Page 80 of Brushed and Buried
My breath catches, head tipping back, and I move slowly at first, adjusting to the rhythm he sets. His hands hold me steady as I rock on him, each grind bringing us closer. My own cock throbs fiercely against my thigh, bouncing up and down with every delicious grind. The rhythm Vince sets is steady, powerful, and all-consuming.
In front of me, the boys watch, eyes locked on the mesmerizing sight of us moving together, from the point where Vince and I are joined. The room is charged, the air thick and alive. Lance’s hand slides over his cock, fingers wrapping tight around his shaft, jerking, his breaths hitching with every movement I make. Trevor’s gaze is fixed, jaw clenched, palm slicking over his cock with tense, eager strokes. George leans forward, eyes heavy-lidded, his hand sliding in time with the others, all synchronized in their shared lust.
And Vince? He doesn’t take his eyes off me. I feel his gaze like a brand, like he wants them to see exactly what’s his. His voice is a low rumble against my back, breath ghosting over my skin.
Vince presses into me, with his cock buried to the hilt. He slips a finger alongside his shaft, dragging it through me. I shiver, gasping, all my nerves blazing. The overstimulation is unbearable and intoxicating, my body trembling under the pressure of him and the heat building in my belly.
“See how this hole takes me,” he murmurs, low and commanding. “So tight around me. You like that, huh?” His cock pumps faster, then abruptly slows, letting the tension mount inside me, tightening, winding me higher with every teasing motion.
I arch against him, breaths coming in ragged gasps, lips parting in quiet, desperate moans. His thumb brushes over the sensitive rim of my ass, finger still buried, and I can’t think.
“That’s it, baby,” he growls, voice thick and possessive. “You feel it, don’t you? Right there.” I clench around him instinctively, muscles seizing, the pleasure making me cry out without sound. “You can give me one more.”
I cry out, lost, body convulsing, hips rocking against him. It all becomes overwhelming, then the edge breaks over me, sudden and explosive. My cock bounces against my stomach as my release erupts hands-free, shooting across my belly and chest, and onto the floor, my balls emptying in full view. My hips jerk,clenching him around my hole, wave after wave tearing through me.
“That’s it,” Vince whispers hoarsely, finger still deep, cock still driving, pressing me higher, stretching me impossibly wide. “Lose yourself. Give me all of it.”
I shake beneath him, slick running, every nerve alive. He keeps me pinned, thrusting, talking me through every shudder. The release continues until finally he slows down, letting me collapse onto him, gasping, trembling, and completely undone, our bodies fused together.
Vince slowly guides me down to the floor, positioning me on my back with legs raised and spread wide, ass high in the air, completely open. He enters me again, his thrusts powerful and precise.
Trevor steps in close, dropping his knees to either side of my head as he straddles me, guiding his now-ungloved, heavy, and leaking cock to my lips. I open up for him, taking him in just as Vince pounds into me, fucking me with a drive that makes my whole body jerk forward. The rhythm between them steals my breath, Trevor feeding me thick and steady while Vince drives into me like he’s chasing something only I can give. Lance and George flank us, each eagerly taking their condoms off and grabbing my hands from each side where they are at, wrapping them around their shafts, making me stroke them in time with the pounding between my legs.
The sensations crash over me, Vince’s relentless rhythm inside me, Trevor’s cock sliding deep into my throat, Lance and George’s cocks moving slick in my hands. I am utterly consumed, every muscle tightening with pleasure, every breath a mix of moans and gasps.
The room is filled with the sounds of our shared desire. The wet thrusts, the heavy breaths, the low growls and praise, all blending into a wild chorus of lust.
They all come on me, one after the other, a messy, hot cascade of heat and release that leaves me slick and trembling. The boys finish over my face and chest, their sticky, salty mess coating me like a strange kind of badge.
Vince slips off his condom, pressing his cock deep into my ass again before pouring himself out, warm, and claiming me completely.
I lie there, utterly spent yet burning with a quiet power, the proof of what my body has given, what I have taken, and what I have become for them all. My skin glistens with sweat, warm under their careful touch, muscles still trembling from the raw intensity. Vince’s voice cuts through the haze like a steady flame, low and certain as he whispers soft promises that tether me to the moment.
Around us, the boys murmur words of worship and awe, their praise both fierce and tender, like fire that heals instead of burns. Their hands move carefully in wiping me clean with reverence, every touch reminding me I am treasured, seen, andowned. Their voices fade slowly into the background until they become a comforting hum beneath the pounding of my heart.
Then Vince’s strong arms wrap around me, protective, a fortress, and lift me effortlessly. I let the world blur and soften as he carries me to a bed, the room unfamiliar but the sanctuary unmistakable. His breath ghosts over my ear, his words a final, sacred claim.
“You’re mine. Always.”
And in that quiet certainty, I finally surrender, drifting into exhaustion and peace, cradled exactly where I belong.
28
Adrian
The reception tent glows with warm amber light strung between wooden posts, casting everything in the kind of golden hour magic that makes even mundane moments feel cinematic. Becca’s laughter rings out above the gentle murmur of conversation and the soft acoustic guitar Olivia arranged for cocktail hour. Trevor holds court near the bar, regaling his guests with some story that has them all doubled over with laughter. The ceremony was perfect and exactly what they wanted. It was intimate and heartfelt, with just enough California sunset drama to make the photos spectacular.
Everyone seems to be floating on champagne and happiness, caught up in the particular kind of joy that weddings generate. The kind of collective euphoria that makes strangers feel like family and turns simple moments into memories people will carry for decades.
But I can feel Vince’s attention like a weight across my shoulders, even when I’m not looking at him. He movesthrough the crowd with that easy charm that comes naturally to athletes and public figures, shaking hands with Trevor’s family, complimenting Becca’s dress, accepting congratulations on his speech that hasn’t happened yet. To anyone watching, he looks perfectly relaxed, perfectly in his element.
But I know him well enough to catch the way his eyes sweep the crowd, how his gaze finds me and lingers before moving on. I’ve been busying myself with a few final coordination details, making sure Olivia has everything she needs. Professional tasks that give me somewhere to look other than at Vince in his perfectly tailored navy suit, how the jacket fits his broad shoulders, how his tie brings out the color in his eyes.
Ayaka appears at my elbow with two glasses of champagne, pressing one into my hands with gentle insistence. “You haven’t really stopped working all night,” she says, her voice carrying that blend of directness and warmth I’ve come to appreciate. “It’s a party. Breathe. Drink.”
“Force of habit. I’m used to being part of the crew.”
Ayaka studies my face with the perceptive eye of someone who understands the art of reading people. “You know, for someone who helped create such a beautiful wedding, you look like you’re waiting for disaster to strike.”
