I didn’t know who he was talking to until Poe released my tit from his mouth.
“Yes, please,” Poe grunted.
Remy wrapped his right hand around Poe’s dick and stroked while he moved inside my ass.
Poe closed his eyes. “Ah, fuck…”
He captured my tit in his mouth and went back to sucking, moving his hips as Remy, still tunneling into my ass, stroked his dick.
It was hot, hot enough to bring my orgasm closer to the surface, and I didn’t recognize the guttural moans that emerged from my mouth.
Bram’s gaze burned into mine as he grabbed my hips to thrust up into me again and again. “I fucking love you, Maeve. Forever.”
“I… love you… too,” I gasped. “All of you. I love you.”
Poe nipped at my tit with his teeth. “Come for us, little bird. Come for us so Bram and Remy can spill everything into you.”
His words sent me over the edge. I screamed as the release washed over and through me, my body shuddering, my pussy clamping down on Bram’s dick, my asshole tightening around Remy.
They groaned in unison and I knew they were coming too, felt Poe’s hot semen spray onto my bare hip as he came in Remy’s hand.
They swore and called me a good girl, told me they loved me as I begged them not to stop, said they loved making me come, that I was made for them and only them, until we collapsed in a heap of sweat and flesh, gasping for breath, our limbs entangled.
“If I’d known you gave such a good hand job I would have asked for one a long time ago,” Poe finally said to Remy.
I laughed and snuggled against Bram’s chest as Poe spooned me from behind.
“You owe me one,” Remy told Poe from Bram’s other side.
Bram kissed the top of my head. “You cold?”
“Not even a little,”’ I said.
Tomorrow we’d be at Apex, surrounded by hate and hoping for a shot at Ethan Todd.
But tonight there was this.
Us.
Tonight there was only love.
42
POE
The convention centerwas more packed than it should have been given the fact that we were at a conference for Neanderthals.
I held tightly to Maeve’s hand, leading her through the crowd as Remy looked at the event guide we’d been handed when we’d signed in (under fake names of course). There were no costumes, but otherwise we might have been at Comic Con or some kind of film festival, a convention for water softeners or time-shares.
That was how normal everyone looked.
The jig was only up when we got closer to the convention stages, the names of upcoming events and presentations displayed on standing signs in front of each hall.
The Myth of the High-Value Woman
How to Work the 80/20 Rule to get B*tches
Telling Them What They Want to Hear: Psychology in a Hostile Dating Landscape
