I bite his shoulder, muffling my scream as another release hits me like a lightning strike. It’s too much. I’ve never felt so much pleasure. It feels so good it hurts. I spasm against him, shuddering painfully. When my insides finally stop clutching, I try to twist away, but Zack won’t let me, thudding hard and fast into my G spot. I’m so wet from my hour of torture that with each thrust, my channel makes a slick sucking sound, my own arousal sticking my thighs together.
“You like it like this, sugar?” He breathes in my ear. “You like giving up control? You like giving yourself over to me? To do what I want with you?”
“Zack,” I moan, trembling as another wave of feverish heat sweeps through me. I’m not sure if I’m coming again, or I just haven’t stopped. It feels like this is one long, drawn out release, rising and falling with every movement of Zack’s hard rod inside me. Zack’s mouth crashes into mine as he keeps on thrusting into me, harder and harder and harder. His thick thighs are starting to twitch hard against mine. I can feel him losing his rhythm. He’s almost there. Desperately, I try to remember every kegel exercise I’ve ever learned, bearing down on him, squeezing hard.
He finally breaks, coming with a roar and spurting me full of his hot, slippery seed. I cry out as he pulses inside me, slamming into me so hard I can barely breathe. I cling to Zack’s broad shoulders as we shudder together, letting the hot wave of pleasure sweep us both away.
FIFTY-ONE
JOSH
Zack finally slumps over Layla, his chest heaving as they both collapse onto the bed, gasping for breath.
I don’t say anything, my mouth drying out as I look at the two of them. Jesus, my balls hurt. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to see a show like that. Luke and I both watch wordlessly as Zack slowly pulls out of Layla and bends to press a few fluttery kisses over her back, before stepping back and limping towards the bathroom. Layla lies curled up on the sheets, shaking, her skin glowing under the light from the bedside lamp. Her pale hair is sticking to her forehead with sweat, and her thighs are wet with come.
Luke and I stand up as one.
I’m so turned on I’m dizzy. My heart is pounding. I’m aching. My dick is swollen and leaking as I sit next to her on the bed, stroking her hair away from her face.
She looks blissed out. Pink-cheeked and happy. Her lashes are spiky, and there’s some makeup trailing down her cheek. I go to wipe it off, and she pushes her face into my palm. I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re sweet,” I tell her.
“Shut up.” She nips at my fingertip tiredly. “Get here.” She reaches for my crotch. Luke and I both stripped when we had her tied up, and she takes advantage of my lack of pants, grabbing at me.
I laugh, pushing her head away.
Luke plucks a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge and hands it to her. “Drink, first.”
She sits up with a groan, flopping against the pillows and taking the bottle. “You always take care of me.”
“Yes,” Luke says steadily. “And I will as long as you’ll let me. Drink, Layla.”
She studies him over the rim of the bottle, then twists off the cap and takes a few long gulps. I watch her throat move as she swallows.
“Good girl,” Luke says, when she finishes and sets the bottle aside. “Get on all fours.”
She groans. “Help.”
I wrap my arms around her waist and help her roll onto her front. As she kneels, I see a flash of her sex. She’s pink and still twitching, her lips glistening and dripping with Zack’s come. She looks like a dream. I take a deep breath, then glance at Luke.
He smirks. “Love, can I have your mouth again?”
“Seriously?” I ask, hardly believing my luck.
“She’s all yours. If that’s okay, sweetheart?”
Layla nods dreamily, and I squeeze her hip, trying to think past the rushing in my ears. “Alright then. C’mon. Up. Hands and knees.” She kneels obediently, and I stroke my hands over her bumcheeks, squeezing slightly. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
“Ain’t she lovely?” Zack says behind me, coming out of the bathroom. Heading over to the armchair in the corner of the room, he slumps down in it, stretching out his arms and watching us with lidded eyes. “No wonder your shop does so well, pet, with that body modelling the clothes.”
“I was hoping it was more my design skills,” Layla says drily.
“That’s the bum that sold a thousand knickers,” he announces, completely ignoring her.