Page 35 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“I love it,” I whimper. I do. I really, really do. My pleasure builds and burns to a near peak.

His cock leaves me, and I feel myself stretch again to fit the other meaty organ.

“Ben,” I gasp. “Ben, Ben, Ben.”

Ben is on me again, in me, pounding me. They go back and forth like this again and again until I lose all track of who’s inside me. I shout Roland’s name, and then Ben’s name, and then it’s just a mantra: Roland-Ben, Roland-Ben!

All I know is that I love the way they feel. I love being a victim to their desires. I love the ebb and flow of their bodies against mine. These men know how to fuck, and they know how to work together to make me squirm. Roland calls me a good girl over and over and makes me tell him how much I enjoy it. Ben grunts, growls, and kisses my back. Before I know it, I’m tight, shivering, sweat soaked, and I’m reaching my edge again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve cum.

“Wait,” I say suddenly and reach back to press my palm against a chest. Whose chest, I’m not sure.

“Are you okay?” That’s Ben, all worry on top of me.

“Yes… I’m good. I just want to look at you.”

Ben pulls out of me, flips me to my back, and then presses himself inside of me again. “Better?” he asks.

I wrap my thighs around his hips. “Yes.”

Both of my men look as lust-drunk as I feel, their bodies hot and shimmering with sweat. I hook my ankles behind Ben, holding him deep inside of me, and I shift up, propping myself on my elbows.

Roland waits, his cock hard as steel and pointing skyward. I reach out and take it in my hand. He groans, forever the vocal one. His skin is velvety smooth and pulled tight over his swollen erection.

This is what I crave. Both men aching. We’re all in that intense, sex-wild moment where anything is permitted. It’s now or never.

I wet my lips, flicker my eyes between the two of them, and make a single request that I know will change things forever. “Kiss each other.”

21

Ben

I must have heard her wrong.

I’m balls-deep in Rory, throbbing, and savoring each breathy whimper. Surely, she didn’t say what I thought she said.

Roland lets out a low chuckle beside me. She’s jerking him off, slowly, and I’m trying not to focus too hard on that. “What?” he asks. Clearly, he must have heard her wrong, too.

“Kiss each other,” she repeats. It’s clear, that’s definitely what she wants. Those doe eyes look so damn innocent, and she bites her lip. “Please? It would… really turn me on.”

My eyes connect briefly with Roland’s violet blues. Bad idea. I stare at Rory instead. I’m panting. I can’t look hopeful. I can’t look anything.

Then Roland—careless, conceited, and consequence-free Roland—says, “Sod it.” With that, he lifts his head and catches my mouth in his own.

My bones practically turn to stone. I’m tense and stiff as a brick. For a second, I feel paralyzed. His lips are cloud soft and full on mine. And he’s not pulling away.

Me? I can barely breathe, let alone kiss him back.

Do it! my subconscious screams at me. Quit being such a coward!

I know why Rory suggested this now. I know she’s trying to help. But this isn’t helping. This feels like a blow to the chest. There’s a moment there when I think about bolting. I can still shove Roland away, run off, and hide in my lair, my cave, where things are safe and orderly and emotions are best kept repressed. But then—

I go for it.

I grab Prince Roland’s silky mane of hair, and I yank the other man close. I part his lips with my tongue and drink him in deeply. A small, surprised noise escapes Roland, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans into it. He swipes his tongue against mine and invades my mouth. I’ve dreamed of this moment. I imagined it would be hot. But I didn’t think it would be like this. A dam breaks inside of me, and untethered passion comes spilling out.

I can’t get enough of my prince.

I’m hungry and ferocious. Rory’s pussy clutches me in butterflying pulses. Shit. She’s getting off on this.

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