Page 71 of Brush Strokes


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“Come on, Beth,” Ezra rasps into my ear. “He said he wants his dessert. Feed it to him, baby.”

And I’m done.

My body quakes, each limb tensing from my toes up to the top of my body before the dam breaks. My entire being turns to liquid, falling against Ezra as my orgasm sloshes against Cal’s face.

“Jesus!” Ezra rasps, tightening his grip around my waist and fucking into me with abandon, bending me forward.

Cal catches me, and I’m coherent enough to reach for his straining cock. He repositions himself in front of me, and I stretch my lips around him as he feeds me his cock. Ezra fucks me through the aftershocks of my orgasm while I take Cal as deep as I can, until he comes deep inside me.

Cal pulls me off Ezra and lays me flat, hooking one arm under one of my thighs as he enters me in one thrust. I’m still reeling from the intense orgasm, completely covered in sloshing fluids, cum and paint. There’s nothing I can do but submit to the way Cal takes control of my body, pulling me onto him ashe thrusts into me, lifting me at just the right angle to where he’s drilling into my oversensitive g-spot. Each thrust drives breath and wails from my chest, and my head is thrashing back and forth.

“Come on,bláth fiáin.Give me one more.”

“I can’t,” I rasp out through my heavy panting.

Ezra leans over my face and peppers kisses along my jaw. “You can, Beth. And you will.”

As he kisses me, his hand slides down my body, smearing more paint and sweat across my skin, to reach between me and Cal. The buzz of a vibrator shocks me back to my senses.

“Holy fuck. You’re trying to kill me!” I whine as the vibration pulses against my sensitive clit, and the pressure starts to build again.

Ezra swallows my cries, holding the vibrator to my clit while Cal pounds into me. I break again, and it takes so much out of me that I can’t even scream. My vision nearly goes black with the force of it, and I have to physically push the vibrator away because it’s too much. Cal’s release chases mine, and he rolls his hips into me, telling me how much they love me with every slow thrust.

The three of us lay in the—much larger than anticipated—mess we’ve made for several seconds, catching our breaths. When I’m finally able to perch myself up on my elbows to survey the damage, I take note of the way my body is covered in swirls of white, red, and brown.

I try to hold it in, but a loud snort escapes, and I cackle as the most ridiculous notion occurs to me. Ezra and Cal are laughingtoo, before they can even ask what I’m laughing about.

“I’m just trying to decide what kind of pastry I am now that I’m frosted. An éclair, maybe?”

“Whatever you are, you’re ours,” Ezra says through his laughter. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls my head to lay against his chest.

“Hmm,” Cal agrees, rolling over to press his face against my hip. “And you’re feckin’ delicious,” he says before swiping his tongue along the inside of my thigh.

The End

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