Blood of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 2)

I suspected some of it was due to our gentling sex life. The frequency hadn’t ebbed, but I’d sensed them holding back with shallower thrusts and softer grips, tempering their need to dominate me roughly and vigorously. And with my belly in the way, our positions had become limited and monotonous.

They’d stripped down to their briefs, their skin glistening with sweat and stretching tight over packs of muscle. Their powerful bodies rolled together in a panting, shoving, pulling clench of strength and skill. The sight made my internal muscles convulse. Another minute of this, and my shorts would be soaked.

Jesse climbed between Roark’s legs, barring an arm across his throat, grunting, hips grinding, seeking Roark’s submission. They might as well have been fucking, because they moved just like that during sex. If only they would pull their cocks out and mash their mouths together.

Fuck if those images didn’t make my pussy spasm. Slick fluid seeped through my folds, preparing my body for them to slide in and soothe the ache. I wanted to lick Roark’s sculpted pecs, dig my nails into Jesse’s perfect biceps, and bury my teeth in Michio’s thick neck, while they fucked me with the same savage aggression they were using on one another now.

Carved abs dipped into waistbands. Cotton cupped and strained half-hard bulges. Maybe they were aroused because I was watching. Though Roark could get hard from the brush of a stiff wind, and given the number of times his hand grazed Jesse’s cock, perhaps their arousal had nothing to do with me.

Michio’s crouched position hid his groin from view, but he seemed to look at them differently. More closely? Not just with the analytical eye of an expert martial artist. His gaze roamed their grappling physiques with curiosity, affection, and something akin to desire as he lingered on the swells between their legs. He’d bonded with them on a platonic level over the past six months, and the intimacy the four of us shared in our bed crossed the boundaries of most heterosexual men. But he’d never shown sexual desire for them. Until now.

I was beginning to think this sparring session was less about learning new skills and more about pent-up testosterone and assuaging their need to rut and fight and blow off steam.

The thought was excruciatingly pleasurable. I could’ve sat there all day, watching them strain, wrestle, and grind against each other. I didn’t move for the next hour, my attention clinging to the flex of Roark’s ass as he dragged his groin over Jesse’s chest, and the way Jesse stared at Michio right before he mounted Roark’s hips, and how Michio swept in and dominated both of them in a blur of technique and speed.

Individually, they were viciously strong. Together, they were gloriously deadly. In the training room. On the battlefield. And in our bed.

I ached to be in the wrestling pile with them, lying beneath them with my legs spread, feeling Jesse’s muscles trembling as he sucked Michio’s shaft, the jerk of Roark’s fat cock between his thighs as he watched. The way that cock would feel, fucking me with deep, heavy-hitting thrusts. I needed their tongues, their fingers, and their swollen hardness. The ache to connect with every inch of them was as sharp as Michio’s fangs.

As if they could smell my arousal, all three heads turned in my direction.

Michio rolled away first, rising fluidly to his feet and striding toward me. “How wet are you?”

I whimpered, and a quiver raced up my legs, sending another gush of heat through my pussy. “See for yourself.”

Jesse and Roark followed, Jesse veering off toward the door, while Roark dropped on the couch beside me.

Roark’s hot hand gripped the hem of my shorts. “Lift your hips.” Three words, thickly accented and given with a stern glare.

I raised my ass, belly heaving heavenward, as Roark stripped the fabric down my legs and off my feet. Michio knelt beside my thighs, his eyes locked on mine as he pulled my shirt over my head, leaving me nude and trembling.

Jesse slid the deadbolt, locking the door, and the click echoed through me with a tightening clench.

“Open your legs.” Roark breathed beneath my ear.

It was just a whisper, but it roared through my body like fire. I obeyed instantly.

The pad of Michio’s finger slid through my folds, collecting my wetness. “We were going to do this in our room but had prepared for the possibility of you coming here.”

“Do what?” I gave him a confused look and glanced at Jesse and Roark.

Jesse grabbed a duffel bag from the floor by the door and joined us, kneeling between my legs, with Roark on the couch beside me and Michio on my other side.

Something passed between the three of them in an exchange of glances. It was subtle, but they seemed to be leaning closer together, eyes focused and direct, shoulders pushing back, and lips pressed together, as if they were mirroring each other’s decisive resolve.