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Apparently neither did she. She bounced all over him, making sounds he couldn’t entirely recognize. But they were hotter than hell.
“Like that?” Tristan’s voice was a raspy growl. “Wish it was you, don’t you, Caity?”
Matt shifted her leg up in the air and craned his neck so he could get an idea of what was going on above him. Inching deeper, Tristan fisted Cait’s hair, dragging her mouth to his over the shared conduit beneath them.
“Fuck,” Matt groaned, fighting for air.
So sexy. So beautiful. The savage lust on Tristan’s face, probably mirrored by Cait’s, made him ache with need. He’d known he loved them before. But seeing them like this, together, increased his love—and desperation—tenfold.
With a ragged hiss, Matt dragged her back over his face. Though he lost his ability to watch, he had a good monitor on the situation from the steady flow into his mouth. Her slick pussy rode his tongue, her inner walls clenching as moan after moan racked her lithe body.
Tristan’s cock tunneled into his ass. His short plunges became choppy and chaotic. He buried himself deep, and then deeper still, until Matt’s balls clenched from his impending orgasm. Just about there. Struggling to hold on, he muffled a shout against Cait’s soaked pussy.
She braced her hands on his stomach as Tristan locked his hands around Matt’s hips, forcing him upward to take more of his dick. But there wasn’t any room left or any breath in his throat to groan when Caity finally let go, her whole body shuddering from her climax.
“Yes. God, yes.”
Her scream ended abruptly, and Matt saw the reason when he managed to arch his neck. Tristan was kissing the ever-loving daylights out of her while he fucked Matt with one hand on his cock and the other around her jutting breast. She cupped Tristan’s face in her hands, and for an instant, the tableau froze, their mingled cries inflaming the ecstatic roar in Matt’s head.
Too fast he hurtled toward his own orgasm, so hard that his spine cracked as he drove upward to meet Tristan’s thrusts. Warm, wet lips slid over the tip of his cock, and he moaned as he shot off like a cannon, blasting into Caity’s waiting mouth. Somehow he heard her swallowing, and it was the sexiest fucking sound he’d ever heard.
“Oh yeah. Swallow his cum. Drink it. Every drop.”
She whimpered at Tristan’s hoarse command, doing just as he wished. Throughout, she ground against Matt’s face, who ate her like a starving man presented with his last meal. Driven for more, he caressed her slit with his tongue, incapable of turning off his need for her. Or for the man currently shouting his way through his own scalding release, his cock hammering Matt’s ass in the rough way he’d come to love.
After the plentiful aftershocks diminished, they collapsed together in a sweaty heap. None of them moved for a good long while. Then Matt tuned in to the whir of the camcorder.
He grinned. They’d get to relive that incredible experience over and over. But first it would be Caity who’d get her own private viewing.
“So, Tris,” he murmured. “Feel like a late dinner at the diner?”
When Caity whimpered, he gave her a consoling pat. “We’ll be close by, and we’ll leave you with your phone. We won’t be long either. Just long enough to let you do some thinking and to make you as hungry as we are.” He flashed her a quick, evil grin. “For food.”
In no time, he and Tristan were seated in a corner booth at Swan’s Diner, with heaping plates in front of them.
“It’s not going to work.” Tristan didn’t look up from his meal.
“Stop being such a pessimist.” Matt dug into his BLT with relish. The diner had the most delicious food around. Best of all, it was practically within spitting distance of the cabin. “So what should we bring her back? Bet she’d love some onion rings.”
“Only you would suggest onion rings as an appetizer to a night of sex,” Tristan said, pushing his lumpy mashed potatoes around their moat of gravy. For a guy who’d recently had the latest in a long line of blistering orgasms, he looked positively wretched.
He waited a minute and added, “She wants us for one thing. Our cocks. Once she’s gotten her cherry popped—which is a damn stupid phrase, by the way—she’ll be through with us.”
Matt glanced up, grateful no one was close enough to hear Tristan’s tale of sexual woe. “You give our powers of persuasion far too little credit. She’s probably coming even now, just from watching us touch her on the tape.”
“Which is all well and good, if I only wanted a sex slave I could tie up and fuck whenever the mood struck.”
“You seemed to play that role well tonight,” Matt said mildly, reaching for his soda.
“You both get off on that, obviously.”
“And you don’t? I didn’t see you having any problems participating.”
Tristan didn’t answer.
Matt couldn’t claim to be surprised. Tristan’s insatiable sexual appetite always seemed to disturb Tristan, as if it were a wild animal he kept hog-tied in a cage in the basement. Weeks had passed before he’d been able to refer to their sex life.
Even after a year, Tristan didn’t seem entirely comfortable discussing his proclivities where Matt was concerned. He was all about doing whatever struck his interest, but talking about it? Forget it.
