“Okay, enough moping,” I say lightly. “What’s up with you?” Rhys sighs heavily, his mouth downturned. The scar at the corner is barely visible now, except when he frowns like that. Leaning down, my hair brushes his jaw as I try another tactic. “Talk to me,” I breathe by his ear, lips trailing his cheek, “I might be able to help.”
Rhys swallows, his blue eyes shifting to meet mine as I lean over him. As his mouth opens, his hips roll slightly, the roughness of his zipper pressing into my center.
“I haven’t had sex in a week,” he says with such misery, I swear he could produce a tear if he had the will. I blink a few times, momentarily struck dumbfounded.
“That’s what this is? Male suffering?” I reply, pushing myself to sit upright. Inadvertently rubbing against his crotch, Rhys briefly closes his eyes.
“I’m all pent-up and whiney.”
“I’ve been on my period,” I shoot back in disbelief. Rhys’ eyes fly open, swirling with puppy dog pity.
“My balls are aching.”
Clay chokes on a laugh, turning it into a cough that he hides behind his hand. I stare down at Rhys, then tip my head back and groan dramatically.
“Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.”
“Blue balls is a real medical condition,” Rhys replies glumly. “You have no idea what it’s like to look at you everyday, desperate to squeeze you, fuck you, eat you.”
“Eat me?” I raise a brow. “Is that why you keep nibbling on my toes?” Lifting his hands and planting them on my waist, Rhys squeezes with barely withheld restraint.
“I just need to be in you or on you at all times. I’m ravenous.”
“Maybe you should give the pampered prince what he needs,” Clay interjects, a glint in his onyx eyes. He lifts his brows and subtly nods toward the floor. A slow smile curves my mouthas I slide off Rhys’ lap, sinking down until my knees meet the plush rug. His body goes still, the breath sawing out of his parted lips. My fingers trail over his abdomen, tracing patterns into him, coaxing him out of his mood and back into the room.
“Well,” I say sweetly, looking up at him through my lashes, “it would be rude to ignore a medical emergency.” Clay’s chuckle is low and approving. Rhys finally glances down at me, something dark swirling within his eyes. The lust he calls upon is instant, his cock jolting behind his jeans. I don’t rush my exploration of his abdomen, making sure he is fully out of his stupor before I reach for his waistband.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Rhys allows me to unbutton his jeans and slide them down his thighs, taking his boxers along for the ride. His dick bobs free, springing upright before my face. I lick my lips suggestively, helping to free his legs from the restrictive material.
“Just relax, baby. We’ve got you,” I smile seductively. Rhys finally cracks a smirk at this. Spreading his thighs wide, he reclines back on the sofa without a care for the daylight streaming through the open curtains or Clayton’s presence beside him. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before at this point. I take a moment to devour him with my eyes, at ease and carefree in our company, as he should be.
Starting with his shins, I slowly scrape my nails up his legs, across his thighs and dodge his dick at the last moment. Rhys’ hiss gives me a sense of satisfaction, so I do it again. And again. Each time I near his cock, it jolts in response, but I’m careful not to touch it, yet. Rhys doesn't rush or direct me, remaining as still as he can beneath my touch. He’s learnt well.
Clay eyes are locked on me, his mouth curled up at my wickedness. The power I have over them makes me heady at times, visions of tying both of them down and edging him for all eternity flashing to life in my mind.
Suddenly, a hand yanks at my hair, tugging me to sit back on my heels. I hadn’t even seen him move, too caught up in my fantasies for another time, but apparently Clay’s bro-code has kicked in with full force. Reliving Rhys of the teasing, Clay drags my t-shirt over my head and unclasps my bra beneath Rhys’ heated gaze. Once I’m exposed from the waist up, he gathers my hair and holds it in one hand, easing me forward to Rhys’ now throbbing cock. The piercing glistens in the stream of daylight, my tongue darting out to wet my lips.
Starting from his balls, as directed, I lick a steady path from the base to the tip. Thank god for male grooming. Aside from the ridges of his Jacob's ladder, Rhys’ shaft is smooth beneath my tongue, his bulbous purple head silky as it glides into my mouth. I’ve practiced enough now not to gag as his piercing grazes the back of my throat, taking him deep and slow.
Rhys’ guttural moans would be enough to spur me on their own, but Clay palming my breast drives my own desire higher. He’s steady in his rhythm, gliding my head up and down over Rhys, rotating between massaging my breast and dragging his knuckles over my nipple. My core clenches, my hips grinding in time with Rhys’.
Just as we start to find an even rhythm, Clay’s grip on my hair pulls back and I release Rhys with a pop. Rhys curses, his eyes flaring at Clay with frustration. I palm Rhys’ poor blue balls as Clayton moves away, the sound of wood scraping against wood following. Dragging the coffee table closer, I’m forced out of the way as the table is placed against Rhys’ shins.
Then, his large hands reach for me and pull me to my feet on the other side of the table. I don’t have the chance to speak, my hips spun to face Rhys as Clay’s hands smooth down my sides. With tender care, he strips me of my leggings and underwear, carefully planting my feet back on the floor. All the while, I hold Rhys’ stare, like a present being unwrapped for him. Using hisknee, Clay nudges my legs apart, and with a gentle hand on my upper back, he lowers me over the table.
Kneeling on the wood, I crawl forward until my breath blows over Rhys’ cock again. The hand on my back pushes me lower until my lips part, taking Rhys into my mouth. His groan is guttural, his hips jolting to edge his shaft further down my throat. Behind me, where my ass is now lifted high into the air, Clay’s tongue runs along the length of me from front to back, and I release Rhys on a gasp.
“You stop, I stop,” Clay demands, his breath fanning across my clit. Locking eyes with Rhys, I lower and suck, tongue and tease, as Clay’s tongue spears inside of me. Moaning with a cock down my throat isn’t easy, but fuck, it’s hot as hell.
Clasping my thighs to lock me in place, Clay uses my exposed position to his full advantage. His stubble rubs my clit, his tongue feasting on me. He sucks and bites at my inner thighs, no doubt leaving a trail of hickeys across my pussy. I don’t care what he’s doing back there, as long as he doesn’t stop. The salty taste of Rhys’ precum spreads across my tongue, his face strained as he fights to stay in place.
“Touch me,” I plead, done with this game. Rhys responds by plunging his fingers into my hair. I can’t fight my smile, my teeth accidentally grazing his piercings but he moans loudly. His hands travel, gripping the sides of my head to set the tempo for me to follow. Dragging my head down, his hips buck to meet me halfway, the rounded head of him soothing in and out of my throat.
An insatiable hunger builds within me, and in this moment, I’d do anything either of them asked. I want them everywhere, their hands on me, their dicks in me. My hooded eyes lower, the pleasure building in my core tainting my fantasies to follow. Sounds escape my throat, some of them in my control and others not. My hips grind shamelessly against Clay’s face. Fingers slipinside of me, lazily drawing in and out before switching to rubbing my clit and back again, spreading my wetness all over myself.
“Hey Clayton,” Rhys says, speaking directly over me. “Did you know our girl has a fantasy of taking us both in her tight pussy at the same time?”
“Is that so?” Clay chuckles, the vibration of it rolling from his lips and into where he’s kissing my inner thighs. “In that case…” The fingers slipping inside of me double in size, more digits working me into a frenzy. Every time Clay drags his fingers back, I groan a prolonged rumble around Rhys’ cock. I forget to move, simply holding over Rhys, allowing these men to fuck me in their own ways. Clay works through my wetness, stretching and pulling. Preparing me for what’s to come. In the immediate future, that would be me.
