Page 91 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

I know my place. I drop my knees, lube in my hand, condom packets gently between my teeth, and I crawl over to them.

Ben nudges his elbow against Roland’s chest, pushing the other man off so he can sit up. Then Ben scratches the top of my head and coos in his low, faraway-thunder voice, “Good girl.”

It makes me shiver. He takes the condoms from between my teeth, takes the lube, and inspects it. “This’ll do,” he says and tosses it to Roland.

With that, Ben stands, drops his briefs, and steps out of them. And—God. I can’t stop staring. I want to fall to my knees in front of him. Worship at the V-line of his slim hips. Trace every stacked muscle of his abdomen with my tongue. Praise whatever god had the imaginative genius to craft such a gorgeous, proud cock.

“Let’s do it here,” Ben says and bends at his hips, his hands clasping the arm of the chaise. Come and get it, the arch of his body seems to challenge.

“Perfect,” Roland replies. He kicks out of his briefs like he’s in a locker room instead of one of the lavish palace spreads. My body hums at the sight of him. I want to nuzzle against that blond thatch of hair between his legs. Roland positions himself behind Ben, slips on the condom, and shoots the lube into his hand.

“You’ve got such a nice arse,” Roland comments, the man who is never afraid to say exactly what’s on his mind. “How did I not notice before?”

Ben, on the other hand, goes sunset red. How can such a sculpted man be so unused to compliments?

“You were too busy admiring your own jawline in the mirror,” Ben deflects.

Roland lets out a noise that’s nearly a laugh. “Perhaps. Not anymore.” I watch as his finger disappears between Ben’s cheeks, and Ben swallows.

“Just…” Ben starts, but his words trail off. If we’ve learned anything, it’s that Ben has trouble asking for what he needs. “I’m usually… on the other end. So.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Roland reassures him, filling in the blanks without hesitation.

“Right,” Ben says in a small sigh of relief.

Roland speaks Ben-language. Ben speaks Rory-language. I’m fluent in both dialects. We understand each other. Know each other. That they let me into their relationship like this… it’s so sweet, so tender, so full of trust. It makes me want to cry.

Home, I think. I’m home, I’m home.

I scramble up onto the chaise to be closer to them. I press my lips to Ben’s and murmur, “I’ve got you.”

Ben seems to regain his footing with me. He pulls my hair, and he shoves his tongue in my mouth. Me, he can still control. I open for him, purring as he greedily tastes the inside of my mouth. I reach down to run the silky-smooth skin of his cock through my fingers, and he stiffens.

Ben breaks the kiss abruptly to gasp, and his forehead rests against mine. If possible, his face burns redder. “Oh, fuck,” he swears between gritted teeth, and I know Roland must be inside of him now.

“Is that okay?” Roland murmurs. It strikes me suddenly how compassionate he is. When I first met him, Roland was the selfish, spoiled-brat prince who took what he wanted, when he wanted, with little thought to the consequences. The Roland standing behind Ben now… he’s a man. He’s strong, controlled, and respectful. It makes my heart pitter-patter in my chest.

“Yes, just… give me a second…” Ben pants.

“Tell me when,” Roland encourages. Just the same way Ben took care of me the first time he was in my tight place.

I coax Ben to relax with my tongue lapping over his. The bodyguard doesn’t give up control easily. But then he starts breathing again, his jaw slackens, and I feel his manhood start to throb in my hand.

When Ben says, “Okay,” his voice is hoarse and lust-soaked. The sound makes my pussy buzz with need. My libido is catching its second wind at the sight of these two.

“Bloody hell, Ben, you feel so good,” Roland moans.

“So do you,” Ben sighs as his body rolls into each of Roland’s thrusts.

I’m positively soaking the chaise again. I’m tingling from my peaked nipples to the arch of my feet. I can’t sit on the sidelines anymore. I need them. I jump off the chaise, rip off a second condom, and peel it out of its packet before climbing back in front of Ben.

“May I, sir?” I ask as I tease the condom over the tip of his manhood. Because good pets ask for permission before climbing on their master’s cock.

Ben opens his eyes, and when they meet mine, those ebony coals flash. “Yes,” he growls.

I climb Ben like a tree and wrap my legs around his waist. My feet touch Roland, and my heels catch on his hips. I hug Ben and get a handful of Roland’s hair. They’re so tight together, I can’t reach for one without holding both. And I love it. I lower myself onto Ben. My pussy is so greedy for him, I waste no time getting him all the way inside of me.

Ben and I gasp in unison. It feels good—so good—to have him angled deep inside of me. It makes my very toes tingle. My pussy clamps around him, and I struggle not to cum right away. He, too, seems to be teetering on that edge because he lets out a fierce growl. In one sweeping motion, he grips my thighs tightly around him, sets my ass down on the arm of the chaise, and passionately punishes the soft skin of my throat with his teeth. I’ve never seen him lose control like this and—fuck. It’s hot.

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