Page 18 of Bred Winner

“Maybe you should tell me some of your fantasies.”

“Later, after I’ve lived out the first of many tonight.” He pulls off my panties, leaving me bare from the waist down, and then hooks my knees with his shoulders, spreading me for his perusal. He blows softly on my slick lower lips until I shudder with anticipation.

“Can I admit something silly?” he murmurs against my thigh.

“Of course.”

“I wish I wasn’t last. Part of me worries I’m not going to live up to the memory of Tristan and Oakley.”

Frowning, I glance down my body at him. “Tristan told me this isn’t a competition.”

“It’s not, but I’m a guy. Testosterone alone says I compete with everything. Even my best friends.”

“You’re the leader of our little group. It shows amazing character that you put yourself last. It also means I’m on edge to have you.”

He smiles and kisses my inner thigh. “You spoil me with your words.”

“I want to spoil you in other ways.”

“Me too, sweetie.” Coen switches from sweet to savage with a flip of a switch, kissing, nibbling, and biting my inner thigh before sliding his tongue along my folds, using his thumb and forefinger to pop my clit out of hiding. He latches on, sucking and biting until I’m writhing my hips and riding his mouth, chasing my climax.

“Oh, damn, Coen.”

“You’re as sweet as I thought.” he murmurs, plunging two fingers deep inside of me. “Will you come for me and give me your sweet honey?”

He strokes me until I’m gushing, coaxing from me not just an orgasm, but something different. I’m soaked, my mind racing betweenholy shitandwhat was that?“What did you do to me?” I pant.

“You squirted for me.” He flashes a self-satisfied smile. “Have you never done that before?”

“No. I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Oh, you most definitely can.” He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. “Tastes sweet, like mango or something.”

“I think my couch is ruined.”

Chuckling, he stands up and walks into the kitchen. “It’s leather and easy to clean.”

He comes back with a soft washcloth from my laundry room for me and a couple of wet paper towels, his lips pursed in a quiet whistle.

I eyeball him, taking the washcloth. “You seem proud of yourself.”

He grins. “I am. I coaxed something new out of you.”

“Is that the testosterone speaking?” I tease.

“I’m two seconds away from beating my chest with my fists and roaring.” He cleans the couch and then easily lifts me in his arms, carrying me to my bedroom. I love how strong they are—each one making me feel like a petite little flower, even though I’m otherwise considered a stout ball-buster.

He sets me down on my feet and then takes a step back, his gaze caressing me as he pulls off his shirt. I shrug out of my top and bra, and then step forward, flicking open the buttons of his cargo pants and pushing them down his hips. A thick, long cock pokes through his boxer briefs, and I have to wonder how three best friends ended up all being physically blessed.

Do they know this about each other? Do guys talk about stuff like that?

I sit on the edge of my bed and pull him forward, easing his boxer briefs down. Wrapping my lips around his cock, I slide him in until the head hits the back of my throat.

Coen groans, his fingers gripping my shoulder. “Good God, Alora.”

Hollowing my cheeks, I pump his cock a couple of times and tease the tip with my teeth and tongue. I can tell I’m getting to him, as his fingers become more insistent on my shoulder. Then he pushes me back, his cock popping free from my lips. “On your hands and knees, sweetness.”

There’s a deep timber to his voice, his normal playfulness gone. I do as he says, looking over my shoulder once I’ve assumed the position, and shake my ass for him. His grin is dark, full of intention, one hand stroking his thick member, the other palming and kneading my ass cheek. He lines himself up and enters me with one smooth stroke. My gasp turns into a moan as my eyes flutter shut.

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