Elliot stroked once, slow and gentle, and Peter lifted his head with a curse. Elliot smiled and leaned over him, even as he watched Merritt.
“Fuck her,” he ordered, all a man in control again.
She bucked as Peter sucked her clitoris hard one more time, drawing her right to the edge of release. Then he lifted his head and whispered, “Oh, with great pleasure.”
* * *
Elliot
The clench of Peter’s body around Elliot’s cock was almost enough to unman him and he was only on the first of many strokes. He drew in a long breath, trying to control himself. An almost impossible task considering the scene before him.
Elliot lifted his head from Merritt’s pussy and set a hand on either side of her head. He shifted, bringing Elliot with him, rubbing his cock against her entrance as she writhed.
She was so close to the edge. It would take nothing to bring her over. Elliot loved to watch it, loved to see her nipples pucker and skin flush with pleasure, loved to see her lift her hips in offering as Peter took her.
And now they were all bound in a different way. Their pleasure linked. Together he and Peter began to move, their hips flexing in time. He fucked Peter, Peter fucked Merritt, she stroked her fingers over her clitoris as she lifted and moaned as she stared at the two of them.
When he sped up, Peter followed suit. When he ground his hips, Peter’s harsh cries and the flex of his hips was the reward. For a moment Elliot felt the rush of this wonderful thing. Watching Peter fuck his wife, all while he controlled Peter’s movements like a puppet master, was so arousing he once again fought not to spend.
And yet that was exactly what all of them were racing toward. Merritt had already begun to shake, her thighs trembling as she gripped them tighter around Peter’s hips. Peter was sawing back and forth, tugging Elliot’s aching cock with every forward thrust into Merritt’s slick body.
Pleasure mounted, all new and yet the same. Elliot shut his eyes and fell into the warmth of it, drowning in sensation as Peter clenched at him, as he pushed through the tightness and heat, as he heard Merritt shout as she came.
The pleasure overtook him as he opened his eyes to watch her writhe on the coverlet, her expression twisted with sensation. Watching her come had always pushed him over the edge. Combined with the feel of Peter around him, it was too much. He gripped the other man’s hips and pounded all the harder. Peter met him stroke for stroke, and then together they barked out release. Peter withdrew from Merritt and came, Elliot let himself pump inside Peter. And they all collapsed in a pile or arms and legs, sweat and come, passion and relief at last.
He leaned in, his tongue finding both of theirs at once, tasting their combined flavors as he slowly withdrew from Peter and they shifted into a curled mass of limbs and bodies.
For years Elliot had secretly fantasized about an experience like this. And now that he’d had it, he realized he hadn’t even been close to the kind of pleasure he’d just felt. A pleasure bound by emotion, by connection…a pleasure he worried would soon be lost because their week was more than halfway over.
And then he had no idea what would happen.
CHAPTER11
Peter
Another morning broke, soft light from the curtains they had left open the night before hitting Peter’s face and forcing him from exhausted, sated slumber. He opened one eye and looked around him. Merritt was no longer in the bed, but Elliot was there, his dark head resting against Peter’s stomach, the marquess’s arm tucked around Peter’s hip.
Peter smiled and reached down to thread his fingers through the thick mass of Elliot’s hair. As a response, Elliot grunted and cuddled a bit closer.
“That’s nice,” he murmured without opening his eyes.
“I agree,” Peter said, and sucked in a breath as Elliot turned his mouth against his stomach and kissed him there gently. “You are too good at that,” he said, a little more raggedly as Elliot’s fingers began to stroke against his hip.
“Too good at what?” Elliot asked, his voice muffled as he kissed Peter’s skin again, his breath hot.
“Finding every little spot for pleasure and then tormenting a person with them,” Peter said, tugging Elliot’s hair to tilt his face up. The marquess stared up at him, dark eyes dilated with desire. “I see you do it with Merry, too. Always finding the way to please everyone around you.”
“Only those I…” Elliot’s brow wrinkled and he cut himself off. “What is your point, Peter. Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” Peter said. “Not at all. I just wonder if you ever truly let anyone else in far enough to do the same for you.”
There was a moment when Peter knew his question hit Elliot in the chest. He saw the flare of panic in the other man’s eyes, swiftly followed by anger. Elliot sat up, pulling from Peter’s arms, breaking the lazy, sensual pleasure of the morning.
“What do you care?” he asked sharply.
Peter examined him, seeing the walls come up between them. The ones that hadn’t actually ever been fully knocked down. Elliot gave his body, yes. Or more to the point, gave everything so that Peter and Merry were satisfied. But when it came to who he was, what he felt, Peter wasn’t certain either of them had really ever known that. He felt Merry’s frustration about that fact from time to time. Felt her lean toward her husband with an edge of desperation.
And he understood it so much more now.
