Page 8 of Slash or Smash
The second I came back from leaving her and her friends at the start of the escape room, he made it known she was his first. I’d have more an issue with it if he wasn’t so inclined to share.
But he always has, and always will.
Til the grave.
Raven scoots closer to him, those hypnotic eyes staring up at him beneath her lashes expectantly as she opens her mouth and unfurls her tongue. Asher grins, the shadows giving it a sinister edge, and takes a fistful of her hair, guiding her in place. He’snot gentle about it either, the glorious sound of her gag reflex engaging on repeat shooting an almost electric current through my dick. Pushing up my sleeves, I have it freed from my jeans in seconds, taking hold of it with a greedy hand to relieve some of the pressure.
“That’s it,” Ash grits, both hands now threaded in her hair. “Such a good-fucking-girl. You take my cock so good, little bird.”
A soft moan emanates from her throat, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the wicked sound of choking. Her hands shoot to the arm rests of his chair, nails digging into the fabric as my brother increases the speed of his assault. My mouth waters, not only because the image playing out before me is insanely hot, but because I know that feeling all too well. Asher’s particular brand of face fucking is like no other.
“Don’t come,” I grate, my strokes slow and steady with purpose. “Don’t fucking come, brother. Not yet.”
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he grunts. “When I do, it’ll be with you and me inside her.”
Fuck yes.
Next thing I know, he’s popping her off his length and tossing her between my legs. She lands on her palms, her breathing ragged, streams of saliva pouring from the sides of her swollen lips. When she glances up at me, I signal her with a wordless shake to my cock, a bead of precum shining at the very tip from the show she and my brother just put on.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, she pushes up onto her knees and opens for me, bracing herself for impact.
“Go on,” I encourage her. “Take what you can. I won’t be too rough…yet.”
Wrapping a small hand around my length, I give her several moments of reprieve as promised, allowing her to take her time and adjust to my size. Asher and I aren’t too different, but where he’s longer and more average in width, I’m girthy as fuck.
A real mouthful as he likes to say.
Doesn’t last long, though. The second my tip hits the back of her throat, I’m off, winding her hair in my fists and pushing her down as my hips buck off the seat.
“Give it to her, brother,” Asher groans, the sound of him stroking himself snapping my head his way.
I haven’t understood the whole masked man hype tearing through social media, but I get it now. The sight of him getting off in that damn Ghostface mask is really doing it for me, so much that I have to ease up.
If I don’t, I’m gonna bust.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RAVEN
Through watery eyesI glance up in time to find Ghost lock a hand around his brother’s throat from behind and crash their lips together. If it wasn’t for Jason slowly pistoning in and out of my mouth, I’d be too entranced to move. The way their lips glide perfectly in sync is enough to do me in, but watching their throats bob as they delve their tongues in each other’s mouths has me out of my right mind.
They must either feel me watching, or perhaps I’ve made a sound drowned out to my own ears by thrashing of my pulse, because they stop and turn their attention to me. Matching smirks play on their lips, and in nothing more than a blink, Ghost guides his cock into Jason’s mouth. This time, there’s no missing the whimper that leaves me, especially when he tilts his head back and releases a ragged moan of his own.
Fuck, why is that so hot?
Newly emboldened by the scene playing out before me, I match Ghost’s tempo, bobbing up and down on Jason’s impressive length as my hands work the thick base. I may not have access to both of them at this very moment, but I wantthem to feel good. Regardless of what they do together or how many women they’ve clearly shared before me, I want them to remember this.
To remember me.
“One hand between your legs, little bird,” Ghost’s gruff baritone instructs. “If we can’t touch you, I need you to do it. Need you soaking wet by the time you get us inside you.”
I already am,I want to say, but I abide to his demand without protest, bringing two fingers to my clit.
“That’s it, there you go,” he encourages. “Play with that pretty pussy for us.”
Takes everything to keep my concentration split and not focus on myself. It feels too good as it is and the visual only adds to it, leaving me pulsing beneath my own touch. There’s an ache, though, one that won’t let up until I have one of them inside.
Or both, as I vaguely remember Ghost mentioning earlier.
