Page 76 of Wristlocked
“I’m warming her up for you, pretty boy,” he says, and slides the head of his cock up Lyot’s zipper to my core. He pauses there, drawing slow circles around my entrance, barely dipping inside. His eyes never leave Lyot’s. By some unspoken accord, Lyot shifts his hands down my thighs, coaxing me to wrap them around Gale’s hips and rocking his own forward at the same time, impaling me on Gale’s cock.
I throw my arms around Gale’s neck as he takes my weight, then grind my clit against him. His jeans hang off his hips, so my heels find purchase in his firm ass, and the rough bite of his open zipper scrapes deliciously against the tender skin of my inner thighs. I’m still high from my orgasm, and the slow, deep roll of his hips tugs everything back to center, starting the coiled climb again.
Lyot’s knuckles brush the sensitive underside of my ass as he unfastens his own jeans and then slides his hot length between my cheeks.
Oh.Oh.
I go still in Gale’s arms as I wake to the reality of what’s about to happen.
Together.
One of Lyot’s hands slides up my spine and curls around my neck to rest his fingers on my fluttering pulse. His other hand pops open a small bottle of lube with a soft click. I bury my face in Gale’s neck, every sense attuned to the body behind me. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I can see Lyot’s long fingers coating his beautiful shaft, and then those fingers, warm and lovely, find the place where Gale and I are joined.
Gale shudders, and a low, involuntary sound escapes him before he can hold himself still again. Teasing us both, Lyot gathers moisture to add to his already slick fingers, then traces a circle around the base of Gale’s cock inside my pussy.
“Enough,” Gale chokes out.
“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it,” Lyot murmurs, but he slides his fingers back, finding the tight ring of my ass and easing one inside.
“Lyot,” I beg, “I need more.” I’m on the edge ofeverything.
“Okay, Shadow. Here’s more.” His thick cockhead breaches the barrier of muscle with a stretch and a burn. Gale’s head falls back with a groan, and when he thickens inside me, it’s all too much, too full, and I squirm with a desperate whine.
Lyot freezes at my back, his breath coming in harsh pants, and the hand guiding his cock grabs at my hip to hold me still. Gale’s grip tightens on my thighs, and he rolls his hips carefully so his pelvis brushes my clit.
“Relax, Smalls. We got you. No pain, remember? Don’t make him hurt you tonight.”
Lyot’s fingers stroke along my neck, and he drops his forehead into my hair. His breath steadies, and I slow my own to match his familiar cadence. On each exhale, he pushes a little deeper, as Gale strokes his thumbs along my thighs. And then he’s there, meeting Gale at the very center of my self, and my flesh can’t contain it, as if little pieces of my soul are melting into theirs.
“Oh my God,” I breathe into the quivering stillness. “Somebody please move.”
“You like this, sweetheart?” Gale asks, retreating and returning with a slow glide.
“I think it’s my new favorite thing,” I gasp. “At least a tie.”
“A tie?” Lyot lets out a choked laugh. Gale cocks his head, teasing me with another slow, shallow thrust.
“Tied with what?” he asks.
I squeeze everything.
“Taking Lyot with you.”
“Fuck, Shadow.” Lyot’s hand convulses on my hip, and Gale bursts into dark laughter, the tremor doing unholy things inside me.
“Stop that,Shadow,” he warns. “You want this to last.”
“Fuck. You. Both,” Lyot gasps, still trembling.
“That’s the idea.” As Gale says it, the edge of the moon breaks over the monolith behind me, and the green challenge in his eyes blooms like luminescence in the deep ocean. The moment of levity drowns in a surge of savage convergence.
My only warning is Gale’s lips parting on a sharp, indrawn breath, and then Lyot is thrusting into me, both hands dropping to cover Gale’s so they’re gripping my thighs together, anchoring me with fingers entwined. Gale rocks back a half step under the onslaught, but my legs locked around his hips and my arms around his neck keep him seated inside me, and he recovers almost instantly.
“Oh,good fuckingboy,” he praises, and meets Lyot’s second thrust with his own.
My back arches as they find their harmony, passing control back and forth between them and touching all the places that make my body sing. All I can do is hang on, the instrument of their symphony. The chorus of friction builds and strains, setting me alight, and I burn like wildfire under the desert sky. Lyot finds my mouth, feeding me his tongue until I’m so full and so close that when Gale says, “Come for us, sweetheart,” my heart breaks open, and I simply, devastatingly, overflow.
“Good girl.” His eyes flick to Lyot’s. “Do it again.”
