Page 67 of Psycho Pack

"Good," I murmur, maintaining my clinical tone despite the heat pooling in my core. "Note how the vasocongestion increases with direct stimulation."

Whiskey lets out a particularly sharp growl at my academic observations. I know he'd like me to shut up, but pissing him off is part of the fun, and if I'm ruining the mood, he'll last longer. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact, but I maintain my iron grip on his wrists. The way his pulse races beneath my thumbs betrays how affected he is by all this.

"Keep him still," I instruct Ivy. "We wouldn't want to ruin such a fascinating experiment, would we?"

My grip tightens on Whiskey's wrists as Ivy grinds down harder against his face, her breath coming in short gasps. The honeysuckle sweetness of her arousal fills my nose, making my head spin. She looks utterly exquisite like this.

Wild and unrestrained.

My breath catches as I watch Ivy rock her hips, pressing herself more firmly against Whiskey's eager mouth. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant line of her throat as a soft moan escapes her parted lips. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.

I can feel Whiskey straining against my grip, desperate to touch her, to pull her even closer. But I maintain my iron hold on his wrists, relishing the way his pulse races beneath my thumbs.

"That's it," I murmur, my voice rougher than I intend. "Show him exactly what you need."

Ivy's eyes flutter open at the sound of my voice, locking onto mine. The raw hunger I see there makes my cock throb painfully. She holds my gaze as she grinds down harder, her movements growing more desperate. I can only imagine how Whiskey's tongue must feel, lapping and probing at her most sensitive areas.

A particularly loud moan escapes her, and I have to bite back a groan of my own. The way she moves, so uninhibited and free... it's intoxicating. I want to memorize every detail. The flush spreading across her chest, the way her fingers grip Whiskey's thighs for leverage in between grabbing at his cock again, the little gasps and whimpers that fall from her lips with each roll of her hips.

Whiskey lets out another muffled growl, the vibrations clearly intensifying Ivy's enjoyment of his precarious situation judging by the way she arches her back. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking friction, but I tighten my grip on his wrists in warning.

"Focus," I command him, though my own voice shakes slightly. "Make her feel good."

He responds with renewed vigor, and Ivy cries out, her thighs trembling on either side of Whiskey's head. I can see the muscles in his jaw working as he devours her, clearly savoring every drop of her arousal. The wet sounds of his eager mouth fill the cave, mingling with Ivy's breathless moans and my own ragged breathing. Her shaky hand, sticky with Whiskey's come, flies up to cover her mouth and muffle her cries as she continues rocking and squirming on Whiskey's face.

I'm mesmerized by the way Ivy moves, the fluid grace of her body. She's a goddess astride her willing supplicant, taking exactly what she needs. The power she wields over us both is intoxicating.

"Beautiful," I breathe, unable to keep the awe from my voice. "You're doing so well, little one. Show us how good it feels."

My praise seems to spur her on. She grinds down harder, her movements growing more frantic. I can see the tension coiling in her body, the way her toes curl against the cave floor. She's close—so close—and I'm desperate to see her fall apart.

"What a good girl," I encourage her in a rough whisper, my clinical detachment slipping further with each passing second. It's killing me to not touch my aching cock, but that would mean letting go of Whiskey's arms. I have a higher purpose right now than self-fulfillment. "Let go. Come for us, Ivy."

Her eyes lock onto mine again, and the intensity I see there nearly undoes me. She's flushed and panting, her hair a wild tangle framing her face.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

With a final, sharp cry only partially muffled by her hand, Ivy's orgasm crashes over her. Her body goes taut, thighs clamping around Whiskey's head as she shudders through the waves. I drink in every detail—the way her lips part on a silent scream, the arch of her back, the trembling of her limbs.

Whiskey groans against her, clearly struggling for air but unwilling to stop pleasuring her. His hips buck wildly, seeking any kind of friction. I know he must be aching for release, but I maintain my iron grip on his wrists. This isn't about him. Not yet. He can wait.

As Ivy's climax begins to ebb, she slumps forward slightly, catching herself on Whiskey's broad torso. Her eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide. A lazy, satisfied smile curves her lips as she looks up at me.

"Holy… shit," she murmurs, her voice husky and raw.

The simple words send a jolt of electricity through me. I want to pull her close, to kiss her senseless, to show her exactly how much she affects me. But I hold back, clinging to the last shreds of my self-control.

"You did beautifully," I tell her instead, keeping my voice steady despite the hunger raging inside me. "How do you feel?"

She considers for a moment, then grins. "Like I want more."

Her boldness catches me off guard, and I can't help but chuckle. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?"

Ivy's eyes dance with mischief. "You're the one who wanted to experiment. Shouldn't we be thorough?"

The challenge in her voice sets my blood on fire.

Oh, the things I want to do to her...

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