Page 99 of Naughty & Nice

“Wilder, what are you—Oh Jesus,” I gasp as his hand sinks between my thighs.

Every muscle in my body screams for me to stop him, to keep him out, but one brush of his fingers against my clit and my body betrays me. My legs part and I allow him to drag his fingers up my aching core.

“See?” he whispers, his breath rushing over my neck and down my back, making me shiver. “You’re soaking just thinking about Rix’s dick.”

“Y-you need to stop,” I argue weakly.

“No, I don’t,” he states, continuing to circle my clit.

“Reach for his dick,” Wilder whispers. “Make his Christmas by waking him up with your hand wrapped around him and your needy moans in his ear.”

I hesitate, but only for a few seconds. My hand slides across the small space between us and find him hard and ready for me.

I study him, looking for any sign that he might be awake and aware of what we’re doing. But there’s nothing.

“He hard?” Wilder asks.

“Y-yeah.”

“Bet he’s dreaming about you.”

Heat surges through me at the thought of me featuring in as many of Hendrix’s dreams as he has in mine.

“Or maybe he’s dreaming about watching you with me. Kinky fucker seems to really like it.”

“Wilder,” I moan when he pushes two thick fingers inside me.

As if he can hear, Rix’s dick jerks in my hold.

“That’s it. Ride my hand while you jerk him off.”

“Oh god.”

As he works me, Wilder grinds his cock against my ass, searching for some pleasure of his own.

“What do you think he’d do if he woke up right now? Suck on these addictive tits, or slide his dick straight into this tight, wet pussy?”

“Either. Both,” I pant, imagining every possibility.

“And what about me? Would I get your hand? Your mouth? Or your ass?”

“Shit. Oh god, Wilder,” I cry, his filthy words and the image they conjure up enough to push me over the edge.

But I’m not alone, because as I come down from my high, I register the movement of Rix’s cock in my hand, and more so the sticky residue that’s sliding down my skin, and when I open my eyes, I’m met with his heated blue ones.

“Oh my god. I’m sorry, I?—”

Lifting his hand, he presses two fingers to my lips, cutting me off.

No one says anything for long seconds as my heart rate returns to normal, and just when I think he’s going to up the ante again, Wilder presses his lips to my shoulder, giving me a chaste kiss.

“Merry Christmas, little rebel,” he says before rolling away and climbing from the bed.

I want to stop him, but then Hendrix reaches for me and pulls me into his body, his lips stealing mine and completely consuming my thoughts.

25

HENDRIX

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