Page 99 of Crowned

But I do open them because I want to see him.

Kirill, standing naked by my head, his cock in his hand and a smirk on his lips. “You need more,detka. Open your mouth.”

I refused to suck his cock during the pageant, and he’s aching for me to do it now. “What did you call it? Sealed up tight?”

Kirill smiles his devilish grin. “I love our horny bitch.”

He grasps my jaw and shoves his cock into my mouth. He’s rough, but I’m expecting it, and my throat is relaxed enough I don’t gag when he hits the back of my throat.

Elyah squeezes my breasts, growling, “I am going to lose my fucking mind. Look at her.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” Kirill says, a smirk in his voice. “Ourdetkacan take three cocks so well.”

“We are all fucking you hard, and you look like a queen.”

I feel like I’m floating on air. I feel like a goddess. Elyah rolls his thumb against my clit, and a wave of pleasure passes through me. I don’t want this to end, but I crave to come with all three of them inside me. I don’t want them to stop.

Don’t any of you stop.

They feel my need for them through my skin, and they can’t stop bathing me with their adoration as they stroke my flesh, grip my body, hold tight to my hair.

The three of them thrust into me at the same time, and I shatter around them. The muscles of my body tighten up, and in response, they all start to fuck me harder, their breaths growing ragged.

“I’m going to shoot my cum straight down your throat,” Kirill says through his teeth, pumping his cock faster. My orgasm goes on and on, and suddenly I hear his groan, and hot liquid floods my mouth. I struggle to swallow him down fast enough.

Elyah wraps his hand around my throat so he can feel it, and suddenly his fingers dig in and he ruthlessly pounds up into me, his beautiful body rippling with his orgasm.

“Don’t pull out of her,” Konstantin tells them, his fingers digging into the fleshy part of my hips. “I want you all right there while I fill her ass.”

Elyah and Kirill lazily fuck me while they get their breaths back, both of them watching me get screwed by theirPakhan. Konstantin lands one hard spank across my ass and then he thrusts even deeper, groaning with his release.

I feel weightless. I feel boneless. The three of them slowly withdraw from me, and Elyah is the only thing holding me up.

Konstantin smooths my hair aside and kisses my back, and his lips move against my skin.

“You are incredible,malyshka. This baby will belong to all of us. We will protect this child with our lives. We will protect you with our lives. We swear it.”

Kirill wipes my mouth with his thumb, gazing at my body. “As soon as you are able, the three of us will fuck you, one after the next, over and over, until you are pregnant again. We are all the fathers. We will love you, hard and strong.”

“I can’t tell if you are threatening me or adoring me.”

He smirks. “Both,detka.”

* * *

Over the following weeks,one or more of my men are always with me. Touching me. Holding me. Loving me. I know they go out and do violent things. Kirill and Elyah especially return covered in bruises or blood. The bruises are on their knuckles, but the blood is rarely theirs.

I clean them up myself, gently rubbing cream into the angry red marks on their hands and wiping away the blood. They are boyishly delighted by my care of them, especially Elyah, who thanks me with kisses and by lavishly going down on me whenever I clean the tiniest cut for him.

I grow so huge in the last month of my pregnancy that putting shoes on is awkward and exhausting, so I walk around barefoot. It’s summer, and the house and garden are filled with sunshine. Konstantin’s house is beautiful, and he has excellent taste. I feel comfortable and spoiled by everything he does for me. I feel a long way from any danger, and while I know that it’s an illusion, it’s one I want to cling to while I focus on my baby.

Our baby.

All of ours.

Konstantin has researched and ordered everything we’ll need for the nursery, and deliveries arrive every other day. Kirill likes to sit with his head in my lap and his cheek against my stomach as I stroke his curls and he tells me what he’s been doing, and I remember that sixteen-year-old boy who did the same thing with Katya. Then he says something that’s more like the Kirill I know or gives me his dangerous smile, and I remember that he’s not as innocent as he seems sometimes.

The three of them are often talking quietly together when I walk into a room. At first I thought they stopped because kissing me or asking me how I’m feeling was their way of reassuring themselves that all is fine with the baby, but it happens to often that I start to grow suspicious.

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