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“Get down here,” he commands, his voice low and husky. His eyes hold mine, dark pools of promise and temptation.
I sink to my knees, the plush carpet cushioning my descent. His presence looms above me. My breath hitches as he guides himself to my lips, the head of his penis nudging against them, warm and insistent.
“Open for me, Brielle,” he instructs, his tone threaded with a lust that mirrors my own. I part my lips, and he eases in, filling my mouth with his taste, his heat.
“Like this…” Conrad’s hand rests on the back of my head, guiding me gently, urging me to take him deeper. I follow his lead, enveloping him, savoring the slide of him against my tongue. I’m engulfed by the scent of his musk, the salt-sweet flavor that is uniquely him.
“Use your tongue, love.” He groans, and I feel the vibration through every inch of his length. I swirl my tongue around him, exploring, learning what elicits those deep, guttural sounds from his throat. Each moan from him is a trophy.
“Your mouth…it’s perfect.” His words are ragged whispers, each one stoking the fire within me. I suck harder, reveling in the power I wield, in the way I can unravel this composed man with just my mouth.
“Play with my balls, they’re sensitive.” His request comes out strained, a plea laced with fire. I reach up, cupping him gently, rolling the tender orbs with careful fingers. He shudders, hips bucking slightly, pushing deeper into the warmth of my mouth.
“Ah, Brielle…just like that.” Conrad’s voice breaks on a groan, and I double my efforts, sucking, licking, playing him like an instrument of pleasure. The air is charged with erotic energy, every nerve ending in my body screaming.
“God, yes…I’m close.” His hands tighten in my hair, movements becoming more insistent, but still controlled.
“Take it, take all of me.” His words tumble out, a fervent mantra as I feel him swell, pulsing against my tongue. And then, with a strangled cry, he surrenders to me. Heat floods my mouth, and I swallow every last drop, my name a benediction on his lips as he ejaculates.
He gazes down at me, panting, a sheen of sweat on his brow. His look is one of awe and satisfaction.
“Good girl,” Grayson murmurs, approval lacing his voice as warmth spreads through my cheeks. His hands are gentle but commanding as they slide beneath my arms, lifting me from the floor with an ease that sends a fresh shiver of desire down my spine.
“Ready for more?” he asks, his eyes darkening with a promise of pleasures yet to come.
“Always,” I breathe out, and it’s true. I’m eager, hungry for the sensations that only they can awaken in me. My body pulsates with an anticipation so intense it’s almost its own form of climax.
Grayson carries me through the threshold of a bedroom, the air thick. The soft lighting casts shadows across his chiseled features, making him look like some deity of lust and passion. I’m caught in the gravity of his gaze, tethered to him by this invisible force that is part attraction, part pure, unadulterated need.
He sets me down on my feet beside the bed, his fingers deftly working at the buttons of his shirt. Fabric parts, revealing the sculpted terrain of his chest, and I can’t resist the urge to trace the dips and swells of his muscles with my gaze. My fingers itch to follow suit, to map the expanse of his skin, but I know there’s a different role for them tonight.
“Watch her, Conrad,” Grayson says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “She’s going to light the room on fire.”
Conrad stands behind me, silent, but his presence is a tangible thing, wrapping around me like a second skin. I feel the heat of him, and then his hands are on me, unzipping the dress still clinging to my curves. It falls away with a whisper, pooling at my feet, leaving me exposed and vulnerable in the best possible way.
I am bare, laid open for their eyes, their touches, their desires. And mine echo back.
“Your mouth, Brielle,” Grayson instructs, stepping out of his pants, his voice threaded with a raw edge. “Show me what those pretty lips can do.”
My knees find the plush carpet as I inch forward, eager to taste him. My hand wraps around the base of his erection, and I can’t help but admire him—the strength, the power, the sheer masculinity that pulses from him. I lean in, my tongue flicking out to taste the drop of pre-cum beading at his tip. His flavor bursts on my tongue, a heady mix of salt and man, intoxicating and addictive.
“Ah, fuck,” Grayson hisses as I take him into my mouth, enveloping him in wet warmth. My head bobs, taking him deeper, my senses filled with the scent and taste of him. Every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath, is a victory.
“Beautiful,” Conrad whispers, his voice barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears. I feel his hands glide over my skin, exploring the plains of my back before descending to my hips. He guides me back against him, kneeling behind me, and I gasp around Grayson, the sudden fullness of Conrad pushing inside me sending lightning strikes of pleasure throughout my body.
“Take us both, Brielle,” Grayson groans, his hand finding its way into my hair, guiding my movements with a tender firmness. “You can handle it. I know you can.”
I moan, vibrations running along Grayson’s length, as Conrad begins to move within me. Each thrust is a stroke of ecstasy, each pull of my mouth a sweet agony. Here, between them, I am consumed.
God, yes, I think, unable to voice the words, my mind awash with sensation. They fill me, complete me in ways I never dared to dream.
“Look at you,” Grayson breathes against my ear. “So eager, so ready for us.” His words fan the flames within me, desire crackling through every nerve.
Conrad’s finger trails a daring path down my spine, slipping lower to circle the forbidden entrance of my asshole. A shiver races through me, and I can’t help but push back against his exploring digit. The gentle pressure is insistent, promising new depths of pleasure.
“Conrad,” I pant, desperate for more, my voice hitching as he slowly eases his finger inside me. The sensation is bewildering, intense, and I clench around him instinctively.
“Relax, love,” Conrad murmurs, his free hand caressing the curve of my hip. “Let me make you feel good.”
