Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 11)

He shook his head, kissed me again, then along my jaw. He worked his way down my neck and to my breasts, kissing them, licking the hard tips, even nibbling the curve of soft flesh. He moved lower and lower still and I parted my thighs so he could settle between, just as Charlie had done by the creek the day before.

I came up on my elbows and looked down at him. “Charlie had a taste. My turn.”

His mouth on me was different than Charlie’s. He was gentle at first, barely touching me with the tip of his tongue, then he licked me in one flat pass of his tongue.

I dropped back onto the bed, stared up at the ceiling. “Fuck,” I breathed.

“Soon, love,” Charlie said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands going to my breasts. It was as if he couldn’t not touch them.

Between Hank licking every inch of my pussy, flicking my clit, and Charlie playing with my breasts, I came. It was fast, quick, hard and had me panting, my skin slick with sweat.

“More,” I said, making it my mantra today. I wanted everything. No holding back, no waiting. I didn’t have time to tease or for them to play, so I rolled my hips. When Hank lifted his head, his mouth slick and shiny from my wetness, I said, “Fuck me.”

He came up over me again, kissed me. I tasted myself. “See? Such a sweet pussy. Ready for it to be mine?”

I nodded, ran my fingertips over his jaw, felt the rasp of his whiskers.

Using his knee, he nudged my thigh wider and settled in. His cock slipped over my folds and the head caught at my entrance. “You’re mine, Grace.” He slid in, not stopping, not giving me time to adjust to the thick feel of him, until he was embedded all the way.

I shifted my hips, gripped his upper arms and breathed. He was so big and I’d never felt so full. So snug. I gasped at the intrusion. It wasn’t painful, but it was… uncomfortable.

“Look at me,” he said and I realized I’d closed my eyes.

His dark gaze met mine as he held himself still, his body supported on his hands. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. So hot. So tight. So wet. You’re everything we want.”

He pulled back then and I gasped, eyes flaring wide. That hadn’t hurt. That felt good.

“Again,” I whispered.

He pushed in and I cried out.

“Like having your pussy broken in?” Charlie asked. “Fuck, seeing you get taken for the first time is too much.”

I turned my head, looked to Charlie. He was watching us as his hand worked his cock quickly, the grip snug, looking where Hank’s body joined with mine.

Hank pulled back so he was almost completely out of me, then plunged deep. Again, then again. The sound of wet fucking and ragged breathing filled the room.

The feel of it, the way his cock slid over secret, carnal places inside me made me hotter and hotter. Every time he bottomed out in me he rubbed against my clit.

“I’m going to come,” I said, digging my nails into the curve of his ass, feeling the muscles go taut as he pumped.

“Come, sweetheart. Come all over my cock.”

He didn’t slow down, just took me hard. Fast. This wasn’t a gentle coupling, an easy transition into marital relations. No, this was pure need. Pure fucking. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the pleasure was too great, too much for me to handle, I let go. I screamed and clawed, writhed and begged. Gasped and wrap

ped my legs about Hank’s waist.

He took me still, his motions losing their smooth cadence until he stayed deep. Groaned. I felt the heat of his cum fill me, knew that I’d made him lose control, that it was my body he’d found his pleasure within.

I smiled, lost in bliss.

When he caught his breath, he pulled out, a thick gush of cum slipping from me. I was too sated to move, but a gentle slap to my pussy had me gasping, my eyes flying open.

“My turn, love. Look at you, all sweaty and happy. Well-fucked. I love seeing your pussy all swollen and pink, cum slipping from it.”

Charlie was the one who liked filthy talk. So did I. A hand hooked about my hip and he pulled me over onto my stomach, then tugged me up onto my knees.