“That make you wet, baby?” Klay rasps, delivering a rough spank across my upturned bottom. And it’s a good thing that, oh God yes, watching them kiss turned my flesh damp and pliant, because Klay isn’t gentle when he enters me. I scream. I scream at the fullness, the ownership, the sense of homecoming. “You want me to admit I’ve fantasized about…”
Klay’s voice trails off.
“What?” I breathe.
“Him sucking my cock in the prison showers? I know he wants to. He fucking stares at it and thinks I don’t notice him dripping come down his leg,” Klay grinds out, his voice barely audible. “Is that what you want to hear, Wendy?”
“Yes,” I whimper, receiving several hard thrusts in response.
The table skids across the floor of the kitchen, taking us with it, and it wedges against the far wall, right in front of a dirty window. A window overlooking the overgrown side yard and also affords me a hazy view of what’s happening behind me.
“Can I, Klay?” Ruger asks, thickly. “Your…ass?”
In answer, Klay bends low over my back, pinning me down with his chest. Presenting himself to Ruger with eyes squeezed shut, flared nostrils and a heaving chest. “Be rough. Our woman is the only soft we need. Our fuck is hard, understand? Man to man.”
“Man to man,” Ruger repeats, looming behind Klay, forehead glistening with sweat.
Big and wild.
Finally set free. Given permission.
He fumbles with the zipper of his pants. “I’d have sucked your dick for you in the showers, Klay,” he groans, his hand rifling up and down his stiffness, neck muscles straining. “I’d have sucked it in front of everyone.”
Klay pumps into me, frenzied, groaning over the admission. “Don’t worry, you’ll be sucking it all the goddamn time. If kissing you makes her pussy this slippery, I can’t even imagine how wet it’ll make her to watch my cock disappear down your throat.” Klay grips the back of my hair, hauling my head up. “You perfect little treasure. You sweet fucking angel. Look what you’ve done—” He breaks off on a loud shout and I know, I know Ruger has thrust home inside of him, sure as Klay is inside of me. “Jesus. Jesus.”
Ruger’s labored breaths fill the kitchen. “Feels so good,” he slurs.
“Move,” Klay rasps after a moment, letting go of my hair in favor of wrapping a hand around my throat. “Help me fuck her. Her little thighs are already shaking.”
He’s right. They are.
Acknowledging how close I am somehow pushes me even nearer to the edge. I watch in the window as these two giant men press together, joining forces to ride me violently. I’m screaming myself hoarse, the table cracking against the wall over and over again, Klay’s stomach slapping wetly every time it meets my buttocks. My nails have dug grooves into the kitchen table, my nerve endings racing to gather in that one spot. That one spot between my thighs that tingles with overwhelming arousal. How could it not when I’m watching Ruger pump, slack-jawed, into Klay while Klay struggles to finish me before ejaculating. His face is etched in a combination of agony and pleasure. Both of their faces are—and so is mine. Because this is life. This is our life. We’ve found our home.
And I’ve found my power.
This is the equivalent of setting my helpless past on fire. I’ll never be helpless again and I didn’t need matches to believe it. I just needed these two men.
These two men I love.
My orgasm starts to crest and I tilt my hips, whining their names. “Harder, harder.”
Their twin growls fill the room and then I get a hard slam, both of them powering forward at once and holding, holding as all three of us climax at the same time, our bodies shaking through the ultimate release that could only happen with us all together. Like this. Without shame or holding back. Just full acceptance of our needs.
“Ruger,” I whimper, my intimate muscles flexing around Klay’s hardness. “Klay.”
“We’re here, Wendy,” Ruger grunts, his hand riding up Klay’s spine, fingers twining in his friend’s hair as he works his hips, letting out the remainder of his seed.
“Yes,” Klay says, struggling to inhale and exhale, his mouth unruly on my neck. “We’re here. We’ll always be here. You are ours.”
“Ours,” Ruger growls. “Forever.”
“We’re each other’s,” I whisper, falling replete to the table.
A moment later, I’m swept up into Klay’s arms. He turns and I’m cradled between the two men, awe written on their features. They take turns kissing my forehead and mouth, then—after a small hesitation—doing the same with each other.
“Is it crazy that I already love you…” I say quietly, my chest packed with emotion. “Both of you? I love…this. I love us. It feels like we are exactly what was supposed to happen.”
Ruger makes a sound. “You’re not crazy, Wendy. I love you, too.” He swallows hard. “Both of you.”