I want this. Every part of me wants this. As hands slide over and around every part of me I feel totally found, as though I’m being explored by mapmakers. Everything comes alive as it’s touched. I light up like I’ve been discovered for the first time with sensations too numerous to even separate into distinct pieces.
Everything blends together like a storm, a raging sea. His two hands hold me at the back there and it's almost like my body gives up, goes limp and pliable. The hands are so wide and strong that I am utterly cradled in them. Someone nudges me with his thumb against my jaw, and I automatically tip my head back and find Alek’s lips. His mouth covers mine in a rush. The strain on my neck is intense but I have to do it. I have to taste him too, to get the second flavor on my tongue and into my bloodstream. The urge is cell-deep, undeniable.
My breath is gone. I feel like we've just been climbing to the top of a roller coaster, and have now just passed the crest. Everything speeds up. One mouth begins to consume mine, obliterating the borders of my lips and he's kissing the inside and the outside of my mouth at the same time.
I've never been kissed like this. It's as though he's consuming me, sucking on my lips and running his tongue along the ridges my teeth. It's so intense, I can barely keep up and finally just relax my jaw and let him do what he wants to me. He catches my tongue between his teeth lightly and draws it out of my mouth. It's so intimate, so strange, yet so welcome. Enveloped in these arms I feel strangely, utterly safe.
Then someone is carrying me. My arms reach up to fold behind a thick, strong neck and I hold my wrists together. I'm off the ground and we’re moving, and in seconds I’m laid across the silky, fluffy comforter on the bed.
Hands are everywhere. I feel them behind my neck, pinching my nipples through the front of my dress, through my bra. I need more. I need to be naked. Wriggling my shoulders, I work the dress down and pull my arms out to free myself. I hear a chuckle low in someone’s throat and someone squeezes the back of my neck, hard.
I can’t remember anymore which body is which. I’m on my back on the bed with a man on either side, but in the commotion to get here I don’t know which one is Alek and which one is Roman.
“More? You want more, Marie?” comes a low, sultry voice that I think is Alek.
“Yes,” I breathe. All I can think of is more. I'm like a map, laid out in front of them. Every part of me is aching to be explored, to be named.
I hardly have to say it. I know they know. Hands slide the dress off me in one motion, and someone shifts next to me and moves me to the center of the bed like I weigh nothing. Like I'm a doll in his hands. I arch my back in anticipation.
It's a relief to know that it's happening now. No more waiting, no more wondering. We passed the point where I could probably still turn this off. My whole body is on some kind of autopilot, some kind of urgent, automatic vector.
I feel fingers hooking underneath the ribbon ties of my panties. It's a pity he's not going to be able to see them here in the darkness. I've always had a special affection for girly underthings. But he seems to know. His fingers find the end of the bow and tug, freeing me from the silken panel. I hear his breath catch in his throat and I think he appreciated it, even though he can't see the frilly pink sheen of the silk.
Softly, his fingers brush over my swollen lips as another hand pulls my knee to the side. He pauses for just a moment and sweeps his hand lightly between my legs, cupping my entire sex in his palm. Urgent, seething want pools in my core. I feel my hips roll against him as I try to maneuver myself harder against his skin.
Was he waiting for my encouragement? Because as soon as I'm done with that motion he groans and rolls me to my side, his tongue plunging into my mouth. The other body lines up behind me, folding my knee over his leg so that he is holding me open for the man in front of me, offering me like a gift.
I feel fingers sliding against my slick furrow. His thighs are like rocks, and they catch my bottom leg between them and squeeze hard. I can feel his erection against my hipbone, solid as a sledgehammer.
When his fingers explore me deeper, stroking against my clit, I find myself pushing up on my heels to rock my hips against him harder. The body behind me surges encouragingly, angling me for the perfect presentation. Every time that I sigh or moan, his enthusiasm only mounts. Encouraged, I dare to press a little harder, grind a little more ambitiously against the hand that is exploring me.
“Marie, Marie,” he says in a warning tone. It’s Roman in front of me, I am sure of it now. “If you keep doing that, I'm not going to last.”
Did he just say that? I feel a little swell of something like pride. Did I just make this enormous, freakishly sexy man nearly lose control of himself? Is his brother Alek really behind me, offering my body like a gift?