So I let my eyes slide closed, relishing in the way he’s grinding against my clit. He fits so well inside of me.
“I love how wet you are for us, princess.” He pulls out, and I feel his fingers bringing up some of my discharge to my clit.
I barely notice one of them—probably Elliot—grabbing a couple of pillows, or how he lifts my hips and slides them underneath me. But what I absolutely do notice is the new spot Oliver hits when he slides back into me. I cry out, but the sound is muffled by Rhett’s mouth covering mine.
My back arches when Oliver’s thumb finds my clit. With the way he’s moving in me, and with Rhett’s mouth on mine, I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.
“That’s it, princess. I need you to come for me.” Oliver’s voice is tight, like he’s struggling not to come. I want to peek at him, but I don’t think I’d even be able to get my head up, considering the way Rhett is kissing me.
So instead, I focus on the sensations these men are pulling out of me, and how much I love the freeing feeling of Rhett holding me down.
When I come, it’s with a scream. Rhett pulls away, and while I keep my eyes shut, I can only imagine him watching me. The thought makes me come harder.
I hear Oliver grunt, and with a gasp my eyes fly open. I watch as he falls apart, feeling him finish inside of me. He falls forward, catching himself with his arms. For a moment, he looks at Rhett, and I swear they’re about to kiss—and I want them to. But then Oliver leans down, kisses me lightly, and then straightens.
When he pulls out of me, I let out a long breath. My whole body is shaking, and I’ve lost count of how many orgasms I’ve had tonight.
“Relax, Wren.” Oliver squeezes my thigh. “Give yourself a minute to recover.”
I lay back, taking a few deep breaths, and my eyes land on Rhett—specifically, his cock, which is only mere inches from my face.
I wiggle up, trying to get close enough. When I do, I lift my head and lick the precum from his tip.
He grunts in surprise. “Fuck, Wren. You’re insatiable.”
“Please,” I gasp, trying to tilt my head to take him in. But it’s an awkward angle without him helping.
“You’re sure you can take more?” he says in a teasing tone, running the tip of his cock across my lips.
I let out something that could only be described as a little growl, and he laughs. It sends a wave of warmth through me, reaching my bones.
“Open up, sweetheart.”
I do, moaning as he adjusts himself and slides into me. He moves in and out slowly, filling me as he lets out a string of curses. My fingers dig into his sides as he bottoms out, hitting the back of my throat. When I gag, he pulls out, watching me closely.
I suck on his tip, and his eyes shut while he groans my name. One of his hands palms my breast, his thumb rolling over a pebbled nipple.
“Tap my thigh if you need me to stop. Okay?”
His gaze rips right through me, and I manage a little nod. Then he leans over me, kissing my stomach before flattening his tongue against my clit.
I let out a strangled scream, causing him to groan. But he continues his assault on my clit, sucking and licking it like it’s his lifeline. The entire time, he fucks my mouth with slow, even strokes.
God, how is his body not shaking like mine? How can he manage to tear me apart with his tongue while he’s in my mouth?
As if to answer my question, he lets out a deep groan and pauses with just his tip in my mouth. His tongue circles my clit, bringing me so close to the edge. But I’m not ready yet. I want to come with him.
So I suck on his tip, trying to move my head up and down in the slightly awkward position.
He swears, one of his hands gripping my thigh. I keep all of my focus where he seems to like it the most, and he punishes me with tiny, quick strokes of his tongue against my clit.
It does me in. As he slides into me again, I let out a deep, gurgling moan. He shudders, and his whole body tenses.
Yes, yes, yes!
He moves to pull out of me, but I grab his hips to hold him in place. I want—need—to feel him come in my mouth.
With a grunt, he does, and I feel every hot spurt on my tongue. He pulls out, twisting to fall on his ass as he watches me. I open my mouth, propping myself up on my elbows and letting some of his cum drip out of my mouth. Then I swallow, licking it off my lips.
“Fuck,” he says on an exhale. “That was hot.”
I crawl over to him, and he pulls me onto his lap with a small kiss. His calloused hand runs up and down my back, and I settle against him with a small sigh.
For a few moments, we stay just like that, and I can’t help but smile at how relaxed Rhett is. I have no idea what was bugging him earlier, but it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.
The mattress sags. I glance over to see Elliot sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s pulled his cock back out, and he’s stroking himself with slow, steady movements.
While still clinging to Rhett, I lean over and kiss him. It pulls a moan out of Oliver, and I giggle.
Elliot takes my face in his hands, kissing the tip of my nose. “How are you feeling, love?”
I give him a quick kiss before he straightens. “Like I can handle you.” I know I’ll probably be sore in the morning, but the thought of not being with Elliot like I’ve been with the other two tonight doesn’t sit right with me.
He lets out a soft chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “Do you trust us, Wren?”
I let myself mull over the question. No man has ever taken his time with me like these three have. They’ve always gone straight for what they want. But not Elliot, Oliver, and Rhett.
Is that a good enough reason to trust them? Probably not. But they’ve been so caring, and patient, and sincere all night. Including before we left the ball.
Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s a foolish thing to do. But as I glance between the three of them, it hits me: I really, truly do trust them.
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIOT
I WATCH as Wren thinks over my question, biting her lip in a way that somehow makes my dick even harder.
Good, I think as she glances between the three of us. I want her to take this question seriously.
With a small smile, Wren looks up at me and nods.
I smile back. “And how much experimenting have you done in the bedroom, love?”
Her smile falls, and she looks away. “Not that much. I wanted to, but . . .” She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter right now.”
I watch her closely, looking for any sign that we’re making her uncomfortable. Tension in her shoulders, too-wide eyes, closed off posture. But I find nothing except a hint of sadness that I know has nothing to do with us and everything to do with that motherfucker who broke her heart.
“I’m going to tell you a few things I’ve observed tonight. Tell me if I’m right or wrong, okay?”
She nods again.