Page 38 of Winter Wishlist
“Parfaite.” That single word ghosts across my skin, illuminates something deep in my core, shining a light on a part of me I didn’t know existed. Then he ever so slowly torments me. He fingers me, first with one, then two digits. And what I realize after a few mind-numbing moments is that he keeps sweeping up cum and is pushing all that slippery wetness back in.
“Do you like how that feels?” His voice is thick, dripping with seductive allure.
He knows I do. My pussy tightens around him. Giving away my secrets.
Another swipe. Another push inside. Another squeeze of my ass holding me in place for me to do exactly as he likes.
I moan softly, grazing my teeth over Reid’s stomach.
“What do you like most about it?” The cowboy beneath me, who I want to ride until dawn, asks. His words might be smoky and lust-filled, but there’s genuine curiosity there.
“I like that it feels a little dirty.”
“What else?” Henri continues to press forward, ensuring the evidence of Reid is further inside. Not letting a drop leave my pussy.
“I like…” It’s impossible to vocalize. That everything about this feels like they own me somehow. That they’ll be marking me as theirs by spilling their seed freely inside me. That they treatme as if I’m precious and have already welcomed me into such an intimate part of their relationship.
But that’s my dopamine and oxytocin-soaked brain talking.
I am the orgasm equivalent of Christmas cake soaked in ninety-proof rum.
I can’t say that out loud. So I settle on the mechanics, because my heart has absolutely no business getting involved in this conversation. “I like knowing that you’ve been there—that both of you have been there.”
“Does it feel good? Can you feel how much it makes us feel good, too?” Reid’s thick cock jerks beneath me as he speaks.
Nodding, I suck in a sharp breath as Henri curls his fingers and rubs thatholy-fucking-hellspot I didn’t know existed. “I… I want you both to feel good.”
“So pretty. Your pussy looks beautiful, filled with us. Filthy and messy and so good for us.”
“Do that again.” I sob, my walls clenching around his thick fingers. The metal of his rings brushes the sensitive part of me, the place where he spears into my entrance.
“Would you like to feel like this all day?”
“Yes,” I reply without hesitation. Too far gone to pretend otherwise.
“Does it turn you on to have a pussy overflowing with cum? To have us dripping down your legs?”
My thighs tremble. “So much. I want that so much.”
“You’d have to be a good girl and wear proper panties. Not thiscoquineexcuse, barely covering anything at all. Keep all that cum where it belongs. Don’t want you wasting any.” Henri’s dirty talk is going to slay both me and my pussy.
Where it belongs.
Those three words leave me gasping. Possessive talk about filling me with cum and making sure I always have them inside me shouldn’t be turning me on. Not after barely half a day. I’vetripped and ended up here in a fantasy, living and breathing the unimaginable with these men.
Maybe that’s what has me agreeing.
Pleading.
Whimpering
Telling him through shivering lips that I want exactly that.
“Mmm. So polite. You could have our cocks anytime, you know. You don’t even need to ask. Maybe you’ll wake up in the morning, and one of us will already be inside you, hard and hot and ready to spill.”
A low moan rips its way out of my throat. Henri keeps pushing cum back inside my pussy, and I can’t even see straight, can’t think. His sinful mouth and fingers continue their assault on my senses.
“Please, Henri.” Fuck me. Fill me.
