Page 42 of Once Upon a Dream
“Yeah?” I grunt, replacing my finger with the tip of my cock and rubbing her everywhere with it. “You want this?”
“Yes,” she says impatiently. “Please.”
Someday in the future, I’m going to teach this angel how to submit for real, how to let go and just enjoy having her body loved on, but I can feel the heat of her through the condom, I can feel the tiniest hint of clasp when I gently nudge against her hole, and I can’t wait any longer. Not like this, not watching her lap eagerly at Snow’s pussy, not watching Snow’s tits bounce and sway as she rocks over the other angel’s face. Not with heaven only a thrust away.
I thrust.
A gentleman would have taken more care, maybe, would have eased his way inside, but I’ve never been a gentleman, on this mountain or off of it, and I’m certainly not now. Not when my blood is boiling and these angels are so willing and my cock is aching like it’s never been handled before.
And anyway, there’s no way I can regret it when I see how deliciously Scarlett arches, sticking her pert little tits into the air and whimpering up into Snow’s pussy. Not when I can feel every thick inch of me all snug inside her tight cunt.
“Fuck, you’re big,” Scarlett mumbles as she tries to breathe. “Jesus wept. Big.”
“All for you, angel,” I grate out as I give her another thrust and she moans. “This big body is all for you.”
I ride her hard after that. Her pussy is tight, but it’s wet as hell, and I rut into her with all the strength I have, rocking the bed and sending Snow’s slender fingers grabbing on to my shoulders for balance. She pulls me into a fervent kiss, and I’m fucking her mouth with my tongue when she comes. She scrambles down off Scarlett’s face, and before I can even wonder what she’s doing, she’s pressing her own face between Scarlett and me.
There’s a puff of warm air and then the tickling sweetness of her tongue along the top of my cock as she begins to lap at Scarlett’s pouting little clitoris.
“Oh, shit,” Scarlett whines. “Oh, fucking shit, Snow. Snow! God!”
We come together, her violent spasms milking the come right out of my body, and I fill the condom with hot lashes of seed, fucking through it all as if I were really pumping her full like a man intent on claiming. Like a bear, an animal, breeding with a mate.
I bite off the thought with a growl to myself, because if I let myself think much along those lines, I’ll need to fuck both of them all over again. Hell, maybe I will anyway.
I clean up in the bathroom and then return to the bed, where I make myself at home and then pull each of the angels into my chest, where they nestle like little doves. We don’t share any words, we don’t negotiate space or need to find extra blankets and pillows. I am their pillow, they are my blankets, and we know nothing about each other except names and the noises we make as we come, but yet we fall asleep anyway in a cozy tangle free of regret.
6
Scarlett
I wake up to light, so much light, pouring in through the windows like water. Underneath my cheek is the steady and reassuring warmth of Liam’s chest, and I can see the scatter of braids along his stomach signaling Snow’s presence on the other side of him.
I sit up, feeling a pleasant bite of soreness between my legs as I do, and squint out the windows. On the other side of the glass, the world is glaringly white, filled with drifts and hummocks of snow. It looks beautiful…and cold. Forbidding. But on this side of the glass, I have a warm mountain of a man and my crush snuggling under a pile of down blankets, and it’s too tempting to resist going back to sleep.
So I do, snuggling back in w
ith Liam and Snow, and my last feeling before I drift off is a feeling of deep and contented relief that the snow is too high for Liam to leave…
When I wake again, I’m alone in the bed.
Someone’s taken the time to straighten the covers around me, though, and the smell of bacon wafting through the air is enough to satisfy any inner grumbles about being left behind. I push out of the bed and wander naked into the large living area.
“There she is,” Snow chirps from atop the counter. She’s in fuzzy socks, sweatpants, and sweatshirt that slumps off one shoulder, and she might as well be wearing a ballgown, that’s how luminous and stunning she looks to me.
Liam’s got his back to me as he works at the stove—his naked back, sculpted and tight and perfect—and his equally sculpted and tight ass is being hugged by a pair of my dad’s pajama pants. It would be funny if it weren’t so fucking cute.
And if he weren’t making the most perfect breakfast food in the world.
“We saved the good bacon for you,” Snow says as I walk in. Her eyes linger appreciatively on my body and my nipples tighten up even more than they already were in the chilly air.
“What she means is she’s already eaten all the bacon she wanted,” Liam says, turning to face me, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder. It does nothing to domesticate him—his features are as fierce and wild as ever. I get the feeling he’s eaten next to a fire in the woods as often as he’s eaten indoors.
And his expression as he takes in my naked body is downright feral. Before he turns back to the stove, I see that monster of a cock stirring against the fabric of the pants.
Yes, I’m very, very relieved he has to stay.
It’s funny. I’ve been in plenty of polyamorous configurations, I’ve been in beds with four and five and even six people. I’ve been in poly relationships that lasted only as many hours as it took for everyone to come, and I’ve been in poly relationships that lasted for months and months. And not a single one of those relationships do I regret, and there’s not a single person I’ve loved or fucked who hasn’t been special to me in some way.
