Page 64 of Perfect Convergence

Wren gags. When I look back, Rhett is holding her hair—which is now completely ruined—with his dick shoved all the way down her throat. He holds her there while she chokes, smiling when tears form in her eyes.

He pulls out and she gasps in a breath, just for it to get cut off by him thrusting into her mouth again. “Fuck, sweetheart. You take my cock down your pretty little throat so well.”

She whimpers as he finds a pace, keeping his thrusts shallow so she gets a little break. I keep an eye on her hands.

You can do anything to me. I trust you.

That’s not a trust I plan on breaking. Fucking ever.

When Rhett forces Wren to take all of his dick again, she chokes. Tears fall onto her cheeks, wetting the mascara and causing it to run.

“You look fucking beautiful like this, sweetheart. My beautiful slut.”

She moans, panting when he pulls out again. Drool coats her chin, and she wears it proudly, her eyes gleaming.

“You like choking on my cock, don’t you?”

With a nod, she opens her mouth and sticks her tongue out, silently asking for more. He doesn’t hesitate, fucking her mouth harder than before. As she takes it, she tries not to gag, but she can’t help it.

Rhett doesn’t stop until her face is soaked, covered in black streaks.

“So perfect,” he says, dropping to his knees and holding her face in his hands. “I never want to forget the way you look right now.”

The expression on her face is so satisfied, so content, you’d think she just came down from an orgasm.

“Thank you, Rhett.”

“Oh, sweetheart. It was my goddamned pleasure.” Grabbing his shirt from the floor, he uses it to wipe the drool from her mouth and chin. He leaves the tears and mascara, though. “Do you need more water?”

“Yes. But let Elliot get it. It’s Oliver’s turn with you.”

For a second, he just stares at her in amazement that she understands. That she’s so willing to share. And honestly, I think it’s how we all feel—about how understanding she’s been with everything.

After a long, slow kiss, Rhett stands. Oliver watches him, arms crossed, relaxed and still leaning against the dresser. Before Rhett all but mauls him, I grab the water glass from behind Oliver.

When I bring it to Wren’s lips, she moans in appreciation, gulping it down. I pull it away from her lips before she takes too much.

“Easy. I think you’ve probably done enough choking for one night.”

She giggles, and then I let her drain the glass, careful not to give her too much water at once. When I pull her up, her legs are a little wobbly, so I help her to the bed.

Her mouth opens in a silent laugh, her gaze fixated behind me. When I turn, I can’t help but smile.

Oliver’s legs are wrapped around Rhett’s waist, who has him pressed against the wall beside my dresser. One of Rhett’s hands is holding Oliver’s ass, and the other has his wrists pinned to the wall above his head.

And... yeah. I don’t even know if you could call what Rhett is doing to Oliver’s mouth a kiss. It’s more like an act of domination, a battle for his fucking soul.

Except Oliver is barely fighting. No, he’s enjoying it too much.

“Oh my god,” Wren says.

I’m not sure what the exact reasons Rhett had for avoiding Oliver all week. Or why Oliver let him do it for this long. If I had to guess, Rhett was probably afraid he wouldn’t be understanding enough if Oliver broke down again—or that he’d trigger the breakdown. Both have happened before.

Who knows? I’m just glad they resolved things before I was driven to locking them in a room together until they fixed it.

For a minute longer, we watch Oliver and Rhett. Then I get on my knees in between Wren’s legs.

“Do you want more, love?”

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