“I think our definitions of fun are at two very different ends of the spectrum.”
“Shh. Don’t move, pretty Delilah.” He plucked the fabric away from my damp skin. His brow creased in concentration—at least I hoped that was concentration and not the effort to hold himself back from doing something I would definitely regret. There was a tugging sensation, and I swore I could feel the sharp blade touching me. Adrenaline rushed impatiently through my veins.
“See? You lived through it.”
He moved the axe away, and I sagged in Ilya’s grip. He had held me very still, which I’d appreciated.
Ilya stripped my ruined T-shirt off my shoulders and used it to bind my elbows together behind my back. I shivered from the cold. Rather than take pity on me, he pushed me to my knees and pressed my face into the grass and dried leaves. It was dewy and chill, and I meant to complain, but he got down behind me so quickly it startled me. He thrust his cock into the gaping hole in my panties and—once he got the angle right—into me. Covering me with his body, he sheathed his hot length deep inside my pussy, and I groaned in appreciation. It was exactly what I needed—a hot, flesh-and-blood cock, not Bron’s axe.
As soon as he was inside me, he froze. I thought he was trying not to come, but when I turned my head to look back at him, I saw Bron kneeling behind him, spitting into his hand and slicking his hard length.
“Do you think you can concentrate on fucking the girl while I’m fucking you?”
“I thought we were ganging up on her,” Ilya complained.
“Poor Ilya, never getting what he wants. So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to come because of how it feels to have your dick in her hot little pussy, or from the feel of my dick buried deep in your tight ass?”
Ilya’s answer was only a gasp. His cock spasmed fretfully inside me as Bron worked his way into his ass.
He was so distracted by what Bron was doing, he’d almost pulled all the way out of me. I backed up the best I could with no arms to use as leverage, and his cock slid all the way back in.
“Fuck, Delilah—please don’t move.”
“I want more,” I complained.
“The only way you get more is to be patient for a moment,” he said through gritted teeth.
Bron hummed in appreciation. “Now tell me, Ilyusha, which of us feels better?”
“Both—god! But to have them both at once is too much for one man to bear.”
“Did you already come?”
“No! Now shut up or I might.”
I could feel Bron start to move again, jarring Ilya into me. “Do you think telling me to shut up is wise?”
Ilya whispered a curse. Each of Bron’s thrusts made Ilya thrust into me in a delayed chain reaction. Trapped between us, Ilya was a gasping, trembling mess.
“Please stop. Please stop,” he begged.
“Never. I’ll never stop fucking you, you little cunt.” He was grunting with each thrust, and Ilya was gasping. Ilya’s cock was so impossibly hard, and my breath sounded loud in my ears. “Even if you leave here and marry some woman, you’ll never know when I’ll show up. I’ll make you kneel for me. You’ll suck me down your greedy throat because you know who owns this body.”
“Yes, Bron.” His voice sounded strained, and I looked back again to see Bron had pulled the axe haft across Ilya’s throat and was choking him with it. Ilya’s face was scarlet.
“No pussy is ever going to make you as hard as having my dick in your ass.”
Ilya had stopped moving again—probably concentrating on breathing and taking Bron’s cock and temper. I tipped my hips and fucked myself on Ilya’s painfully hard dick, using him like I’d seen girls in porn fuck themselves with dildos that were suction-cupped to the shower wall.
His hips stuttered, and he cried out in tortured ecstasy, his cock bucking deep inside me, filling me with jets of hot cum. Bron tossed the axe aside. My orgasm had been close enough to taste, but my clit needed attention.
“Fuck,” Ilya groaned. His hands fisted in the dirt as he shook above me.
Bron was swearing, and he leaned in to bite Ilya’s shoulder, making Ilya’s cock twitch deliciously.
I wriggled out from beneath them, right before they collapsed, and sat in the grass watching them together. They were both beautiful male specimens that made me sigh in frustration.
The bindings on my arms had come loose and I stripped them off.
“Didn’t you make her come?” Bron grumbled. “She’s sulking.”
“I’m not sulking.”
“I didn’t have a free hand to play with her while the barbarian on my back was choking me.” He brought his hand up to his throat and rubbed at the red mark there.
“Always with the excuses.”
Ilya grabbed my ankle and dragged me back to him with no regard for the twigs and stones that dug into my bare flesh.
“Leave me alone,” I grumbled.
“No, wifey. It’s my job to keep your little pussy happy.”
“I’m fine.”
“If a woman ever says she’s fine, she’s certainly not fine,” Bron said, heaving himself up and yanking up his jeans. The sight of them slowly sliding down his hips had been damned erotic. What was it about a man’s lower stomach vee and his hipbones that made me weak at the knees? “Don’t let her go until you’ve seen to her.” He left, heading toward the shore, which I suddenly realized didn’t sound far off.
Ilya slid his arms under my legs and wrapped them around my thighs so he could spread me open.
“Poor little neglected clit,” he murmured.
“You don’t have to—”
His tongue hit with deadly accuracy. I sobbed in distressed pleasure. If the man hadn’t been hanging onto my thighs, I might have busted his lip with my pelvic bone.
Unperturbed, he held on tightly and caressed and sucked until I was begging, my fingers hooked into his long hair, the scrape of his beard interfering and overwhelming. The unholy tension in my lower belly and thighs made me arch under his too-clever tongue. Every muscle seized, holding me frozen in the moment as the pleasure crested then skated over the edge. I keened helplessly as I came in a violent series of shattering, delirious tremors.
Bron came up the hill, his hair and chest dripping, hurriedly trying to zip up his jeans.
“Fuck. I thought you killed her.”
Ilya ran the flat of his tongue over my now too-sensitive clit, and he reluctantly allowed me to push his head away.
Looking like a sleepy, contented cat, Ilya threw himself on the ground next to me and pulled me into the crook of his arm. “Why would you think that?”
“She screamed loud enough to wake the neighbors.”
“There are neighbors?” I demanded blearily.
“Only if you count the small cemetery.”
“Yes, those ones,” Bron said. “You may have started the zombie apocalypse with all of your screaming.”
“It’s not my fault. Blame Ilya’s tongue.”
Bron nudged Ilya’s back with his toe. He headed away from us, yanking a long blade of grass from the ground and sticking the end in his mouth before grabbing up his axe and wandering off entirely.
“Why does he always run off like that?” I murmured.
“He got what he wanted. He doesn’t need affection.” He pulled me closer but dozed off moments later, twitching now and again like a dog dreaming of rabbits.