Ace—ever a boob man—did so with relish, lavishing attention on my aching nipples as he pinched and squeezed at my wobbling flesh. Pulling one breast into his mouth as far as it could go, Ace sucked so hard that I just knew I’d end up with an epic love bite, which, I’m sure, was precisely what he intended—just another way to mark his woman, to remind Barton that this was temporary, that I was Ace’s girl.
Meanwhile, Barton was tentatively exploring my pussy, no doubt figuring out what I liked, and what I didn’t. As he penetrated my clenching hole, he rubbed at my clit, ratcheting my need to come up several notches. Gasping, I told him so, “Please, Barton, stop fucking about and make me come, will you?”
A husky chuckle reached my ears, and I fisted the sheets as both men gave me pleasure beyond even my wildest fantasies. And the best part? This was just foreplay—the main event was yet to come. I was so damn wet that juice slicked my lips, my thighs, my crack. It almost felt as though I’d pissed myself—but that was good. When I was fucking two cocks at once, I was going to need all the lubrication I could get.
Adding a third finger to my soaked core, Barton licked my clit over and over, before pulling it between his lips. Seeking my G-spot at the same time, he found it with no trouble at all and began to stimulate it as he sucked at my swollen bud. That, added to Ace’s thorough enjoyment of my chest, had me skipping up to the precipice in no time at all. My entire body—scratch that, my entire being—felt as though it were on fire, utterly overwhelmed by heat and yet completely willing to succumb to it, to allow itself to be burned away to nothing. What a way to go—scorched by erotic fire.
Turned out it wasn’t about being willing, anyway. With two skilled mouths and two eager pairs of hands on me, not to mention the two cocks I was looking forward to enjoying, I was going to come whether I wanted to or not. I hung in limbo for what seemed like forever, momentarily worried that there was such a thing as too much stimulation. Then, between them, my sexy vampire and werewolf lovers shoved me over the edge in spectacular style. Hands, fingers, lips, teeth…everything melded together once my climax hit.
With a yelp, I arched my back. Tingles erupted over every millimeter of my skin, pulling in and centering in my groin, before radiating out again. My cunt spasmed, and I heard Barton exclaim as my muscles squeezed at his fingers.
Ace backed off a little, dialing his roughness right down and peppering my breasts, décolletage and stomach with gentle kisses as I rode out my orgasm. I appreciated it all the more because I knew he was doing it to encourage Barton to lay off, without having to tell him.
Fortunately, the werewolf took the hint. He’d already released my clit when I began bucking and writhing on the bed, and now he slipped his fingers from my saturated sex. I watched, despite my blurry mid-orgasmic vision, as he put them in his mouth, then sucked my juices from his skin. Flashing me a wicked grin, he then raked his gaze down my body, which had finally started to relax as the waves of climax ebbed and flowed away.
Moving up the bed, Ace propped himself up on his elbow beside me and stroked my hair. “All right, babe?”
Smiling lazily, I nodded. “More than all right. I…” I shrugged. “I dunno how to describe it.”
“Lost for words, eh? First time for everything.” Ace shook his head, then looked at Barton. “I think we did good, mate. And she’s still got one more to go before she’ll let us fuck her.”
“Huh?” I fought hard to clear the haze in my mind, then remembered what he was going on about. “Hey, you know what? Forget I said that. That was just crazy talk. I say”—I reached over and grabbed a handful of condoms from the bedside cabinet and tossed them at the two men—“let’s fuck. Pronto.”
Chapter Nine
Ace raised an eyebrow, then glanced over at Barton. “Well, I’m not about to argue with the lady. You?”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Good,” I said. “So…how are we doing this?”
Scratching his head, Ace said, “It’s really up to you, Nees. As long as I get inside you in the very near future, I’ll be a happy man.”
“So easy to please,” I quipped, tipping him a wink. “Well then, I guess the decision rests on your considerable shoulders, wolf boy.”
