Page 100 of American Queen (New Camelot Trilogy 1)
“Ash…”
This time, Embry doesn't stop after hearing my hesitation. He keeps going, kissing the line of my panties, kissing along the swirling lace patterns, nuzzling into me. The nuzzles turn aggressive, rough and hard, punctuated with sharp nips at my flesh through the lace. Each bite pulls a noise out of me, and each noise pulls an intake of breath from Ash.
“Tell me, Greer.” It's a command that doesn't brook argument.
“I—he’s biting and kissing me through my panties.” I should stop him. I should push him away. We will all regret this after it’s over, me most of all.
And I even get as far as putting my hand on Embry’s head, thinking I would push his mouth away from me, but right at that moment, he licks me right through the lace and I practically dissolve. My fingers instead wind into his thick hair and tug sharply, making Embry groan so loudly that Ash can hear it.
“Fuck,” Ash breathes, hearing Embry’s noise. “What’s happening now?”
“He’s licking me,” I say, “he’s licking me through the lace. His mouth is so warm and oh—"
My fingers tighten in his hair as Embry begins sucking my clit through the lace. I squirm against him, holding his mouth fast to where I want it, feeling the licking flames deep in my core.
“He’s sucking my clit now,” I say, barely recognizing my own voice. Who am I, so brazenly telling my future husband about what his best friend is doing under my wedding dress? Who is this woman who leaned against a window and opened her legs for this? But I'm too far over the edge now, too wet, too sensitive, too sinful to let this end. Regret seems like a distant thing on the horizon, fuzzy and irrelevant, and with every lap of his tongue and kiss of his lips, Embry wipes the guilt from my body.
And then his deft fingers are at the clasps of my garters, easily unhooking them, and memories of another night, years and years ago, surfaces in my mind.
And like that night, Embry looks up at me as he pulls my underwear to the side, exposing my wet, pink cunt.
“I need,” he says quietly to me, and the déja vu hits me so hard that my knees almost buckle, because of course that’s what he said to me the night he took my virginity too. And the way his eyes blaze, the way he slowly licks his lower lip tells me that he remembers exactly what he said that night too.
That he hasn't forgotten.
“He’s pulled aside my panties now,” I tell Ash. “He’s looking at me there.”
Not just looking. Looking. Devouring with his eyes. Making plans, marking possession with his stare, as if by memorizing every curve and glistening fold of my pussy, he can claim ownership somehow. This is the male gaze that academics always talk about, this is what they meant. Because in this moment, I feel objectified, branded, almost dehumanized.
Fuck if it doesn't make me wetter than ever.
“He’s taking off my panties now,” I say, the soft scrape of the lace on my thighs almost more than I can bear. And then Embry helps me step free of them, afterwards putting one warm hand on each thigh and parting my legs so that I stand in a wider stance.
Embry groans at the sight of my exposed pussy.
“He’s looking at me again. He can see that I’m all the way bare. And I’m so wet, Ash. Do you remember the time I rode your thigh in front of him?”
“God, yes,” Ash says, and I think I can hear the rustle of fabric, as if he were parting the fly of his tuxedo pants to palm his cock.
“I’m wet like that. Oh. Oh God.”
“Tell me, princess.”
“He…” I swallow, my fingers finding Embry’s hair once more. “He put his finger inside me. And another one. They’re sliding in so easy, Ash, I’m so wet, but I’m swollen and it’s so tight.”
Ash rumbles in response, and I hear more movement, the sound of skin moving over skin. The mental vision of Ash rubbing himself to my narration of being finger-fucked by his best friend makes the flames at my core lick higher and higher.
Embry curls his fingers, pressing against the sensitive nerve endings clustered near the front and I moan. He leans forward and sucks my clit into his mouth again, this time without the barrier of the lace, and the hot, wet contact is almost shocking in its intensity.
“Sling your leg over his shoulder,” Ash tells me. “And push his face against your cunt. Grind into his mouth.”
I do as he commands, and the moment I begin fucking myself against Embry’s mouth, his control shears away. One hand grips my ass, his fingers digging into my flesh, while the other hand continues to fuck me mercilessly. And his mouth…
“It’s like he’s starving,” I breathe into the phone, watching his head move below my skirts. “Like he’s trying to eat me alive. His fingers are so deep in me, so fucking deep. I can feel them in my belly.”
“God, I wish I were there,” Ash growl. “I’d watch you come while he shoved his fingers in you. I’d make him kiss you while his mouth still tasted like your cunt. And then I’d make you kiss me.”
Ash’s words are like curtains catching fire, sending the clenching burn of my cunt streaking upwards towards my chest. I'm going to orgasm, I know it, but I won't be able to stand, my knees are about to buckle as it is, and as if Embry can sense this, I'm all of a sudden being tugged down by my waist. Tugged down to the floor as he lies back, and then his fingers are digging into my hips, planting my pussy firmly over his mouth. I'm straddling him, riding his face, and the minute his tongue slides into my hole, I know it'll be mere moments before I lose it.
