Grinch (Cerberus MC)

Tossing away the sodden panties, I climb up on the bed.

“Not on your back, Grace. Hands and knees, ass in the air. You can’t get fucked by two guys, lying on your back.”

Every sound in the room heightens the thrills running through my body. The rustle of him discarding his clothing gives me chills. The sound of him opening the bedside table puts me on high alert.

The bed doesn’t groan or creak when he climbs on behind me, the crinkle of the foil wrapper filling the air.

“Sure hate to abuse this pretty pussy of yours,” he says, sweeping one finger down my slit.

I jolt with the attention, whimpering when I realize just how close I am already, considering this is the very first time he’s touched me.

I whimper, a plea for more, but it never comes. When I look back over my shoulder, I find him staring down at my body, his eyes glued to the most intimate parts of me. Why does that turn me on? Why does the sight of him watching me shoot thrills of need through me?

With one hand on my hip and the other lining himself up, Trenton slams inside of me, the grip on my hips the only thing keeping me from jolting forward.

I moan at being filled, at him giving me exactly what my body craves.

He’s relentless, finding the end of me with every forward thrust only to pull back and do it all over again.

“I’m—” I manage right before I explode, but the intensity of the orgasm flowing through me halts all other words.

“Fuck yeah, you are. Give it to me. Imagine how hard you’ll come with two dicks inside of you. Isn’t that what you want, baby? A cock for each hole?”

Coming down from my orgasm, I open my mouth to remind him that not all threesomes include double penetration, and I have no interest in that, but then he brushes his thumb over that second hole, making me quiver with heightened need.

He’s not the first guy to brush that forbidden place. I’m thirty after all, but he’s the only one to do it and elicit such a needy response.

“Yes,” I gasp, both in answer to his questions and a desperate plea for more.

“Goddamn. You are a whore for it.”

I’ve never been one to either allow or get turned on by a man using degrading names in bed, but this isn’t just a run-of-the-mill encounter either. My entire body is trembling, ready for the next orgasm as he presses his thumb harder, the tip of it inside of me.

“Oh God,” I moan. “Yes. More.”

My body seizes, every muscle tightening as he gives me exactly what I’m begging for, and despite the now erratic thrusts, he manages to get me there once again, the orgasms erupting with so much force, my stomach muscles contract.

“Fuck, how do I pick just one friend to share the tight grip of this pussy. Maybe they all need to experience you coming on their cocks.”

As insane as it is, I’m on the verge of agreeing, my body needing exactly what he’s threatening.

“Yes!” I scream.

“We could pass you around,” he grunts, his fingers digging into me. “A cock in all three of your perfect fucking—goddamn.”

His hips snap forward, fully impaling me a second before it starts to pulse out his own orgasm. The grip of his fingers is going to leave those familiar marks on my hips, and I’m sort of thrilled I’ll be able to look down for days and remember this moment.

Best sex of my damn life.

When he pulls free, he crashes to the bed beside me, the rush of his breath a clear sign he’s feeling the exertion of his efforts.

I curl on my side, the pressure of the bed flat against my injured ribs, making it too uncomfortable to lay any other way.

I don’t reach for him, but I also don’t get up and leave. This is his room, making it harder for him to escape like he did back at the hotel.

“Just give me a minute, and I’ll get you a washcloth,” he mutters, eyes closed as he tries to get his breathing to even out.

“I can clean myself up,” I tell him, the prospect of letting him do it just a little too intimate after the things he just said in the heat of the moment.

I was so sure he’d never share me, but the way we both just got off with the mere suggestion is making me believe otherwise. What concerns me is my own willingness to engage in such acts is also transitioning from it being just a way to test him to a thrill I might want to actually experience.

“Are you going to insist I do the walk of shame out of here in front of all of your friends, or can I just crash here?”