Buying Her Time (Price of Love 3)

My play is paper. His is rock. I get the first orgasm in my mouth. Now we’re fucking talking.

“If you’re eating her out, I get to use her mouth.” He grins, and I growl but nod. Fair’s fair. “Now who’s worried she’s going to tell him to walk it off?”

I put my fist on the table again. “Not so fast. Next round is for fucking her. 3-2-1.”

“No.” He puts his own fist down. “If you get first round of her pussy on your face, I fuck her first. Only way this works without one of us killing the other.”

I consider that for a moment, then nod. “Deal. I get first go at her ass.”

His expression darkens but he nods. “Fine.”

I hear the bathroom door squeak open and catch sight of her coming back to us, across the restaurant. The sight of her makes me fucking crazy, a primal rush through every fucking fiber of my being to take her, own her, possess her, keep her.

“Bonus round,” I toss out, keeping my voice low. “Just for the first taste. No orgasm, just a lick. 3-2-1.”

“Fuck you.”

“Do it or I’ll tell her about that time I found you passed out face down on the front lawn, dressed in a pink nightgown the night you turned eighteen. Your teammates sure helped you understand how to ring in adulthood.”

“Dickhead,” he growls. “Fine.”

“3-2-1,” I say again.

Our hands hit the table at the same time. Two clenched fists. Two rocks on either side of her daiquiri.

First taste of that honeycunt is a tie.

Back in the limo, on the way back to the villa, we make her sit between us, both of us manspreading the fuck out of her.

“You guys.”

“Deal with it,” I say, opening the sunroof and closing the partition with the driver.

“But we’ve got a problem, Babe,” Flint says.

I nod in agreement. “We played Rock, Paper, Scissors for the first to taste you.”

Isabel closes her eyes and shakes her head, like she’s just this side of exasperated. But still tickled. “You did what?”

“It was either that or get in a bar brawl. And that place was just a shack so it would’ve been a fucking mess.”

She nods in a sort of tolerant, semi-understanding way, but like she really can’t believe any of this is happening. “And? Who won?”

“Tie,” I explain. We both put a fist on the knee nearest her. “Two rocks.”

“Hard rocks,” Flint adds.

She presses her lips together and squirms a little. It makes her tits jiggle and all I can think about is her nipple between my teeth.

“Sounds about right,” she mutters, but there’s just a hint of a high-pitched squeal at the end of it.

I trace the curve of her belly button through her dress with my eyes. God, she’s going to be a vision when my cum is splattered all over that creamy skin.

“You get to break the tie.”

“Oh, yeah? Now I’m in charge of decisions? Now that you two alpha males have been negotiating over me for a week without telling me about it?”

I like her mad. A lot. “Don’t be mouthy.”

“Better listen to him. Unless you want to be punished.”

Isabel lets out a growl, like she just might be up for a little punishment.

Christ almighty.

“But hush, you two,” she purrs, all smooth and sexy. “I know how to break this tie.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She straightens up in her seat a little and perches her sunglasses on top of her head. She looks up at the console mounted on the roof and types in a few things, finally telling the console, “Play Milkshake by Kelis.”

The bass thumps from the doors. She beams as she cranks up the volume.

“Awwwww, yeah.” She nips her bottom lip, nose crinkled, very self-satisfied, then laughs.

And then she spreads her legs slightly, the outside of her thighs press against the sides of ours and her desire is so fucking hot. With both hands, she slips her two index fingers under the edge of her panties. She wiggles her fingers inside her pussy. And I can smell her now, like a bitch in heat.

Our bitch.

In heat.

For us.

She pulls her slick fingers from her gash, and then wraps her arms around us, offering a wet finger to each of our lips.

“Come and get it, boys,” she says, giggling at first, but then dissolving into moans as we suck her fingers like starving men.

Fuck almighty, it’s not what we imagined, but it is the first taste. It’s a shot of whiskey. It’s a hit of speed. It’s everything.

And it lights a fire inside me that only one thing is going to quench.

CHAPTER 6

Isabel

Back at the villa now and the sun is low, the wind soft. And the guys have asked for a sunset fashion show. Gah.

I’m in one of the bedrooms, which has a view of where they’re sitting poolside, but I’m thickly encased in beautiful greenery and rich colorful flowers, growing in the garden between the house and the pool. So they can’t see me. But I can see them.