Page 55 of Knight Life In Vegas

I thought they might ease off, switch over to claiming some pleasure for themselves, but they didn’t. Apparently the name of the game was ruining me in my kitchen.

Eduardo added another finger, pumping harder, propping my trembling ankle on his shoulder. I whined against Francisco’s hand, my eyes rolling back as they pushed me up another peak. The sound of Eduardo’s hand plunging into me twisted the fantasy a little higher.

As magnificent as his fingers were, I wanted more. Held captive as I was, I couldn’t ask to be flipped and bent over the counter, but I tapped a frantic pattern on his arm, and both of them paused, my mouth instantly free.

“Fuck me,” I whispered sharply.

They moved like a seamless unit, stealing a pillow from my couch to wedge under my stomach when they flipped me so the counter wouldn’t dig in, my shorts and panties dragged even lower. I pawed at Francisco’s lounge pants, freeing his cock and closing my lips over the tip. He cursed beautifully, fingers lacing in my hair.

The push of Eduardo’s cock into my waiting pussy left me shaking, his first thrust forcing a desperate sound out of my mouth. I dove deeper on Francisco. I couldn’t make sounds to wake anyone if I couldn’t breathe. Curling my fingers around his ass cheeks, I pressed against them until he got the message, riding my face while I melted between them. My pussy pulsed each time Eduardo drove in, and with every descent of Francisco’s cock into my throat, my brain turned off a little more.

“Sweet fucking hell, duchess.”

I whined, dragging him closer to cut off the sound as Eduardo fucked me into a fresh orgasm, my whole body seizing, stars dancing in my vision.

It was all too much and yet not enough. I didn’t want to be able to string two thoughts together.

I wrapped my fingers around the base of Francisco’s cock, giving him extra friction until his hips stuttered and I dug mynails into his ass to drive him forward. He came down my throat with harsh breaths and fingers clutched in my hair so tightly it stung. When he withdrew, he curled his fingers carefully around my throat, lifting my face so he could reach me for a kiss. A change in the angle blitzed coherent thought right out of my head, Eduardo fucking hard and deep until I shattered for him, sinking my teeth against Francisco’s shoulder to silence myself. Eduardo’s hips sat flush against me and with one more grind his knot filled me up, sending me tumbling over the edge again.

They eased me down carefully, Francisco fetching another pillow for me to rest against while I recovered my ability to breathe normally. Soft touches, hands sweeping over my sweaty skin, and gentle kisses kept me tethered to reality while my mind floated like a cloud above me. My whole body tingled, pussy squeezing every so often, earning a surprised hiss from Eduardo.

Bliss became my companion, the discomfort of hanging off my countertop barely acknowledged as Eduardo scooped up my thighs so I had less weight on my hips.

I shivered as his knot came down.

“Oh,” came Dylan’s voice from the bedroom, far louder than he would use for speaking, “you want to go see Mommy? Okay, let’s go.”

Shit.

In the high of Eduardo’s touch, I had forgotten how close my children lurked.

I slid hastily off his cock and righted my clothing, shaking myself to loosen the memory of their hands on me. Francisco and Eduardo quickly corrected their clothing as well. Thank god for Dylan’s warning.

“Good morning, babies,” I called out, both of my sons racing down the hallway in their pajamas to crash against me.

“What’s for breakfast?” Ollie asked, planting his chin in my stomach to stare up at me.

“Any special requests?” Eduardo asked as he diligently disinfected the countertop.

“Ice cream!”

“Ollie, you know that’s not a breakfast food.”

“We could make it a breakfast food,” said Dylan. “Do you have a waffle iron?”

“In the cupboard above the fridge,” I replied.

“Eduardo makes the best waffles. Nothing like a little vanilla ice cream and strawberries on top.”

“Please, Mommy,” Ollie begged. “Please please please.”

“If Eduardo is the one making them, you have to ask him.”

Ollie detached himself from me and locked himself around Eduardo. “Waffles pleeease.”

Eduardo chuckled. “Waffles can definitely be arranged.”

I bustled away with my children to get them washed up and dressed for the day while my matches worked their magic in the kitchen. By the time we were finished, the whole apartment smelled like pastry. Eduardo manned the waffle maker, Francisco set the coffee table for all six of us, and Dylan sliced strawberries.

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