing control. I feel him twitch against me, the fat head of his cock sliding against my warm skin.
“You’re a fucking mess,” Beau rasps, voice tight and shaking. “And you love it, don’t you? You want all of us.”
I nod, frantic and breathless. “Please. I need?—”
“You need what?” Finn’s fingers slow to a cruel tease, barely fucking into me now. “Say it.”
“I need your cock,” I whimper, hips bucking. “God, I need all of you.”
Finn pulls his fingers out with a filthy squelch and sucks them into his mouth like he cannot get enough of me. Then he’s kneeling between my thighs, thick cock in hand, and he presses in slow, inch by inch, groaning deep as my pussy stretches around him. The stretch burns in the best way, and I cry out, legs shaking, back arching off.
“Shit,” he gasps. “Tight little pussy still trying to swallow me whole.”
Grey kisses me then, tongue sliding deep into my mouth while Beau reaches between us to rub my clit, slick fingers circling just right. I moan into Grey’s mouth, the sound swallowed between us, the rhythm of Finn’s hips growing faster, dirtier. Skin slapping skin.
The first orgasm slams through me so hard I black out for a second, and when I come back, Finn is kissing the tears from my cheeks, whispering, “Good girl, that’s it, let go.” Beau follows with a string of filthy praise that makes my head spin, and Grey just holds me, gentle and unyielding, letting me come apart in his arms.
When I recover, I turn the tables. I want to taste all of them, make them shudder the way they did me. I drop to my knees in front of the couch, and Finn stands, cock flushed and hard, leaking precum down the shaft. I stroke him, loving the way his breath stutters, then take him into my mouth, slow and deep.He’s thick, the head sweet with salt and spice, and he groans, fisting my hair but careful not to hurt.
Beau kneels behind me, spreading my ass, and slides in a finger, then two. He bends down, licking me while I suck Finn, and the combination nearly undoes me again. Grey stands behind, running his hands over my back, stroking my skin, whispering words I can’t catch.
I switch, take Beau’s cock in my mouth, and he’s noisier than Finn, letting out sharp, broken gasps every time I swirl my tongue. Finn kisses my shoulder, then my temple, then slides down to finger me while I work on Beau.
When it’s Grey’s turn, I look up at him, and he just nods, eyes dark with want. I take him, taste the clean, bitter tang, and he growls, deep in his chest, a sound so primal I feel it in my bones.
They don’t let me go long before lifting me back onto the couch, spreading me out, and fucking me in turns—sometimes one at a time, sometimes two, always with hands and mouths everywhere, never leaving me alone. Finn starts, slow and steady, building me up again; Beau’s next, wild and relentless, leaving marks I’ll wear for days; Grey is last, filling me so deep I see stars, his hand clamped around my waist so I can’t escape even if I wanted to.
I lose track of how many times I come, how many times I make them come, how many times they hold me while I shatter and reassemble. Time doesn’t matter; the storm doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this—being wanted, being seen, being taken and cherished and fucked until I can’t remember my own name.
And they’re only just getting started.
7
FINN
She’s already soaked, body open and warm, aching beneath my hands, and when I press into her for the third time, she lets out a sound so deep in her throat it curls my fingers into fists. Everything inside me pulls taut. She stretches around me, snug and slick and greedy, like she was made to take me, like she’s been waiting for this exact moment, and my name spills from her lips on a gasp so honest it robs the breath right out of me. I still for a beat, just to feel it, the way her body locks around me, how she grips every inch like a promise she’s daring me to keep. She’s heat and velvet and pressure, pulsing around me like she’s trying to memorize the shape of my cock from the inside out, and fuck, I want her to. I want to ruin her for anyone else. I want to be the ghost she feels when no one’s touching her.
I start to move, hips slow and deep, dragging every inch through her like I’ve got all night, like I want her to feel this in her bones tomorrow. She gasps again, head tipping back, throat arched and bare, and I can’t help it—I lean in and suck at the skin just below her jaw, teeth scraping, tongue following to soothe the burn. She clenches around me and I swear, I feel it in my spine. Her hands scramble over my back, nails draggingthrough muscle, sharp and sweet, and I don’t care if she draws blood. I want to wear her mark. I want to wake up sore and scratched and spent.
She meets me thrust for thrust, grinding up into me, wild and eager, eyes glazed and mouth open like a prayer. Every sound she makes gets filthier, more desperate, more undone. It’s not just pleasure—it’s hunger, thick and molten, and I feed it with every pump of my hips, every filthy thing I whisper into her skin.You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight. So wet for me.
