Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“I want him to fuck me, one day,” he confided, as though Neil weren’t right there. “But I don’t know if I can endure it.”
“I don’t want you to endure it,” Neil told him. “If it happens, I want you to enjoy it.”
With every thrust, I felt El-Mudad’s cum dribble out to pool on the duvet beneath me. “I want to watch it,” I gasped, my tortured clit dragging me toward another orgasm. My toes cramped. I moaned, “I want you to be inside me while he does it. I want to feel you getting fucked.”
There was so much I wanted to do with them, especially now that we would have the chance to. Things so filthy, I almost didn’t want to tell them. I wanted to suck El-Mudad’s cock while Neil fucked him. I wanted both of us to go down on Neil at once, tangling our tongues around his cock in a three-way kiss. I wanted to be shackled to the Sybian while they took turns with our collection of fucking machines. It wasn’t difficult to imagine El-Mudad bound, a thick dildo pistoning deep into his ass, while Neil fucked his face. There were so many ways I longed to express that my passion for them, my hunger was limitless. I trusted them both to use me and satisfy me and protect me all at once.
“Would you, Neil?” El-Mudad asked, almost taunting him. “Would you fuck me while I took Sophie?”
“I would. I would fuck you so hard and deep that you would be trapped inside of her, both of you mindless and begging.” Neil groaned and sped up.
“Can you feel my cum?” El-Mudad asked, releasing me to rise to his knees beside Neil. “Can you feel it all over your cock as you fuck her?”
El-Mudad ran his hands down Neil’s chest, over his stomach, to where he pounded into me fast and frantic. El-Mudad gripped the length of Neil’s erection that couldn’t fit inside of me. The vibe on my clit was more painful than pleasurable at the moment, but that didn’t stop my body from reacting when Neil drove even deeper and let out a long, relieved shout. I came one last time, undulating my hips and thrashing and trying to resist the pleasure that I craved and dreaded all at once.
When I’d come down enough to regain my senses, I tossed the vibrator aside. El-Mudad dealt with turning it off because I couldn’t move a muscle.
Neil sat back on his heels, studying my cunt. He pushed two fingers inside, and my body jerked in protest. He withdrew them, shining with all three of our mingled juices, and leaned over my body to plunge them between my lips. I sucked them clean out of pure, programmed obedience, and he once again moved them to my pussy, coating them. El-Mudad opened his mouth and closed his eyes with a satisfied noise at the taste. His fingers found my sex, then, and he offered those same dripping pearls to Neil.
All three of us mingled together. Inseparable, as we should always be.
Neil pulled back the duvet and sheets and motioned for El-Mudad and me to climb under. Neil made sure there was space for himself between us, and I snuggled up to his side, resting my head on his shoulder with a happy sigh. “I wish you guys would have made a mess of me before my shower.”
“You could always take another,” Neil suggested, sleep already creeping into his voice. “We have time, don’t we? Does someone have an alarm set?”
“I’ll set one,” El-Mudad offered, climbing from the bed to fetch his phone. “But I don’t think you should shower, Sophie.”
I leaned up on my elbow to give him a raised eyebrow.
“I think you should have to go down to dinner in wet panties.”
I grabbed one of the ridiculously many pillows and chucked it at him.
Chapter Four
After being apart for so long, just sitting together in comfortable silence was a pleasure. Following dinner on our second night, we’d retired to the smoking room, one of the few places in Deadton Abbey that I could stand. Mostly because it wasn’t as big and echoey as Grand Central Station. Though our bedroom at home was about the same size, it was practically a broom closet compared to the rest of Langhurst Court. Above us, the eighteenth-century equivalent of a drop ceiling alternated dark wood beams with identical recesses, and a Persian area rug covered the floor. This was a room that was never open to tourists, but it was still crowded with antiques.
For example, the record player that currently lulled me into a bored stupor with Pink Floyd.
At least we weren’t surrounded by servants. For the first time all day, I felt I could really relax. I lay on one of the red velvet sofas, my feet in Neil’s lap, El-Mudad on the floor in front of us, his head tipped back to rest on the cushion beside my hip. Neil lazily stroked the top of my foot while I combed my fingers idly through El-Mudad’s hair.