Page 103 of Ink Me Three Times
Freddie’s hands are already between my legs, fingers skilled and unhurried, teasing me with maddening precision. My breath catches, hips instinctively shifting toward his touch, the pleasure sparking like fire in my veins.
It’s overwhelming and perfect, this feeling of being wanted… completely, simultaneously, by all of them.
Timothy kisses me hard, his mouth claiming mine with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. I melt into it, his lips, his taste, the way he drinks in every gasp I make.
One hand tangles in my hair, gently but possessively, the other sliding down my back to grip my ass and pull me flush against him. I feel his heartbeat against mine. Fast, wild, like mine.
Somewhere in the chaos, I realize I’ve never felt more alive. More seen. More desired. And the most intoxicating part?
I want all of it.
I moan into his mouth, hips rocking toward Freddie’s touch. It’s messy and hot and wild, and I’ve never felt anything like it.
And then Mitchell is behind me again, his voice rough in my ear. “We’re going to make you feeleverything, Ivy. No holding back.”
I believe him. I want it, them, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Freddie’s fingers slip beneath my panties, and the moment he finds how wet I am, he lets out a low, appreciative groan.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, voice thick. “She’s soaked already.”
I don’t know if I should be embarrassed or empowered. Probably both. But when he pushes a finger inside me, slow and deliberate, I stop caring altogether. My body jerks, back arching into Mitchell behind me.
Timothy catches my face between his hands, watching every little reaction. “Eyes on me, Ivy.”
I look at him. Itryto. But Freddie is teasing me ruthlessly now, his tongue tracing circles just above where I want him most, his finger curling perfectly inside me. My lips part in a moan that Timothy swallows when he kisses me again, this time rougher, deeper, like he wants to own every gasp.
Mitchell’s hands are everywhere, tugging down my panties, palming my breasts, guiding me back against the hard line of his cock through his jeans. He thrusts lightly, just enough to let me feel him there. Waiting.
“Tell us what you want,” Mitchell says, biting the shell of my ear.
“I want…” I whimper as Freddie adds a second finger, pumping them slowly. “I want everything.”
“You’ll get everything,” Timothy growls, stepping back just enough to strip. My eyes lock on his body, lean muscle, tattoos, his cock already hard and thick, curving up toward his stomach.
He strokes himself lazily as he watches Freddie work between my legs, and the sight alone nearly undoes me.
“Mitchell,” I pant, reaching back. “Please.”
He doesn't make me say it twice. His jeans hit the floor in seconds, and then I feel him, hot and heavy against my lower back.
“Bend her over,” he says, voice dark and steady. “I want to take her from behind.”
Timothy grabs me by the waist, lifting me effortlessly and guiding me to kneel on the couch. Freddie moves, giving Mitchell room, but not before licking one long, slow stripe up my center. I cry out, knees buckling, but Timothy’s there, steadying me.
Then Mitchell’s there, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. He slides in slowly, inch by inch, groaning low as he fills me.
“Damn, Ivy,” he hisses. “You feel like fucking heaven.”
I bury my face into the cushion, moaning something incoherent. I can feel every inch of him, thick and deep, and the stretch is delicious.
Timothy’s lips are at my shoulder, kissing, biting. “Doing okay?”
“More than okay,” I gasp.
He smiles, just before he moves in front of me and guides his cock to my mouth. “Think you can take both ends?”
I nod, mouth already open, tongue flicking the tip. He groans as I wrap my lips around him, sucking slowly, teasingly, until his hips twitch and his control starts to slip.
