Page 7 of Sweet Revenge for the Bikers

“I’m more worried about the other way around,” I admit.

“His ego isn’t what needs stroking,” Mad Dog says with a snort. “You’ll be just fine, baby.”

I giggle as Riptide works my jeans over my hips. After the slow buildup, stripping feels like an awkward chore, but it goes quickly. My eyes have long since adjusted to the lower light, and Jesus, Mad Dog is at least as long and hard as Rebel. Are they all hung like porn stars? On my knees, I reach for him too, taking one in each hand and marveling at the slick, silky softness under my fingers as I stroke, even if underneath they’re hard as steel.

“Come here.” Riptide kneels behind me, and pulls my back to his chest. His cock is a brand against my lower back.

Rebel slips out of my grip and follows us down. He pushes my legs up and apart as Riptide’s hands cup my breasts and my head falls back onto Rebel’s shoulder.

Rebel kisses his way up the insides of my thighs, zeroing quickly in on my slick core. He spreads me open with one hand, and his tongue slides straight through my folds and over my swollen clit.

My deep moan is louder than I intended.

“Trying to call for reinforcements?” Riptide asks with a quiet chuckle.

Like I need a reminder that all it takes is for someone to walk by and glance down in order to see exactly what we’re doing. I look up at Mad Dog, hardly believing what I’m about to say. “Maybe it’s better that someone keeps my mouth busy, then.”

“I aim to please.” Mad Dog moves to my side.

He grins and grips himself at the base, guiding the glistening tip of his cock closer to my mouth. I wet my lips, eager to taste the salt of him on my tongue and hear the noises he makes as I suck.

I open for him, closing my eyes as the soft skin of the tip pushes down my tongue. He fills my mouth completely, so thick I can barely fit him. The scent and flavor of sex tickles my taste buds and slides down my throat. Forming a seal with my lips, I draw more of him in, as much as I can handle, which seems like hardly any at all, by how much of him is still outside.

Rebel picks that moment to put suction on my clit and slide a finger inside. I moan again, but this time the rough, throaty noises are muffled around Mad Dog’s thick cock.

I thought I was overwhelmed before, but this is a whole new level. Rebel’s tongue is magic. His fingers dig into my thighs as he holds me open, and all I want to do is squeeze my thighs tight around his head and ride his face until I come.

And he’s not the only one driving me crazy. Riptide plays with my breasts and nibbles at the skin right behind my ear as he captures my nipples between his fingers. It’s nearly impossible to give Mad Dog’s cock the attention it deserves, but he doesn’t seem to mind, happy to guide my head and thrust shallowly between my lips.

Nothing has ever felt like this. One man just doesn’t have the number of hands, lips, or cocks to drive me wild like the three of them do. My heart thunders against my ribcage, trying to break free, and I’m breathing in ragged pants around the thickness in my mouth.

Every touch, lick, and stroke drives me closer and closer to the edge. Goosebumps go in waves over my arms and legs, delicious tingles that all seem like they’re directly connected to my needy pussy.

If it didn’t feel so good, I might think I was dying.

“Hold her open for me,” Rebel asks, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.

Riptide does, hooking his hands behind my thighs and spreading my legs for his friend, even as his own steel bar of a cock is pushing into my back. It’s hot how comfortable they are sharing me, working together like well-oiled clockwork.

Though by this time, I’m the one who’s well-oiled. If my mouth wasn’t full, I’d be begging for whatever they want, damn the consequences. Instead, I keen around Mad Dog’s cock as Rebel works my clit and thrusts two fingers deep. When he curls them inside me, the orgasm that’s been teetering on the edge crashes down, sweeping through my veins and making me writhe between them.

Mad Dog pulls away, drawing a rough, trembling breath through his nose like he’s concentrating really hard on not losing it. He strokes himself as he watches me fall apart.

I grab his thigh with my right hand, digging my fingernails in in desperation. The other I’ve got buried in Rebel’s hair, pulling him against me like I’m afraid he’ll move even a fraction of an inch away from where I need him. His tongue feels so freaking good, keeping the delicious, liquid heat of my orgasm roiling inside me.

Riptide eases me off his lap and materializes a condom packet in the same sort of way Rebel just happened to have a deadly knife to cut up an apple. My brain works well enough, if barely, to know that those are the sorts of things I should probably worry about, but I can’t bring myself to care right now, not while he’s stroking himself slowly and looking at me like he wants to eat me whole.

“Yes?” he asks. At some point his hair fell loose, and it’s hanging around his shoulders in shadowy waves. He looks like an inked-up god, looming over me with his cock in hand.

“Please,” I say, my voice embarrassingly needy. For tonight, at least, I’m going to ride this chance until the wheels fall off.

He sheathes himself with practiced ease and settles between my thighs. When he nudges the tip of his cock in between my folds, pausing right at my entrance, his blue eyes lock with mine, and gently, inch by inch, my body stretches open.

I arch my back at the glorious sensation of being filled. It’s been a while, and he’s bigger than I’m used to, but I’m so ready that there’s nothing but a token amount of resistance. The groan that escapes me when his hips press against mine and I’ve taken all of him is inhuman.

“Fuuuuuck,” I moan as my eyes flutter closed.

“You okay, honey?” Rebel asks.