Page 25 of Inappropriately Matched

“Would you like your divorce before or after we fuck you?” Holt asks, and then all three of them rub their jaws, their eyes narrowing at me as they contemplate my answer.

“Umm... excuse me, what?” I shriek, but my panties are drenched as if I opened a faucet. Yeah, they’ve turned my pussy into a damn erotic faucet that just leaks lusty juice around them even when I know I need to divorce them.

“Never mind. Your aesthetic doesn’t go with mine. In other words, you have a couple of hundred billion dollars too much for me.”

“Do you want us to give it away? All of it. Say the word, and it’s done. We were poor before. We know how to survive. But you’re ours. Our wife. You belong here. And there’s nothing in this world we wouldn’t do for you.”

“Money means nothing to us. We have penthouses across the world, but we live here. And this is where you belong.”

“We love you, Clementine. Every fucking glorious part of you. Your body, your mind. Your heart. Your soul. When you switch to stiff Victorian English when you’re flustered.”

Whatever other thoughts I meant to have and verbalize stutter to a halt in my throat.

“We’ll give up everything and anything for you.”

“Now, what’s it going to be, Clementine? Are we dividing our three cocks into your syrupy sweet pussy and your beautiful virgin ass before or after your silly little divorce tantrum?”

My nipples peer through my sheer bra and dress, as if to get a better view of them. My clit swells. I love them. Not their money. I lovethem.

“After,” I say breathlessly, but the instant the word escapes my mouth, strong hands reach for me.

“Wait,” I say. “Just so you know, we’re ending world poverty tomorrow.”

“Done. Now shut up and let us have you.”

I’m stripped of my clothes, my panties torn off me, with the same urgency as my lips are devoured.

I quiver in their arms as they surround me, taking turns to kiss my lips, my neck, and my breasts. Taking turns to stroke my pussy, then spreading the essence onto my nipples before they suck it off, making them wilder to taste more of me.

They stall in their administrations to play a game of rock-paper-scissors. Ryder wins, and he goes to lie down on the bed. Holt lifts me, kissing me softly as he carries me to the bed, and arranges for me to sit on Ryder’s face in a sixty-nine position so that I’m facing his very erect cock tenting his track bottoms.

I’m sitting on Ryder’s face.

He ravishes my pussy immediately, sucking my clit and my labia into his mouth with such delicious aggression, I come at once all in a blur of hedonistic pleasure.

Only now, after already climaxing, does an image of my arousal leaking onto Ryder’s face cross my mind. Mortification stamps out lasciviousness, and I try to stop his onslaught on my pussy, but it’s not enough. It’s futile. I’m trapped in the throes of deviant wants and needs, unable to do anything but experience them.

He changes the rhythm of his mouth on me now, using his tongue to catch my spasms, and then he drinks the gush of arousal that drips out of me.

I’m kneeling over him now on all fours, and I can’t take my eyes off his huge cock. Why isn’t he naked like me already?

But my breath suspends, and my stomach coils as Holt and Steele stand behind me.

I smell coconut oil and know it’s the lube from the toy basket Tierney had gifted me.

I squirm away, as I always do when they touch me there. But Ryder grips my clit between his teeth. I shudder and whimper as Holt and Steele part my cheeks and press the cold nozzle of the single-use lube applicator into my bottom hole.

Oh boy. Oh my fucking gosh.

Since I can’t pull away with Ryder’s teeth keeping guard of my clit, I do the next best thing in defense of having my asshole filled with lube.

Blood red, beyond redemption or pride, I grind my pussy into Ryder’s face. The weird sensation of the lube filling my hole is soon replaced by something infinitely more embarrassing.

Holt and Steele take a finger each to me now, pressing down on the rings of resistance that protect my butt until they give way. The burning sensation is uncanny, ridiculously intrusive, and yet I still find some pleasure in the utterly deviant part of it all.

Holt and Steele increase the passage into my butt. Ryder doesn’t release his teeth from my clit, but he flicks the tip of his tongue over my sensitive bead.

“Just a little more, sweetheart,” Holt says.

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