Page 141 of Every Move You Make

“Hey, what about me?” Robyn cuts in. “I asked you to make a marriage pact with me, didn’t I?”

He chuckles, “You did, you’re right. I just meant… you know.”

I kiss him and touch his lower back. “I know.”

He lets me pull out his dress shirt from the waist of his pants and take off his tie, his own erection growing with each purposeful pull. Robyn’s already squirming next to us when I slough off his white shirt and gaze at his strong body—at his sweet belly, dusted with dark hair, that I love to snuggle into.

By the time we’ve completely divested ourselves of our clothes, we’re revved up and ravenous. I’m so keyed up I have to promise them I’ll take it slower for the next round, but I can’t hold back any longer. The need to fully claim my fiancés claws at me like an addiction.

I lay my future husband on his back and position my future wife over him—their mouthsfusing, their tongues rolling. Robyn’s pretty little cunt searches for me behind her while coating Isaiah’s thick, bare shaft.

She’s showing a lot more restraint than I am, but her needy, canting pussy isn’t as needy as me. With a swift hand, I grab the rod between Isaiah’s meaty legs and align it to her opening, guiding her down in a rough motion. They both groan the prettiest sound I could ever hear.

“Doesn't our future wife have the sweetest pussy?” I ask and before Isaiah replies, my tongue is lapping around his shaft and her lips.

“Yes,” he rumbles, spreading her ass for me.

Don’t mind if I do…

Robyn gasps when I move my ministrations to her tight, puckered hole and feast. Isaiah slams into her—clap after clap, their skin thunders under me. She cries out our names and even through my desire-soaked brain, I wonder what those names will sound like in the future. Will we keep our last names? Will we share? Thinking through the possible combinations abruptly stops when I realize she’s coming.

She rides his cock and my tongue until she’s almost a pile of goo atop him, her legs shaking. That’s when I sit up and push the head of my cock at her drenched and occupied cunt.

She hums, “Hurry. Please, Daddy. Just shove—ahh! Yes!”

She asked for it.

I thrust in fast, my dick rocking in and out of her as Isaiah and I quickly find our rhythm. All that practice, you know?

I’m obsessed with this view of her stretching to fit us both—holding our lengths inside her so we can find our pleasure not only in her body, but with each other, too. I'm obsessed with her touching and writhing against our lover. Of her strong back and wide shoulders, flexing and rolling for my viewing pleasure. Of Isaiah’s deep-blue eyes finding mine from beneath her—as if to sayForever.

Like I knew I would, I’m rapidly approaching my release, so I hastily find her clit and press in while teasing her saliva-coated back entrance with my other hand.

And there she goes, falling over the edge and crying out her climax. She rewards our cocks with her inner walls contracting, and neither of us last after that. We’re both jerking and grunting through jet streams of cum, filling her up and claiming them both.

Claimed,my hindbrain sighs.Mine.

Robyn is giggling when I pull out. Sometimes she can get a little slap happy from a good dicking, and I like her like that. I like it even more when the two of them lay there andlet me clean up, drinking every last drop from their bodies.

The pair of them close their eyes, but I’m far from done with them. Before Robyn can snuggle into Isaiah’s body, I pick her up and take his hand to strut out of the room, through the double doors, and with no hesitation, jump into our private pool.

When we surface, Robyn’s playfully slapping my shoulders and gasping at the temperature shock. It’s not too cold, but it’s definitely unexpected.

Laughter echoes through the night air as each of them koala me. With Isaiah on my chest and Robyn on my back, their legs wrap around me as we glide through the illuminated water, and float into our future.

Epilogue

Isaiah

One Year Later

Anervous energy pulses through my body unlike anything I’ve experienced before. I’ve played in massive stadiums but nothing of this magnitude. It’s not even my game. But when Dell and I step through the tunnel and find our seats amongst our family and friends, all gathered to watch my wife play in her second Olympic Games, my blood electrifies as if I’m about to play, too.

“There she is,” Dell’s mom cheers as the USA Sevens team takes the field, Robyn leading the way. Everyone came for this—most of my family, Dell’s parents, and of course Robyn’s parents—and every one of us is wearing custom red, white, and blue apparel with Robyn’s face plastered all over.

As the players begin their warm up, my husband squeezes my hand tight. “They’re gonna take it all, I know it.”

“It’s only the first game,” I remind him. “And the US has never won gold in rugby before, and she's been playing fifteens most of her career, and—”

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