Looking momentarily surprised, Barton then regained his composure. “Okay. Well, we have all night and a bunch of condoms, so I’m guessing this isn’t a one-time deal, is it?” He looked at me, and when I shook my head, he continued, “Great. In that case, how about I go on the bottom? I want your tight, hot pussy on my dick, then Ace can fuck your arse.”
Ace leaned down and gave me a brief but toe-curling kiss, then grabbed the lube. “Fine by me.”
Rolling to one side of the bed, I waited until Barton had taken my place, then straddled him. Heat still emanated from my pussy, and I realized that, in spite of my soul-stealing orgasm, I was far from sated. Two men should have exhausted me, wrung me out, but apparently I just wanted more, more, more. Maybe once I’d achieved the very pinnacle of my sexual bucket list—specifically, double penetration as part of a ménage—then I’d be satisfied. But there was only one way to find out.
While I’d been wool-gathering, Barton had been attending to much more important things. When I came back to myself and looked down at him, I noticed he was rubbered up and ready to go. I grinned, then twisted to see how Ace was getting on. Condom-free, his cock glistened with lubricant and he wore a look of intense concentration as he slicked yet more on. I was into pain, but only the good kind.
Shuffling further up Barton’s prone form, something occurred to me. I’d made him come, and he’d helped to make me come, but I hadn’t even kissed the guy yet. I gripped his shaft and positioned it at my entrance. Satisfied that when I lowered myself it would slide neatly inside my cunt, I leaned down, positioning my hands either side of his shoulders, and pressed my lips to his.
He moved his hands immediately up to my waist, guiding me down onto his cock. I let him, then opened my mouth and sought out his tongue. I wasn’t surprised to find he was an exceptionally good kisser—he’d been damn talented at everything else so far, after all—and we quickly settled into a rhythm as I inched my way down his shaft. It felt utterly divine, stretching me, filling me, rubbing in all the right places. My G-spot was already doing a happy dance, and I hadn’t even started riding the bloke yet.
Just then, I felt knuckles brush against my arse cheeks. It seemed Ace was eager to claim his prize. Pulling momentarily away from Barton’s lips, I said, “Just hang on a minute there, fang boy. This is a whole new ball game for me, remember? Let me settle into riding the werewolf for a minute. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
I giggled. Fang boy? Riding the werewolf? How bizarre and unbelievable my life was. And yet, as I resumed kissing Barton and finally bottomed out on his dick, his weighty balls squishing up against my labia, I knew it was completely and utterly amazing, too.
As lust overtook unsurety with Barton and I, our kiss increased in intensity. We fought and thrust our tongues in time with our hips—my pussy eagerly accepting his cock, again and again, slickness seeping out of me and coating our groins, our thighs, our lower stomachs. The scent of sex permeated the air, musky, tart, somehow, and completely and utterly erotic.
After a minute or so, I felt ready for the next step. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous, but fortunately, arousal and an intense craving were much more powerful. I needed two cocks inside me, and I needed them now. Slowing my rocking right down, I then wiggled my arse in what I hoped was a provocative fashion, indicating to Ace that he should make his move.
A chill on my back passage told me he’d understood. His fingertips gently smeared lube over and around my arsehole, relaxing me, pleasuring me, before eventually breaching me. One slick digit, then two, worked the lubricant deep, stretching the tight ring of muscle, preparing it for something much bigger. Tingles fizzed through my body, and my groin felt so heavy I thought I’d pop, an overload of pleasure making me exp
lode.
I wasn’t worried about having a thick cock inside my tightest hole. Not by itself, anyway. I’d taken Ace that way many times before, and fucking loved it. It was having two cocks inside me at the same time that concerned me. It also aroused me beyond all reasonable belief, and my pussy, despite already being stuffed full of cock, throbbed and ached for more. Damn. Another possibility entered my head—two dicks in my cunt at the same time? Storing it away for later, I gave myself over to the pleasure I was receiving. It was addictive, heady, and by the time I felt Ace’s cockhead brush up against my anus, I wanted it more than I could remember wanting anything in my life. An earthquake could have rocked the room, a tornado ripped off the roof, and I wouldn’t have cared. Every single cell of my body, including those that made up my brain, was tuned into what was happening right then. Nothing—literally nothing—else mattered.
