Their Stolen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 7)

All at once, my body gave up the fight and his cock slid past the tight ring of muscle that had been trained to accept it. I groaned at the thick feel of him; he pulsed and was warm, hard and yet soft at the same time. He moved in, then retreated, deeper and deeper until he, too, was fully seated.

We were all breathing hard, sweat coating our skin. This wasn’t some virginal sex act. This was dark and naughty, yet loving and the most intimate of acts. I was allowing these two men to claim me, to take me together. While they were the ones in charge, I was the one with all the power. I was the one who united us, in body and soul.

And so when Parker’s cock was seated completely, I could do nothing but relinquish all control. I was theirs, pinned between them, filled with their cocks. Impaled, stuffed. Taken. There were so many words, so many emotions for how I felt to say aloud, so I just put my head on Sully’s shoulder and breathed.

As Parker began to slowly retreat, Sully nudged his hips, driving him a touch deeper. When he pulled back, Parker filled me. They worked in tandem, opposing forces at work to drive me to the brink and then over.

It wasn’t hard to do. I’d been primed by their punishment—Parker’s belly smacked against my tender bottom as he took my ass. There was no forgetting their dominance in all things. I was sensitive and eager, my orgasm right there, so brilliant and bright, so dark and greedy.

I wanted it. I needed it. I needed everything my men gave me.

“Take it,” Sully said, as if he could sense how close I was.

“Yes!” I gasped.

“You’re ours, Mary.” Parker’s voice was a rough, guttural sound.

“Yes!” I repeated.

Yes, yes, yes.

I needed to be filled, claimed, fucked. I needed to be pinned between the two of them, for that was where I belonged.

“Can I come?” I asked. I wanted their permission, wanted to give them everything. My control was all that I had left and once they gave their affirmations, it was gone. I handed it to them like my body, my pussy, my ass, my heart.

“Now, sweetheart. Come now and I’m going to fill you up.”

“Yes. Come and squeeze our cocks. Milk the seed, take it deep.”

The waves of pleasure and need were too great. I succumbed in one tense, bright burst of light. My body tensed, my scream trapped in my throat. All I could do was clench and squeeze, hold my men deep inside me, to work the seed from their body in the most elemental of ways.

Sully’s grip tightened on my thighs and with one last thrust, he groaned. Hot seed pummeled my insides, spurt after thick spurt. Parker immediately followed, that grip on my shoulder tightening and his cock pulsing deep inside me.

Their seed coated me. Marked me. Made me theirs. There was nothing left between us. No barriers. No walls. No dastardly plan.

We were free.

I whimpered when Parker pulled out, sighed when Sully slid free, but snuggled into them as they moved on either side of me. I was still between them, still had their hands on me. Nothing would separate us. I had physical reminders of this—a stinging bottom, surely some bruises forming on my hips, seed slipping from me, but I didn’t even need any of it, for I had their hearts and they had mine.