Page 130 of Triple Pucked
Eden slides his fingers up and down Robyn’s oversensitive pussy, before rhythmically pressing into her, and her back bows. At the same time, D’Angelo pins her to the bed, trailing kisses down from her jaw to her throat.
I need to kiss her…touch...fuck her.
Tears of frustration chase down my cheeks.
I kick my ankles out but can’t break free, desperate to join them on the bed, as D’Angelo cups Robyn’s breast, caressing it with a slow exploration that is drawing breathy exclamations from her and is driving me wild.
Yet somehow, the ropes mean protection.
Their touches are a performance for me.
This whole night is proof of our love.
Bay Rebels won. I did well enough to be praised by bloody coach.
My emotions are mixed up by that.
I’m smiling through my tears, and when I catch D’Angelo’s eyes, as he raises his head from sucking on Robyn’s nipple, he gives me a understanding smile back.
Yet he doesn’t untie me. He doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t let me into the bed.
Instead, he calmly draws Robyn into a deep kiss.
Somehow, that makes me feel more settled than I ever have before. Because I earned the consequence tonight, and D’Angelo is holding me to it.
Perhaps, I did finally find his line.
Yet he hasn’t beaten or degraded me. He’s used tonight to show me that even when we’re apart, we’re together.
Plus, if I’m honest about how much I amenjoyingthis and watching Robyn falling apart in a shuddering, writhing mess between two doms, then maybe I no longer need to fear being punished.
In fact, as I suck in sharp, frustrated breaths, and Robyn wails out as waves of pleasure crash over her for the second time already tonight, maybe I’ll even be bad more often.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Merchant’s Inn,Freedom
Robyn
Shay’s armis wound around my shoulders as tightly as ropes, despite being in public.
Ever since my reward and his punishment (definitely afunishment) yesterday, where he was the one in silk ropes, he has been clingier. A couple of hours of being unable to touch me, and now, he appears to be unable to stop touching me.
Last night, Shay slept like a limpet around me. This morning, Eden had to pry him off me with the promise of bacon rolls.
Shay needed the aftercare, however, so I didn’t mind the way that he trailed after me around the house like my shadow, always touching my elbow or hip, seeking out my hand or look.
I understood.
Separation and abandonment have been real to him in the most traumatic way. They’re his fears at the heart of his nightmares.
The twins sometimes didn’t know if the other would be alive in the morning.
Their own parents sold them.
They were torn apart by the couple who they were sold to.
Then Blythe, abuser that she was, would tie him up and then leave him by himself.
