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My eyes widen as I stare at Brom, but Brom holds the back of my neck. “Just relax, Mrs. Van Brunt,” he says, and the use of that name makes me feel delirious in the best way. “You can take us.”
“Surely I can’t,” I say, then I feel Crane’s fingers pushing inside me, sliding along Brom’s cock, stretching me.
“Oh, God,” I cry out, the pain already intense.
“That’s my good girl,” Crane murmurs. “Easy does it.”
Brom wraps his arms around me, holding me tight to him, as if to prevent me from escaping and I’m overwhelmed by his bonfire scent, by the soft texture of his chest hair, the hot, taut planes of his muscles. I press my forehead against his shoulder and try to breathe through the intrusion. Crane keeps adding more fingers, pushing them deep inside until I start to squirm.
“I love you, my beautiful wife,” Brom coos, kissing the top of my head, though he too is starting to shake, his heart becoming louder through his chest.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Then Crane removes his fingers and I feel his cock press against me now.
“This will hurt,” Crane says. “But it won’t hurt for long. Just relax.”
“Deep breaths,” Brom murmurs against my head.
Crane starts to push inside now, just the head, and I yelp, tying to buck my hips away, to escape the pain.
“You can tell us to stop,” Crane says gently, though his breath is shaking, his cock paused halfway inside me, halfway against Brom. “And we’ll stop.”
I shake my head, my eyes pinching shut. “No. I want this. I want you, I want both of my husband’s inside me like this. I want both your seed where it counts.”
Brom swallows audibly. “As if I wasn’t already this close to losing it,” he says gruffly.
“Stay the course,” Crane says and then he puts his hand against the wall behind Brom, bracing himself as he shoves himself inside me with one brutal thrust.
I open my mouth to scream but then remember where I am and I bite down on Brom’s shoulder instead. He hisses, but whether it’s from how mind-numbingly tight I am with Crane wedged inside me, or from the pain of my bite, I don’t know.
“Just breathe,” Brom says to me, holding me tighter as I try to squirm and move away from the invasion.
“That’s it, sweet witch,” Crane rasps, kissing the back of my neck. “Stay still so we can both fuck you. I promise this will feel good soon.”
How the hell do you know? I want to yell at him. You’re not the one being split in two!
But as Crane pulls out and pushes back in, as I force myself to just succumb to the pain instead of fighting against it, I let everything go and collapse into their arms.
And as always, when I let go, I find myself coming alive.
Brom and Crane start moving in tandem now, and I can feel their cocks not only inside me, but feel as they slide along each other’s, and I’m lost to their ragged breaths, their beating hearts, the sweet words they whisper to me, the hard words they whisper to each other. I am pinned between them like a butterfly, I am soaring higher and higher as my body is pushed to the edge of everything.
Then I come, biting Brom’s shoulder again so as not to scream, my body convulsing and shaking, my heart feeling as if it will punch right out and into the world.
My men. My husbands.
They come together, Crane biting my neck, grunting hoarsely as he shoots inside me, cursing up a storm, while Brom’s hips thrust up violently, his arms around me shaking as he tells me loves me over and over again.
My wife, my wife, my wife.
Then I am just a doll in their arms, their semen spilling out of me before their cocks do.
“Jesus,” Crane groans as he pulls out and then brings me down into the bed beside him. I slide away from Brom and he joins us on the other side, and the three of us lie there, crammed on bed that’s just a little too small for three people.
Eventually, when my heart returns to normal, but that utterly joyous feeling still remains, I turn over on my stomach and look at them. They’re both gazing at each other, matching satisfied smiles.
And I wish more than anything that they could be united in the same way that I’m tied to both of them.
“I think I should marry the two of you,” I whisper.
They both blink at me in surprise.
“You know that’s not possible,” Crane says, though the hope in his voice is unmistakable.
“Maybe not legally,” I say. “Maybe not in the eyes of God. But in our hearts, in our souls, it’s more than possible. And it counts for more.”
