Her Billionaires_ Boxed Set(91)

Mike kissed her, then, his hands on both sides of her jaw, his mouth both brutal and pleasant somehow at the same time, her own tongue rising to a threshold of near violence as she tried to take in as much of his mouth, his lips, his tongue as she could without hurting them. Yes, yes, yes, their mouths screamed, her hips lifting as Dylan slipped two fingers inside her aching emptiness, her wet warmth closing around him as he hooked one finger up to find a pitch-perfect place to call home, tongue zeroing in on her nub and making her tighten, ass clamping down, pussy folding in to a pinprick of pleasure as he slid in and out, finger and tongue fucking her with Mike consuming her mouth, the multitude of sensations making her forget about climax, forget about orgasm, damn near lose all sense of purpose here as she just was—flesh, rolls, curves, tongue, pussy and—ahhhhhhhh.

Mike’s fingers rolled one nipple with just a tad too much force, the nip enough to make her throat bleat with pain, which he took as encouragement, pinching a bit harder. She couldn’t say no—between Dylan’s lapping at her clit and fingers thrusting in and out, the pain took her mind to a new place, and soon she gasped, unable quite to breathe enough, her hips out of control. Reaching for him, she grasped Mike’s cock at the base and he inhaled sharply, the sound whistling through the night and joining her own rasping throat sounds.

He took her hand as an invitation, moving so he straddled her face and she welcomed it, giving her something to do as Dylan’s tongue gave her such devoted attention. He was languid and attentive, giving her body the time to warm up, letting her feel the pleasure and live in the layers that covered each other, each bit of arousal building on the next, a warm, wet blanket of pending orgasm. Her mouth took Mike in all the way to the base, tongue flicking the tip and hardening to give him a concentrated point of muscled focus. Shifting his hips, he started to rotate and move in and out of her mouth slowly. Perfectly pinned to the bed, between Mike on top of her and Dylan below, she couldn’t move.

Even if she wanted to.

She was trapped, and the thrill of the realization clouded her mind, because what if she wanted to get up? Get away from the sensuality of Dylan’s cunnilingus? Move herself from Mike’s blow job? She couldn’t. And, for whatever reason, that fact aroused her even more. She had to give and had to receive right now, knowing there was so much more coming. Whatever Dylan did he did to give her more, and now she could take without guilt, could give without fear, could exchange these acts of love and lust and carnal knowledge on equal ground and know that it was mind-blowingly amazing and hers.

All hers to take and give.

Tall, long, lean Mike seemed to stretch up to the sky as she took her hands and moved up his ass to the small of his back, then maneuvered to get one finger on his taint, pushing up hard on the spot between anus and scrotum. He threw his head back and groaned, the vibration so intense she could feel it in her teeth, which were currently around the base of his cock, a light pressure but held back by tongue and lips that buffered. Slowly, he changed position and slid out of her, her hands fondling his balls now and his hands scooping her breasts as Dylan closed the deal.

And then Mike changed places with him. The sudden shift of men made her lose the rhythm, the near-orgasm retreating now and hiding a bit, though the different technique Mike used quickly coaxed it back into play. Dylan stood by the bed and watched Mike and Laura, one hand lazily stroking himself, waiting for what she knew would be next, the thought sending a shiver down her spine. Mike’s mouth was so different from Dylan’s, faster and more demanding, a personality change. He was aggressive and intense and her body rose to it, Dylan sauntering over to mouth her nipples, biting suddenly as Mike’s tongue pinpointed and began to apply hard, friction-filled strokes just as her entire body clamped and flushed.

Her hands grabbed fistfuls of pink satin bedsheets, flailing and stretching out like a woman impaled by a tongue. “Oh, oh, oh!” she cried out, words long gone, her hips now thrusting up and down, seeking Mike’s face and tongue, a sudden balloon feeling making her inhibited but too late—

She exploded. Gushed. Squirted, the stream flying through the air as Mike followed her gyrations, seeking to keep a steady pace on her clit as she bucked and groaned and thrashed and turned all animal. Basic instinct was it—that was all she could be right now as she was the climax, was the orgasm, was the fluid that poured out of her, evidence of the drama of what these men had wrung from her.

And this was just the appetizer. “Oh, yeah, Laura. Let it all go,” Dylan cheered quietly, his hand no longer on himself but his turgid member at attention and ready for orders. She gently pushed Mike’s head away, the climax still in progress but the touch now almost painful, that post-clit orgasm sensitivity that made her grit her teeth in a not-good way.