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And then he was really there, sliding his condom-covered cock inside her liquid sex. She cried out, stunned that he’d given her no warning. Stunned she could want him to fuck her when she so craved the man watching them silently. But Cole was sexy too, and she’d always liked him. She definitely appreciated the way he surged inside her with no reservations whatsoever.
She swallowed the moans so insistently working their way up her throat and pulled on the dangling crystals on her nipples, inciting an answering echo in her core. He fucked her just right, hitting her G-spot with a precision that made her sob with all the pent-up passion she’d held back for so long.
Somehow he knew when she couldn’t take the anticipation anymore. He pushed her down and started ramming in and out, grinding her clit against the desk. She bit her forearm to stifle her scream as she convulsed around Cole’s thick, thrusting length.
“That’s it, babydoll. Come on me.” He slapped her ass almost as an afterthought, then plunged deeper, harder. His orgasm rocked through him, driving him into her so fiercely that she drew blood on her arm in her attempt to stay quiet from the residual aftershocks.
Holy crap, she’d never come like that before. He’d practically split her open with his intensity. And she’d adored every second.
When Cole pulled out, murmuring an apology—for what, she had no clue—she turned over as he aimed an arrogant grin at Des.
He pointed at Des’s unflagging cock. “Want me to take care of that for you?”
She barely regis
tered the scene in front of her. Des shrugging. Cole bending to suck Des’s cock, his lips slicking over the head with the kind of skill that suggested lots of practice. Des fisting his best friend’s hair much harder than he’d done with hers and yanking him up and down his dick so viciously she feared Cole would choke.
Fascinated, stunned, she reclined on her elbows on the desk and shuddered from the naked lust on the two men’s faces. She twisted the clips on her nipples and bowed up at the ache that twanged deep below.
Cole reached down with his free hand, working his cock, still wet from her juices, making it rigid again. She debated crawling between his legs and sucking him off. Before she could move, Des came hard, his ass lifting off the chair as he pumped his release into Cole’s waiting throat.
Wendy bit her lip on a moan, so turned on she couldn’t speak. She’d known they were close, but she’d never guessed…this.
Des turned his head. His eyes blazed in the faint light. “Break time’s over. You have a party to get back to, don’t you, Ms. Stanton?”
Four
The rest of the party passed in a blur. Wendy did her best to socialize, though she couldn’t find her panties. Somehow their loss felt much more shameful than Des and Cole’s unusual strategy to get her to fess up.
And come like a faucet.
They’d demanded she kneel and give a blowjob and take a spanking and she’d never once felt as if she didn’t have a choice. Along with their repeated reminders that she could leave, she had no doubts about the kind of men they were. They wouldn’t push her into more than she could handle.
So maybe that part was wrong.
But she wanted to be pushed. She wanted to be wanted so badly that her lover—or lovers plural, though she’d never considered multiples before—was driven to the edge of sanity. Did that make her depraved? Or maybe she was just lonely and desperate for something that reminded her of all the living she had left to do and not the death in her past.
The entire weekend she shuffled around her apartment. Her mother seemed to be feeling better, and her spirits had improved too. But Wendy’s mood had been fucked as surely as her—
“Say it, wuss.” She faced the bathroom mirror at work on Monday morning, long before anyone else arrived. She’d shown up early to have it out with Des. He hadn’t called her, hadn’t texted. It wasn’t as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend now, but they had to be something. She’d given him a blowjob.
Then again, so had Cole and they weren’t dating.
Oh, God, were they? Was that why Des had never made a move on her? She’d chalked it up to professional ethics or maybe even disinterest. But perhaps he and Cole were a couple, though she’d never gotten that vibe from them.
She screwed up her face and shut her eyes. “Pussy. Pussy. Pussy!” The words burst out of her just as the door swung open. “Aw, hell,” she muttered, a flush creeping up her cheeks.
Great timing, as always.
Van stopped dead in the doorway and blinked. “I know it’s Monday, but it ain’t bad as all that, sugar.”
Wendy sagged against the sink and covered her face with her hand. She couldn’t help grinning. “Sorry. I’m trying something new.”
“Seeing how swear words sound in that sultry accent of yours?” Van stepped up beside her and bumped hips. “I like it. Pu-u-u-sy. All those extra syllables give it more emphasis. So who’s a pussy?”
“No one. I’m just shy, and I’m tired of it.” Wendy glowered at the spotless mirror. The bathroom was always sparkling clean, as if invisible elves snuck in every night with brooms and mops. “I didn’t think I was. But I am.”
“So you’re yelling about pussies first thing Monday morning? Better to get over your shyness with some guy’s mouth on yours.” Van’s eyes gleamed as Wendy bit her lip. “So someone got some action this weekend, huh? Tell me.”
