by Jade West
He didn’t. Neither of them did.
“You can keep the ice cream duties for yourself once you finally manage to snare a decent chef,” Thomas said when he was halfway through.
“I can?”
It was Brett who nodded his agreement. “Very nice.”
It was preposterous. A couple of scoops of ice cream and a dusting of stupid sprinkles. Just something from a kid’s party no matter what kind of mid-afternoon adult treat spin I wanted to put on it.
If only it were the only mid-afternoon treat I had in mind.
I looked at the clock on the far wall. Approaching four p.m., which left a few quiet hours before guests returned and made themselves ready for the bar after dinner. It left a few hours I wanted to fill, and parts of me I wanted to fill with them.
I really was officially crazy, thrumming with desire for something I shouldn’t want in a million years, especially not with a man we’d despised in those early days, and who Brett still thought was a blast from the past come back to tear us down.
Still, I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop.
Getting to my feet was dithery, my sundae spoon clanking against the glass as I gathered up the other empty bowls and retreated to the kitchen to put them ready for the dishwasher.
It was when I pushed back through the kitchen door that I found them shoulder to shoulder in silence, both of them with eyes on mine as I pulled myself up sharp.
We couldn’t.
Shouldn’t.
My ass was still sore as I clenched it, but my pussy was fluttering through the ache, begging for more.
I really was a slut this week.
“It’s afternoon…” I began, risking speaking empty thoughts to nothing if they weren’t on my wavelength.
My mind may have been dubious, but my flesh was reading the broadsheet. I knew they were with me, down deep where it mattered.
My feet took an instinctive step backward as my husband made his move. “The reception door buzzes our suite,” he said. “It’s our most sensible venue.”
Most sensible, but most dirty, having Thomas Heath in our own private space. I nodded regardless.
“You mean now? Right now?”
“We ate your ice cream,” Thomas rasped, taking a step forward of his own. “I’m with your husband, I think it’s about time your pretty mouth returned the gesture.”
With your husband.
It was the only hint of camaraderie I’d ever heard uttered between the two of them, and it was more than enough to keep me moving, keep me retreating to my usual space.
I just hoped we wouldn’t regret opening our personal doors to someone so determined to break them down.
Our living room was more of a mess than I’d have liked. Clothes draped over the sofa as I retreated through to the bedroom. Luckily, Thomas Heath didn’t seem to mind my untidiness, his gaze all on me as he followed me through.
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken him through to our most intimate area. Maybe the living room itself would have done. But as I crossed the threshold into our deepest private territory, I knew it was a good call.
It sizzled here.
Burned here.
His presence felt dirty and bursting with life in here.
I was shivering all over as I dropped to my knees on the mattress and both men stepped up to join me.
And my mouth was already open wide for cream number two when they dropped their pants.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Thomas
This was ludicrous.
The Fosters’ bedroom should have been a tomb of everything I hated, but instead what I found in there was an intimacy I’d been shielding myself from my whole fucking life.
Their bedsheets were still crumpled from their sleep, bunched under Grace’s ass as she stared up at us with eyes starving for cock. Just as well she had two to greet her.
Brett’s was out before mine, but only by a heartbeat. It was thick in his hand as he presented it to his wife’s open mouth, and mine followed soon after, slapping against her cheek as she sucked him in.
We alternated, feeding her deep as she retched up her ice cream, and it was addictive. She was addictive.
I took her hair in a rough grip, loving the way she mewled at the roughness against her scalp, but instead of forcing her onto my pulsing cock, it was his I guided her to.
“Take it,” I grunted. “Take it like a good girl. Show us how much you fucking want it.”
She fucking wanted it. Her eyes were wide and needy, flitting between us as she struggled to swallow him down. I couldn’t hold back the smirk as her dainty little fingers dipped between her legs, brushing her clit through the denim of her jeans as she wriggled on that tight little butt of hers.
I was going to fuck her hard. So fucking hard. Knowing full well how her ass would protest after the pounding she’d taken just hours earlier. But I didn’t care, and neither would she, not when we’d worked her up to desperation, coaxing that screaming little whore right out from inside her and driving her wild.
I’d never felt the need for another man at my side, not by any stretch of my twisted imagination. The potential of Brett fucking Foster adding something positive to my performance would have brought me out in boils just a few days earlier, but then and there it made sense.
He made fucking sense.
His competitive drive, just like mine. His reluctance to give in to his own weakness, no matter what the cost.
The only difference between us was her. More specifically, everything she represented to assholes like us who needed to rule the world.
Love and life. Warm arms. Loyalty.
Trust.
Something greater than we were. Something worth more than all the triumphant battles we’d forced our way into over the years combined.
“Your wife is a dirty little bitch,” I commented, and he smirked right back at me, taking the compliment in the way it was intended.
“My wife is greedy for two dicks in her,” he said, and she whimpered around his meat.
“Screw your pretty honeycomb sundae,” I told her with a smile. “We’re going to fill your belly with something much better.”
