Page 7 of Never Dance with the Devils (Never Say Never #6)

“Fuck, yes ,” Maddox hisses in my ear, and his strokes become spastic as he comes.

I can’t feel the heat of his cum through the condom, but I know it’s happening when he throws his head back and roars his release to the ceiling.

An aftershock passes through me, not as strong as the orgasm I had moments ago, but it’s still so good.

Maddox slows as his eyes find mine in the mirror. The smile that steals across his face is pure masculine victory, and oddly enough, I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything. I feel like the much-coveted prize. He places a gentle kiss to my cheek as he slips out, then pushes himself away from the bed.

“You’ll want to lie down for him,” Maddox tells me, lifting his chin toward Riggs. “Trust me.”

I’m boneless, blissed-out, and feel like I could sleep for days.

But Riggs is ready for his turn. Our turn.

And he’s been oh, so patient. So have I, because despite the fatigue trying to work its way through my body, when I drop my eyes to the bulge in his jeans, my curiosity is freshly piqued again, waking me right up like a shot of caffeine straight into my bloodstream.

“Let me see,” I finally get the chance to say. “All of you.”

Still on shaky knees, I watch as Riggs’s hands drop to his jeans. He pushes them down his hips and then swoops his boxer briefs over his dick and down under his balls like he’s presenting himself to me .

“Holy shit,” I gasp. I think I shake my head ‘no’.

I do not know the average length of a vagina, but I can only guess that it’s shorter than Riggs’s cock.

And narrower. Definitely tighter. My own pussy clenches like she’s closing up shop early with no one else getting in, and I can’t blame her.

I’ve seen penises this big, but they were dildos and vibrators Samantha sells as gag gifts.

Ha! Gag gifts! Hell, I’m glad I didn’t try to suck Riggs off while Maddox was fucking me.

Even if I were concentrating, I think I’d choke on the first third of him, and with the way Maddox was pushing and pulling me, I would’ve definitely puked on Riggs’s penis. Talk about embarrassing.

“You can take him. I got you ready, and I’ll help,” Maddox reassures me.

I’ve heard of being a wingman, but this is taking it to new heights.

Or depths, actually. Lengths? I don’t have a chance to figure it out because Riggs’s eyes have darkened and they’re locked on me as he slides his big hand up and down his length, stroking himself.

His tattoos dance as his forearms flex with the movement, and a bead of precum oozes from his crown, covering his fingers. “Can I taste?” I ask.

Just the tip , I tell myself. Just try it and see how far you can get.

I’m a woman who likes to set difficult goals for herself. I’m also one who usually accomplishes them because I don’t quit until I have.

Riggs steps closer, and I bend forward, letting my tongue circle his tip.

He gathers my hair into his hand, holding it out of my way so he can watch as I take him into my mouth.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to feed me more or push my head down.

He simply stands there and lets me lead, groaning about how good my lips feel wrapped around him.

He’s gentle yet not submissive, but not forceful and rough the way Maddox is.

The contrast is addictive, feeding two sides of me I didn’t even know existed.

And slowly, I relax and start to take him deeper.

I hold him at the entrance to my throat, swallowing reflexively, and I’m rewarded by the taste of more of his salty-sweet precum.

The thought runs through my mind that if I’m successfully stretching my mouth to take him, I can for sure take him in my pussy, given I can feel the slickness coating my thighs again.

When else am I going to have a chance like this? With two men? With a dick like this? Poetry could be written about Riggs’s dick. Or maybe warning labels, but carpe diem . Or carpe dickem in this case , I think with a small internal giggle.

I release him from my mouth, wiping at the saliva coating my lips, and look up at Riggs.

“Fuck me.” Remembering what Maddox said, I move to lie back on the bed, my head on the pillows like the princess they’re making me feel like as Riggs pushes his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off.

He follows me onto the bed, crawling over me like a lion on the prowl.

His gaze is heavy, hot, and promises dark, dirty things.

I want each and every one of them. He takes a wrapper from Maddox, who helpfully pulled a condom from somewhere, and sheathes himself before lifting my legs up, opening me up fully until I’m as wide as I can get, and notching at my entrance. “Just relax. Breathe and relax.”

