Page 11 of Wild Flower

His fingers stroke my inner thigh.

“When does your shift end?” I blurt out, feeling Archer’s fingers inch closer to my exposed flesh.

“Late,” he whispers in my ear. “Later than this wet pussy wants to wait.”

His fingers graze my slickness again, and I almost lift my hips to meet them, wanting his fingers inside me.

“How late is late,” I pant.

“Two AM,” Finn says, still standing over us and blocking the restaurant’s view. His intense eyes peering down at me with my back arched and my legs open. I fumble to find my purse on the seat next to me and pull out my phone. I lift up the screen to read the time.

It’s only 10:45.

“Fuck,” I hiss, causing both men to smile. They’re right, that’s way too long to wait.

Maybe that’s good. Maybe those three hours will give me time to consider how quickly I let two men flank me and take me to the edge. The sheer fact that Archer’s hand is between my legs is a serious character flaw, one I should take the next three hours to contemplate.

Only, Finn leans down and snakes his hand under my skirt, his wrist joining Archer’s. But he doesn’t tease me the way Archer does, instead two fingers push aggressively between my folds, his fingers penetrating me as my pussy ripples around his knuckles.

Oh, sweet fuck!

He gives me two rough and forceful pumps before he removes his fingers from my cunt as quickly as he entered. I whimper as he lifts those fingers to his mouth and starts sucking on them with the same hedonistic need I did with his thumb.

“We can finger fuck you now,” Finn says gruffly, after he laps my taste off his knuckles. “Or we can actually fuck you in three hours.”

Oh God! I have to choose?

“Or we can do both,” Archer says, reading my mind as his deep voice rumbles in my hair. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, sliding his fingers just as wickedly into my cunt as Finn did. I bite my lip as he starts to pump, unabashedly fingering me in public.

And merciful heavens, I don’t want him to stop.

6

FINN

Ionly have to look at Becca’s face to know how intensely her pussy is clamping down on Archer’s fingers. I felt that tight cavern myself. When it’s my cock, I’m going to split her in half.

But right now, I watch.

Her spicy taste is on my tongue, and that sexy feminine brine is a sweetness that’s all mine. I dip my fingers in the cherry glaze at the center of the rose and lift it to her mouth. She opens her lips to taste herself dipped in smoky syrup, but I pull my fingers away and lean down to her ear.

“Pull your skirt up, so I can watch.” Her eyes cut to me like that’s the dirtiest thing she’s ever heard, sinking her teeth into the pillow of her lip. Those lips that I felt latch onto my fingers with a heat that’s hardening my dick.

Her eyes stay locked on me as her hands drop to the hem of her dress where tattooed leaves poke out below the fabric and Archer’s wrist pumps hotly under the satin. Her pupils dilate as she inches the fabric up her thighs, my cock pressing against the zipper of my slacks as she exposes each blood-red poppy tattooed on her skin. Every new blossom makes my pants tighten, and fuck, I wish we weren’t working right now.

Like the vixen she is, she opens her lips, wanting my fingers dripped in syrup. I thrust them in her mouth as she lifts her skirt and bares Archer’s hand, tending to her from below, his wet fingers pumping into her glistening flower. It’s dark beneath the table, but I can still see the briar of red flowers that clutch her thighs, red against white, framing how Archer holds her thong to the side as his fingers pump.

She latches onto my fingers with a naughty moan, sucking hard, and I know her pussy is doing the same below. Her eyes are lit on me, sparking with feverish desire as she watches me watch her.

“Quiet,” I instruct, gripping the side of the booth to keep myself upright. She nips the side of my fingers before sucking on them harder as if she’s using them to muffle her need to cry out.

She’s close.

It’s obvious from the way her hips twitch when Archer rings her bud. His pace is relentless, punishing her.

“Touch me,” I say darkly, taking her free hand and pressing it against the front of my slacks. She whimpers, her hand groping against how thick I am. She explores my length, shivering at how intense this will feel when I’m inside her. “Touch him, too,” I command, and her other hand disappears into the darkness of Archer’s lap.

I savor the strokes against my cock, but her gestures are feverish and uncontrolled. She’s overwhelmed. She’s delirious. And who can blame her—two cocks, one in each hand, and two men finger fucking her mouth and cunt.

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