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Together, we begin to ramp up our efforts, our restraint being tested by Clover’s young, supple body and her wild spirit. She’s gathering around us, her own climax approaching.
I’m almost disappointed. I don’t want this to end.
But none of us can hold off the tsunami of ecstasy barreling down on us.
Wesley whips his head up and says to Briggs, “She’s getting close. Hold on, just a little more. We almost have her.”
Briggs’s jaw clenches and he nods once.
As if that alone is enough, Clover stiffens.
She stops breathing.
And when Wesley leans in and bites her neck then sucks hard, guaranteeing she’ll wear the imprint of his teeth for a week at least, she comes apart in our arms. And on our dicks.
All three of them.
I join Wesley, sipping on the sweet flesh beneath her jaw, making sure to brand her so she knows who she belongs to. Not only for this session but when she looks in the mirror tomorrow and the day after and for as long as it takes us to convince her she’s ours.
Briggs gets it. It’s our frenzied possession that tips him over the edge. His balls pulse near my face as he erupts, threatening to drown Clover. She gulps him down, drinking his passion.
When a rivulet escapes, I’m so overcome by rapture, crazed with it, that I lean in and lap it from the corner of her mouth. With that, I’m gone. Adding to the load inside her. Filling her pussy with every drop I can muster for the second time.
Wesley can’t resist the rippling of her ass around his dick as she comes and comes, the filling in our vulgar sandwich, her orgasm shaking us all like an earthquake.
He shouts her name as he unloads deep into her. It’s probably my imagination, but I swear I can sense the searing heat of his release as he paints her insides with it.
Clover is mewling, writhing on the bed, obliterated by our shared orgasm.
Given how intense it is for me and my best friends, I can’t imagine what it must feel like to go from never having been fucked to such an extreme experience.
One that has ruined me—and hopefully her—for anyone else.
I’m not sure how long we hang there, rocked by repeated aftershocks.
But eventually, I become aware of shuffling and side conversations from the sofas. People recapping their favorite parts of the event with awed and jealous undertones.
They’ve seen everything of her they’re going to.
We need to get out of here and come up with a plan. Because there’s no way we’re letting our girl leave us now that our arrangement is complete.
I withdraw from her with a soul-deep groan my best friends echo.
Clover reaches for us, but we’re already in motion again.
Briggs grabs his clothes from the floor. He tugs on his pants and shirt as Wesley and I do the same, leaving ours unbuttoned and abused, rumpled where they’re usually ironed.
I can relate.
Then Briggs swipes his suit jacket and uses the fabric that was tailor-made for his expansive shoulders to blanket Clover instead. He wraps her in it then gathers her into his arms as I turn toward the crowd.
From across the room, I stare Gunner dead in the eyes. “The end.”
Wesley straightens his fogged glasses and takes a bow when the crowd whistles and claps.
As we stride from the auditorium toward the elevator and our quarters upstairs, the auctioneer thanks everyone for joining then apologizes for the realities of live broadcasts before the extra lights and those red eyes on the cameras finally go dark.
There’s no need to say anything as all three of us ride the same brainwave.
