I cum with a heaving wail that he slaps a hand over my mouth to silence. His fingers pound with vicious triumph that have my legs kicking. The sharp slap of skin is nothing to his cruel, delicious words cutting through the fog.
“Fucking needed this. Don’t stop. God, you cum so beautifully, but you’re missing something.”
I’m thinking his cock when he nudges me up and pulls his fingers free of my center. I can barely stand on my own. He bends me over the island. High enough that my legs dangle and I’m powerless to do anything when he yanks my pants down to my ankles. At this angle and position, he has a clear view of my slippery mound.
“That little thing will need to be retrained to take me,” he decides. “We have to stretch you all over again. Get you big and wide like before. You want that, little one? Want to ruin your tight hole all over again so the only cocks that will feel good are ours?’
I nod vigorously and spread my legs the best I can with the confines of my pants.
He chuckles. “By the time we finish, we’ll make sure you can fit all three in that one hole.”
The thought of getting stuffed and forced while they tell me I’m their little whore overrules the logistics, and I know he can see the flood of liquid running down my thighs. Raining down to soak my bunched pants.
I think I should be mortified but it’s short lived when his tongue is there. Lapping and cleaning and invading. His mouth latches on my lips and he sucks, and I think I’m dying when he fills me.
When he pushes something stiff and hard into my opening.
Not a cock.
Not a tongue or finger.
This is thin and long and hard.
The end catches against my clit like a hook and stops.
“What...?”
He ignores me.
I’m pulled off the counter. My pants are readjusted back up and my underwear keeps the object from slipping out.
“Let’s go see your boys, little one.”
As much as I want to know what he’s lodged inside me, the rub and motion feels so good. A little daunting, but I don’t argue as I take his hand and let him lead me out to the sitting room.
Both men glance up from the book they’d been pouring over. One of the scary tomes with the crusty covers. It’s slapped shut and dropped down on the coffee table.
Behind them, the fire roars. It’s a snapping inferno of light that consumes the room with swaying shadows. It animates the horrific paintings on the walls. Casts an eerie silhouette around the artifacts. The entire room seems to breathe and shift.
I shudder and pull closer to Kellen.
“The reading material is intense,” Roan says, gesturing to the book. “Inaccurate, but close enough to be a concern.”
I don’t want to know how he knows what’s accurate, but my thoughts are redirected to the heavy hands Kellen settles on my hips. I’m repositioned with him dropping into the sofa directly across from the boys and me getting drawn down into his lap.
Gingerly.
Whatever he has inside me isn’t flexible. It pokes my walls a little sharply, but he seems to know the exact way to angle me to make it almost comfortable.
“Blanket,” he tells Roan, who promptly hops to his feet and rushes to grab one off the armchair by the fire.
It’s warm and cozy when Kellen shakes it out and bundles me up in it. His big hands press me deeper into his chest while simultaneously tucking one hand under and keeping the other across my waist outside the blanket.
“What else did you find?” he asks his brothers, who don’t find any of this unusual.
Both can’t seem to take their eyes off my face, watching with such knowing intensity I nearly squirm.
I do jump when Kellen slips his hand down my pants. It’s slow, careful not to show anything when he spreads my lips and skims my clit.
