Page 109 of Double Daddies
“No, look at me.” Ryle’s quiet authority has my gaze swinging back to him. “I askedyou. Iwantto hear from you.”
Ben’s hand is on my shoulder, the gentle pressure assuring me he’s there if I need him, but he doesn’t say anything.
I take a deep breath, my mind whirling with the possibilities. WhatdoI want? I don’t have the faintest clue how to answer him.
And Ryle’s not having it. I see the soft brown of his eyes turn into a darker chocolate hue as he stares down at me. “I’m giving you one minute to answer, young lady.”
My gaze jumps back to Ben, but before he can reassure me in his quiet, protective way, I feel strong fingers capture my chin and shift my eyes back to Ryle.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
His words, the firm timber of his authoritative voice, not to mention theyoung ladymake a shiver shudder through me.How could he know?I wonder.Is this another thing he and Bendiscussed without my knowing?I want to look to Ben to ask, but Ryle has me afraid to. I keep my eyes on him, quivering instead.
“I can tell your pussy is wet—I can smell it.” He gives me a wolfish grin that makes me feel embarrassed and pleased all at once. “So why don’t you tell me what you want? Are you being coy?” He reaches out and caresses one of my nipples that seems to pebble the second he touches it.
“I… I don’t do that,” I whisper at last. “I just… it’s…” I shrug, hoping he’ll take my answer.
“It’s what?” he persists, despite my clear desire for him to change the subject—or, better yet, stop talking altogether.
“Do we have to?—”
“Yes, we have to. And you have fifteen seconds left, by the way.”
I don’t know what will happen when the invisible timer is up, but I’m a good girl at heart, so I scramble to answer. “I just want to come. Can you choose how? Please?”
Ryle’s eyes leave my face, but not before he gives me a satisfied smile. “Well? What do you think?”
“She did ask so nicely,” Ben muses, and I flush with heat.
I don’t know what’s more surreal—the fact that they’re getting along so well, or that they’re discussing my pleasure. But before I have any longer to think on it, I feel a warm tongue on my nipple. I gasp, but the sound is swallowed by a tongue in my mouth. I give myself over to the sensations, trying to let go of tracking who is doing what, and surrender to the ecstasy.
While my breast is being suckled, and I’m being kissed, I feel a hand splay my legs apart. It’ll be too much—I know it. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I’m being kissed harder, and the urgency with which my mouth is being claimed distracts me from my protests.
When a finger plunges into my wet depths like a submarine seeking buried treasure, I can’t help but arch my back. Itistoomuch—the bruising kisses, the delicious, thorough suckling of my breast, the fingers in my pussy. But it’s overwhelming in the best kind of way. The kind that makes me forget everything but the symphony of sensation being created in my body right now.
Every nerve comes alive with feeling so that when I feel fingers seeking my other breast, first flicking then tweaking the nipple, my entire body tightens. I’m a knot of desperate need, but as a hot mouth claims my other breast and the fingers thrust in again, I unfurl in an eruption of passion.
Without being aware of it, I’m bucking against the fingers that bring me to orgasm. And I bite the lip that is kissing me. My mouth is released, and I’m screaming “Yes! Oh, yes!” until my throat is sore. I don’t know how much time passes before my heart rate goes back to normal, only that when I finally open my eyes, I see Ryle and Ben there, waiting for me. I can see from the mark on his lip that Ben was the one who had been kissing me. Which means Ryle’s fingers are pure magic.
I smile at both of them in turn, then close my eyes, suddenly feeling sleepy, but incredibly sated and happy.
Ben
“What time is it?” Cami asks as she stumbles into the kitchen.
“Morning, beautiful.” I meet her as she comes in, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Thank you.” She smiles at me, equal parts grateful and shy.
I watch her as she sips her coffee. Her hair is mussed from sleep and she’s not fully awake yet, and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“This is delicious,” she says when she comes up for air. Cami is a coffee lover of the highest order.
“It is,” I agree, and I’m only a tad begrudging when I say it. As soon as I’d seen Ryle’s state-of-the-art coffeemaker, I’d known Cami would love it. He also had a huge assortment of flavored syrups which I knew she would enjoy experimenting with later.
“What time is it?” she asks after swallowing another sip.
“Just after eight.”
