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"Ours!" Beckett roared.
She lost count of the numbers she was reciting in her head to keep herself grounded. When Aston and Keaton joined Beckett in feeding off her pussy, drinking her wetness, she lost her mind, and her only course of action was to give in. She reached between her thighs and pulled at their hair as they feasted on her. They slipped their hands under her backside and raised her pussy to their mouths so they could devour her better.
She cried out as Aston took complete hold of her pussy, her clit, her folds in his mouth and drew long sucks from her. She shattered apart as she came, her orgasm wild, untamed, and boundless. But it wasn’t enough for Aston. He wanted more and more, and soon she was so wet that the only sound in the room was his sucking of her wet flesh. And just when she couldn’t take it anymore, he released her and towered over her, and then she watched in mesmerized awe, flushed so deep she felt the heat in her cells as he opened his mouth over her nipple, and a fountain of her cum and juices sluiced over her nipple like a hot waterfall that he tried to lick up all over again so he could create the effect again.
He was driving her beyond insane.
She came again when Keaton penetrated her with his tongue. She could feel the tip of his tongue curl as he scooped up the wetness deeper inside her. She blushed a crimson, deviant red when Keaton stored her wetness in the curve of her stomach, ordering her to be still so nothing seeped down the sides of her. He was asking the impossible. Aston had not stopped wetting her breasts and then lapping the essence up again.
"Your cum on your nipples tastes like fucking ambrosia," Aston roared. "I can’t wait to swallow it down my throat." He lapped at her again, filling his mouth. Her scent was now everywhere. There was no escaping it; it was her.
Keaton had filled the well he had made on her belly, and then, with one full lap, he sucked it all into his mouth. He rose up over her and then forced her to suck his fingers.
Oh, heaven help her.
The instant her mouth was opened wide enough, he poured her essence between her lips, his fingers rubbing it over the seam of her mouth before he kissed her and forced her to give every drop back to him.
She was going to die. And yet there was so much more. Her mouth dried as she watched them take off their clothes. They had lulled her into a state of deep erotic pleasure, but her body still quaked at the size of their incredibly thick, beautiful cocks. She traced the rivers of veins with her eyes, from one cock to the next, forming an invisible line between them that was the most powerful. They were linked. And she wanted to be their anchor.
Despite the savage wet heat in her pussy, the shameless way in which she had come, the dirty, deviant ways they had played with her, she had, with every touch left that line, the link that made them one, envelop her. She couldn’t understand why she felt everything in her heart.
She stopped breathing as Beckett lowered himself over her.
She whimpered as his cock brushed her thigh, its weight so mighty that she felt burned and dominated by just that touch.
"Do you trust us, Rayne?"
She nodded. She didn’t care that he was asking if she trusted them about their health. The truth was she trusted them with her life.
"We’re not going to use protection, sweetheart. There’s going to be nothing between us when we take your virginity. Nothing. Do you understand what we’re saying to you?"
"I do. I do," she sobbed. It didn’t matter. She had fallen hopelessly in love with them.
Endlessly.
There was nothing she could stop them from doing to her. She had already given herself to them. Whether they wanted her that way or not, it didn’t matter. She would only love them. She would only belong to them. Even if they didn’t love her back.
"I do. Please, take me," she said frantically, suddenly struck with the knowledge that she might never see them again. Tears rolled down the sides of her face. She became desperate. "Please, Beckett."
"Fuck. I’m going to hurt you, sweetheart. Just look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me."
She stared into his tumultuous gray eyes, normally so stoic but now dark, powerful, dominant, and possessive.
Beckett lifted his cock and guided the head to her pussy. She froze as he parted her soaked folds.
"You’re so damn perfect, Rayne. Made for us," he murmured softly. His words empowered her. Made her want to prove him right. She was made for them. Each one of them.
Beckett.
Aston.
Keaton.
She raised her hips, and her hand slipped lower. She laid her hand over his very large one, arched her back, and raised her hips.
Beckett growled as the head of his shaft dipped into her wetness. He growled deeper before he reached for her hand, captured both her wrists, and pinned them above her head. Balancing on his powerful forearm, he pressed into her.
"I want my cock to find its own way inside you," he rasped. And at that moment, she felt his balls pulse and his thickness throb. "Open for me, Rayne."
