Page 26 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers

Russell closes the distance between us, his mouth crushing against mine, his lips soft and warm. Just like I imagined they would be. There’s no hesitation, no consideration, no pause.

I kiss him back, hard, and reach for his face. He leans into me with ease, his grip in my hair tightening, and it’s a blur. A heady, warm, arousing blur as I open my mouth for him. His tongue finds mine without question, stroking and caressing with adamant fervor.

His free hand travels down my sides, down to my waist, and he pulls me closer. So close I feel his cock through his sweats and groan.

“Fuck, Nora,” he breathes, his hand on my hip tightening.

“Rush…” I breathe his name like a prayer.

His mouth moves quicker as he kisses me. I fall back into the couch, the motion putting him on top of me.

I don’t hesitate, nor do I think twice about bringing my leg up and hooking it around his hip. He curses against my mouth as he continues to kiss me, his hand tight in my hair. His body is heavy against me, his cock brushing against my heated mound. A fresh wetness blooms between my thighs, and I gasp because this shouldn’t be happening.

I’ve never been able to get turned on this fast after an orgasm. Usually, it takes me hours.

And then I remember I’m wearing his underwear and another aching pulse pushes forth. I thrust my hips up against his covered cock, my hands sliding down his body as we kiss one another. Messily.

My hand finds his evident erection, and I let my fingers trace the shape of him, committing it to memory.

“Fuck, Nora, you’re going to make me come if you keep that up,” he bites out, kissing me again. “In my fucking pants.”

“Then we’d be even,” I whisper, losing myself to the energy between us, to my aching pussy. I thrust up against him as he groans, and a soft moan escapes my throat.

“Is that what you want?” he mutters against my mouth. “You want me to make you come, Nora?”

My fingers trace the outline of his sizable cock. I feel a faint wetness as I try my best to position him against me. He grinds his cock against me, dry humping me like a damn teenager. I meet his clothed thrusts in tandem with my own, the wetness between my thighs turning slicker. Warmer.

“Yes,” I whisper, my mind shattering in the haze of lust and his warm, solid body. His hand slides up my waist, finding my breasts. His mouth caresses my skin, and then I feel his lips close around my nipples—through his shirt that I’m wearing.

I can feel the warmth of his mouth, but there’s fabric between us. Despite that, my nipples harden almost instantly and my orgasm starts barreling toward me.

“Rush…” I whisper-cry, my legs shaking. He thrusts himself against me, but it’s not hard or fast. It’s like he’s holding back.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispers, his fingers taking over to toy with my nipples while he kisses me, his tongue caressing mine.

I can feel the outline of his cockhead, thick and solid, pressing at my entrance, the moisture between my pussy and the cool underwear a contrasting balm. I close my eyes, and my thoughts wander as he rubs his clothed cock against me.

I imagine him taking out that thick, heavy cock—because I can tell from feeling the length and size through his sweats that Rush is definitelynotaverage in the dick department—withnothingbetween us.

I cry out and his mouth finds mine, swallowing my ecstasy. His hips grind into me hard as his pace quickens until he grunts in my mouth, and his entire body stills.

Warmth spreads through my core as I come. Hard.

Harder than before.

I feel every twitch of his pulse against my palm as he stops kissing me, his body shaking. “Fuck, Nora…” he whispers.

I don’t think, I just grab him. His lips shake against mine, his mouth moving slow and torturously as my body unravels like thread in his hold.

When we part, I can’t help but stare at him, at his perfect mouth. My lips buzz with the faint warmth and feel of his kiss. My hands on his throat move up to his jaw. My chest heaves with heavy breaths, and I wrap my arms around him and hold on to him for dear life as my heart races in my chest.

Rush’s hands on my waist warm my skin through the shirt—his shirt—and I hold his face against my chest as he lazily stills against me. Exhaustion hits me, and I lose my grip. My strength.

He pulls me up, my body unraveling like thread as sleep steals me like a thief. And when Rush pulls me against his chest, I don’t fight it.

I breathe him in and let the darkness drag me under.

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