Page 47 of Puck Me Thrice
When I reached her hipbone, I nipped lightly, drawing a sharp inhale from her, and then soothed it with a flat press of my tongue. Lower still, my fingers delved deeper, parting her folds to circle her entrance. She was soaked, her arousal coating my digits as I slid one inside, slow and deliberate, curling it to brush that spot. Her walls clenched around me, hot and velvet-soft, and she arched hard, a whine tearing from her throat. "Nolan... oh God," she breathed, her voice wrecked already.
We rotated like that for what felt like eternity—hands and mouths swapping places, learning the symphony of her responses. Logan's playfulness had her giggling one second, then moaning the next as he sucked her clit between his fingers and hummed against her ear, whispering filthy promises about what he'd do when it was his turn to fuck her.
Blake's reverence turned her boneless, his kisses trailing fire along her spine when he flipped her onto her stomach briefly, massaging her ass cheeks before spreading them to tease the puckered ring there with a slick thumb. She bucked at that, a startled yelp escaping, but her eyes were dark with want when she glanced back at him. And me—I drove her higher with precision, two fingers now scissoring inside her, thumb grinding her clit in tight circles while I sucked into her inner thighs, marking her as ours without a word.
By the time Logan pulled back, his lips shiny with her wetness from a stolen taste, Mira was a live wire. Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, nipples tight and red from our attentions, pussy swollen and dripping onto the sheets.
"Fuck this teasing," Logan growled, his voice rough as gravel. He was on his knees between her legs now, shovinghis boxers down to free his cock—thick and veined, curving up toward his navel. But he didn't thrust into her. No, he had something else in mind. "Let me taste you properly, Mira. Let me eat that pretty pussy until you're screaming."
Her eyes widened, but there was no hesitation. Trust and desire warred in her gaze, equal measures, as she nodded, breathless. "Yes. Please."
Logan didn't need more invitation. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, his hands gripping her thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints, and dove in like a man starved. His mouth was confident from the jump—lips sealing around her clit, sucking with a wet, obscene pop that made her hips jerk. He lapped at her folds broadly at first, tongue flat and insistent, gathering her arousal like it was nectar.
"So fucking sweet," he muttered, the words vibrating against her core. Mira's hands fisted the sheets, her head thrown back as he worked her over. He was skilled, alternating between hard sucks on her clit and deep, probing thrusts of his tongue inside her, fucking her with it in short, sharp jabs.
When he added his fingers—two, thick and crooked to hit her G-spot—she shattered a little, a keen cry ripping from her. But he didn't let up. He grinned against her, eyes locked on her face as he fluttered his tongue over her clit, fast and relentless, until her thighs clamped around his head and she was babbling nonsense, teetering on the edge but not quite falling.
He pulled back just as she hovered there, lips glistening, chin slick with her. "Not yet, baby. Blake's turn."
Blake took over seamlessly, easing Logan's hands away and settling between her splayed thighs. His approach was different—gentle, devastating in its tenderness. He started with kisses, soft presses along her inner thighs, nuzzling the tenderskin there like it was fragile porcelain. Mira's breath hitched, her body still thrumming from Logan, but Blake soothed her, his large palms stroking her hips in slow circles. When he finally parted her with his thumbs, exposing her fully, he exhaled a reverent groan.
"Beautiful," he whispered, and then his mouth was on her—soft at first, lips brushing her clit like a prayer. He licked her in long, languid strokes, from entrance to hood, savoring every inch. His tongue delved deep, swirling inside her with a gentleness that contrasted the building pressure, tasting her depths before retreating to circle her clit with feather-light laps.
Mira's hands found his hair again, but this time she guided him, hips rolling up to meet his mouth. Blake hummed approval, the vibration sending shudders through her, and he rewarded her by sucking her clit softly, his lips forming a perfect seal. One finger joined his tongue, sliding in slow and deep, curling just right to stroke that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
He was effective because he was patient—building the tension layer by layer, his free hand splayed over her lower belly to press down, intensifying every sensation.
