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“Keep going,” I beg. “Please, just keep–”
When Nate returns to my chest, there is a warmth and friction that is incredible.
I’ve got Mason bobbing between my thighs, his hair darkening with sweat.
Meanwhile, I have Nate at my chest, moaning like he’s drinking ambrosia. Not to mention the way he feels in my hand, jerks as I stroke his length over and over.
“Nate…Mason…” I whimper alternatingly, not sure what pleasure is coming from where.
They both laugh.
This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.
“I’m–holy shit–I’m–” It’s coming. The orgasm. I can see it coming right for me, intent to strike.
Nate runs his hand long my stomach, the warmth intensifying in my belly.
At the same time, Mason reaches a hand up my hip.
I intertwineour fingers.
I am being worshipped. I can’t deny the divine feeling I have inside me. Not just the pleasure. Something deeper.
That I am somehow deserving of two beautiful men pleasuring me. Loving me.
“Oh god. Ohgod.” My body is shaking, grasping at the orgasm.
So close, I’m so close.
Mason focuses all his energy on my clitoris while Nate twists one nipple, laps at the other, rubs my stomach, thrusts into my hand.
And it happens all at once.
A blinding orgasm. I scream.
All my neighbors probably hear me. And I don’t care.
They should hear me. They should know they are in the presence of a fucking princess, queen, goddess,whatever.
Two men love me.Two.
I don’t know how to process that.
So instead, I come on Mason’s face.
I let Nate come into my hand too.
And as I fall from the height of the orgasm, the spell I’ve been under wears off.
The anxiety descends again.
Nate starts to embrace me, and Mason begins crawling up from the foot of the bed to hold me too.
I scrambleout from under them. “Stop, stop, stop.”
I press myself up against the headboard and shake my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I shouldn’t have… I… I can’t. Oh god…Oh god…”
Mason leans on the end of the bed, his hands clasped. “Laney, you have nothing to be sorry about.”
