Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(141)

And at this rate, she didn’t have long, months of pent-up frustration and need and arousal and all of it. Mike’s hands spread up her hip to take in what they could, as his mouth worked wonders, exploring the full, pink flesh of her labia, one finger sliding inside her—now two!—the added sensation giving her a gasp, indeed, as she tongued Dylan’s mushroom cap, his body tensing, all of this energy traveling like a physics math word problem.

If Mike’s tongue flickers at a rate of 69 beats per second while Laura’s mouth licks Dylan’s enormous cock five times per minute, as her hands dig into Mike’s golden waves and Dylan groans at 200 decibels, when will they all come?

About...now, apparently, Laura’s body twitching, removing Dylan from her as he eased back, her face turning to the pillow, unable to do anything but experience this, biting the sleek cotton to keep from screaming. Didn’t work. “Oh, God!” she shouted, her body convulsing, neck muscles stretching and pulling at the same time, her body stretching like a cat’s, then shaking, stretching, then shaking, hands curled into fists in ecstasy.

Beyond words, she just came and came, exploding as Mike rode the wave, following her as her clit bobbed and jumped, hips out of control, her eyes open and then shut, occasionally catching glimpses of Dylan’s transfixed look, watching her with such passion it nearly made her come again.

“No, stop!” she begged. “I want you in me!”

“I’m here,” said Dylan, smoky and sensual. He slid against her, from behind, as Mike straightened up, slipped out from under the covers and rested on his knees, a delicious drink of water her eyes soaked up. How could he have so little fat, pockets of muscle etched into his ribs and abdomen? Unreal. Dylan’s hot skin married hers, hips resting behind as Mike’s mirth-filled eyes acknowledged what he’d just given her, and waited patiently for so much more, lips flush and red, blue eyes growing serious and sultry.

Now it was Dylan who nudged against her, her own passage eager to be filled, nudging back as he centered himself, then the tip of him touched her outer lips, eliciting a sigh that turned into a moan, her body responding with such fierce arousal she was grateful for two men. They might not be able to satisfy the tiger inside her, the one that had prowled for the past few months through her erogenous zones, pacing and searching for—

Oh! Oh! As he entered her everything split and she felt nothing but slick, her body welcoming and warm, his erection pushing hard from behind as she rested on her side, trying to get him deeper, needing a fuller feeling of man, of Dylan, and as he began to thrust, slow and tender, she whispered, “I love the feeling of you in me. I need you so much.”

“I need you, too, Babe,” he answered, the hissing musk of his breath enough to put her into a cocoon of this, of nothing more or less, his abs pushing against her ass, his knee between hers, his cock inside her as rough palms massaged her breasts, wet lips kissed her earlobes, and then—there it was.

Explosion. Implosion. Screams—hers, of pleasure and orgasm and release and pluming and of complete annihilation of the mind. Hands and fingers and mouths and cocks and ass and pussy walls all worked in concert until everything was just a pink and red void, panting breath and hot, wet flesh and a gritty, guttural groan of fucking and being fucked, of having her body pushed to its sensual limits and over the line, of crossing something that expunged all worry, all fear, all timid nature into a ball of greedy desire and lust and—

Dylan. His neck muscles pushed against her ear; she could feel the strain as she came down from her own high, could sense the creaming inside her as he came, could hear the little sounds the back of his throat involuntarily made as he thrust, then froze, thrust, then froze, squeezing every drop from this masterful movement. He slumped against her, spent, as her energy roared to life, her appetite for sex and skin and being fucked a thousand times stronger than it had ever been in her life, the roar of want so great she feared she would devour them.

Mike. Could Mike be enough now? As Dylan slid out of her, kissing her shoulder, Mike moved like a lion, slow and sure, owning the land and the bed, her body and his, knowing what she needed without her saying a word. He didn’t seem surprised when she took his mouth with force, a maniacal power driving her to kiss him, to use her tongue to nip, to suck, to measure the terrain of him.

“I want you on top,” he murmured, stretching out on the bed, his tall runner’s body going on and on. Dylan had rolled over and watched, an open, friendly face that seemed more wistful than voyeuristic, and as she climbed on Mike’s hips, straddling him, she unceremoniously plunged down on his rigid cock, the tip hitting her cervix with a push of pleasure that made it seem as if she hadn’t just made love with Dylan, hadn’t just come from Mike’s mouth and Dylan’s cock, hadn’t just been satisfied and catered to in every way possible.