Page 14 of Happy Krampus Xmas & the Meet Not Cute
He rams me harder, fingers digging into my skin, balls slapping into mine. My hand moves toward my dick, but he removes his fingers from my mouth to slap it away.
I hiss at him, but he doesn’t stop the merciless rhythm of his pistoning hips.
Bez growls, but it’s Gabe who pants, “I want you to come only from my cock.” The bossy fucker is a rock star in bed. He continues tugging my body toward his every time he drives his dick inside me, impaling me deliciously, while his lips are on the bruise on my shoulder, brushing the purple skin so delicately.
“Fuck! Ngh, so good! Right there.” I capture his lips. The kiss is sloppy and dirty, but filled with passion and desire. It’s us. I love it.
He pulls back, and then he hammers me to the mattress.
“I’m going to pump you full of my cum as soon as you shoot yours,” Bez states, his hand falling down on my arse, creating a delicious sting. “Fuuuck, this tattoo!” He roars as he spanks my arse cheek again, right on the number five tattoo—their subject number. It’s their mark of possession and the sight of it turns both of them savage every single time.
The fast friction of his shaft inside me is heaven on earth. It starts a hot, twisting sensation inside my guts, and it winds and winds until my vision whites out, and for a moment, that’s all it is.Them.Inside me. All around me. Taking me. Hard.
I scream both their names as I shoot my load on the sheets under me. Soon after, I feel the rush of their cum inside me, and I clench my walls just the way they both like.
“Ahhhh, that greedy hole,” Bez grunts, creaming me good. “Holy shit! This fucking ass, always sucks me so damn fine.” I contract even tighter around him until his last drop.
“Lori!” Gabe groans my name. And I smile, so bloody proud of myself.
He falls on top of me, holding himself on one arm, as his mouth covers my back in wet, open kisses.
His softening cock sliding out of me makes me moan, but Gabe turns us on our sides and runs his thumb over my gaping entrance, dipping inside, soothing the sudden emptiness. He never leaves me empty for long. I sigh contently, savoring the aftermath of our lovemaking. The slurping sounds of his finger pumping shallowly inside me, the sensation of his heavy, spent cock against my thigh, his fragrant skin under my cheek, his strong heart beating against my sweaty back.
I press my thighs together eager to feel the slick of his cum on my skin. I turn into a needy moron when it comes to my men. Needy for their cock, but even more for their nearness. Their acceptance. Their possessive love.
I wink at the little urn pendant on the bedside table. I always give my gran a front row seat to my fiancés’ banging abilities. She was an avid reader of erotica and romance. I’m gifting her a dirty afterlife show in case she feels like visiting me.
The pain of losing her is easier these days, but I came to realize that it will never totally be gone, and it’s exactly how it should be.
Gabe suddenly pulls his thumb out of me. “Lori?” I can clearly hear the smidge of worry in his voice. After months of cohabitation and hours shared together, I can more easily detect some emotions in his eyes, his tone, and his body language.
He told me once that I was the cause of the crack in his control—little ole fabulous me—and I feel bloody pleased about it.
I entangle our fingers together, the diamond on my engagement ring catches the morning light, creating rainbow drops on the white sheet. It reminds me how much I love to see the rubies on each side shine when I jerk off his long cock—it’s an obscene sight that arouses me to the max.
My eyes turn toward Gabe—Bez is probably sleeping again, the lazy sod. His just-orgasmed face is breathtaking, and I can’t resist giving him a long kiss while mussing his blond hair some more.
“’Morning,” I rasp with a bright smile, breathing in his scent greedily. “Your insomnia didn’t pester you last night.”
“My body was exhausted after all the sex,” he states, silver eyes studying me intensely as his thumb rubs my pucker lightly. “Better?”
“Are you referring to the major maggot failure I suffered yesterday for the umpteenth time? Or to my sore tushy?”
He just stares at me with such concentration, I feel like drowning in those gunmetal orbs, like he can read my bloody thoughts. Which is fucking brilliant in bed. Out of it? A terrible nuisance.
“Stop with the Paddington stare, I’m not one of your clients.” I cover his eyes with my hand.
“Lori, tell me,” he insists. He’s using his condescending tone.
I sigh loudly but let him lower my hand to his lips. He gently kisses my palm, and when I keep silent, he gives my thumb a bite.
“Bugger, you’re like a piranha with a piece of fresh meat.”
He cups my cheek. “You will tell me.”
I snort. “Are you attempting at loosening my tongue with the repetition of your words, counselor? I recall you expressing your deep dislike for redundancy.”
His nostrils flare, and his gaze turns blazing; Gabe loves when I speak…lawyer-y to him.
