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I grip his soft, dark blond hair as our tongues twine together. This feels like sin, the idea that anyone could walk in and see us, catch us, be turned on by our writhing, thriving bodies. As Rory kisses me, Finlay’s hand dips lower and lower until my hips give a restless jerk into Rory’s hardening cock, and Finlay’s fingers begin to toy with my entrance.
“Ye’re soaked right through, sassenach,” he murmurs warmly into my ear, scattering shivers down my spine.
Rory breaks away from me, shooting Finlay an indolent look from beneath his eyelashes. “Really, Fin? Can’t have the saint for one moment before you go diving in?”
“Take better care o’ yer lassie, then,” Finlay says pointedly, before Rory bats his hand away from my cunt.
“Now,” I pant, lightly breathless. “I think there’s a way we canallget what we want here.” And slowly I drag Finlay’s hand back down to my folds, keeping my gaze locked on Rory to tell him that this, this is what I want: the two of them combined, always.
“You don’t want to see his expression,” Rory informs me quietly, his gray eyes narrowing on the face behind me. “It’s exceedingly, irritatingly smug.”
Finlay releases a soft scoffing noise by my nape. “That’s whit you look like every day, ya fud. Must be somethin’ about havin’ the sassenach that does that tae a man.”
Dark ink is notably absent from his wrist again, and I wonder the last time I saw bold colors and patterns decorated all across Finlay’s hand. The fluorescent strip light above catches on the faint white, almost silvery, filament-thin scar tissue, which Finlay seems to wear unconcealed these days as though it’s more shocking, more raw and painfully honest than anything ink and imagination could create.
As the two of them work together to desecrate me with pleasure, moans spill unbidden from my lips. I sink deeper into the sweetest bliss, as kisses slide up and down my neck and face, as warm breaths tickle and tease every desperate, shredded nerve ending in my body. Rich boys kiss their women like the horny, horny queens they are, and if I weren’t trapped so solidly between them, I’d be sinking to my knees in this too-dry and humid room to worship them too.
Fingers encircle my clit while others slide down my folds. Another pair slip inside me, and I feel myself widening to accommodate them, a quiver growing from my groans, a catch crawling in their growls.
“Fuck,” Rory mutters, and my gaze lingers on the teeth snaring his lower lip, the decency and decorum that his rich-boy facade tries in vain not to repress. I slide my thumb across his lips, freeing their sultry plump pinkness, as anonymous fingers delve inside me from below.
It’s a struggle to swallow. I struggle to do anything other than stand caught between them, sagging back against Finlay’s muscled arms, my concentration forest-deep on Rory and the glitter in his eyes. I take it, every inch that’s thrust inside me, until soft obscene squelches from my cunt rival the chattering processors for the loudest sounds in the room.
“That’s it,” Finlay murmurs, and he brings his forearm tight around my breasts, “ye can take it.”
My body is quivering, on the verge of losing control completely. Spirals of heat radiate from my core. Rory watches with fascination that turns into devotion, his attention demanded by my unshed sparkle of tears as pleasure threatens to overwhelm me. His lips brush my eyelashes, spilling inexplicable tears across my cheekbones. Nothing has ever felt this good, this intense, and my quaking legs are about to give way. I’m shuddering between two pairs of arms, but everything about me is unsteady as Rory slows and speeds the fingers, his fingers, against the hot little bead of my desperate, needy clit.
My hips stutter against Rory’s cock. I grip his wrist like a steel bracelet, as Finlay’s fingers freely piston in and out of me. And then suddenly I’m screaming. Rory’s eyes shoot between me and the door, before settling solely on me as a priority, his eyes drinking in every change in my expression. Orgasm seizes at my belly, grasping fingers that take and take from me, pleasure washing over me in deep, satisfying waves. And yet I can’t stopscreaming— I’ve never been this loud in my life, or maybe I just assume that, because every time I come, I’ve always shocked by the force of it, by my body’s grip on the volume control that means the whole world needs to hear the pierce of my pleasure.
Finlay’s hand slides from my breasts to my mouth, his firm palm swallowing my screams. Above me, all I see are lights shining down on us like fattened stars, and I gaze up at them until my trembling, quivering body relaxes from its orgasm high and the loudest sound in the room is the computers cricking and creaking around us once again.
“Always the quiet ones,” Finlay murmurs from behind, pressing a kiss to the corner of my ear as his hand slowly slides down my chin. I sink back into his secure arms, remembering how to breathe.
Rory watches me closely, and I’d give anything to know his locked-down thoughts at that moment. His cheeks are pink, his pupils black. Nevertheless, his gaze is utterly inscrutable, and all I can tell from it is that it doesn’t want to leave me.
And then, before I even realize it, Rory’s lowering himself to the floor.
