Behind me, I'm filled in long, slow thrusts that shudder pleasure up my spine. I rock between the two men, used and adored and so very full.
The woman with glasses kneels beside me, her fingers working my nipples, then sliding down to rub my clit withmaddening pressure. She knows what she’s doing. I want to cry from how good it feels.
“Are you going to come?” she asks, voice breathless and teasing.
I want to. Fae lords, I want to. But something’s missing. Something just out of reach.
My orgasm coils tight in my belly, desperate to break free, but the frustration climbs higher. There’s more sexual energy here than I’ve ever had access to. I should be overwhelmed. I should be unraveling.
But I’m not.
They surround me. Fuck me. Feed me.
I try to take only enough.
But I’m still starving.
If I hadn’t fucking thought to take things in my own hands—literally—I might not be in such dire straits. Maybe the three of them could have satiated me, but I’m running on less than empty even as I drink their life forces in.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes.
Then I hear him. Talon.
"She needs more,” he says, low and certain. Steady in the chaos.
And I know, without turning, that he knows exactly what that means.
A pause falls over the room, just long enough for the man with the sharp elegant jawline to glance at him, then back at me.
"Tell us what she wants," the fae man says. He’s quiet but resolute.
Talon doesn't move at first. But something shifts in the air. In him. And when he speaks again, it isn't hesitation, it’s command.
Talon directs them.
The muscular man lowers onto his back, guiding me to straddle him. His thick cock presses against me again, and I sink down with a gasping moan.
“Go slow, torture her,” Talon says with a dark flash in his eye. “Pinch her nipples,hard.”
He’s not guessing. He knows. Every touch I crave. Every pattern I respond to. Every dirty detail I’ve never said aloud.
"And she wants it in that sweet little asshole.” Talon is hard, almost cold in his command. Yet the air turns molten. My heart kicks up to a gallop.
Strong, nimble fingers slide between my legs to spread my wetness up to my rear and my eyes flutter closed. It feels so good.
"She needs to be wetter than that," Talon says flatly, voice sharp and dark with knowledge. "Spread her and spit.” There is a ruthless edge to the direction that sends another shock through me before turning into hot liquid on the cock I’m slowly riding.
The woman kneels behind me, parting my ass cheeks with reverent hands, then spits. It hits me like a bullseye, wet and hot. My stomach clenches, and I gasp.
“That’s right, baby,” Talon says with that same steel tone. “You like it filthy, don’t you?”
Only an incoherent moan escapes me as I take in this new side of Talon. The sound of smacking behind me tells me the petite woman and blond man are kissing. Something brushes my thigh—her fist curled tight on his cock.
“Now finger that little asshole until she’s squealing,” Talon says.
My body involuntarily lurches forward, my thighs spreading wider, allowing the man beneath me to fuck me even deeper as I spread myself.
I twist enough to see the woman smearing the wetness over my tight ring of muscles with two fingers before sliding one of them in.
