It’s the craziest thought to have, but with his hand over my mouth like this, I can smell his natural scent on his skin.
He smells so good.
I’ve tried to avoid it until now, I wasn’t sure I could bear it, but as Hunter fucks me and my exposed tits bounce, I can’t help noting that of all the things Sherlock could be watching… he’s looking into my eyes.
Finally, I look up at him.
That ring of fire in his eyes dances like the flames just a couple of feet away from us.
Gray. His eyes are gray.
Hunter slams into me harder, splintering my concentration. I cry out, instinctively trying to free my hands so I can grab for something, anything to hold onto, but Sherlock doesn’t let me.
Wordlessly, he shakes his head, denying my request.
Fuck.
Delicious tension builds in my core as Hunter drives his cock into my pussy, more merciless with every thrust. As I start to get closer and closer to my orgasm, he slides his thumb inside me and goes after my clit.
Oh, no.
I cry out in glorious agony, a long, lingering sound that’s mercifully smothered against Sherlock’s hand. My eyes roll back, and my tummy jumps when Sherlock growls, like he’s feeding off my growing pleasure.
Between the two of them, I’m trapped in a pleasure prison. Hunter teasing and fucking me until I feel like I’ll lose my mind if I don’t cry out, Sherlock trapping my cries and my hands so I can’t ground myself.
When the pleasure comes, it hits with the dizzying suddenness I’ve grown used to when Sherlock is around. One second it feels fucking incredible but it’s steady and I can handle it. The next, the world is upside down and I’m exploding.
My pussy convulses, squeezing Hunter as I cry out against Sherlock’s hand. I’m so grateful for his firm grip right now—without it, everyone at the party would hear how hard I’m coming.
My whole body shudders in the aftermath. I feel exposed, but also blissful. Grateful.
Hunter knows how I am right after an orgasm, so he barks at Sherlock to let go of me. He does, just in time for Hunter to let go with a groan and fill me with his cum.
I lie there, breathing heavily, but feeling weightless.
The chill in the air hits me, but Hunter comes down on top of me and warms me back up.
He looks into my eyes, and I look into his.
“I love you,” I tell him.
His perfect lips tug up in a tender smile. He bends down to kiss me, and murmurs against my mouth, “I know.”
I need more time to come back down, but I don’t have it. Lying here when I was aroused and all wound up was one thing, but the cool bite of night air isn’t the only thing I’m more aware of now that I’ve come.
I’m aware that Sherlock hasn’t, and he just watched me get fucked. Held me down while Hunter possessed me.
Hunter and I got satisfaction, but he didn’t, and he was clearly aroused.
Still a bit boneless and foggy, I make quick work of gathering my clothes. I locate my jeans easily, but when I look around for my panties, I can’t seem to find them.
“Looking for these?”
I turn around at the sound of Sherlock’s voice.
He’s dangling my panties from his fingertips.
My stomach sinks. Blushing furiously, I snatch them from him and quickly step into them.
Sherlock smiles faintly as I do—like he hasn’t already seen more of me than he had a right to.
Turning back to Hunter, he says, “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Maxwell. You sure throw one hell of a party.”
___
Sex is in the air tonight.
We can’t satisfy it fully, can’t chase it away.
We sure have fun trying, though.
Once Hunter chases all of the guests away, it’s just the two of us—exactly how I like it.
Tonight was fun, though. More fun than I thought it would be.
To warm me up, and maybe to wash any grime off me from Sherlock holding me down while Hunter fucked me by the fire, we christen another shower.
We don’t even bother to get dressed afterward. We lie to ourselves that we’re going to watch a movie to wind down before bed, but we don’t even manage to get the TV on. Hunter bends me over the couch and fucks me, then we collapse on the floor and hold each other for a while.
Once we’ve recovered enough to move, we grab some cold water and head to bed.
We don’t sleep, though. Our tongues tangle, our bodies strain to get closer. He fucks me again and again. I’ve lost track of how many times he’s made me come.
Breathing heavily as he collapses on top of me in his bed, I wrap my arms around him and ask, “Was that seven or eight?”
“What?” he murmurs.