Smith’s hands were gentle, yet determined. Brock’s touches were teasing, but confident. Maybe some wouldn’t notice the subtle difference. It seemed she did. The light tickling touch drew a shudder from her that had her inhaling, and she realized even their smells were different. Smith smelled like lemon mixed with sandalwood. Brock smelled like citrus and musky tones.
The latter was all that consumed her.
A low chuckle sent a hot wave of heat pooling low in her belly. “Damn, kitten, you’ve proved me wrong.”
She shivered under his playful touch along her spine. “Wrong?”
Brock’s minty breath caressed over her face. “I didn’t think you could possibly get me any harder, but…” He rested his erection against her thigh. “Do you feel how hard I am?”
“Very hard,” she rasped.
“Indeed,” he murmured.
What interested her more was that his erection wasn’t covered by his pants. Brock was naked and had already put on a condom. Tonight, the men weren’t playing around, nor were they letting her own the show. They controlled the moment, and right now, she liked that.
In fact, she wanted more.
Could this night possibly sate her?
Doubtful.
Brock wrapped his hands around her shoulders, then eased her forward. Within only a few steps, he pulled her to a stop, and whispered in her ear, “There’s a chair in front of you. Reach down and grab the armrests.”
Kyra leaned forward, and with Brock’s help, wrapped her fingers around the armrests. Then Brock’s cock nudged her entrance and only another second after that—without saying a word—he shoved his cock into the depths of her.
She was ready for him. In fact, she’d never been so wet.
Kyra wondered if her orgasm at the table had revved the men up, because both Smith and Brock appeared to show no patience. Then she wondered if it was her, blindfolded, and naked in the foyer, which caused their primal advances.
Whatever the reason, she liked the rewards.
She liked being the center of their attention.
A slap against her bottom drew her out of her thoughts and into Brock’s control. He gripped her ass cheeks and squeezed them tightly as he thrust in and out. The force as well as the speed with which he pumped into her indicated he intended for this lovemaking to be quick and hard.
Brock’s deep grunts only increased the rise of her pleasure. She loved his manly sounds and the wet sucking noises around them. The feel of him driving into her, the erotic smells drifting through the air, and the primal nature of how he took her all set her aflame.
One of his hands left her bottom, and then there was a tug on her hair, right before he removed her blindfold. “Watch yourself while I fuck you.” His voice deepened. “See what I see.”
The moment the darkness cleared to clarity, she caught sight of herself in the large mirror above the chair she held on to, and her breath caught in her throat. She’d never looked at herself during sex before. Now she looked all mussed.
Brock’s thrusts increased in speed and force. He gripped her bottom and spread her cheeks apart. “Do you see your face, kitten? Do you see your flushed cheeks? How your lips are parted, drawing in deep breaths? The way your eyes are begging me to take you harder?”
Yes, she could see all those things.
Instead of answering him, she looked into the mirror, and behind her, Brock’s piercing eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her burn. Then she caught sight of Smith, who leaned against the staircase. He had re-dressed in his black pants but had remained shirtless.
Brock withdrew his cock, drawing her attention to him. He thrust forward with punishing strength. “This is what I see when I fuck you, Kyra.” He leaned down, pressing the full weight of his body against her sweaty back, and whispered in her ear, “It drives me crazy.”
Perhaps it was that velvety voice, or maybe even that both men watched her now, but that’s all it took to blast her into orgasm. She trembled, screamed, and gripped the armrests as pleasure surged into every molecule of her body. Brock thrust against her until he shouted against his own climax, and behind her, his body jerked and bucked.
Not until a finger trailed her spine did her thoughts return. Kyra tried to catch her breath, feeling boneless. Brock withdrew from her, sliding his hand over her bottom. She straightened. “God, no.”
A well-deserved arrogant smirk filled Brock’s face. “Had enough for now?”
“Yes,” she said, breathless. “I cannot possibly survive another orgasm.” Even if that was only half the reason she wanted him to stop.
With a low, sexy chuckle, which had her rethinking her decision to tell him to stop, Brock removed his hand. A loud snort came across the room, and she looked over Brock’s shoulder to Smith.