Page 9 of Savage Daddies

“OH! It feelsamazing!”

“I can’t hold on much longer.” He grits his teeth. Loses rhythm. “God, I’m gonna?—”

The injection of hot liquid does the talking.

He stands aside and the other two move forward to examine my pussy as cum spills out. What little I can see of their faces paints the most beautiful picture, so wanton and hard and desperate to go next.

Who will it be?

I look over to the window. It’s steamed. Teagan’s red-and-white floral bedsheets are crumpled, stained with cum.

I widen my legs and invite number two in—blue eyes. The tall one is slightly girthier, but this man possess the same impressive length.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “OH MY GOD.”

He catches a hidden gem inside of me. One that has never been uncovered before.

The feeling is foreign and my body doesn’t quite know how to react to it. All I know is that I want to feel like this forever.

He hits it on every single thrust.

And then he withdraws. Catches my clit.

It’s too much—a faint spell crashes over me.

The four corners of Teagan’s room edge away until there is no room. It’s just me and him, and his two friends watching.

I reach sensitivity overload.

My hand fists the bedsheets, but I’m no longer holding mulberry silk. It’s the very fabric of the universe, and it bends and contorts under my grasp as pleasure winds through me. His dick penetrates so deep that I almost feel our souls entwine. Something stirs in my stomach. His presence feels familiar, like we’ve met in another universe before or something.

He groans as he releases inside me.

And god, it’s a generous amount.

Enough to hydrate a dozen survivors on an island.

I feel my pussy sink when he pulls away, because I wasn’t ready for it to be over so soon. A need still burns there. It’s time for the third to step up and take me all the way.

Country boy flicks gray strands of hair away from his face. I expect him to dive in since he’s been waiting the longest, but he grabs my breasts instead.

He tweaks my nipple. “You have the most perfect breasts, sweetheart.”

The sensation shoots straight to my clit.

“Ah! AH!”

One of the other two swats my hand away. “No touching. Let us pleasureyou.”

Men are supposed to be selfish creatures that only care for themselves. Leather-wearing motorcyclists, according to the movies, are supposed to be unforgiving degenerates that steal and break speed limits, and commit all sorts of selfish acts because riding a 1600cc plus automatically makes you better than the majority.

But I’ve been proven wrong.

Number three enters me.

My walls contract.

“God!” he says, turning to the others. “She is so tight.”

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