Twisting my neck, I hissed over my shoulder, “Yesss. Yes, do it.” Burying my face in the crook of Barton’s neck, I prepared myself for what would happen next. The stretching, burning, sharp pain of my sphincter admitting Ace’s length came as expected. As ever, he was patient, gentle, stroking my bum and back and murmuring reassurances as his beautiful dick entered me.
What he couldn’t know, though, was that my senses had gone into overdrive. I felt so full, so incredibly full already that I feared I would burst. Ace wasn’t even all the way in and it was too much. Breathing slowly, I said nothing, then sunk my teeth into Barton’s flesh as Ace finally pushed past all resistance and inched deeper, until I felt his balls press against me.
“Fuck!” I snarled, releasing Barton, who hadn’t made so much as a murmur as I’d bitten him. Looked like I wasn’t the only one into a spot of pain. “That was…”
“You okay, baby?” Ace asked.
I was about to tell him to fuck off when I realized that actually, I was okay. Stretched, but okay. “Umm…yeah, I think so. Start moving, slowly, Ace. Get me used to this. Then,” I directed my next comment at the wolf, “I’ll let you know when to start moving. Probably best I keep still and let you two work out a rhythm. Don’t want either of you popping out now, do we? Not now it feels so fucking good.”
It did, too. It felt good and every other positive word in the dictionary. Warmth, buzzing, tingling, swelling, blood pumping… I was climbing back to that natural high, and as soon as I knew I could take it, I told Barton, “Fuck me.”
Gripping the back of my neck, he pulled me in for a rough kiss, the possessive, need-you-so-fucking-much kind I often shared with Ace. He tongue-fucked my mouth as his hips began rocking, tentatively at first, as the two men worked together to establish a rhythm that suited us all. It didn’t take long, and soon the room was filled with grunts and groans as we were all stimulated physically and mentally, our ultimate fantasies in progress.
I was like a rag doll, squashed between two delicious, lusty men who were taking their pleasure from my body. But I was taking my pleasure from theirs too, so much so that I came without even a fingertip to my clit. Being so full of cock, my internal muscles couldn’t clench as much as normal, but it was clear that both men had felt my climax—feral sounds, expletives were dragged from their lips. Fingers dug into my arse. Cocks thrust, retreated, thrust again, all the while wave after wave of bliss crashed over me.
It couldn’t last forever, of course, so when I felt Ace tense up, I wasn’t disappointed—it was only the first of the evening’s sessions. As he began to soften inside my arse, Barton’s length swelled further before exploding. A tiny shockwave fluttered through me—I’d been wracked by a number of orgasms since the boys had established their rhythm, each one a little weaker. I didn’t mind, though, as every time I’d come, I’d grown closer to my ultimate goal—being completely sated. Every single last one of my kinky buttons was being pushed, no, being pounded by the situation, and I’d never forget the experience as long as I lived. It was perfection. Sexy, kinky, naughty, erotic perfection.
As the wolf’s dick grew flaccid, I let myself go flaccid too, figuring he was a big boy, he could put up with my dead weight on top of him.
The last thing I heard before I drifted off was Barton’s panicked tone. “Shit, has she passed out or something?”
Ace’s tone was decidedly more amused. “Probably. But I wouldn’t worry—she won’t be like that for long.”
“She won’t?”
“Nah. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be ready for the next round. My girl, she’s a bit of a nympho. It’s one of the main reasons I love her so much.”
I smiled as I succumbed to exhaustion, aware of the truth in Ace’s words. When it came to sex, he wasn’t the only one with superhuman stamina.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Steal Your Soul Away
Elizabeth Coldwell
Excerpt
Chapter One
This city came to life once the sun went down.
