The Lover's Children novel Chapter 76

CHARLOTTE

My Master’s tone is strong, controlling, more the Dom than the lover, and I think he's about to take me, hand-fuck me. Instead, he cups my mound with his palm, fingertips resting oh-so-gently over my clit. His breath is warm at my shoulders and the base of my neck, turning to heat as he opens his mouth over me. He nibbles...

"Aaahhh..."

... A string of pin-prick bites, each minute nip a tiny tingle of pain that zings through my chest, catches in my lungs, then zips to my core. My hips jolt, and he nips again. "That's it," The words are a breathy rush by my ear. "Wet and flowing. That's how we want you. Both of us."

Both of them?

And I know what's coming...

Michael is trembling, his groin twitching, his breathing harsh. “I’m not coming like this. I’m gonna be inside you.”

“Thought you might…” But he makes no attempt to move from his prone position.

Usually, in these moments, I'm... busy... so I don't take time to admire the view. But with Michael, not exactly inert, but certainly cooperative, I can enjoy what I'm looking at.

A strange thing, a man's penis. I've never quite understood how one lives with body parts that have a mind of their own and the inclination to take charge of the situation.

His shaft is deep red, verging on crimson, the veins mapped across it purple-blue, bloated with pressure. Twitching like a metronome, it shares its rhythm with the pulse throbbing at his neck.

My angle's awkward and it's not easy to move. My Master has me pinned, and I know why. But still, I twist my lower arm up and around to grip Michael’s trembling cock at the base, scissoring index and middle fingers to either side, pressing hard down on blond fuzz to increase the pressure.

He draws in breath, a whistling intake of air that inflates his chest, then blows it out again as the single syllable escapes. “Jeez…” Lips peeling open, his teeth grit. His hands are fisting.

Behind me, movement. My Master’s hands and cock leave me, and he twists away, but still, his leg wedges my own open…

The Click then the Clunk of a drawer opening and closing…

More movement…

Then, once more, my Master close behind me, this time his hand caressing my shoulders, my waist, my hips, then slipping down and in, parting me…

Another pause… He touches me again, this time a single finger, wet with chill, icy to my heated flesh. At the contact, involuntarily, I suck in air, clenching behind.

He hesitates. “Alright, Charlotte?”

“Yes, Master.”

His body contoured to mine, he kisses my cheek. “Good girl. Now relax. You know how this goes.”

“Yes, Master.”

He flings back the duvet, chill air washing over me, goosing my skin. “I want to see you now.”

“Yes, Master.”

The cold increases and to my rear, a finger probes, then presses, then penetrates. Revolving, twisting, rotating, it stretches me, opens me, readies me to take my Master’s long, thick, hard, cock.

I’m losing control, losing coordination. I’m trying to pleasure Michael but, quivering and shaking, loose-muscled, my hands won’t work. My entrance, exposed by my open thighs, feels puffy, exquisitely sensitive, and volcanically hot against the kiss of the cool air. My own juices scald down my thighs.

Michael’s eyes unsqueeze and he rolls to face me. He smooths over the line of my upper arm with a hand, slips over the shoulder, then cups my face in both palms, brushing his lips over mine. Close now, his erection presses against my stomach. My Master’s presses into the meeting of my thighs.

My heart pounds, something rushing inside my head. My pulse is speeding. I’m hot, and not just from being sandwiched between the bodies of my husbands.

Michael, abruptly forceful, slides a hand around the back of my head, pressuring my mouth wide with his own. His chin and cheeks rasp over mine. The other hand quests down, inserting between my opened thighs, touching, testing.

He breaks away again, a pleased smile lighting his face. “A sopping wet hand. Just what I was hoping for. As James says, just how we both want you.”

Seeing him face to face now, for the first time I see the disorder of his hair. Somehow, no matter how often he has a cut, Michael always looks overdue for the next. His blond thatch rambles in odd directions, highlighting the regularity of his beautiful face, his azure eyes. Those eyes fix on mine. “Ready, Charlotte?”

My words won’t come. I simply nod.

His brow furrows and he tilts my chin with a finger. “Really ready? You’re not just saying that?”

This time I get a word out. “Yes, really ready.”

The eyes shift, passing over my shoulder, a nod behind.

My Master’s grip on me abruptly tightens. My raised leg is raised further, levering my knees further apart. Michael moves, slanting towards where he fingers open my already welling pussy.

He angles his hips, his engorged cockhead, almost purple now, streaming pre-cum, traces my outer folds, touches inner folds, teases at pussy lips, then… slowly and with a kind of brinking inevitability…

… squeezes inward…

I draw air…