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“Yeah, love, you’re not getting these back. And the ideas of me using your knickers as an inspiration will get me through some very lonely nights.”
This should sound creepy. It really should. But in Stone’s Irish accent, holy hell, it does something to my already quaking insides.
“I’ve tasted her already. I want you to bring her to pleasure tonight if it pleases you.”
I love how Gibs is controlling, but all things have to please the alpha Dom Irishman. Gibs defers to him but controls me.
“Thank you, Teach.” He pulls him into a heart-stopping (at least for me) scorching kiss. I watch, while panting at the same time.
“I love this, I love watching you two.” My breaths come out shallow, as if I’ve run miles upon miles.
Stone pulls away, a grin tugging at his lips and the more serious demeanor of Gibson, too. It’s nice to see the lightheartedness in him.
“Well, no more of us for you tonight, love, this is all about you, and I’m about to get my fill.”
Stone crawls over me, attacking my lips. It starts off frantic, as I’ve come to learn is the speed in which he operates, but it’s soon controlled, and I give up all power as he continues to deliver desire just for me.
“Now, two fingers, Doc. And your thumb on her clit. She loves that.” These are orders from Gibson, but I’m already learning from these two that Gibson’s orders are more like suggestions I hope Stone obeys.
He pushes off of me, dropping a sweet kiss onto the bridge of my nose. “Your pleasures, love, it’s all about you at this point.”
He drops his head down, pushing lower, until his tongue laps up my juices. “So wet, my love, for me. For Teach here. The stuff we’ll do to you. Don’t think I’ll deliver orgasms to you whenever you want them, because hell, I’ll make you work for them.”
I didn’t think of this, but he’s probably a sadist, which doesn’t surprise me, but all rational thoughts leave me when his tongue begins to flick my clit. I guess he isn’t going to obey Gibson, not yet anyway. And again, this isn’t a shock to my system, but his tongue sure the hell is.
“Ah, there, yes.”
A slight smack lands on my ass, and because of the trajectory, I know it’s not Stone. I pop my head up, the hazel eyes this time with a ring of yellow around them tell me he’s storming over with both fury and lust.
“Don’t ask, and certainly don’t demand from him. He knows what he’s doing. He’ll deliver, believe me, GG.”
Somehow I do, and the sting of Gibson’s slap amps my need and desire. The deep timbre of Stone radiates through my core. “You liked that, didn’t you, love? His hands on your arse, in that way?”
“Yes, Sir. More than I thought.” But when he first mentioned it, I wasn’t against it. Now I may be a brat on purpose.
“Yeah, I knew she was a fit for us, Teach.”
This time his tongue doesn’t return to my wet folds, and he deploys Gibson’s technique. “Gibs, baby. You’re right. Fuck, she tastes like every sort of juice fruit combined in one.”
I’m so happy both men’s desires are for me and me alone. I can’t for the life of me remember the last time I felt so loved, cherished and…I can’t think of the right word, and I bring my gaze to Gibson, then Stone and I know exactly what it is I feel. Safe, I’m safe.
I don’t have much time to stew on how I’ve been neglected for so long, when the orgasm overtakes me in my stomach, and I begin to quake.
“Hell, Doc, she’s even more beautiful from this vantage point.”
I love that he thinks I’m beautiful mid orgasm. I ride through the pleasure, his fingers still inside of me. I’m their focus. Hell, a girl can get used to everything they’re willing to give me. That’s the problem. I want to get used to this, but is it wise? Am I setting myself up for heartbreak?
* * *
Orgasms make me sleepy,especially when I’m sandwiched between the strong bodies of both men. I wake, and Gibson and Stone have their hands connected when I open my eyes. One of the men, I’m not sure who, snores from behind, and from the light creeping via the bathroom, someone is staring at me. When my eyes adjust to him, it’s Gibson. In his analytical mind, he’s probably not allowing himself to fall asleep.
“Why are you awake?” I whisper.
“So much on my mind. And I sort of love watching you, too.”
He places a peck on my forehead, and it gives me enough time to spy the time on the clock. It’s not quite midnight. “Shit, as comfortable as I am”—and I am, in more ways than one—“I have to leave. Mom and Dad are having a Meadow free day tomorrow. And I don’t want any questions in the morning if I come in past six a.m., because it’s when she crawls into bed with me.”
I wake up to my favorite little girl snoozing next to me, if I sleep past 6:00 a.m. When I’m on shift, I’m well out of bed by then.
