Page 126 of Charlie

"Amazing, isn't it? Lorna needed something to put in her design portfolio, and this is what she came up with."

"If this were mine, I would never leave," I sigh. "Now will you tell me what turns you on?" I ask, looking up at him.

He slides his hand over my hips, pulling me tightly against his body. "There is one thing I haven't been able to get out of my head since you said you wanted to be with all three of us," he says, capturing my gaze with his. "I'll be on my back, you'll be on top of me, facing the ceiling."

I clear my throat. "What hole?" I ask, my voice hoarse and my mouth dry. Jack slides his fingers along the crease of my ass until he feels the puckered skin, massaging it. I arch my back, pushing against his hand, every nerve in my body screaming for him to be inside me.

"I'll lube you up and tease you until you're begging for me, then I'll push against you here," he says, pushing his finger against me, "until you open up for me and let me in." I relax my body, and his finger slips in, his hips flexing against me as he struggles for control. He positions his cock at the V of my legs, sliding between them easily, pulsing the head of his cock over my clit.

"Fuck," I whimper.

"Lach will kneel between your legs and fuck your pussy," he breaths, sliding his hand up to cup my breast, pinching my nipple. "Cam will position himself in front of Lach." He bends, putting his mouth against my ear. "Do you think you can handle two cocks in that tight pussy, Sassenach?" He pulls his hips back, leaving room for his other hand as he sinks two thick fingers inside me, his palm grinding against my clit. I moan, rocking against his hands, the image he created in my mind so fucking hot I can barely breathe.

"Is that even possible?" I rasp, dropping my forehead against his shoulder as he slowly wrenches my world apart.

"We'll find out Saturday, won't we?" I shiver as his breath fans over my neck. He gently pulls his fingers out, making sure I'm steady before walking to the shower and turning it on.

"You look like you belong in an art museum," he says, his voice hoarse as his gaze lazily slides over my breasts, down my stomach, stopping at the apex of my thighs.

"And you," I say, walking toward him slowly, my eyes locked on his cock, "Look good enough to eat." I wet a washclosh, wiping the paint off his cock before I grasp him with a firm hand, sliding my fingers over him until the the head of his cock glistens. I drop to my knees, looking up at him through my eyelashes.

"Don't," he protests weakly, his jaw clenching.

"Are you sure?" I sweep my tongue over the head, breathing in his heady scent.

"No, I'm not fucking sure," he groans, looking down at me. He cups my chin, running his thumb over my bottom lip before hooking it on my teeth and pulling my mouth open. He presses his cock past my lips, his moan crackling over my skin and lodging between my legs. I slide my hands over his ass and pull him toward me, taking him deep. Holding him tight, I swallow around his cock, feeling like the most powerful woman alive as his body trembles under my hands. He moans as I pull my head back, my cheeks hollowed around him. He pushes his hands into my hair, his fingers flexing against my scalp as he wrestles for control.

Hooded eyes watch me work, his lower lip caught in his teeth. I whimper around him, reaching between my legs to ease the ache. He curses, wrapping my hair around his hand, slamming into my mouth, pulling me back, and slamming in again.

"Fuck. Come here," he says roughly, hauling me up to my feet and pulling me through a different door into a dark bedroom. He picks me up and throws me onto the bed.

"On your back with your head hanging over," he commands, sliding his hand over his cock.

"I'll ruin your bedding!" I protest, hopping off the bed and looking to make sure I hadn't gotten paint anywhere.

"I don't fucking care about the bedding," Jack growls, "Get on the bed. Now."

His command sends heat flooding through me, desire dripping down my legs. Jumping to get on the bed, I spin myself around, laying down with my head hanging over the edge. His words from that day on the terrace come back to me. I told him I wanted this side of him, and now he's finally ready to give it to me.

"If you need me to stop, tap the back of my leg three times, understand?"

"I understand," I murmur, reaching for him and pulling his cock against my lips. He pushes in, sinking deeper than anyone ever has, my throat constricting around him as I struggle against my gag reflex. He pulls out, giving me a second to breathe, palming my tits and pinching my nipples, groaning as I pass my tongue over his frenulum. He looks down at me, running the head of his cock back and forth over my lips before sliding back in, his hand cupping my throat.

"Fuck," he grunts, squeezing my throat as his cock passes under his hand. I concentrate on breathing through my nose as he thrusts again, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I desperately want to sneak my hand up the back of his thigh to massage his prostate, giving him the best orgasm of his goddamn life, but I don't know if he's open to that, and I'm not exactly in the position to ask.

He slides his hand over my stomach, pausing to rub my clit before hooking two fingers in my pussy, pushing against my g-spot, the heel of his hand anchored on my clit. I moan around him, and his hips stutter, the vibration tipping him closer to the edge. I slowly run my hand up the back of his thigh, pausing at the crease of his leg to give him time to protest. He pushes back against my hand before thrusting into me again. The next time he pulls back, I push my thumb against his perineum, covering my pointer finger in my saliva before sliding it up between his cheeks. I trace my finger over the ring of muscle, massaging it as he pushes his ass back toward my hand with a low groan. I feel him relax, and press my finger against his sphincter, not letting up until I've breached the muscle and can feel his prostate under my fingertip.

"Fuck," he groans as I massage him, his hands moving to grip the bed on either side of my head, his entire body spasming. He loses control, bottoming out in my throat, then pushing back against my finger. Slamming in one more time, I feel his cock pulse and I press deeper, applying steady pressure to his prostate.

He whimpers above me, his hips jerking, and I swallow around him, drinking him down like he's giving me the nectar of the gods. I press harder, and his back bows, a broken moan ripping from his lips as I wring out every last drop.

"Holy fuck," he says, his voice trembling as he pulls away from me, hauling me into his arms and cradling my face. "I didn't fucking want to do that," he whispers, tracing my cheek with his finger.

"Yes, you did, and that's okay," I assure him, "I wanted you to do it. I enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it?" he asks, wiping mascara from under my eyes, "I'll fucking give you something to enjoy, mo chridhe."

Before I can process his words, I'm straddling his face, his mouth buried between my legs. He licks, sucks, and bites, ripping an orgasm from me in record time. I ride him until the last tremors stop, and collapse next to him on the bed, cradled in his arms.

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