Page 97 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

By the time my back hits a mattress, I’m already shaking. Fletcher looms over me, dark eyes locked on mine, the thick ridge of his rock-hard cock straining behind the zipper.

I swear his eyes get even darker, almost black, and I want to tell him to take it slow. Except I realize I don’t. I want it like a fever, all at once, the kind of hunger that erases every mistake.

He kisses me hard, no preamble, and then there are hands everywhere. Rex’s mouth on my thigh, Wayne’s chest heavy and solid against my shoulder, and a chorus of harsh, hungry, almost feral little sounds that I can’t even tell are coming from them or me.

“You look like you want this,” Fletcher groans against my mouth. “That you want all of us.”

Is that even possible?

Here, it feels like it is.

“Yes,” I moan back. “Take me. All of you.”

For a blink, we’re just a tangle of limbs and want, everyone a little too desperate to look pretty. Wayne’s tongue slides hot and demanding against mine, and then I’m riveted by the sight of Fletcher’s cock in his hand. So thick, flushed, leaking.

The three of them are beautiful in three different flavors: Rex, gold and sinew, kissing jagged lines along my hip bones; Wayne, pale and wolfish, his gray eyes almost fevered; and Fletcher, next to me, eyes the color of the sky, a little shy until the moment he isn’t.

I want all of it. All of them.

Fletcher’s cockhead pushes against my lips, and I open for him, tasting salt and skin. He grunts, softer than I expect, almost pleading, and threads his fingers in my hair. Wayne nips at my shoulder, then hooks his thumb into my mouth alongside Fletcher’s cock, stretching my jaw a little wider until tears leak from the corners of my eyes.

I moan, louder than I mean to, and then Rex is behind me, pressing the length of his body to my spine, his fingertips digging into my hips until the contact is almost bruising.

Wayne’s mouth finds my breast, sucking hard, in rhythm with Fletcher’s urgent thrusts. I lose myself in the tangle, need and friction, slick and dizzying. I want to mark them, pull them all inside, keep them with me always. Fletcher fucks my mouth, words roughing out of him in a gravelly stutter. I choke and gasp, but I don’t want it to stop.

I want to drown in it, want to be ruined.

Rex palms the curve of my ass, spreading me open, and I feel him shudder as he grinds in closer, his cock nudging against me, hot and insistent and slick with urgency. His mouth gasps at my ear, and the heat of his breath sends sparks rushing over my skin.

“Fuck, darlin’, you feel like you were made for us.” His voice is all grit and honey, and I shiver when his thumb ghosts over where I’m already slick and aching.

Wayne is the first to slide his hand between my legs. It’s almost clinical at first, as if he’s cataloging every twitch and shiver, but then he finds my clit, and everything else wipes out. It’s a lightning bolt, a live wire straight to the base of my skull. Fletcher is still at my lips, his cock heavy on my tongue, but when I groan around him, the sound reverbs through all of us.

Wayne chuckles, low, right next to my ear. “I knew you’d like that.”

I want to answer, but all I can do is whimper. Rex licks up the nape of my neck and heat blooms against my back, so sharp and sudden it’s almost a sting. He noses under my jaw, dragging his tongue along the vein fluttering there, and then bites down, hard enough to make my legs kick reflexively.

There’s music now, or maybe it’s just the wet slap of skin and the gulp of air through three gritted jaws, but I half expect the world to be rimmed in red and gold, stage lit for this impossible convergence of need. Wayne’s fingers grind circles against my clit, relentless, and I arch into him, into all of them.

Fletcher groans and shudders, then yanks me off his cock by the hair, and my mouth pops open, gasping, and he kisses me hard enough to taste blood. He says my name, and then they’re shifting, rearranging, making room.

Rex props me up on all fours, his hands smooth in their rough admiration. I’m dizzy from the move, but then Rex is right there, his mouth gliding over the curve of my shoulder, down the ridgeline of my spine, each kiss searing through the haze of sensation.

He rocks his cock against my wet folds, enough friction to make me buck back into him. The anticipation is torture, so sweet I want to scream.

I scramble for leverage, fists tight in the sheets, but Wayne is waiting at the head of the bed, kneeling, his eyes dazzling. He pulls me in for another kiss, this one gentler, while he tangles his fingers in my hair and holds me.

Rex buries himself in me inch by inch. I gasp, nearly collapsing, overwhelmed by how thick and hot he feels inside me. Fletcher’s hand cradles my hip, and I realize they’re all watching, curious, hungry, obsessed with this slow desire, this collective human need.

Rex rocks into me, building a rhythm that makes me see stars behind my eyelids, and Wayne’s hand never breaks its orbit on my clit, precise and focused until I’m panting, clinging to the headboard to keep from floating right out of my own skin. Fletcher coaxes my face toward him and kisses the tears streaming down my cheeks, licking the salt and murmuring soft, dirty encouragements like he’s imprinting them on my bones.

I’d always thought I was greedy, wanting too much—attention, affection, satisfaction. I’d always thought I’d have to choose, ration my want, make it manageable and polite. But here, pinned between the three of them, I’m boundless. I am utterly, obscenely free.

Rex picks up his pace, slamming into me so deep I cry out, and Wayne has to press his palm over my mouth to muffle the sound. His hand is big enough to cover half my face, his fingers tight at my jaw. I bite down on the skin of his palm, tears and spit a hot mess on my cheeks, and the sound I make is guttural, foreign, savage.

Somewhere behind me, Rex is cursing, all tangled vowels and desperate consonants, a language unto itself. Fletcher, at my side, presses his forehead to mine, sweat-slick hair falling into his eyes.

“Almost there, babe,” Wayne pants, teeth dragging my earlobe between words.