ORLA
THREE MONTHS LATER
Nash’s dick wasn’t remotely broken. Not even a little bit. But to be sure, we tested it. Over and over. It helped distract him from the lack of freedom being off his feet forced on him. Off his hog. Off theroadand away from the craziness of club business.
“You’re on your holidays,”Rubi kept telling him.“Piss off and sunbathe somewhere.”
But Nash liked being at home. So we stayed and kept him occupied in as manydeviantways we could think of until he’d figured out how to fuck the way he wanted to with a foot-to-thigh cast.
I lay on my back, splayed out on my bed, legs wrapped around Nash’s waist as he moved inside me, sex in the air, sweat on our skin. I’d given up telling him to be careful. He knew his body, andLord, he knew mine—a fact combined with the lessons Locke had taught him in edging that left me an unholy wreck.
“Fuck.” I tipped my head back as Locke exited the bathroom and Nash thrust a little deeper, teasing me with a rhythm he dangled just out of reach. “Fuck.”
Locke leaned in the doorway, amused and naked. “He holding out on you?”
Yes. No. I craved more force between my legs, but only because I was wild right now, hooked on the skin-tingling, blood-pumping connection that the three of us sharedtogether.
I punctured Locke with a hungered stare.
He drew closer, pausing at the foot of the bed, watching Nash fuck me as I arched my neck, my back, anything to find more friction.
Nash kissed me with feather-light pecks along my jaw, laughing as shivers rippled through my body. “You want it, Orls? Or you want Locke’s dick?”
“I want it all.”
He hummed against my lips. “It’s like you know my every fantasy.”
“No, baby. It’s like every fantasy we ever had came true.”
Nash groaned, humour melting from his face, replaced bywantas Locke dropped a knee on the bed, sweeping us with a knowing gaze. A loving one that was full of heat. He splayed a hand on Nash’s back, urging him on, commanding the pace, attention colossally focused on where Nash pierced my body.
His dick was huge. Locke’s. Though Nash wasn’t small.
Long.
Thick.
Hard.
I licked my lips.
Locke caught me, smirking. “Whatever you need, queenie.”
He came closer, tapping my lips with his cock. I opened wide and swallowed him down, revelling in his gravelled groan, and the tortured moan Nash breathed against my neck.
I widened my legs on instinct, my tits achy and full as Locke gripped the headboard with one strong hand, and used the other to cup my face, fucking my mouth like only he could.
My filthy gentleman, his thick thighs bewitched me. I’d learned to love the ropy scars that marred them, to be unafraid of the raised flesh beneath my palms as I reached for him, taking him deeper down my throat.
“Orla.” Locke breathed a warning, releasing my face to use Nash’s broad shoulders for balance. “If you don’t want me to shoot yet, you need to let go.”
Never. But I let him slide from my lips all the same, too curious for what he’d do next. Too eager to share the taste of him with the man still filling me.
I kissed Nash, sweeping my tongue into his mouth. Owning it. Owninghimfor the brief moments he let me. But my sweet boy was worked up. He’d been playing me for what felt like hours, and he was starting to unravel. Every touch, every kiss lit up with new, dizzying energy, pleasured sounds caught in his throat.
“Fuck.” He drove his hips, eyes rolling. “Don’t let me come yet. I want him to fuck you too.”
Anticipation blazed through me. Nash felt it and eased back, withdrawing and tipping onto his side.