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My fingers tremble slightly as I slide Grayson’s boxers down, my breath catching at the sight of him, bare and bold before me.
“Like this,” he murmurs, guiding my hand with his own, showing me the rhythm that elicits a throaty moan from deep within him. “Wrap your fingers…tighter, yes. Now move—slowly.”
I mimic his motions, my gaze locked on his face, searching for any sign of pleasure or approval. The corners of his eyes crinkle, and his mouth parts in a silent oh that sends a surge of pride through me. My body hums with power—the power to give pleasure, to command it.
“God, that’s good,” he groans, and my core clenches in response, hungry for attention that Conrad is all too willing to provide.
Conrad presses against me from behind, the hardness of him against my ass sending a thrill through me. He snakes his arms smoothly around my hips, reaching for the button of my jeans.
“Beautiful Brielle…” Conrad’s voice is a low hum behind me. “So eager to explore.”
Grayson’s mouth devours mine again, and I’m adrift, caught in a current of pure, raw hunger. My tongue tangles with Grayson’s as Conrad slides my pants down my legs, and then my underwear, and I step out of both. I should feel awkward to be fully naked in front of these two strangers, but I’m only excited, hungry for more.
“Let us take care of you now, Brielle.” Conrad’s voice is a velvet caress against the skin of my neck. My hand is temporarily removed from Grayson’s length as they guide me over to the couch where I sit and lean back against the soft cushions.
As Grayson takes a position next to me on the couch, I begin to stroke his length again with my hand, somewhat more confidently now. Conrad kneels before me. His hands are warm on my thighs, spreading them with gentle insistence.
His breath fans over my dampness, and I shudder, my focus momentarily slipping. But Grayson’s urgent whisper pulls me back. “Keep going…just like that.”
The dual sensations are dizzying—Conrad’s mouth on me and the firmness of Grayson in my hand. The world narrows to these points of contact, and I lose myself in the giving and receiving of pleasure.
“Beautiful girl,” Conrad praises, and my heart swells with the need to be seen, to be cherished, to be praised. His tongue finds my clitoris, swirling around with an expertise that makes my legs quiver.
“Grayson…” I gasp, desperate to maintain the pace he taught me despite the waves of delight crashing over me.
“Focus on him, Brielle,” Conrad commands, his voice muffled against me. “Show him how much you want this.”
He makes it sound way easier than it is.
I tighten my grip, moving faster now, driven by the urgency in Grayson’s darkened eyes. His hand cups my cheek, thumb stroking my jawline with a tenderness that contrasts the rawness of our encounter.
“Perfect,” he whispers, and something warm blooms inside me, a flower unfurling its petals in the heat of their combined attention.
“Conrad,” I moan, my nails digging into Grayson’s thigh as pleasure spirals tighter within me. Conrad’s answer is a deeper pressure, a flick of his tongue that sends shock waves pulsing through me.
The pulse of pleasure from Conrad’s relentless attention is a rhythm I can’t escape, and I don’t want to. My hand moves over Grayson, guided by the urgency of his breathing, the heat of his skin under my touch. The slickness of his length makes me bolder, more curious as I explore him, feeling every tremor that ripples through his body.
“God, Brielle,” Grayson groans, and his voice is molten, wrapping itself around me in a shiver-inducing caress. He sucks on my neck, marking me in a way that feels possessive, and it only amplifies the fire burning inside me.
“More,” I plead, shifting against Conrad’s mouth, desperate for more of everything they’re offering.
My hips buck against the delicious pressure of Conrad’s tongue. My hand on Grayson falters, my focus splintering with the onslaught of sensations.
“Keep going, sweetheart,” Grayson breathes against my throat, his hands guiding mine, encouraging me to maintain the rhythm we’ve built together.
“Can’t think,” I mutter, my mind a haze of need. Every stroke I manage, every twist of my wrist, sends a jolt of pleasure up Grayson’s spine, mirrored by the electric waves crashing against my own shores.
“Then just feel,” Grayson whispers hotly, his lips traveling over my sensitive skin. “Let yourself feel everything.”
I do. I let myself drown in the sensation, in the push and pull of hands and mouths. I’m a vessel filling with their desire, spilling over with my own.
“Close.” Grayson’s confession vibrates through me, and I know he’s teetering on the edge. The knowledge that I can bring this strong, powerful man to the brink with just my hand sends a surge of feminine power through me, even as I’m coming undone under Conrad’s relentless pursuit of my pleasure.
“Grayson,” I whimper, his name a talisman against the overwhelming tide. It’s all too much and yet not enough, and I’m spiraling, spiraling…
“Come with me, Brielle,” Grayson urges, his climax imminent, his voice laced with raw edges of restraint.
And I do. God, I do.
