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The meek sound, which I swear isn’t loud enough to be heard, evidently is.
And given the fact that I not only see two sets of hunger filled eyes but hear two different pitched growls, I think it’s safe to guess that they wouldn’t mind the idea of mixing me instead, either.
Rather than pitch that idea – that deliciously terrible idea – or acknowledge how their bodies are now gravitating towards mine, boxing me in from each side, trapping me in a small space like two hunters willing to share the same prey, I slowly add the contents into the dish.
Allow them to open the remaining ingredients I initially said I would, but now can’t fathom the idea of picking up let alone being responsible for freeing.
By the time we’ve got everything inside the container, my body as well as my breathing are steady again. Thankfully. “Hands in fellas.”
“Yes, ma’am,” is spoken in unison.
All at once, the three of us sink our fingers into the cold mixture. While I’m expecting exactly what I get – after all, it’s not my first time doing this – the two of them are obviously surprised.
“Fuck, this feels weird,” Nolan grumbles, large fingers scooping underneath mine.
“Yeah, not what I expected,” Kipp echoes, his slightly thinner ones gracing them from on top.
“I don’t know,” I coyishly flirt, leaving my hands to be caressed versus actually assisting in the process, “I kinda dig it.”
Both men grunt a chuckle.
Knead another handful.
Purposely grip my fingers through the thick mixture.
Nolan continuously gathers the largest amounts he possibly can in between squeezing my entire palm, locking it in his possession, demonstrating he can dominate any situation, in any space, in any moment, yet Kipp executes more agile movements. Slips between my fingers. Between his best friend’s. Collects and strokes and diligently leaves no area untouched. No ingredient unmixed. No component unincluded. Over and over and over again, two unmatched but undeniably irresistible motions work in tandem to create something almost unrecognizable leaving me with an inability to do anything other than shut my eyes.
Inwardly moan.
Outwardly whimper.
Fight against the wobbling in my knees and swallow the begging that’s on the very tip of my tongue.
Wetness doesn’t waste time soaking my lacy, thin panties nor does my pussy entertain the idea that this shouldn’t be happening.
That it shouldn’t be aching for their touches and tightening in anticipation of being explored next.
That it shouldn’t be ready to be split and spread and stroked while my lungs burn from pleading and moaning and screaming.
Hot air unexpectedly feathers one side of my face; however, before I know it, the sensation is swiftly mirrored on the other as if it’s impossible for one of them to have more of me than the other.
“Is this good?” Kipp practically pants, forcing me to open my eyes to momentarily meet his.
I choke down another whimper, quickly examine the mess, and mindlessly nod.
“Good,” Nolan wolfishly groans, commanding my gaze to his. “Now, what do you want us to do next, little rabbit?”
Me is the answer I wanna give and watching his tongue inch towards mine tells me it’s the one he wants to hear.
Chapter 8
Nolan
Thud.
Instantly, my hand reaches over to grab the bat I keep beside my bed.
I’ve got a gun too, but that shit’s in the bottom drawer, and this fucking intruder is already in the goddamn room.
