"Take care of the mess you've made, then."
Gen heard him slip the buckle of his belt, the whisper of the zipper of the slacks parting. Then his hands were on her ass.
"Beg him, Gen."
"Please, Noah. Please fuck me."
He parted her buttocks, played with her rim, then his thumbs dipped into that vat of wetness between her legs. "Please..." She moaned as he rubbed. She knew he was hard as a rock. Knew he was tormenting her further, getting off on it. She gripped Lyda's ankle, trying not to cut off circulation.
Noah straightened, shifting his grip to her hair. His fingers tightened into a scalp-pulling hold as he slowly, slowly brought her head up until she was staring into Lyda's intent expression. She had that faintly cruel, queen-on-her-throne look, feeding off Gen's denial, her frustrated arousal, like a drug available only to royalty.
"She's dying for your cock, Noah. Do it."
Gen screamed as Noah shoved into her all at once, a hard thrust that stretched her unused tissues. It hurt but it felt so, so good. He kept the hold on her hair, forcing her to stare into Lyda's face, so their Mistress could see every expression as he let loose just as she'd given him permission to do. He fucked Gen like a man who'd been nursing a hard-on for weeks, dreaming about the women who were within arm's reach but inaccessible. He fucked her in a way that said it went beyond that, that the need and cravings building all these weeks had as much to do with confirming they were alive, connected, together, still part of him, as anything else.
Similar emotions unfolded in her as he kept going, became even more savage, perhaps fighting the demons inside him that said he wasn't allowed to feel that way. It was as if he was trying to fuck them into silence. When he let go of her hair and covered her, wrapping his arm around her chest, forcing her back down to her elbows as if they were both genuflecting to Lyda while he hammered Gen's cunt before her, Gen kept one hand on Lyda's ankle but gripped his forearm, digging in her nails.
"I'm here...we're here..." It was like the Mine, ours, wasn't it? The same message. Her clit was throbbing, and each time his testicles slapped against it, she thrummed with the intensity. She wanted to come. Wanted to come for him, for Lyda. Yet...
"Help...Noah, please..."
"God, yes," he muttered.
It wasn't a surprise to her that he understood, even with the two of them shaking, so close to that edge. When he pulled back out, she even made a heartfelt whimper that was echoed by a violent clench in her pussy. She was so close to climax.
Noah rose on his knees behind her. Gen could only imagine the delicious picture he made, cock stiff, glistening with her juices. His hand slid from her hair, up the slope of her back, to rest on her hip. "We want to give our Mistress pleasure first," he said.
Gen lifted her head to see Lyda lick her lips, gaze shifting between the two of them. "What if that's not what I want? You think I'll let my cunt run the show any more than I'll let the two of you run it?"
"No Mistress." Noah shook his head. "We just... It needs to be...all of us. Together."
"Together," Gen whispered, pressing her lips against Lyda's ankle.
Chapter Sixteen
Lyda bent forward, touching Gen's back. Gen thought she also reached out, grazed Noah's face, or perhaps the slope of his chest, rising and falling with his exertions, the sexual fervor driving him.
"All right," their Mistress said. "But you two better not think this is going to become a habit. Tuck yourself back into those slacks and take Gen to my bed, Noah. On her back. Make her comfortable, because we're going to use her hard."
Gen straightened at that delicious threat, crooking her arm around Noah's neck as he scooped her off the floor. She could have walked, but now that they'd gained Lyda's acquiescence, they wanted to follow everything she demanded. He laid her on the bed, stepped back, those intent eyes resting on her as they waited on their Mistress, making her way down the hall. When she came into the bedroom, she moved to the edge of the bed. Just like Noah, she lingered on Gen's breasts and hips, her sex, all enhanced by the waist cincher. Gen felt like a visual feast, the two of them devouring her.
"I may make you walk around in one of those all the time," Lyda observed. "I don't think Noah would object. But I'd have to keep his cock in a chastity cage to teach him to deal with it without a perpetual hard-on. Can't have his brains in his cock all the time."
"I'm not seeing the downside," Gen responded breathlessly, her gaze sliding down Noah to the sizeable object of the discussion, straining beneath the slacks.
"Hmm." Lyda pivoted toward Noah. "I want my corset off."
Noah helped Lyda slide off the bolero jacket, then unhooked the corset. Since Lyda's back was to Gen, she saw the garment loosen. When he peeled it off her body, Lyda slid her arms under his and stepped into him. Gen noticed her left ankle was trembling, but Noah did too, his arms circling their Mistress in response, holding her up. Other than that, he remained still as her hands roved across his back, down, and took what seemed to be a very firm grip on his ass.
"I'd forgotten how very nice it is to touch you," Lyda said. Noah put his face into her throat, pressing his lips there. Lyda tilted her head, giving him access, and she stroked his hair, releasing the clasp so the glory of that russet mane spilled across his shoulders. Then her hands were between them, loosening his tie, stripping it out of its knot and letting it lie along either panel of his shirt as she unbuttoned it. Gen had seen Noah's bare chest plenty of times, but watching Lyda revealing it an inch at a time made it a whole new experience. Lyda caught both ends of the tie, twisted and held them against his throat, her knuckles pressed into his flesh beneath it.
"You knew you wouldn't survive if you got us out of the car first."
If Noah was startled by the abrupt shift, he rallied fast, jaw tightening. "No, I didn't know. I hoped I would live. But your lives were more important to me than mine."
Lyda brushed her knuckles up his throat, to his jaw. "That's the first time you've done that," she observed, a husky whisper. "In the past, you would have simply said our lives were more important than yours."
His eyes flickered, puzzled. Gen had caught it as well, though. Those two words "to me" were actually quite significant. A man might give his life for a stranger because of moment of conscience, a selfless act. Whereas a person sacrificed his life for a loved one bec