“Bronwyn,” she repeats, with far less conviction than before.
“No Bronwyn. There’s only me here, and I’m taking all of you.” I clamp my hands back on her hips and drag her lower. “Come here.”
“Please.” She puts her hands on mine, not to push me away. To beg me. “I have to help her.”
“Fuck. Your. Sister.” My breath heaves as I force her down to my mouth. “She’ll still be there when I’m done with you.”
She freezes for a beat, weighing her options, as if she has any. As if she doesn’t already belong to me.
Then she squeezes my hands, and I know.
She’s run out of excuses.
“So wrong.” The moment she gives in is beautiful. Tension leaves her body. Her pussy lands on my mask and my tongue. “Oh, fuck. So wrong.”
Her scent engulfs me, more intoxicating up close. The weight of her on my face, her trembling thighs, it turns me right the fuck on.
But she isn’t here to sit.
Where my inexperienced fingers failed, my lips, tongue, and the ridges of my mask won’t. I want to try, want to give her that friction. To touch every inch of her at once. I’ll make her come for me if it’s the last thing I do.
My primal instincts tell me what to do, my eyes studying Skylar as I rock her body on top of me.
Even if there’s no rhyme or reason to this face-fucking, I’m getting it fucking right. Her lips part in a silent scream, more wetness dripping onto me.
More precum wets my boxers at that. Nothing feels better than taking what’s always been mine.
“Who”—gasp—“are you?”
She’s so sweet. The way she keeps asking questions. The way she talks between one labored breath and another.
Like she’s trying not to think about my tongue flicking and swirling over her pussy. Like riding my mask doesn’t send shivers through her.
Like she isn’t soaking my mouth and clutching onto my hands for dear life.
I pull her off me to tell her, “I’m the man who’ll make you come,” before yanking her back to where she belongs.
I help her fuck my mask faster. Harder. Faster.
Muffled thuds and cries drift up from below.
They’re hurting Easton and Bronwyn.
Skylar would’ve heard it too, would’ve demanded that I stop.
If she wasn’t coming apart all over my mask.
This has to be it, what’s happening to her. Her clenching thighs, the juices that fill my mouth, making a mess of my mask.
Skylar scratches my hands, whispering, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.”
She has no control over her body, leaning her weight on top of me.
Flushed cheeks. The hint of her stomach, that soft skin. I want more of that.
I keep licking her, my cock thickening with each one of her spasms.
I—
