Page 71 of Beautiful Sinners

Hendrix goes to his knees in front of her and skims his hands up the long lines of her legs. Her thigh muscles quiver, and the sexiest moan dances up her throat when he runs his tongue along the inside of her upper thigh.

“You have the control here, firefly. Tell us what you want, and we will give it to you, over and over.” He sinks his teeth into her soft flesh, biting down just enough to bruise the skin.

“That. I want more of that,” she answers with a hitch of breath.

Her sigh is dreamlike when Hendrix gives her a matching bite on her other thigh, then laps at the moisture that begins to drip from her decadent cunt. Aoife loves the pain that comes with pleasure. She gets off on it, and it’s hot as hell to watch. Even hotter to see the evidence of what we do to her. Her torso and legs are covered in our marks, some fading and some more recent.

Licking her essence glossing his lips, Hendrix looks up at her from his lowered position. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

She blushes again. Another thing I’ve noticed. She likes being praised,good girlbeing her favorite. Strong and submissive. She really is perfect for us.

As if reading my mind, Con fuels my fantasy from minutes before as he quickly clears the counter island of the glasses left on it until its surface is pristine.

“Hold on,” Hendrix tells her and lifts her by the legs as he stands.

With a delighted giggle, Aoife clings to his shoulders to keep her balance as he carefully sets her down on the granite countertop.

“Holy shit, that’s cold…Oh my god!” she chants when Hendrix doesn’t waste any time, buries his face between her legs, and fucking consumes her with ruthless abandon.

The sounds they make—her moans and his animalistic grunts—are pornographic and have my mind racing with all sorts of sybaritic possibilities. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder, but watching them together has me struggling to hold back my own release, and I’m damn sure not coming in my pants like a horny pubescent boy.

Con moves in and curves his hand around the back of Aoife’s neck to hold her in place, then takes a peaked, rosy nipple into his mouth. The few times he joined Hen and me with one of our random fucks for fun, he sat in the corner and observed. Never actively participated.

This just got very interesting.

“Tristan.”

My gaze lingers where Con makes love to her breasts with open-mouthed kisses, then travels a leisurely path up her body to her gorgeous, flushed face.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I want… I want you…”

Her sentence goes unfinished. She lets loose a long, hedonistic whimper when Hendrix grabs hold of her ankles and drapes her legs over his shoulders, opening her wide, and starts fucking her with his tongue like it’s his mission in life to make her come.

—And fuck, does she come spectacularly. It’s like watching the crest of a wave in a tumultuous ocean build higher and higher until it collapses in on itself once it reaches the shore.

A crescendo of shudders overtakes her until her muscles lock, and her back bows in a lovely feminine curve. All that wavy red hair spills over Con’s hand and cascades around her in a cerise waterfall. And then she shatters, plush lips parted on a scream. Con greedily steals it for himself, hungrily kissing her as Hendrix wrenches her dry of every last drop of her orgasm with punishing lashes of his tongue on her clit.

Mouths fused together, she falls limp in Con’s arms, a sweaty, replete, magnificent, sexed-up mess.

Hendrix eases her legs from his shoulders, gently bending them at the knee so that her feet gain purchase on the edge of the counter. Kissing his way up her stomach, he bends over her and suckles each breast.

“I love making you come. Favorite fucking thing in the whole world.”

She traces the outline of his mouth. “You’re really good at it.”

Hendrix full-on grins. “Damn straight.”

Her head lolls to the side, and she gives me that smile again, the one that makes me stupid in love with her. I glance at my two best friends. My soul brothers. Three men in love with the same woman. Four childhood friends who were destined to be together, and no matter what the Society, or our parents, or AleksanderfuckingStepanoff try to do to tear us apart, they will never succeed. The four of us together are like catching lightning in a bottle, something that should be impossible, but we’ve managed to shape it into something extraordinary.

“I love you, Red.”

Her features soften, as does her smile. “Love you more.Grá agat níos mó.”

Removing my shirt, I toss it to the side, not caring where it falls. “Ready to be ruined, pretty girl?”

Her gorgeous face lights up. “Do your worst, Boston.”

---