Page 97 of Unstitch

I mean it. There—I can’t even—I press down harder on her stomach. I want her to feel every fucking ridge, every drag of our dicks. She’s thrashing around between the two of us, lost in some kind of haze, her cries the perfect metronome for our dicks, the fluttering of all those miraculous interior muscles intensifying.

‘Fuck, I’m going to come,’ Dex grits out. ‘Jesus fuck, I—angel, I?—’

The sensation of Darcy’s orgasm detonating around my cock while Dex’s dick stiffens and convulses so near mine is extraordinary beyond belief. His strangled shouts ring in my ear as fresh sweat breaks out on my temples, and I grind further inside her, further against him as I ride out their orgasms, holding her in place with my hand on her stomach as she convulses.

When her shuddering has subsided, I say with difficulty, ‘Pull out,’ and he does. I feel the loss of his dick, the instant drop in pressure, and I waste no time in flipping her onto her stomach and using my arm to hoist her upwards so she’s on her knees.

Dex is lying on his side still, looking spent and stupefied and utterly lovely. He stares up at me as I crouch over her, my dick still in place. I give him a long, wild look.

‘Watch this,’ I tell him, before glancing down at where my body joins hers. Fuck, it’s incredible from this angle, with the delicate, darker skin no longer puckered but stretched impossibly taut around my latex-covered dick, the fuck-tonne of lube I used making us both glossy.

This is it. I pull out and push back in to make sure she can take it from this angle. Her body is relaxed and orgasm-floppy; she can barely stay up like this. I marvel at the flawless skin of her back and the lustrous hair on my pillow and the impossible fragility of her spine, and then I let her fucking have it.

A few thrusts is all it takes, because my sanity and my physical control have been stretched far tonight, so far, and I’m a man barely capable of anything except rutting mindlessly into the most forbidden part of this woman until the white-hot ache in my dick is torched into something unimaginable.

When I detonate, it’s violent and cataclysmic and exhaustive, my orgasm ripping through me and sparing no part of my body or soul until it’s chewed up everything I know to be true about myself and spat me out at Darcy and Dex’s feet.

67

DEX

Ineed to sleep.

I need to curl into Darcy and bury my head between her breasts and drift off into an exhausted, sated slumber while Max curls up behind me, the protective shell I didn’t know I needed. He’ll stand guard over us, even in his sleep.

But I’m not allowed to sleep, not yet, because Max is in aftercare mode. Besides, I don’t want to sleep, because he’s rolled Darcy onto her back so we can bracket her and pet her and stroke her and kiss her and admire her and tell her what a clever, beautiful, amazing, miraculous girl she is.

I’ve never seen anything like her: all post-orgasm bliss and shining eyes, her gorgeous body loose-limbed. And I’ve never felt anything like this: the three of us, drunk on each other and on the chemical highs we coaxed from each other’s bodies.

Max and I are up on one elbow, grinning stupidly at each other. The vision of him fucking Darcy’s arse like that will be forever seared onto my brain. I’ve seen him come before. I’ve made him come. And each time it’s raw, animalistic. But the bunched muscles and clenched teeth and fierce eyes as he took her just now was another level, a side of him it was a privilege to see.

And it makes me brave.

‘I want you to do that to me,’ I tell him. ‘What you just did.’ I want him angry and deranged and all-powerful around me, behind me, inside me. I want him to consume me, to eradicate every other thing in the world so there’s only him.

His face kind of collapses, like he can barely handle the idea of it, and he leans over Darcy and yanks me towards him by the scruff of my neck.

‘Be very, very careful what you wish for, beautiful boy,’ he tells me, and then he’s biting down on my lip and kissing me, hard and without mercy, like I should take what he’s capable of doing with his teeth and tongue as an ominous portent of the annihilation he’s capable of wreaking on me with his dick.

‘As long as I can watch with popcorn,’ Darcy slurs from beneath us, and our kisses turn to snorts of laughter.

Max turns his head to look down at her, his expression amused and adoring. ‘No popcorn for you. No view, either. He’ll be inside your cunt when I take him.’

‘That works,’ she says airily, and he drops down to kiss her. I pause for a fraction of a second before joining them, so we’re a lazy jumble of skin and breath.

Eventually, Max pulls himself away. ‘You look after her—don’t let her move. I’ll run us all a bath. Darcy, I’m getting you some ibuprofen. Don’t move.’

Our eyes follow him out of the room. His nakedness in no way detracts from that effortless aura of power he’s cloaked in at all times. He’s so… imposing. Imperial, even.

Also, he has a fine, fine arse.

I snuggle down with Darcy, nose to nose on our pillows, grinning conspiratorially at each other. ‘How do you feel, really?’ I ask her, sliding my hand around her neck and stroking my thumb along her jawline.

‘Um.’ She sighs. ‘Physically a bit… violated. Like, tender. I’m kind of afraid to move. But really, I’m just knocked sideways. You know?’ Her face softens. ‘I’m so happy it’s terrifying,’ she whispers, and a wave of emotion hits me so hard it’s like smacking into a cliff face.

‘Yeah.’ I move my hand over her shoulder and down her body so I can tug her as close to me as possible, and I throw a leg over her. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

I wish I could tell her it was just the post-multiple-orgasm endorphin rush, but I really don’t think it is.

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