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The first thought in my head is that I’min him. I’m fucking him. There is no turning back now.
I let him control how deep and how fast I penetrate him, which is good because I can hardly think straight with how amazing this feels. His ass is strangling my dick, so tight and warm, and the look of his body on top of me is almost more than I can handle.
Slowly, Dean rises before lowering again, each time taking me deeper until he’s seated completely down on my cock. Grabbing his hips, I hold him there for a moment, savoring the sight. He is so beautiful, with thick muscles and perfect skin. Everything about this is a new sensation—from the weight of his body to the texture of the hair on his legs. My thoughts ring with one word over and over—perfect.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “You are amazing. You are so fucking amazing.”
Lifting up again, he goes just as deep as he drops his weight on me, pounding himself harder on my rigid length. His hard cock bobs between us, aching and leaking from the tip.
“Ride my fucking cock,” I say. His hips grind back and forth as his thighs lift him up and down. His movements are rough and aggressive, so within minutes, my orgasm is on the brink.
“Briar, stroke him,” I command.
Her hand wraps around his length, stroking to the rhythm that he bounces.
“Fuck yes,” he cries out. “Oh god, I’m going to come.”
When he lifts again, I grab his hips and hold him there until each of us can compose ourselves and catch our breaths. This is all happening too fast. I’m not ready to be done yet. But I also don’t know how much more I can take.
My hands move from his hips to his ass, massaging the muscled globes. “You’re so perfect,” I say in a deep mumble. “I can’t believe I’m fucking you.”
He leans down to kiss my lips, and I reach for Briar, pulling her in so she is a part of this. Our kiss turns messy as his lips find hers and mine find his.
It’s clear we’re not going to evade this orgasm. It’s too fucking hot.
When he sits back on my cock, rocking to a steady rhythm, I do my best not to let myself get too worked up this time.
“That’s it,” I say. “Let me come inside you. And I want you all over my chest.” His movements pick up speed as Briar strokes faster. Our groans become deafening, a jumbled mess of words and curses and pleas, the sounds of our bodies coming together, creating a perfect, sexy symphony.
Dean and Briar are devouring each other’s mouths as she pumps him. And finally, with a roar, his release shoots across my body. The warm splashes of his arousal make me wild.
Using my grip on his hips, I slam him down on me harder and faster until my release quickly follows. With a long, drawn-out grunt, I fill the condom, coming so hard that I nearly lose my vision altogether.
After my cock is spent, Dean collapses on my chest, the sticky mess pressed between us.
“Goddamn,” he murmurs into the crook of my neck. Wrapping my arms around him, I hold him there, loving the feel of him against me.
Nothing about this feels forbidden or sinful or wrong. Not that I ever really thought it was. But I realize now how the opinions of others have guided my own actions and my own thinking, even when I disagree.
There was never anyone else for me. I loved Briar from the minute I saw her, and I knew I would spend the rest of my life with her.
But having Dean now in my arms, I’ve never been more grateful for him, for us, for this opportunity, and for everything that this means. I don’t know what our future holds, and I don’t know how we could ever keep him, but we’ll always have this moment and this memory and the way it’s changed me.
And that can never be taken away.
Thirty-Eight
Dean
We lie together in bed at the club until nearly three in the morning. We don’t say much, but at this point, there’s not much to be said. I think we all know where we stand with each other. But there’s not much we can do about it.
If I tell them how much they mean to me and how fast I’m falling for them, it’ll just expose me to the inevitable hurt. This is why I don’t do relationships.
Sex is easy. Feelings are not.
I can tell them how much they turn me on and how much I love fucking them, but I can’t possibly tell them that I think aboutbeingin their marriage. In their family. I think far too late into the night about sleeping in their bed, holding their hands in public, telling the world how much they mean to me.
But what is the point?