She whimpered, long and drawn out, her body coiling tighter as he alternated: a gentle suck, a probing lick, a twist of his finger that had her walls fluttering around him. Sweat beaded on her skin, her breaths coming in pants, and I could see the way her toes curled, the telltale signs I'd been memorizing.
But Blake, too, eased off before she tipped over, kissing her clit one last time before lifting his head. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, but he smiled softly at her wrecked expression. "Your turn, Nolan."
I was already hard to the point of pain, my cock leaking pre-cum onto my thigh, but I shoved the need down. This was science, after all—hypothesis, experiment, results. I'd watched them both, noted what made her gasp sharpest, what drew out the deepest moans.
As I knelt between her legs, displacing Blake, I positioned her just so—pillows under her hips to tilt her at the perfect angle, knees bent and spread wide. She was a vision: pussy flushed deep pink, clit peeking from its hood, entrance clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. I leaned in, inhaling her scent—heady, feminine, intoxicating—and pressed a kiss to her mound first, letting my breath ghost over her.
Then I got to work. My tongue traced her slit from bottom to top in one long, deliberate stroke, cataloging the taste: tangy-sweet, addictive. I used everything I'd learned—starting slow, lapping at her entrance to gather the fresh flood of arousal Logan's and Blake's teasing had coaxed from her. She moaned my name, low and throaty, and I rewarded it by sealing my lips around her clit, sucking with measured pressure—not too hard, not too soft, just enough to make her hips buck.
My fingers—two at first, then three—slid inside her easily, her walls hot and slick, gripping me like a vice. I curled them upward, stroking that G-spot in firm, rhythmic pulses, matching the flicks of my tongue over her clit: left-right, up-down, circles that tightened incrementally.
Mira's responses were my data points. A gasp when I hummed against her, vibrations traveling deep. An arch when I thrust my fingers faster, knuckles brushing her entrance with wet sounds. A whimper—high and desperate—when I grazed my tongue ever so lightly over her clit.
I drove her higher, adjusting on the fly: slowing when she tensed too much, speeding when her breaths evened out. Her thighs trembled around my ears, her hands clutching my shoulders, nails digging crescents into my skin.
"Nolan, please. It's too much. Don't stop," she babbled, voice breaking on a sob.
We didn't stop. Logan slid in behind me, his hands on my back, whispering encouragements as he watched over my shoulder. Blake took her hand, kissing her knuckles while murmuring praises.
We cycled again—Logan diving back in with renewed vigor, his mouth sloppy and eager now, sucking her clit while his fingers pumped her pussy in short, brutal thrusts that had her screaming his name. He added a twist, his thumb circling her back entrance teasingly, pressing just enough to make her clench everywhere. Mira thrashed, tears of overstimulation pricking her eyes, but she begged for more, her body a taut bowstring.
Blake's second round was slower, more intense—his tongue fucking into her deep while his lips tugged at her folds, one hand pinching her nipple in time with his thrusts. He was devastating, drawing out every quiver, every pulse, until she was keening, her free hand fisting the sheets so hard her knuckles whitened. "Blake... oh fuck, I'm—"
"Not yet," he breathed against her, pulling away with a final, sucking kiss to her clit.
My second turn—I amped it up, using my mouth and both hands. Fingers in her pussy, curling relentlessly, while my thumb worked her clit in tight circles, my tongue lapping at where they met. I added a third element: my other hand sliding up to roll her nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching just hard enough to send sparks down her spine.
She was sobbing now, pleasure-pain blurring, her body writhing under the onslaught. "Come on, Mira," I murmured against her thigh, voice rough. "Let go. We've got you."
The third cycle was chaos. Logan went feral, his face buried so deep he was practically drowning in her, tongue and fingers a blur as he growled obscenities into her skin. "Gonna make you squirt, baby. Flood my mouth."
