Page 25 of Hunted
I try to roll onto my back but feel a body there. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Bower’s grinning face.
“Hi,” I whisper, unsure what else to say.
He strokes a single finger down the side of my face, his eyes watching it as it goes. “You know, West, I was thinking… our girl here seems a little needy. And what kind of boyfriends would we be if we left her in such a state?”
My heart thumps hard in my chest, and my core instantly tightens at the thought of them both touching me.
“Like I said, we’re not alone,” Weston says again. But it’s like he can’t take his own advice. His large palm runs across my stomach, his fingergrazing the top of my skirt as he goes, making my hips softly buck in response. He licks his lips, and his eyes move up to meet mine.
“I bet we can help her relax without undressing her. You know, keep her modesty in check,” Bower says, his warm breath skating down my neck.
Remembering the other two in the room, I ask, “What about…” I trail off, not wanting to say their names.
“They can leave if they don’t want to see or hear anything. Not that they can see much anyway, it’s too dark in here.”
“What do you want, Zee?” Weston asks. “Are you okay if they stay? It’s your call.”
My chest rises and falls heavily as I consider what I want. It’d be easier in many ways if they weren’t in here. But I’d probably just worry about them out there in the dark.
Besides, they won’t be able to see much, not that Kingsley hasn’t seen everything already, anyway. And Reece? My breath stutters at the thought of him being in here, listening to me as my boyfriends make me come.
“They can stay—if they want,” I say, trying to sound confident, but knowing it comes out roughly as I struggle to maintain my composure.
Bower’s hand squeezes my chest over my top and I press up into his hand, seeking more. Weston tilts my face to his and kisses me again, his tongue instantly finding mine as we pick up where we left off.
His large hand travels down my thigh, then he slides it back up on the inside, pushing my legs open as he goes.
When his fingers reach my core, he moves them through my folds, making me feel how wet I am as he spreads my juices everywhere. Histhumb rubs my clit in soft circles, making me whimper. Then he pushes one of his large fingers inside, and I cry out against him.
He slowly pumps it in and out as Bower’s hand moves down to my stomach before sliding it up under my top. He finds my nipple and softly pinches it, making it harden. He starts flicking his thumb back and forth across it, making my body erupt in fire as my need multiplies instantly.
I turn my head to him, wanting to kiss him and he instantly gives me what I need, his tongue dominating mine as Weston starts licking and biting my neck.
“Please,” I whimper. Weston must take pity on me because he pushes another finger into me and increases his speed.
I gasp as I cry out their names, “Weston! Bower!”
“That’s it, baby. Come for us. I want to feel your release all over my fingers so I can lick it off.”
I whimper against Bower at Weston’s words, and when he manages to press a third finger into me, I cry out again, my fingers digging into their arms.
Bower’s hand moves back and forth, giving both breasts the same unrestrained treatment, his fingers moving faster and faster as Weston’s speed picks up, too.
He’s finger fucking me so hard, I have to tilt my head back to take in deep lungfuls of air.
“Crap shells, I’m gonna come!”
“Come for us,” they both whisper against my neck at the same time, making me completely unravel.
My entire body convulses as I squeeze Weston’s fingers, unable to stop shaking as I seem to ride wave after wave of orgasmic bliss.
When my body finally sags in defeat, Bower hugs me against him and I watch Weston make good on his promise, licking each finger clean, individually. His eyes glisten with heat and he groans, like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
Curious, I reach out and grab his hand, stopping him from licking his last finger. I hold eye contact with him and as I pull his hand to me, slowly covering his digit with my mouth. My tongue runs up and down his finger as I taste myself on him. It’s different than I expected. Not awful, but I much prefer the taste of him.
Slowly, he pulls his fingers from my mouth, his heated eyes glued to the movement.
“Fuck,” he groans, then surges forward, kissing me again. His tongue moves around wildly, like he’s trying to take back every last drop I robbed from him.