It was Brett who took her chin in his grip and angled her off him. I shifted my stance alongside him as he guided her flapping mouth onto my dick instead.
“Show our fucking guest how fucking welcoming our resort is, Grace,” he grunted, and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck tight enough to shunt her deep. Her throat spasmed around the head of my cock, her wet lips tight to my balls as she spluttered on me.
Her eyes were brimming as she stared up, her fingers a needy flurry between her legs as she rubbed herself.
“Your husband is going to fuck that sore little ass hard enough to make you cry,” I snarled, and his palm worked his dick that little bit harder. “But not until you’ve swallowed us both down like the desperate bitch we know you are.”
She sucked in breath as we freed her from my cock, spit dribbling down her chin as she nodded her pretty head.
“Open wide,” Brett grunted, and she did, stretching those lips like a beautiful slut and pushing her tongue out all the way. His dick slapped it, hard. Bouncing and thrusting, bouncing and thrusting. He’d learned that from me, but this time the recognition didn’t fire me up with spite.
I wasn’t expecting him to shoot me a look bordering on conspiracy.
“Think that dirty little mouth can take two?”
It should have shrivelled my dick to nothing, but my balls tightened so hard I thought they’d burst.
“At a stretch,” I said, and stuck my fingers in her mouth, tugging her cheek out to the side until she grunted. He followed my moves, taking her lips at the other side and pulling until she was a filthy open hole for a mouth, gummy and disfigured, beautifully grotesque as she fumbled with the zipper on her jeans.
I gritted my teeth as we moved together, blanking my mind out from all reservations as I pushed my cock in that wide ope
n mouth alongside his. She could barely take it, eyes flaring as we shunted in. His dick was a throbbing piece of meat next to mine, but it didn’t matter. Her lashing tongue was all that mattered, struggling for room as she gagged and slavered around us.
“Look at your wife,” I grunted. “How fucking pretty.”
“The prettiest,” he said.
It was the messiest fucking blowjob I’d ever encountered. Brutal in its throes, but bizarrely fulfilling. I loved the ridges of dick straining out through her hamster cheeks, the wildness in her eyes as she fought for breath through flaring nostrils.
I’d never have pictured her like this back at high school, not in my craziest dreams, but then again I’d never have pictured any of this.
The surprise was all welcome, my hips thrusting to claim more of her, right along with his.
Dirty little Grace Foster was a delightful vessel for our pleasure seeking. Possibly too delightful. My excitement didn’t adhere to my bidding, spiking through me so much quicker than I’d grown used to. But that didn’t matter a shit, either. He was right there alongside me, losing his cool at a similar pace, eyes closed as he tried to fight it, his dick twitching the full length next to mine.
“Fill her up,” I grunted. “Let’s give her a fresh round of dessert before we tear her open.”
He didn’t need asking twice. His jerks in her mouth said everything and were enough to send me over the edge right alongside him. That sweet dirty mouth took it all without protest, throat bobbing as she struggled to swallow.
She failed.
Thick streamers of cum spewed up as we pulled out of her, splattering her face and chin before she had the barest chance to get herself under control.
Her fingers were in her knickers, twiddling hard, her tongue working to lick up her spilt cream as we stared down at her with twitching cocks in hand.
It was my thumb that gathered up the thick slimy cum trails and pushed them into her mouth.
“Swallow,” I said, and she did, showing her empty mouth when she’d smacked her lips.
The girl had watched a lot of porn in her time, that was certain.
“We don’t have all night,” Brett grunted and pushed her onto her back. “Guests will be heading in for drinks soon enough. You’re gonna have to fucking take it.”
Her nod was nervous, but it came. Her hands did little to help as he tugged her jeans off from the ankles and tugged her knickers down her thighs with them. I took up position at her other end, freeing her shoulders from her neat blouse and pulling it free. Her cami was easy, up and over her head, her lacy bra along with it. She was naked in a breath, squirming out of her sodden knickers herself and kicking them off onto the carpet.
I loved seeing her like this, naked against our fully dressed composure. I pre-empted Brett’s movements and he did the same with mine, working as a passable duo to spread her legs wide open and wrench them high.
Her clit was already dabbling in a pool of its own excitement, her battered cunt clenching her slit into pretty pouty lips that demanded slamming hard. She cried out when I dipped in two fingers, but Brett held her firm.
“Take it,” he grunted. “Let him use that slut of a pussy, Grace.”
She’d settled in position by the time he retreated from the bed. I barely had the chance to stare after him when he dropped down onto the carpet and pulled their bottom drawer open. I laughed low when I caught sight of the collection in there. Toys on toys. So many it was like a fucking toy shop.
He pulled out an impressive looking vibrator and a chunky dildo to match. I admired his logic, taking the dildo from him with a firm hand and pressing its swollen plastic head tight to her fluttering slit.
I waited until he pressed the vibrator to her clit, her legs thrashing for a moment while he got a grip of her. He held her tight, firm in his arms, countering her wriggling with a strength that suited him.
