Page 92 of Wristlocked
I drop back to my thighs and bury my face in her core, inhaling her rich scent. When I suck her clit between my teeth, the heady taste of copper and spice floods my tongue, and my half-hard dick thickens viciously behind the zipper of my slacks. Lyot shifts again, spreading her open with his thighs, and her fingers clutch at my scalp. I plunge my tongue into her hot cunt and peek at her through my lashes, drinking in her throaty little gasp. Lyot is caught up now, rolling her nipples between his fingers and watching me hungrily. When he catches me looking, he leans back on one hand, rocking his hips up to grind her against my mouth.
I sink into the rhythm of her pleasure, sucking and nibbling and licking in turn. My thumb replaces my tongue inside her, and I slip my fingers into the crease of her ass, pinching as I biteher clit. Lyot’s cock is hard against my knuckles, but he holds himself still as I work her to her crest.
They don’t let me up until my jaw aches and I’ve made her come twice. The second time, she turns her head and whispers low in Lyot’s ear so he detonates with her, rutting into the small of her back while I press the heel of my hand against his tight sac.
He falls back on the bed with a groan, and Gia rolls with him. I swipe my forearm across my mouth and watch her lick him clean while I stumble to my feet and strip, shedding my shoes, slacks, and gray dress shirt in an untidy pile.
“Now what?” I ask, stroking myself to the vision of their tangled limbs. Gia scoots to the end of the bed and sinks to the floor in front of me.
“Now it’s your turn,” she says.
Lyot gets up and moves behind me, his bare chest brushing my back when he leans in.
“Bend over and spread your legs while you fuck our girl’s mouth,” he commands. “And don’t come until I say so.”
“You stealing my lines now, pretty boy?” I glance at him over my shoulder and catch his slow, dangerous smile. He drags his palm down my spine and traces the crack of my ass.
“That’s not the only thing I’m going to take.”
“Promises, prom—” The words break on a groan as Gia closes her mouth around the head of my cock. I fall forward, bracing my hands on the bed, and Lyot nudges my legs apart with his knee.
I’m expecting quick, messy prep and a punishing fuck. It’s what I’d do, after all, and Lyot seems to be flirting with his innersadist today.
I’m not expecting him to drop to his knees and rub his chin between my cheeks, the faint chafe of his stubble making me shiver as he blows lightly over my hole.
“I bet you taste as good as she does,” he growls into my skin, and the strain in his voice goes straight to my balls. Gia licks along my shaft and laps the drop of precum leaking from my slit.
“He does,” she agrees. “Let’s fucking devour him.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
Lyot presses the flat of his tongue over my entrance, and I jolt right into Gia’s waiting mouth. Like they can read each other’s minds, they take me apart one nerve ending at a time. He sucks on the sensitive flesh of my rim as she does the same to the fat head of my cock. He dives in, spearing me with his tongue as she takes me to the back of her throat and swallows. Everything tightens, spirals, slips away. I need to fuck. I need to come.
I need tomove. But they hold me fast, their fingers entwined on my hips, holding me hostage to this ecstatic torture.
And then Lyot pulls one hand free of Gia’s grip, and I know what happens next.
I’ve come on his fingers twice before, and once on Gia’s, to her immense delight. Although hearing him talk her through it in his low, sexy voice might have had as much to do with the last as her delicately stroking fingers. Every time before, he’s been careful, breaching me slowly and only when I’m mindlessly close to blowing my load.
I’m definitely mindless, edged to the point of near delirium, but this time his fingers are swift and demanding, the brutality shocking after the insane decadence of his tongue. With Gia’s perfect mouth still working me over, I skate right past the flash of pain, the world going white with pleasure at the corners. He pegs my prostate with a ruthless curl of his fingers, and I tanglea fist in Gia’s hair, meaning to shove my inevitable climax down her throat, regardless of his orders.
Sensing my intent, she backs off, dragging her teeth lightly up the underside of my shaft. My head drops with a shaky groan, and I loosen my grip on her hair.
I can be fucking good. For them, I can be good.
Lyot doesn’t let up on his assault, but Gia is teasing me now, with languid swirls of her tongue and slow strokes of her hand. She feathers over the dip beneath my head and plays with my slit, never taking me all the way into the stranglehold of her throat. Sweat prickles over my body like even my pores are leaking for them.
“I can’t—” I warn, hardly recognizing the frayed, pleading rasp of my voice.
Gia pulls free, letting her head fall back on the edge of the mattress and holding my gaze as she comes in short, selfish gasps around her own fingers. Lyot sucks at my taint and pegs my prostate again, and I lurch upright, grabbing the base of my dick and squeezing hard before I unload all over Gia’s flushed face.
“Get on the bed, Smalls,” I growl, once I’ve regained a modicum of control. The little witch glances past my hip to Lyot still on his knees behind me, his fingers tracking lightly down my thighs.
I’ve been good enough.
I slap her cheek, hard. Her eyes flash, then go heavy-lidded as she squeezes around the hand still pressed between her legs. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get his turn,” I tell her, brushing my thumb over the color blooming on her cheekbone. “But if I’m gonna die by dick tonight, I’m sure as shit gonna do it drowning in your perfect pussy.”
She laughs, pressing her face into my palm. Clearly, the thought of my impending demise delights her. But she pushesherself up and scoots back to lie on the bed, bending her knees to give me a devastating view of her glistening cunt. I crawl toward her, nipping sharply at her soft inner thigh.
