I took Milo in my mouth again, moaning around his length as Riot and Cash found their rhythm. One thrusting in as the other pulled out. The sensation was electric, my body full, every nerve alight.
It was so much better than normal anal sex. Twice as intense, with three times as much ecstasy. I could barely handle it, but I rode that line like a tightrope walker.
Riot's hand cracked against my ass, the sting heightening everything. “She’s loving it. Listen to those moans.”
We moved like that for what felt like eternity, sweat slicking our skin, the studio air thick with the scent of sex as they drove into all three of my holes at once. Like I was a pincushion for them to use as they saw fit.
But they weren't satisfied with one position.
Riot pulled out first, his voice rough. “Flip her. I want to see her face when I come.”
They shifted me onto my back on the floor, Cash staying buried in my pussy as he lay beneath, my legs draped over his hips. Riot straddled my chest briefly, but no—Milo took his place at my mouth, kneeling to feed me while Riot realigned at my ass from the side, lifting one leg high.
“There we go,” Riot purred. “Just. Like.That.”
The angle was deeper, Riot’s broad shoulders flexing as he sank back in, his tattoos glistening under the low lights. “That’s my girl—ass clenching so tight.”
Cash thrust up from below, his abs contracting. “Can you feel her pussy fluttering? Jesus…”
“Mmm hmm,” Riot groaned as he began fucking me harder and deeper.
Milo threaded his fingers through my hair, guiding my head. “I won’t last much longer, Rox. Not the way you’re sucking.”
I moaned around his hard length. I was lost in it, the fullness of the three of them, the way they described it all to me.
Another orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking, but they held steady, drawing it out. “Switch,” Riot commanded after, ever the leader.
They put me to my knees, Cash taking my ass now. His thickness a new challenge, stretching me wide.
“Breathe, Roxie,” he said calmly, inching in as Milo slid into my pussy from below. Riot stood by, not touching himself at all, as if a single touch from his hand or my body would cause him to erupt.
My world narrowed to the men claiming me in the studio where they had just finished recording their album. Every shift brought new sensations, their bodies a tangle of muscle and ink. Riot paced, waiting his turn, stroking himself.
“You’re dripping everywhere,” Milo noted with a grin. Sweat matted his hair from the effort. “This is the encore the tour needed.”
“Damn right,” Riot growled. “Now to finish her off proper.”
They moved me back to my knees on the couch. Riot claimed my ass again, his dominating thrusts setting the intense rhythm. Cash positioned under, sliding into my pussy, their cocks grinding together inside me. Milo knelt in front, his cock down my throat, hands gentle but firm.
“Fuck, this is it,” Riot panted, his broad shoulders heaving. “Ready to be filled, Roxie?”
I moaned in anticipation around Milo’s cock. Their bodies synced perfectly, three pistons that moved with pleasure rather than thought, like the flawless track they’d just cut.
Pressure built, coiling in my core. I hummed around Milo, the vibrations making him curse.
Riot's hand fisted my hair from behind. “Come with us, Roxie—now.Now.” He gritted out the last word.
It hit like a wave, my orgasm crashing as they all tensed. Riot buried deep, hot come flooding my ass. Cash groaned, pulsing into my pussy, thick ropes coating my walls. Milo swelled in my mouth, crying out, shooting down my throat and forcing me to gulp every drop.
The moment lasted forever, each of them buried as deep as they could go, cocks shuddering with intense release and fingers gripping me like I was a life preserver. And in that moment, I knew this was what I wanted.
For now, for the short term, and for the long term.
Them. All three of them.
We fell in a heap, breaths ragged, bodies slick and spent. Riot pulled out first, kissing my shoulder possessively. Somewhere beyond the studio walls, the world was winding down. But in here, time lagged behind, stretched thin by the kind of closeness you only get when you’ve lived out of the same buses and green rooms and late-night diner booths.
I memorized them in pieces. The curve of Riot’s grin when he thought he’d won, the steadiness in Cash’s eyes, the way Milo could never stay still even when he tried. As the high faded, the studio felt warmer, our bonds tighter. The tour was over, but this, this was just the beginning.
