Page 51 of Bossing My Holiday
I groan at her words, my own arousal becoming almost painful. I continue to take her exposed nipple into my mouth, sucking gently as we comply with her request. Tristan pumps one finger back into her, and I slide my hand to the top of her mound until my fingers find her hard clit.
“You like that,” I rasp in her ear. “You like both of our hands on you?”
“Oh my fuck!” she cries, one hand coming up to hold my head against her breast, the other gripping Tristan’s wrist.
He adds a second finger, curling them inside her in a waythat makes her cry out again. “Quiet,” he warns, though his voice is strained. “Unless you want the driver to hear what a desperate little slut you are for us.”
The words should be offensive, but they only seem to excite her more. She bites her lip, trying to stifle her moans as Tristan pumps his fingers in and out of her and I rub tight circles along her clit. I release her nipple, moving up to kiss her again, swallowing her sounds. My other hand loops around her so I can hold her and pinch and roll her nipple between my fingers.
She tears her mouth away from mine, gasping for air. “Oh god,” she breathes, her hips lifting to meet our combined touch.
“That’s it,” Tristan encourages, his fingers moving faster inside her. “Let us make you feel good.”
I circle her clit with my fingers, watching her face contort with pleasure. Her eyes are closed, head thrown back against the seat, and her lips are parted. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Are you close?” I ask, feeling her body tensing beneath our hands.
She nods frantically, unable to speak.
“I want to feel her come too,” I tell Tristan, and without asking, twist my wrist so my thumb is on her clit, and I can slide a finger into her along with Tristan’s.
“Holy. Oh my god, oh my god. That’s…” She rocks up into our hands, fucking us as we’re fucking her. She’s so hot and wet, and with Tristan’s fingers in her with mine, so goddamn tight.
“If you think it feels good to have us both fuck you like this, wait till you’re taking both of our cocks.”
“Was her cunt this tight when you fucked her this morning?” I can’t help but ask.
“So fucking tight. If she’s a good girl and comes for us, I’ll let you fuck her on the way home.”
My cock jerks in my pants, desperate for that to the point ofpain, and my fingers pick up their pace, my thumb on her clit moving faster and harder.
Tristan leans in, his lips at her ear. “Did you hear that? If you want me to let you bounce on Brax’s cock later you need to be a good little girl and come for us.” He glances out the window, noting that we’re getting close to our destination, and smirks at me before he breathes against her lips. “Show us how greedy you are for us. What a good little cock whore you’ll be.”
As if on cue, she shatters, her body arching between us, a strangled cry escaping her lips despite her efforts to stay quiet. I feel her pulse around our fingers and against my thumb. We continue to fuck her like this, drawing out her pleasure, watching her pussy hold our fingers in and her lust-drunk face until she weakly pushes our hands away, too sensitive to bear more.
“Jesus,” she whispers, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. Her eyes open slowly, looking first at me, then Tristan, a smile spreading across her face. “That was...”
“Just the beginning,” I finish for her, bringing my finger to my mouth and sucking her cum off it. Tristan’s eyes flame, and he does the same, sucking his fingers clean in a gesture that makes her eyes widen and my cock throb.
This meeting is going to be hell.
16
WAVERLY
The polished marble floor of Smithfield Pharmaceuticals’ lobby reflects our three silhouettes as we enter—mine slightly off-kilter, like I’m walking on a ship deck rather than solid ground. Paris sun slices through the glass façade, catching on the steel beams that criss-cross the interior into geometric patterns. My body still hums from their touch in the car, from the things we did. Both of their fingers were inside of me. Both of them were touching me.
And it turned them on. One encouraged the other. They worked together and separately. And that was just passing time in the car.
The memory pulses between my legs. And I have no panties on, so getting wet again is not in my best interest.
“Good morning. Welcome to Smithfield Pharmaceuticals. The executive boardroom is this way,” the receptionist says, jarring me out of my thoughts. Her English is impeccable, her gaze skating professionally over the three of us even if it lingers a little longer than it should on Tristan and Braxton. Not that I blame her.
I’m flanked by Zeus and Hades in the flesh.
I smooth my skirt for the fourth time, wondering if our collective indiscretion has somehow tattooed itself across my face. Tristan walks ahead, his charcoal suit jacket perfectly re-buttoned, not a wrinkle betraying that he had me gasping against the leather upholstery before we’d even crossed the Seine. Braxton follows, his tie straightened, his gaze occasionally finding mine with a hint of amusement that makes my cheeks burn.
“You good?” he murmurs, falling into step beside me.