Standing in the walled rooftop garden that had persuaded her to take the apartment, Angelique looked out over the Brighton skyline. The September night retained some heat, though it did not warm her skin, and she wrapped her silk shawl a little tighter around herself. Her preternaturally sharp hearing picked up the sound of music playing and laughter in a bar a couple of streets away. In the distance, the sea was a flat, calm expanse of black.
Tempted as she was to drink in the atmosphere a little longer, work called. Mick might be among the best of the many bosses she’d had in her working life, but the one thing he didn’t tolerate was tardiness. With some reluctance, she left the garden, picked up her bag from the living room, then set off for the club.
Club Peekaboo was housed in what had once been a public house in the Lanes, a good fifteen minutes’ walk from Angelique’s apartment. Some of the other girls who danced there raised eyebrows at her willingness to travel everywhere by foot, even in the small hours of the morning or on the coldest winter nights, but she never felt afraid. Any would-be mugger who tangled with what they took to be just another slender, fragile-looking brunette would quickly discover their error.
By the time she entered the club, the evening’s show was already well under way. Walking along the corridor towards the dressing rooms, Angelique bumped into Sally, a girl no more than five feet tall, with dyed scarlet hair and an almost cartoonishly voluptuous figure, all tits and hips. Sally performed under the stage name of Dusty Kaboom. She trotted along carrying her stage outfit of a saucy little nurse’s uniform, her round bottom almost totally on display thanks to the tiny thong she wore. When she stripped out of that uniform to the strains of Robert Palmer’s version of Bad Case of Loving You, accompanied by saucy stroking motions along the shaft of an oversized thermometer, she damn near brought the house down.
“Hey, Angelique.” Sally’s impish face broke into a grin. “How’s it going?”
“Not bad. Mick’s not asking where I am, is he?”
Sally shook her head. “He knows you never let him down. Though I’m sure he’d allow a bit of leeway for the star of the show.” As she pushed open the dressing room door, she added, “I’m off for a drink in that new cocktail bar down by the pier later on. Meeting up with Chrissie and her new man. D’you fancy joining us after you finish here?”
“That would be nice.” She hadn’t seen Chrissie in months, not since the girl had landed a job in a vintage clothing shop in North Laine and returned to the daytime world. And Angelique had made no plans for tonight. She often liked to walk the streets till just before sunrise, luxuriating in the quiet darkness of the sleeping city.
The two women went to their usual dressing tables, Sally to change back into what she referred to as her ‘civilian clothing’, and Angelique to begin the process of turning herself into a figure of pure fantasy.
She peeled out of her wine-red dress and hung it up, before taking off her underwear. Like Sally, Angelique was not in the least self-conscious about walking round naked—she’d had a long time to grow used to the way her bo
dy looked, after all—and she stretched out the kinks in her limbs before stepping into a nude-colored silk thong. Next, she fitted diamanté pasties over her nipples. After that came the corset, with cups designed to just about cover her breasts and offer tantalizing glimpses of her pale flesh as she moved. She completed the outfit with elbow-length gloves in ivory satin, nude stay-up stockings and a feather fascinator that she clipped into her neat updo.
As she applied another coat of ruby gloss to already slick lips, Mick popped his head round the dressing room door. He let in the sounds of dance music with a slow, grinding beat and voices raised in excited conversation.
“Couple of minutes, darling,” he told her, appraising her with a slow, sensual head-to-toe look. “And I have to say you’re looking as gorgeous as ever tonight.”
“Merci, Mick.” Angelique blew him an air kiss, and waited for him to close the door.
He’d been open in his admiration of her since the day she’d started at Club Peekaboo, and had asked her out on several occasions. She always turned him down, telling him regretfully but sincerely that, tempting as the prospect might be, she would never enter into a relationship with a man for whom she worked. It avoided complications in the long term.
She checked her reflection a final time, then made her way to the backstage area, where she climbed onto the cradle that had been lowered for her. The most elaborate prop the club possessed, it cemented Angelique’s status as headline performer.
On the other side of the curtain, the MC for the night announced, “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve been waiting for. We present the very sexy, very stunning queen of the night, Miss Clair de Lune.”