Page 93

Story: Princes of Ash

Behind me, Pace groans, my muscles clamping down on him. A kiss shouldn’t feel this good—noneof this should feel so good—but Wicker touches my cheek and strokes his tongue across mine, and just like that, I’m utterly lost.

By the time Wicker withdraws, we’re both breathless, but I’m the only one in a soggy daze.

“You like that, huh?” His wicked smirk is tempered by the way his thumb presses against my bottom lip, catching our saliva. I don’t wonder why for long, watching as he pulls his cock from his underwear, all pink and stiff. He rubs his slick thumb over the tip, hissing, “Jesus. Just fuck her already.”

Pace’s deep chuckle tickles my ear. “That’s not how it works, is it, Rosi?”

Wicker and I stare at one another, his half-lidded, lust-filled eyes boring into mine. “No,” I admit.

“What do you have to do for me to give you what you want?” Pace’s long fingers dip into the crease of my ass, and I tense as he brushes my puckered hole, restraining the need to arch against the touch.

Swallowing, I take control. “I have to ask for it.”

“Is that how it works?” Wicker asks, holding my gaze. “If I ask you to get me off, you’d do it? You want me to say please?”

I shake my head. Those rules are between me and Pace. But Wicker and I? If sex were a religion, we’d be in purgatory. He might be slightly less mean to me, buy me burritos and appropriately sized bras, but I don’t trust him. Not with my body.

Still, he’s so fucking pretty.

“You see how it is?” Wicker says, looking over my shoulder. “Maybe she just doesn’t know how to please a man without him taking control.”

“Is that the problem, Rosi?” Pace asks, removing his hand from under my shirt. I watch, confused, as he reaches not for me, but Wicker.

I gasp as his slender fingers expertly fist Wicker’s cock. Wicker groans, abs flexing as he lets his brother take over. “Fuck, yeah.”

My body reacts, some mixture of shock and indecency twisting deep in my belly. Pace groans into my hair, his gruff voice announcing, “Fuck, shereallylikes that.”

“Yeah?” Wicker’s eyebrow quirks up, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “We used to do that, you know. Go to parties and make out for the girls. Got so much pussy.” He comes forward again, but this time, it’s not for me.

He and Pace meet right over my shoulder, their mouths colliding in a slow, wet kiss.

“Oh,” I breathe, close enough to see when their tongues meet. “Oh,god.”

It’s beyond hot. What’s hotter than hot? Scorching? It doesn’t do it justice. Pace groans into his brother’s mouth, only to turn away, instantly capturing my lips. I gladly chase the taste of Wicker on his tongue.

Pace growls. “Holy fuck, she’s gushing, Wick.”

Wicker bucks into Pace’s fist, smirking. “Me too, Red. Me too.”

This time, Wicker’s kiss is hard and bruising, his breath hot as he pants, reaching up to palm my breast. Slowly I unwind, caught in this circle of muscles and body parts. Full of Pace, mouth occupied by Wicker, I’m trapped by their connection. After all the fear and tension, I let them take the lead, curious about where the electrical current will end.

Wicker’s mouth blazes a hot trail down my neck, and I can’t help but watch the way Pace handles him, mesmerized. There’s no gentleness, just firm control as he draws Wicker closer to the edge, their breaths growing ragged. Pace’s cock swells inside of me, thickening until his need to thrust builds into these tiny, rocking punches. My clit throbs, desperate for touch, but when I drop my hand between my legs, Wicker’s fingers cinch around my wrist.

“Ask me to do it.” His voice is strained, clearly close to coming to his own release. He grunts and repeats, “Ask me, Verity.”

Maybe it’s that he’s using my name—not Princess, not Red—and the fricative falls off his tongue like a bolt of lightning, but I find myself wanting to chase, not run. “Touch me,” I demand. “Please.”

His lips look so red, twisting into an evil grin when he finally relents, slipping a hand between my thighs. I cry out at his touch, but he swallows it with his mouth, using a thumb to toy with my clit. That would honestly be enough to do me in, especially with Pace sucking a mark into my neck as his brother rubs me in these small, delicious circles. My mind starts to melt, the orgasm a breath away, but then I feel it: the stretch of Wicker’s forefinger joining Pace’s cock, slipping in beside it.

It’s nearly too much, my mouth gaping open on a whine as Wicker licks against my lips.

“Still so tight,” he rumbles.

Pace growls into my ear, his voice more ragged than I’ve ever heard it. “You have no fucking idea.”

It’s too much to bear, and the rush crashes into me, a shattering jolt that’s followed by the deep, guttural groan in my ear. It’s the signal to brace myself for Pace’s unrelenting surge of cum. I’d close my eyes, but I’m too enthralled by Wicker’s gorgeous face, seconds from release. He closes his hand over Pace’s, the two of them gripping his shaft as he explodes, thick and dripping over their combined hands.

The shockwave of it keeps rolling on and on, the gradual pressure of fullness drawing a cry from me.

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