His hand finds my jaw.
Tilting my head.
Away from Jett.
Toward him.
And then he's kissing me.
The contrast is immediate—Blaze's kiss is fire and playfulness where Jett's was control and need. His tongue traces my lower lip, requesting entrance rather than demanding it, and I open for him with a moan that vibrates through all three of our connected bodies.
Jett's rhythm doesn't falter.
If anything, having Blaze join us seems to spur him on, his hips snapping harder, faster, driving deeper with each thrust. I'm caught between them—pinned to the wall by Jett's body, my mouth claimed by Blaze's, overwhelmed by sensation from every direction.
Blaze's hand slides down my neck, tracing patterns on my collarbone, then lower, finding my breast through the thin fabric of whatever top I'm wearing. His fingers circle my nipple—already hard, already sensitive—and the dual stimulation of his touch and Jett's cock makes my whole body arch.
"Gonna come," I gasp, breaking the kiss with Blaze to warn them both. "Fuck, I'm gonna?—"
"Do it," Jett orders, his voice strained. "Come all over my cock. Let me feel it."
Blaze's mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin where a bond mark would go, and the threat of it—the promise—sends me over the edge.
The orgasm hits different this time.
Not the explosive, all-consuming pleasure of the first two rounds, but something deeper. More intense. The cumulative effect of multiple climaxes building on each other, compounding until my whole system short-circuits.
I scream.
Actually scream.
Loud enough that I briefly worry about disturbing the neighbors before remembering we don't have neighbors—this house sits on enough private land that we could probably commit murder and no one would hear.
We have committed murder.
Multiple times.
The thought makes me giggle—high and manic and completely inappropriate given the current circumstances.
My body convulses around Jett's cock, inner walls clamping down with enough force to make him curse. Slick gushes out—I can feel it, hot and wet, coating us both, making the slide even easier as he continues fucking me through the aftershocks.
Then he's pulling out.
Sudden.
Immediate.
Leaving me empty and gasping and confused.
"What—"
I watch, dazed and pleasure-drunk, as Jett's hand wraps around his own cock—swollen and red and clearly close to knotting. He strokes himself with quick, efficient movements, jaw clenched with the effort of control.
"Can't knot you," he grits out between clenched teeth. "Not now. If we knot, you're not making it to recital practice."
"And we already almost fucked up last time," Blaze adds, though his voice carries amusement rather than real concern.
Last time.
