Page 49 of American King (New Camelot Trilogy 3)
I look over at him as I continue to circle Greer’s hole with my fingertip, trying to find the right words. So much of what happens between the three of us is unspoken, navigated spontaneously and in the moment, but there are always certain roles we magnetize to. Greer, the compliant. Ash, the master. Me, the mood-ring of a lover, shifting and changing depending on the day, the hour, the minute. Out in the living room, we all fell into those roles quite nicely, but in here I’m not sure. Am I allowed to direct the scene? Is he still in charge?
I don’t need to find the words though, because Ash senses what I’m trying to say. “This is your show, little prince,” he says. Then his gaze falls onto the place where I’m knuckle-deep into his wife and his eyes darken. “Although I might not be able to stop myself from playing too.”
“God, I hope you don’t stop yourself,” I say. “And in that case, will you unbraid her hair? I want it free.”
Ash rumbles his approval at my request—he has such a terminal thing for her hair—and leans down to kiss her temple before he starts unplaiting her wet braid. She smiles up at him.
“I’m happy right now,” she murmurs to her husband, and he looks like he could float away with knowledge that she’s content, taking such a deep and genuine satisfaction in her happiness that I almost feel embarrassed to witness it. The purity of his love for her.
Except then I realize I feel it for the both of them as well, this kind of lift in my chest at their smiles, this answering contentment to their own. This feeling like any bruise, gash or fracture is worth just a moment of their joy.
“I’m happy that you’re happy,” he says, kissing her hairline again. “And our little prince is going to make you feel very good. Are you ready for that?”
“I am.” Another dreamy murmur.
I hope I’m ready for it. With Ash and Greer, sometimes it feels like I’ve been ready my entire life, and other times it feels like I’m facing down a tidal wave I didn’t know was coming. And I never know which it will be.
As Ash carefully tugs the hair band from her hair and slides it over her wrist, I begin expanding my invasion of her hole, pressing against the inner wall closest to her pussy, finger-fucking her ass until I hear a luxurious mmmm come out of her mouth. Then I add a second finger, watching her every ripple and seize, watching her blurry reflection in the glass. Assplay isn’t for everyone, but Ash is right—Greer’s good at it. A far cry from the anal virgin whom I had to cajole into relaxing and opening, this woman is pushing back onto my fingers and making more of her siren-like moans of pleasure…and clearly enjoying every second of my assault.
So I add a third finger, stilling my movements and letting her leisurely fuck my hand with hypnotic rolls of her ass. All while Ash is gently unbraiding her hair, taking care not to pull on the tangled strands, smoothing them between his fingertips until they glimmer wet-gold and wavy down her back.
He’s so tender with her, so scrupulously avoiding causing her pain, even in something as trivial as untangling hair, and I understand it on a cellular level. It’s because he loves her. It’s because the only pain she should ever have to feel is the pain he chooses to give her. The play of his large hands on the silky tresses is sexy and elemental, and everything physical and spiritual about Ash and Greer that I love.
I can watch him play with her hair forever, I think. Until the sun swallows the earth and the wind itself turns into fire.
“Up on the balls of your feet,” I tell her, sliding my fingers out of her ass and fisting my cock. I’m so fucking turned on by watching Ash untangle her hair that even my own hand is about to make me go off. I don’t even know how I’ll last in the tight squeeze of her dirtiest place for longer than two strokes. Shit, even one stroke.
Greer pushes up onto her tip-toes, her calves bunching into sleek little rounds, her thighs tensing. Her hole at the perfect height for me to push into. Ash gives her hair one final adoring stroke, and then he cups the back of her head and angles her face so he can kiss her. His mouth devours hers, strong and sure, and with his nakedness, I can see the effect the kiss has on him. The tight belly, the tense muscles everywhere. The dark, bobbing cock pointing up at the ceiling like a thick weapon. Again plays my fantasy of him wrestling us both to the wet floor or against the clear, cold glass, using his angry cock on both of us.
I give a shudder of unabashed want. Surely he will want to master me tonight? Surely that’s what’s burning such a hot, filthy fire behind those pretty green eyes of his? Surely that’s who he’s saving all that cum for? For me?
And will I let him master me? Despite all that’s between us and all that’s happened and all that will happen in a November two years from now?
Of course I will.
Ash breaks off the kiss, looking satisfied at Greer’s hazy expression, and steps back, and I realize it’s so he can see me better. So he can see how I’m rubbing the head of my cock where my fingers were just a moment ago.
“Reach back,” Ash says to Greer. “Spread your cheeks for him. He wants to see the hole he’s going to fuck.”
Greer complies, struggling a little for balance but finding her equilibrium after a second, and then Ash and I are rewarded with the obscene exposure of her most private parts. Already visible before, now they are on display, stretched and revealed so that nothing is hidden. Nothing.
Ash and I both stare down at where my fat crown nudges into her—teasing little presses that have her whimpering and that show what a big thing I’m about to put into a very small place—and with her spread like this, I can easily breach the first ring of her, in and out, in and out in short, almost-nothing shoves. Just enough to start swallowing my crown, just enough to make her gasp. I might come from this, from fucking her with only the tip of me. Hell, I could come just from staring down at my head teasing at her pretty pleated asshole.
I can’t wait another instant, I decide. I widen my stance, put a steadying hand around her hip, and I start wedging my cock into her. She makes a noise, signaling that pleasure-pain I’ve been on the receiving end of so many times, and I run a calming hand over her flank, chafe her ass in reassuring circles.
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“It’s okay, baby,” I soothe. “I’m here. I’m here.”
Goose bumps cover her skin as I slide deeper inside, and fuck, it feels so fucking good. It’s tight and slick and hot, like a fist, and the sight of it, the thick rod disappearing into her ass as she keeps herself spread open for me—it’s almost punishing how hot it is. I have to breathe through my nose as I keep pushing in, feeding inch after thick inch into her greedy body.
And then it’s there, I’m all the way there, and I am still breathing through my nose, because I’m going to come any minute, I just know I am, and I’m not ready to give this up yet. The sight of Greer shivering and her sides moving in short, exhilarated breaths and her wet hair like molten gold down her back. The feeling of her channel so slick and so smooth, clenching so very hard on my dick, like it wants to milk the orgasm right out of my body. The stroke and squeeze of her, singing heat and pressure up every nerve ending in my cock.
“You can put your hands back on the glass,” I tell her in a ragged voice. “You’ll want your balance for this.”
“Okay,” she whispers, doing as I say and putting her hands on the shower wall. I lean forward and drop a kiss onto a bare shoulder, and then I start fucking her ass for real. Slow strokes at first, until I regain my control. In and then a breath. Out and then a breath. Every thrust measured and cautious until I can adjust to the hot friction of her. Until I can be sure she’s ready for more.
Soon, she’s bucking back against my hips, seeking out more of me, and I answer in kind, kicking her feet together to make her tighter and then sawing into her with heavy, regular strokes. Ash is practically glowing with lust now, a hot sun of need pacing restlessly around us as I fuck his wife, radiating heat and power and edgy desire.
