Shyla moaned and Lazarus captured the sound with his mouth. She writhed between them, unable to keep still. Desperate for a little friction in her most sensitive areas.
Like they knew, the two men worked in tandem. Lazarus jammed his hard thigh between her legs and Jericho wound his fingers in her hair so that the little pinpricks of pain lit up her scalp.
She had a feeling they’d done this before.
Lazarus raised his head, and her breath came in rapid pants as she gulped in some much-needed air.
Shyla threw her head back and rested it on Jericho’s shoulder. He continued to nip and suck at her neck whilst the hand on her stomach headed south.
Lazarus looked down at where her puckered nipples were straining at the fabric of her shirt and rubbed his thumb across first one, then the other.
Shyla would have cried out at the pleasure that shot arrows of sensation from her breasts to her clit like they were attached by an invisible line, but for the hand that slipped over her mouth to muffle it. She didn’t even know to which of them it belonged. She didn’t care.
She bowed her body, pressing into Lazarus’s touch and silently demanding more.
She didn’t need to ask twice. Pulling up the top to bare her breasts, he dipped his head and sucked one hard tip into his mouth.
Shyla let out a shuddering moan from behind the palm that covered her mouth, her tongue flicking out to lick at the salty skin then nibble at the fleshy pad.
Jericho fingers crept beneath the waistband of her panties, slipping lower until he found her clit and circled it with unnerving precision.
She bucked against him and ground rhythmically against Lazarus’s thigh, humping it crudely while he moved his attention to her other nipple.
Shyla’s breath was coming in short, harsh pants. Her whole being felt like it was being wound tight. A coiled, tensile spring ready to snap.
Jericho’s hard length undulated against the crease of her ass where it fitted snuggly, so Shyla dropped her free hand to find Lazarus’s cock, rubbing it through the fabric of his boxers when she finally got her hands on him in the confined space.
The two men upped the ante, pressing, strumming, circling, suckling, nipping, squeezing. Turning her into a seething mess of greedy lust.
Her channel clenched emptily, yearning for more of Jericho’s fingers as he dipped into her honey and spread the lubrication around her sensitive nubbin before renewing his efforts.
Lazarus bit down on her delicate areola, his teeth grazing across her aching peaks.
Shyla gasped and bucked.
Jericho clamped his hand harder across her mouth.
And Shyla shattered into a million pieces, the two men driving her on, extending her climax until she was completely spent and slumped between them like a limp rag doll.
The hand across her mouth stroked tenderly into her hair as she sucked in precious gulps of air.
The hand down her panties withdrew and stroked her hip.
Her shirt was pulled down and righted by gentle fingers.
Butterfly kisses landed on her temple, her forehead, her nose.
She wanted to return the favor but her lethargic questing hands were pulled away.
“Another time,” a voice murmured in her ear.
“Sleep now,” whispered another.
Her eyes, heavy with completion, fluttered closed. Her two men settled around her, and Shyla slept the sleep of the sated.