Fuck. I pry away from her mouth to rip open the packet. Sulli is hawk-eyeing my rock-hard cock. Partially salivating, partially studying how big I am—like she’s imagining every inch filling her pussy.
I sheathe myself, and her lips part in breathy want.
Akara moves to the right side of the bed where her left ankle is unrestrained. He takes her calf in a firm hand and pulls her legs wide open for me.
Her lips stay parted, panting.
I slip my hand along the inside of her thigh. She shudders. Breath heavying. Fuck. My muscles tighten. Clench. Searing need and want rupture through my core.
My fingers slide against her heat, the slickness stirring more cravings through me. “You want to feel how wet she is?” I ask Akara.
“She can’t be that wet,” Akara teases as he steps over.
Sulli gives him her classic competitive stare.
I smile and slide my hand to her soft thigh, keeping my palm planted on her warm skin. Akara is close enough that his waist brushes against me. He slips one finger inside of Sullivan. With her legs spread, I have the best fuckin’ view.
Her hips buck, a softer noise escaping her parted lips. “And…?” she asks Akara.
“And…” Akara whispers. “I told you not to talk.”
“But are you surprised that I’m wet?” She tries to whisper.
Jesus, she’s fucking adorable. “She wants a win,” I tell Akara.
“She wants to best me,” Akara nods in agreement. His eyes flit to her. “You’re very wet…”
She smiles.
“String Bean.”
Her eyes flame again.
He’s smiling. “How about you take another finger?”
Her breath hitches.
Akara nudges me with his foot. She can’t see. He means my finger. With his. Blood pumps harder to my dick, and not breaking my gaze with Sulli, I slip my finger inside her warmth. I can feel Akara’s finger. I can feel her pulsing around me.
She writhes again, her legs twitching in apparent need.
“Settle,” Akara breathes. “We’re not even moving in you, Sul.”
She circles her hips to try to feel more and deeper. Wanting that friction.
Akara pumps his finger inside of her, along my finger. I’m too focused on her eyes, the way she’s drinking in this whole scene. Something else courses through the room. An understanding, a desperation, a rage and passion and peace that feeds us, drives us and overwhelms us—and this isn’t the end.
What I have with them isn’t for a short time.
It has to be for a long time.
Akara removes his finger. Swallowing an emotional, aroused knot, his Adam’s apple bobs. He touches my bicep. “Fuck her,” he tells me.
Sulli hears and lets out a noise I’ve never heard her make. She sounds like an animal in heat.
Akara solidifies next to me, and he lets out a whispered, fuck.
Christ. I’m dying to fill Sulli.
And I’m first.
No hesitation in me now.
He keeps her leg spread, the other attached to the bed post. Resting a knee on the bed, I’m at a better height, and I grip my erection and carefully ease into Sulli. Holy shit. Her tightness and warmth send shockwaves down my body.
Her thighs tremble.
Fuck.
She mouths my name, eyes almost rolling.
I rock once, twice, and she grips the quilt, quivering. Fuck, the friction throttles my senses, and our eyes latch again. I arch into Sulli, but I make sure not to let her take me completely.
Even as she bucks up and tries. Akara keeps her as still as he can, while stroking himself with his free hand.
After a couple more thrusts, sweat built on our skin, I leave her warmth. My cock hates me.
She looks crestfallen for a moment, but her arousal returns as Akara takes my spot. I hold on to her ankle now. Like Akara, I can’t keep my other hand still. I rub myself as I watch him edge up to Sulli’s heat.
“I’m going to plow you until you can’t take it anymore,” Akara whispers deeply, “and then Banks is going to pump inside of you until you struggle to breathe. And then we’re going to trade off and on, off and on, until you crash into a peak.” He kisses her aching lips. “How does that sound?”
I swear she whispers, ravage me.
Akara and I are smiling.
He slowly enters Sulli, his erection slipping inside her pussy. She instantly gasps. His pace starts steady and then quickens in deep, long, fast thrusts. Faster than I’d been. And I have to keep her leg in a firmer grip.
Her hips arc, toes curling, and a cry nearly breaches her lips. She’s on the verge of an orgasm, and Akara pulls out.
She grips the quilt, burying her face in the reindeer fabric for a second.
We switch places.
And we carry on like that.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Sweat builds, her high-pitched noises—we try to catch with our palms. But soon, we’re all heavy fucking breath, raw emotion, and something more. Our gazes cling. Our bodies weld. We’re fastening onto each other, connected deeper, deeper, and deeper. Trying not to let anything outside this room sever the feeling we’ve felt—the feelings we feel. We’re riding and cradling and gripping onto our love.