Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 152(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
I also have the solitude I always wanted. My men come over to play and bond with me, then I’m still free to pursue my own interests. As long as those interests don’t involve other men. As if I could find any man who would live up to these two. Not a chance.
Life is beautiful. I’m in love. Times two.
My sexuality has been cultivated to a peak and that peak only gets sharper.
Cameron leans his left elbow on the hood of the car, his hand busy stroking between his legs, our mouths engaging in a carnal kiss while Dean fucks me hard from behind. “Is he correct, angel? Are you making him crazy on purpose?”
I bite my lip and nod, trying to look contrite while Dean makes guttural sounds behind me. “Yes.”
“Why?” Cameron asks.
“Daddy touches me when he’s jealous,” I say, whimpering over a particularly aggressive drive, the tilt of Dean’s hips giving me the most intense friction against my clit, the slippery trunk of his sex rubbing, rubbing, rubbing me there. “Even though he’s not supposed to.”
Sweat beads on Cameron’s upper lip. “Where do you like to be touched?”
I press my lips together. “He said I have to keep it a secret.”
“Oh lord,” he breathes, his arm moving faster. “Why?”
“If I’m a good girl, he’ll take me away and we can be together. I’ll have my Daddy all to myself.” I graze Cameron’s mouth with mine, pulling away and bringing a string of his spit with me. “As soon as I’m old enough.”
Dean, who has been listening closely and growing increasingly frantic, pumping unevenly and grunting, loses his control and ejaculates inside me with a hot rush, slamming my hips into the hood and shaking, his calls for God and the deep, deep, deep grinding pressure of his cock pushes the right button inside of me, and I come, too, shuddering with my ass curved to Dean’s stomach, my core convulsing almost violently, our combined pleasure dripping onto the Maserati logo.
Needing to make both of my men happy, because it fulfills me to do so, I slide off the car and kneel in front of Cameron, opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue, palming my bare breasts while he beats off over my waiting mouth, keeping my eyes innocent, curious, sweet, rewarded by the hot stripes of semen that paint my face seconds later, Cameron gasping and shaking through his orgasm.
My men give themselves a few seconds to recover, then, as anticipated, I’m being scooped up and carried inside the house like a princess, praised and kissed and cuddled, while I simply absorb their affection.
We stop at the entry table and Dean slides open the drawer, taking out my two diamond rings. They take turns putting our symbols of commitment on my ring finger. It’s our ritual. Perhaps we can never get married, but we get married in our own way every single time they come to see me.
“Wife of my heart,” Cameron says quietly, kissing my cheek.
Dean kisses the other. “Wife of my soul.”
“I love you both,” I sigh dreamily, letting Cameron carry me to the back of the house for a three-person bath—and we all know how that’s going to end.
The same way we know our love never, ever will.
THE END