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“All of you,” I reply, shifting my gaze to each one of them in turn. “Of course it’s all of you. I know we can’t do it that way officially, but I want to be married to all of you.”
“Fuck,” Ransom mutters. “I like the sound of that.”
They all swoop in at the same time, taking turns kissing the breath out of me. Their hands and mouths are everywhere, and I figure I can take that as a yes.
“We need to get out of here,” Malice growls, breathing harder. “Or I’m gonna fuck you right here in this room.”
“Wait, wait, let me get dressed.” I laugh, pushing him back. “We’ve already given Doctor Simpson enough to handle today.”
I throw my clothes on in record time, hampered more than helped by the men, who keep trying to lend a hand. Clearly, they’re better at undressing me than dressing me. It helps that I’ve started wearing pants with a stretchy waistband, so there are fewer buttons and zippers to deal with. Malice practically grabs the receptionists computer off her desk when she takes too long pulling up the software to schedule my next appointment, and finally, we hustle out of the building.
All of us crowd into the car, urgency building with every passing second. Malice shoves the key into the ignition and cranks it, making the engine roar to life.
Ransom, meanwhile, slides across the back seat toward me, cupping my face in his hands for a deep, hungry kiss. Our lips stay connected as his hands slowly start to wander, trailing over my extra sensitive breasts and the curve of my belly. One large hand works its way past the elastic of my pants, delving between my legs and making me whimper.
“Fuck you,” Malice growls, glancing in the rearview mirror as he white knuckles the steering wheel. “I’m driving, you asshole.”
Ransom just smirks. “More for me then. I thought you loved driving, Mal.”
“Not right now, I don’t,” Malice mutters, sounding so put out that I have to laugh.
Vic, who doesn’t have to keep his eyes on the road, turns around to watch from the passenger seat, and my blood heats as Ransom leans close to nip at my earlobe.
“Even though Vic likes to join in now, I bet he still gets off on watching too,” he murmurs. “Should we give him what he wants?”
I nod, my breath catching.
Ransom tugs my pants all the way off and then helps me turn sideways in the seat so that my legs are spread. Then he wastes no time situating himself between my thighs, holding them open so he can bury his face in my pussy.
The first touch of his tongue to my clit makes me moan out loud, and Ransom devours me like he’s starving. It feels so fucking good, the way he flicks his tongue, licking and lapping at me, and I give myself over to it entirely.
“Anyone driving by is gonna be able to see you,” Malice comments from the front, his voice gruff with need.
The thought of what a filthy sight we must make sends a rush of arousal through me, and wetness gushes from me, soaking Ransom’s chin.
“Yeah, I don’t think she minds,” he murmurs, grinning against my heated flesh.
He keeps lapping at me, running his tongue up and down my slit in long strokes before concentrating on my clit again, and even if I wanted to hold off my orgasm, there would be no way to stop it now.
“Ransom,” I whimper, writhing beneath him. “Oh god…”
Malice steps on the gas, cutting around a corner so fast that I slide across the seat a little. Even though I just came, Ransom doesn’t let up. He keeps going, fucking me with his tongue and teasing me with the piercing until I’m arching against him, tugging at his hair.
“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters. “Could eat you forever.”
I don’t know how much time passes before the car screeches into the garage. Malice gets out, slamming his door and then yanking open mine so he can lift me out of the back seat.
“Wow, rude.” Ransom licks his lips, complaining good naturedly as I’m taken away from him. “I was in the middle of something.”
Malice doesn’t even seem to hear him. He sets me down on the hood of the car and then shoves his pants down in one go. His tattooed cock springs out, rock hard and flushed, and I groan at the sight of it.
“Is it healed enough?” I ask, biting my lip as I stare down at his newest tattoo. My name, written right along the length of his dick alongside his other ink.
“Yeah, it’s good.” His voice is a harsh rasp.
He hasn’t been able to fuck me while it’s healing, and although that’s been torture for both of us, he insists that it was worth it. And I have to admit, seeing my name emblazoned on his shaft is definitely a turn-on.
He’s found other ways to get me off—watching his brothers fuck me, fingering me, eating me out, and playing with toys—but god, I’ve missed this.