And then I fucked her. Rammed that plastic fucking dick all the way home inside that slurping wet pussy, and watched her roll with the motions.
She wailed, bucking all the while she adjusted to the stretch, but her clit did its dirty little job and set her alight, her whimpers all hungry as I worked up into a rhythm.
It was when he gripped her harder still, his eyes burning with the undeniable flame of domination, that I realised he’d come to the same conclusions about his sweet wife as I had.
He knew her submissive tendencies with the same certainty I’d come to know them, his hard grip every bit as calculated as he spread her wide for me to fuck her rough.
“Take it,” he growled. “Fucking take it, Grace.”
She did take it. She took it with whimpers but no protests, not even when he spat on his fingers and reached them round to her battered asshole.
I would have tipped my hat to him if I’d been wearing one, irrevocably impressed by the determination with which he squirmed those digits deep in that raw little hole.
“You’re gonna take us both,” he hissed to her. “Hard. Fucking hard, Grace, do you understand me?”
He’d seen it in her, just as I’d seen it, slumbering meekly behind the shy smile she’d been wearing a lifetime. And now she was unlocked.
She trembled as she yielded to his will, nodding her head as she let her body move in tune with ours. This sandwich of male flesh would be so much more than the last, I could feel it, we could feel us, all of us simmering to the same fucking tune as we rocked and rumbled, and ploughed her sore little holes open anew.
She’d take us both, and when it strained enough to bring tears to her eyes, she’d be begging for more of the same.
I knew it.
He knew it.
And his pretty wife knew it as she gazed up at us with those shimmering whore eyes of hers.
She came like a banshee with that thick fat plug in her cunt and Brett’s fingers in her ass. She squealed loud enough that he clamped her mouth closed with his palm, stifling every whimper as her body thrashed like a fish under ours.
And then she squirted.
The little whore fucking squirted all over my hand when I pulled that dong out of her.
She bucked like a bronco, the ripples racing through her as her gaze flicked between us, and I laughed, I couldn’t help myself.
The woman had no idea what was happening to her. Nothing that really made sense in that cute little brain of hers.
“Is that–” she began, and my laughter picked up a notch.
“No,” I said. “It’s not piss.”
Her relief was palpable, her giggle rippling through her as she shook her head.
But she wasn’t giggling for long.
The stare that passed between Brett Foster and I was counter to every other we’d ever shared. A nod was all it took, from him to me and mirrored back, and I could read him, just the way that he could read me.
And then we grabbed her.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Grace
I had no idea what was happening with my body. Wetness, shivers of excitement bordering on convulsions, my chin sticky with cum and drool, even now after swallowing most of it down like a dirty bitch.
This shouldn’t be me. I shouldn’t be this woman.
But I was.
And I loved her. Just like they did.
I could see it in them. Both of them. Lust and want and something else. Love from Brett, blazing right through his features, but from Thomas something more than desire. Care. Pride. Affection, even. Stuff that made my heart shudder.
I was too fucked to protest when two sets of strong arms grabbed me up and tossed me like a doll between them. This was new, this shared thing they had going on. An unspoken camaraderie which suited them much better than the festering simmer of competition.
I could get used to this, I thought, managing a grin as Thomas raised me high enough to wrap my bandy legs around his waist. That changed in a beat when I slammed down on the cock he’d positioned just right for my still-pulsing pussy.
No,
I’d never get used to this. Not in a million years.
I was still burning up, squirming against the sensation as I bucked for more, my arms wrapped so tightly around the neck of this man who’d flipped our world on its head that I’d have sworn I’d never be able to let him go.
And then there was Brett, the man I loved more than the whole universe, pressing tight behind me, breathing into my ear as he pressed his cock to my poor clenching ass.
“Fuck,” I whimpered. “Oh, fuck.”
I knew it was coming, throwing my head back onto his shoulder as he pushed his way inside.
It hurt. Fuck, how it hurt. But I couldn’t stop, didn’t want it to stop, craving it more than reason as my heart pounded loud in my ears.
There was nothing like it. Nothing in all the years that could have prepared me for this. Caged between two firm grunting bodies, limp as they pounded me with long, deep thrusts.
Two at once.
I was taking two big dicks at once, without the stability of anything other than the two of them suspending me between them.
I barely knew who I was kissing, one of them, then the other, all my focus on how it felt to be stretched so wide, filled to bursting. Brett’s hot mouth was on my neck as Thomas plunged his tongue deep into my mouth, and I loved it, loved both of them.
This wasn’t a game for me, not anymore. This wasn’t a passing fantasy in the night with my hand down my knickers. This was real. All-consuming in my desire to please them both.
“That’s a good little slut,” Thomas breathed, and my heart bloomed.
“Fucking take it,” Brett snarled, and I did. I took everything they had.
My eyes were springing with tears from the strain, my lungs ragged as I fought the urge to wail out loud, but I was moving with them all the same, sweating cold and hot, mashed against rippling muscle both in front and behind.
“Come for me, please,” I cried. “Please come for me.”