Buying the Virgin novel Chapter 63

Instantly he withdraws, and Michael climbs off me, standing to one side, watching me as orgasm runs its course through me, and I lie, panting and trembling.

And now I can see my Master, sitting back, watching me. “You look fucking fantastic, you know,” he says. “I love what that corset does to your tits.”

Then he stands, between my legs, holding out a hand. “Sit up.” Pulling me up and forward, he presses his cock, pulsing its metronome beat, against the channel of my cleavage. “Give me your hands.”

He places my fingers to either side of my breasts. “Wrap yourself around me, tightly.”

His long cock sandwiched between my breasts, he thrusts, gently, sliding through my cleavage. The red-purple of his swollen cock-head is a stark contrast to the creamy white of my skin, and as he flows, pre-cum and my own sweat make the passage slick and slippery. He glides easily in and out.

“Tighter,” he mutters, his breath growing ragged. I press my hands more tightly around, increasing the pressure for him, moving with his movement so far as I can, looking up into his face as I do so.

“Look down,” he says, through gritted teeth. I drop my gaze, to watch his cock gliding in and out between my breasts.

With a jerk and a groan, he cums, spurting up over my neck and down-turned face, spilling over my breasts, hot and liquid. As the last moment, he pulls free and pushes upwards, to where my lips are parted, waiting for him. His last drops spatter into my mouth as he grips my head, immobilising me, a hand either side of my face.

With a gasp, he pulls free, moving to stand by Michael. They exchange glances, and Michael slaps him on the shoulder. My Master returns the shoulder slap, briefly gripping his hand.

As I lie there, still bathed in sweat and cum, and just knowing that my makeup is panda-eyed, my hair a tumbled mess, both men help me up, to stand between them.

“Thank you, Charlotte.” says my Master. “That was a gift to remember.” His eyes are soft, smiling.

“Yes,” agrees Michael. “It was.” Again, there is the smile to him that I have missed; the joie de vivre, that is so much a part of my Golden Lover.

“Glad you liked it, Guys, but that was the ceremony, not the gift.” Michael looks at me in surprise. My Master raises an eyebrow.

“I have something for the both of you now.”

From my bag, I retrieve my gifts; two small, identical boxes, and making sure that I know which is which, I give one to my Master, and one to Michael.

They have both seen boxes identical to these before, and know, before they open them, what is inside: for Michael, a braided ring of yellow and white gold; for my Master, one of red and yellow gold.

They each look at them in silence, then at me, and each other.

Michael slips his on, and my Master follows.

They don’t say anything. It feels almost weird. But Michael’s eyes are brimming as he holds me, his face tucked into my shoulder. My Master peels me away from him, pressing his lips to mine.

Finally, my Master breaks the silence. “You know, I think there is another bottle of champagne in the fridge.”

“Great idea,” says Michael, and vanishes into the kitchen.

My Master’s eyes slide sideways to mine. “Clever girl, Charlotte. Very well played. Perfect, in fact.”

Michael returns and we top up our glasses.

Michael, unusually for him, speaks up first. “A toast, to my Best Friend, and my Wife-to-Be.”

We clink glasses. My Master speaks. “To my Closest Friend and my Wife de facto.”