“Isn’t she doing such a good job, Silas? Isn’t her pussy so soft? So wet?”
His jaw tightened.
“It’s so fun to move her on you,” I continued. “Like she’s a plaything that I’m using to fuck you. Like she’s a toy, and we’re both using her.”
“Jesus, Molly,” Silas groaned, and finally his eyes squeezed shut, as if he couldn’t handle both the sight of me fucking him with Viola’s body and my words.
I bit my lip to hold back my smile. I was winning. Viola would orgasm, and then so would Silas, and I would have won. And more importantly, I would have gotten what I came here for tonight—the chance to give Silas something back. To give him something to hold on to as our paths irrevocably veered off in different directions.
“Use him to come,” I commanded Viola. “Ride him as hard as you need.”
I let go of her hips as she lost herself on him, squirming and moving up and down, and I dropped my hands down to play with myself, not shocked to find
that I was very wet, not shocked to find that my clit was swollen and needy. It wouldn’t take long for me to come. And seeing Silas like this…perhaps it was a defect in my personality that I found this sight so delicious, despite what had happened with Mercy. Perhaps I should be jealous that even now he was starting to lose himself in the tight, frantic clench of Viola’s cunt, starting to fuck her from the bottom. But the jabbing motion of that thick cock and his narrow hips only served to turn me on more, the sight of him sheathing himself over and over again in Viola just making me greedier for my own climax.
I was too far gone in the scene to care, but I knew I would feel the same way once I was out of it too—that somehow, for Silas and me, this was okay. This wasn’t him with Mercy, chasing his own selfish fears. This was he and I together, with someone else, and there was nothing but pleasure and happiness here. Even Castor was openly stroking himself now, his eyes hungry on the gasping woman astride Silas.
“Tell me what he feels like,” I told Viola, and my voice came out not as authoritative, but rather filled with longing and thirst, and Silas seemed to notice, his eyes opening again and dropping to where my fingers were buried in my own cunt.
“He feels…” Viola took in a deep breath as she continued to work him with frenzied movements of her hips. “He’s so big. And deep. And oh…oh God.” The climax took her fast and hard, and she wailed, curling over Silas’s chest, her legs instinctively trying to close together, despite still being astride Silas’s hips.
The three of us watched her as she slowly came down, slumped against Silas, every curve and rise of her body marked with satiety and contentment. The problem being that the rest of us were nowhere near satisfied and content; Silas looked like a man on a medieval torture rack, every limb and muscle completely tense as Viola still spasmed around his cock, Castor still languidly stroked himself, and I was less rubbing myself now than fucking my own hand.
“Sit up,” I demanded to Viola, and she did, slowly, her lids heavy and her face flushed. Once she sat up straight, I moved and swung my leg over Silas, so that I straddled his torso in front of Viola, and so even though it was Viola’s pussy still wrapped around his length, it was me that he saw when he looked up.
“Oh my God,” he groaned, once he realized what I was doing.
“Now,” I said over my shoulder to Viola, “I want you to hold still and let him fuck you. And then I want you to whisper every word that goes through your mind when he does.”
And so, with Viola’s chest pressed against my back and her arms wrapped tightly around my waist, I began to work my clit as Silas slowly fucked her with long, undulating motions.
Silas’s eyes met mine, blue on blue, and I watched every flicker of sensation as it passed across that square-jawed, patrician-bred face of his.
“Ah,” Viola breathed into my ear. “He’s so big. I feel…stretched. Filled.”
Filled. I licked my lips—that word and Silas’s mouth opening to whisper my name and his hard stomach bunching and flexing underneath me…all of it sending me closer to the edge.
“I—he’s hitting that spot right now.” Her voice sounded pained, brittle with pleasure. “The spot on the front. Oh God.”
I knew exactly what spot she meant; Silas was one of the only men I’d been with—aside from Castor and Julian—who’d known how to find that spot.
Every.
Single.
Time.
My core clamped in memory, and I slid my fingers down from my clit to my entrance, reaching up inside to curl my fingers to where I wanted Silas’s cock.
And then he started talking, hoarse and demanding. “I can feel how wet you are, Mary Margaret. You’re wet all over my stomach, and I can feel how slippery your fingers are from fucking your own pussy.” Silas stabbed his hips up and Viola cried out.
“So deep,” she gasped into my ear. “I can feel him everywhere…my hips feel so tight and my thighs are tight too and it’s so hard to breathe…shit, I’m going to come again.”
“Not yet,” Silas growled. “Viola, I want you to take those hands that you have so prettily wrapped around my Molly’s waist, and I want you to move them down to Molly’s cunt. Yes, just like that. And now take one and push it inside of her, and then use the other to work her clit. Molly, I want you to take your fingers and press them against my mouth so I can taste you.”
He’s trying to take over again, I realized, but at that moment, his tongue danced across the already-wet pads of my fingertips and Viola found the right pressure and pace, and I didn’t care.
“Viola,” Silas said, his breath tickling against my fingers, “you can’t come until Molly comes. Do you understand?”
