I brace one arm against the back of the couch and angle my hips, then thrust once, sinking deeper.
“Fuck,” she groans, a desperate edge to the drawn-out word. “Yes, Daddy. Just like that.”
“You want to come on your Daddy’s cock, mon ange?” Tytus growls. “You need me to tell Daddy to fuck you harder? To tug on your nipples, clamp down on your neck, and slap that swollen, needy clit until you explode on his lap?”
Sawyer nods frantically, and I don’t bother waiting for further instruction. I take his dirty talk at face value and cup her breasts, massaging and kneading and pinching her nipples.
Leaning forward, I suck on her neck, latching on to the skin stretched over her collarbone and suckling in time with the sharp tugs on her piercings.
When I lower one hand and swat at her clit, Sawyer cries out.
“Fuck. Yes.Again. Please, Daddy. Please make me come.”
“Do it, Noah,” Tytus demands. “Fuck that orgasm right out of her, Daddy.”
His words tip me over the edge this whole setup has had me teetering on. Toe-curling heat and tingling pleasure radiate through my limbs. I’m coming, fuck. I’m coming so hard, and Sawyer’s going wild, writhing in my lap as she rides me reverse cowgirl style. I work to keep my thrusts steady and focus on her clit, intent on driving her higher. But she doesn’t stop moving and I can’t stop thrusting, and eventually we lose all momentum and rhythm.
Then we’re a mess of limbs and pleasure, each of our orgasms drawn out by the other person’s pulsating, carnal reaction. Mybody thrums with aftershocks as Sawyer falls back, a puddle of sated bliss in my arms.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she whispers, turning her head to kiss me.
I greedily glide my mouth against hers, then grip her chin and kiss her harder. When we pull apart, panting, I tip my chin toward the others. “Don’t just thank me, honey. I wasn’t the one calling the shots.”
She smiles, and I return her grin.
With a little swat on the ass, I tell her, “Go on, then. Show them what a grateful good girl you are after Daddy fucked you so well.”
Chapter forty-three
Sawyer
I’m a mess, covered in a sheen of sweat, my body tingling as I come down from my second orgasm. My hair is sticking to my face and all my limbs are warm and loose. I could sit here in Noah’s arms for hours, but he isn’t the only one I’m eager to connect with.
Across the room, Mercer and Tytus sit side by side. They’re illuminated by the red and orange glow of the dying fire at their backs, both looking regal, sitting up straight, their gazes hungry and fixed on me.
I lick my lips, shifting forward so I can make my way over to them next.
Mercer grins, crooking two fingers and giving me the come-hither motion.
“Get on your knees and fucking crawl,” Ty commands before I’ve even moved, his tone sharp and his eyes blazing.
A shiver runs up my spine.
I’ve never been more eager to please.
I sink to my knees, completely naked and leaking fluids with every movement. Slowly, with an exaggerated swing to my hips, I crawl across the room until I’m presenting on hands and knees in front of Ty.
“Untie me,” he demands.
Quickly, Mercer works on one arm, and I undo the other.
“Tell her to stand up slowly, using your chair for balance,” Mercer says. “She’s dripping all over Noah’s original hardwood floors. We can’t have that now, can we, Little Nuisance?”
Sparks crackle in my chest, my anticipation mounting with each second, my desire so consuming that being on hands and knees on this hard surface isn’t the least bit painful.
“You heard him,” Ty goads, holding out both hands. “Get up, mon ange. Let’s see what the professor has in mind for cleaning you up.”
On shaky legs, I rise, and he follows the movement, his pupils blown out and his lips parted.