Riggs begins to stretch me deliciously, slow thrust by slow thrust, and though it feels on the verge of being too much, he never rushes, never crosses over the line into pain, sliding more and more of the monster he calls a dick into me.

He lowers down to one elbow, his other hand on my hip holding me still.

“If you move, I’m gonna blow, and I really want more than a second inside you.

I swear I can last longer than I’m about to.

” I laugh lightly, and the movement eases the last bit of resistance my body was giving him. “ Fuck , that’s all of me.”

“It had damn well better be,” I quip back, groaning and writhing beneath him.

“Am I hurting you? What do you need?” he asks, instantly on alert.

He says he’s on the edge of coming too soon, but even then, he’s worried about me, being caring and sweet. “Move,” I tell him. “Fuck me, please .”

Oh, shit. The word slipped out, not as the polite manners I was raised to have and coached to present myself with, but as a plea. There’s no denying that I’m begging for Riggs to fuck me.

He pulls back the slightest bit and then pushes forward again, and God, it feels so good. So full. I feel his eyes tracing over my face and drag my gaze to his, nodding that I’m okay. I see the worry fall off his shoulders like a visible weight. “You’re fucking amazing. You know that, right?”

“So I’ve been told,” I tease, wrapping my feet over his legs and lifting my hips to meet him.

“Goddamn it, it’s like you were made for us,” Maddox grunts. I cut my eyes over to find him still standing at the bedside, watching us as he strokes his once again stiff cock.

How is he hard again? Hasn’t he heard of one and done? I suspect neither of these two men have heard of that.

“Or you were made for me,” I suggest coyly.

The truth is, this is just a perfect one-time experience, a secret story I’ll replay in my mind on lonely nights to remind myself that I’m not always the picture-perfect Harrington everyone thinks I am.

I’m more than my last name, more than the one my whole family turns to for hard truths, decisive action plans, and shrewd thinking.

I’m a woman, with needs and wants and desires that I too often ignore in favor of putting other people first. Their project, their deadlines, their bottom lines.

But tonight is all about me. And the men worshiping me.

It feels hedonistic, like it’s something I should feel selfish or guilty about, but instead, I feel fulfilled in a way that has nothing to do with the stretch from Riggs.

“Probably so,” Riggs agrees, lowering down until he’s pressing me into the bed with his arms wrapped under my armpits to hold my shoulders and his face buried in my hair.

There’s a sense of being pinned, of being trapped beneath him, but it’s in the most overwhelmingly good way.

I feel taken and protected simultaneously.

I know he’s holding some of his weight off, not smushing me completely, and I almost want him to relax further.

I wrap my arms around him, my hands splayed on his back, welcoming him.

He fucks me slow and deep, the intensity different but no less impactful than Maddox’s rough, wild fucking. They’re like two sides of the same perfect coin, both caring for my body and pleasure but showing it in such different ways.

The way Riggs is stretching me and lying so heavily over me has him hitting some spot deep inside me that I didn’t know existed.

It’s not my G-spot, where his fingers were teasing before, but rather something more primal, and to my surprise, another orgasm starts to build inside me.

Unsure what’s happening to me, I hold him tightly, and he freezes, not moving as I begin to buck beneath him.

“You okay?” he groans, but it’s quickly followed by a curse. “Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

His breath is ragged, hot against my neck, and I feel the edge of his teeth, not biting, but like he’s grimacing against the onslaught of pleasure.

I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I’m a missile seeking a release, again.

But this is bigger somehow than all the other orgasms I’ve had tonight.

Finally, a tight band of restraint I didn’t know I was holding on to flies away, unleashing me to the darkness behind my lids.

Or maybe the darkness of the universe. My whole being rearranges itself.

I think I cry out, I think I shudder, and I’m sure Riggs can feel that I’m coming again, but I’m lost to the roaring in my ears and the waves racking through my body.

As I start to become aware—conscious?—again, I realize Riggs is fucking me deep and hard and fast, his grunts nothing more than a constant rumble in his chest. As the world fully comes back, he roars out his release.

I feel him somehow go even harder and bigger inside me, and my body rushes to ease his way, covering him with the sticky juices of my orgasm as he pulses into the condom.

“Holy fuck, Princess,” he murmurs before taking my mouth with a kiss.

“What he said,” Maddox echoes .