Page 46 of The Princess

Nash found them in the kitchen. Taylor was already shirtless and pressed up tight against Damon. Fuck, that was a sight for sure. Something he’d never get tired of seeing either. He loved the way they looked together. Taylor, with his soft blonde curls and his miles of smooth, pale skin. Damon’s darker complexion, darker hair, thicker build.

Keeping quiet, he crept over to where they stood, tongues tangling. Nash pressed himself against Taylor’s back. After that, they’d wasted no time in getting Taylor where they wanted him, half naked and at their mercy.

Nash slid a hand up Taylor’s bare torso and, cupping his cheek, turned Taylor’s head. Taylor moaned into Nash’s mouth when their tongues met, dueling at an awkward and messily perfect angle. When Nash caressed Taylor’s chest, fingers deftly toying with one rosy pink nipple, Taylor clung to him.

Nash took his time devouring Taylor’s mouth, all the while cognizant of the fact that Damon was making Taylor writhe and tremble. Although his whimpers were music to Nash’s ears, he was aware of Taylor’s increasing desperation. The way he squirmed and twitched with more and more intensity, like a gathering storm.

“Damon, slow down, babe,” Nash told him, breaking the kiss. He chuckled softly at Taylor’s answering protest.

“Nooo, Damon, don’t slow down.” Taylor let his head fall back against Nash. “Mean.”

Nash dragged his tongue over the shell of Taylor’s ear. Having both men here like this was a heady feeling. He would always treasure what he and Damon had, and he was growing to feel the same about Taylor. Separately, he was enamored with both of them and having them together like this did things to his body, his mind, and his heart that he was having trouble fathoming. He’d somehow been handed the universe. Stunning, complex, and full of mysteries that were his to solve.

He kissed his way down Taylor’s back, sliding his lips along his spine. His hands skimmed over Taylor’s hips and met Damon’s hands as he let them roam to Taylor’s ass.

It was like Damon knew exactly what Nash wanted when he grabbed Taylor’s ass and spread the cheeks. Nash dove in, wasting no time licking a trail up Taylor’s crease, huffing soft laughter over his newly dampened skin when Taylor let out a surprised squeak. Nash did it again, this time stopping at Taylor’s entrance. He traced the supple skin with his tongue. Pressed a kiss against it before going back to teasing it with his tongue’s gentle probing.

Trapped between him and Damon, Taylor writhed and squirmed as though he were unsure if he should thrust forward and chase Damon’s wicked mouth, or back to silently beg for more of Nash’s tongue.

“You two are killing me,” Taylor said in a tone of voice that had Nash’s cock throbbing. It was filled with a needy sort of desperation that Nash wanted to feast on. He spread Taylor’s cheeks and speared his tongue into Taylor’s hole, pushing him forward and further into Damon’s mouth.

One of Taylor’s hands cradled the back of Nash’s head and urged him deeper. He liked to imagine that the other hand was on Damon’s head and that he was choking him with his cock.

Nash slid a hand up the inside of Taylor’s thigh until he came to his prize and cradled Taylor’s sac in his hand. It was high and tight. Soft and delicate. Nash toyed with Taylor’s hole. Tracing the edge. Spearing his tongue inside. Placing open-mouthed, wet kisses against it.

Taylor was a wild thing. Cornered. Feral. Bucking and writhing, back and forth as they tormented him. Until, finally, Damon pulled back and Nash heard heavy breaths saw in and out of his lungs.

“Bedroom,” Damon said. He groaned as he got to his feet. Honestly, Nash could have happily kept feasting on Taylor until he was a ruined, sweaty, heap on the floor. But Damon scooped him up, tossing Taylor over his shoulder in a move that he made look far too easy.

“Hey,” Nash protested as he got to his feet. “Which one of us goes to the gym?”

“I can walk, you know.” Taylor’s laughter was cut off by the sound of a sharp slap. His eyes went wide like saucers and he looked at Nash as Damon carried him toward the bedroom. “That stung.”

Taylor didn’t seem to mind too much, however.

“Good,” Damon replied. “It was meant to.”

Nash followed them into the bedroom in time to see Damon dump Taylor onto the bed. Grabbing his pants by the ankles, he worked the fabric over his feet then pulled the jeans off. His panties stayed tangled around his ankles until he managed to kick them off.

Taylor crawled backward until he reached the pillows. He looked at them and skated his hand down his chest. His long fingers trailed over his stomach before wrapping around his cock.

“You two are wearing far too many clothes.”

Damon started to pull his shirt off, but he stopped when Taylor shook his head.

“That’s not very fun of you.” Taylor wet his lips. “You should undress each other.”

Nash’s eyebrow arched up, and Taylor shot him a saucy look.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Taylor said. “Ever since that first time I saw the two of you kiss, I’ve wanted to see this. I’ve dreamed it. I practically jerked myself raw thinking about it.”

Damon turned and gathered a stunned Nash into his arms…and then they were kissing. Slow and deep, but somehow still frantic and feral. Like they were energy contained. Damon tugged at the hem of Nash’s shirt, an old, paper-thin t-shirt that he liked to wear on gym days.

He let Damon take it off him before he hauled him back into a kiss. He wanted to give Taylor the show of a lifetime. Wanted to give him everything he desired because he deserved it. Because making Taylor happy made Nash happy. And then there was Damon. Eager. Loving. Everything he did, every touch, Nash could feel how much he meant to Damon. It was like being worshiped and Nash gave himself over to it, hoping that Damon felt his touch and knew, understood on a soul deep level, what he meant to Nash.

Before Damon, sex had been sex. Energy and friction. Capture and release. It didn’t mean much of anything beyond having a good time. He thought it would be the same with Damon, but right from that first kiss, he knew something was different about him. It had meant more than any kiss he’d had before, and if not for the fact that the storm of butterflies in his stomach had paralyzed him, he might have called the whole thing off.

But Damon kept kissing. Kissing and touching, and Nash was lost to it. Even now, he was powerless against what he felt for him. Nash fumbled with Damon’s fly. Popping the button open, he yanked the zipper down and then he was on his knees again. He kissed Damon’s stomach, then freed his cock and kissed that, too.

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