The want is a physical thing now. It has taken up all the space in my body.
Sarah repositions me to face the mirror.
I take in Matt and the ravenous expression on his face. Alistair on the other side of the bed, shirt off, his eyes on my face in the glass with the full focused attention he gives to things he is about to destroy. And my own face, too open, too wrecked. My body hungry and wet andreadyto be destroyed.
Alistair catches my eyes in the mirror. He holds them while Sarah's fingers slide between my legs and I feel how soaking I am when she touches me. She keeps her fingers there but doesn't move. Just the pressure of her hand against me is so good. I keep my eyes on Alistair's face in the mirror and he keeps his on mine.
“Look at yourself,” Sarah murmurs, watching the mirror too. “Look how beautiful you are. Look at what you're doing to all of us.”
She presses the heel of her hand against me and holds it there, no movement, just the weight of it, and I want to be fucked so badly that I could actually cry.
“Please,” I say.
“Not yet,” Sarah says. “We're just getting started.”
CHAPTER 35
Beautiful Wet Pussy
ALISTAIR
Hearing Ivy saypleaselike that gets my cock ready to rampage.
She’s on her back now, her hair splayed out on the dark pillow. I put my hand on her stomach and feel her muscles contract hard under my palm, then lower my lips to her throat and feel her pulse hammering. She whimpers and her hands tangle in my hair. I work down her body, finding her gorgeous fucking tits and I take one nipple into my mouth and work it with my tongue, and she arches and pulls me closer. By the time I move further down she is making continuous low sounds and her hips are moving.
Sarah takes me in her slippery hand. I’m rock hard and her grip is warm and firm and deliberate. I stop with my face against Ivy's stomach and breathe through it. Three seconds. Then I lift my head and keep going.
I get between Ivy's legs. God, I love this woman’s pussy.
She is already soaking. I run my fingers through her and feel exactly how wet she is and the sound that comes from her when I touch her goes straight to the base of my spine. I take my time tracing her, pressing lightly, watching her face while her hips try to push up toward my hand.
I watch her face as I press two fingers into her as slowly as I can bear.
She gasps and I feel how tight she is around my fingers, how warm, and I curl them up and forward and feel for the spot and when I find it she goes rigid, both hands pulling at the sheets.
I caress her G-spot in a slow steady rhythm. She moans and starts grinding against my hand, her body asking for more, and Sarah's mouth closes around me.
The heat of it is immediate. Sarah's tongue working slow and deliberate and I go still with my jaw locked and my forehead against Ivy's thigh and I breathe, just breathe, while Sarah licks and sucks and holds my balls and my fingers keep their rhythm inside Ivy.
Then I start to devour Ivy’s beautiful wet pussy.
I open her with my thumbs and put my tongue flat against her and feel her whole body shudder. I work her slowly, circling while my fingers stay inside her. I find the angle that makes her back lift completely off the bed.
Sarah’s mouth is so warm, and she likes to take my cock deep. I have to stop moving every now and then to pull myself to gather. My tongue works on Ivy in tight circles, fingers pressing up from inside, both at once, and I feel the sounds she is making everywhere in my body. Her thighs are shaking against myshoulders. Her hands have her grip on my hair so tight, I don't change, I keep the pressure and the pace exactly as they are.
The sensation of what Sarah is doing moves up my spine. I take a breath and fondle Sarah’s tits and then focus again on Ivy's pussy, on the taste of her, on the specific rhythm that is making her hips grind against my face.Fuck.
I feel her getting close. The tension building in her thighs, the way her sounds are changing: higher, more fractured, less breath between them, starting to sound desperate. I slow my tongue. Keep my fingers moving but slower. Take her to the edge and hold her there.
Her hips shove against my face.
I ease back.
She makes a sound of pure frustration and her hands pull at my hair and I stay where I am, barely moving, just the warmth of my breath and the very lightest press of my tongue, not enough, and I can feel the fury of it in her body.
I glance up.
Her head is back, her throat exposed, her face in the mirror above us. In the mirror I can see Matt at the foot of the bed, his hand moving slow around himself, his eyes fixed on Ivy's face. I’m confused by the current of desire that shoots through me. Desire and fear. He can’t be obsessed with Ivy. That’s my job.
