Page 59 of Perfect Convergence

As soon as she’s within my reach, I haul her into my arms, and then I drop her onto mine and Oliver’s lap. She’s on her stomach, her head inches from Oliver’s crotch, with her torso spread over my legs.

Pulling up her dress, I squeeze her ass, and she moans. Then I flip her over, and she squeals from surprise.

“If you make her come, I’m going to get us into a fucking car crash,” Elliot practically growls.

“Noooo!” Wren whines. “Please don’t tease me again. Please.”

“I said it the other day, and I’ll say it again, princess. We need to work on your self-preservation instincts.”

I have no idea what Oliver is talking about, but the scowl Wren gives him is amusing and cute as hell.

I trace a finger down her exposed stomach, following her thong. She’s absolutely soaked.

“I don’t think fuckdolls get a say in what happens to them. What do you think, Oliver?”

“Sounds about right to me.”

Wren huffs. But then her face breaks out into a smile, even as she says, “You two are the worst.”

Tracing her collarbones, Oliver grins down at her. Then he’s pushing the straps of her dress down until she threads her arms through them. Once the red fabric is bunched around her waist, his fingers run over the soft skin of her breasts. She whimpers when he refuses to touch her nipples.

I do something similar, pushing her thong to the side. But I don’t touch her clit. Instead, with a feather-light touch, I run my fingers through her labia and gently circle the outside of her vagina, touching her everywhere except where she wants.

Her whimpers turn more desperate. When she reaches for my hand, trying to push it to where she wants, I take both of her wrists and hold them for Oliver to grab. He does, pinning them to his chest. Wren groans, trying to pull free, but his grip is too strong.

“You three will be the death of me,” she mutters.

Oliver snickers, finally letting a finger graze one of her nipples. She swears, her back arching. Unconsciously, she parts her legs until one of them falls off the seat.

Seeing her splayed out for us like a feast has me getting hard again already. I trace her entrance one more time before slipping two fingers inside of her. She gasps, wriggling her hips to get them further inside, so I pull them almost all the way out.

I do that for a while, sliding in and out of her, not trying to hit any of her sensitive spots, and not using enough fingers to make her feel full. Oliver keeps teasing her breasts, only touching her nipples now and then.

When I finally circle her clit, her moan is so loud and so long, you’d think she was in pain if you didn’t know the situation she’s in.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she gasps.

“What did I say about fuckdolls, Wren?”

She whines, grinding against my fingers, so I pull them away completely. Then she pouts, clenching her fists against Oliver’s chest.

“Can you be a good girl, Wren? Can you take what I give you?”

Her chest is heaving, and she’s trembling in my lap. “I—I can.”

My finger returns to her clit, stroking gently. “You’re going to regret saying that, sweetheart.”

She looks to Oliver for help, but he shrugs.

With my free hand, I slowly slide three fingers into her, still working her clit with the other. She gasps at the feeling, no doubt expecting that I’d keep teasing her.

But no, I have something else in mind.

The first time I bring her right to the edge, I wonder if she thinks I forgot what Elliot said. But right before she comes, I stop.

“Rhett,” she sobs, craning her neck to look at me. “Please.”

“You said you’d be good, sweetheart.”

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