“I want you both.”
“Yes, dearest one. I gathered that.”
Sin cleared his throat from where he was sprawled out on the chaise. “She means both of our dicks in her at the same time, genius.”
There was something about the tilt of her head that told me this wasn’t the usual DP situation. I knew for a fact that was something she’d done with them before.
So what was the blush about?
Oh.
Ooooooh.
My grin was positively feral. “Two sausages in one hallway, how exciting.”
Her cheeks flamed bright pink. “You don’t mind the... contact with each other?”
Shrugging, I grabbed my cock and stroked it a few times before eyeing the incubus in question.
He smirked. “Not my first rodeo.”
“Nor mine. Just don’t get attached, Famine. I’m a married man.”
Sin rolled his eyes. “Please. Sex is my game, Lucifer. If anyone’s going to get addicted, it’s you.”
“I’ve been having carnal relations since the literal dawn of time. You’d have to be pretty fucking good to make me an addict.”
“He is,” Merri affirmed at the same time Sin stated, “I am.”
“Who thought the two of them were a good idea?” Grim groused.
“Better Sin than me,” Chaos piped up.
“Are you volunteering, Grimsby? I don’t think Sin minds.” Malice’s voice was laced with amusement.
Grim eyed me distastefully. “If it’s what Merri wanted.”
He looked about as excited as a child about to have a tooth extracted.
“Do you three mind? I am about to take our mate to the heights of pleasure, and you’re shitting all over it,” I complained.
“Are you sure? She’s already mounted Sin while you’re standing around doing a whole lot of nothing,” Malice sneered.
I swallowed back my retort when I realized he was correct. Damn and blast.
“Don’t you dare start without me.”
“Too late, bucko,” Sin said, followed by a groan. “God, she’s so wet.”
“Stop. You’ve already had your turn, dammit.”
“Get your ass over here, then, and do something about it.”
Listen, no one ordered me around.
Except for Merri.
I sauntered to them, my dick swinging proudly as I did. Sin’s legs took up most of the bench, which just wouldn’t do. Smacking his feet, I grumbled, “Make space for me, you oaf. I’m not sitting on your bony chicken legs.”
