Chapter 166: Sending Thoughts And Prayers

Dove was narrow through the waist, but her breasts and hips were full, and both men watched her without pretending otherwise. Her nipples had tightened in the cool room. She unlaced her trousers and pushed them down over the round, wide curve of her hips, and she heard both men make a sound at the same time, something caught between a groan and a prayer.

She stepped out of the trousers and stood there a moment, naked, letting them look. Letting them strain against rope they had agreed not to break, looking at the curve of her waist flaring out into hips built for exactly this, thighs already slick where her arousal had gathered.

"Fuck," Thorne breathed.

Edrik didn’t say anything. He just stared, jaw tight, cock jerking visibly against his stomach.

She climbed up onto the table between them, the wood cool under her knees, and crawled forward until she was positioned over Edrik’s face, her knees braced either side of his head, her cunt hovering just out of reach of his mouth, close enough that she could feel his breath hot against her.

"Dove, wait, I can make you feel better, let me just..."

"Mm." She lowered herself another inch, just enough to make his breath catch. "Okay. I’ll feed you first."

And then she dropped her hips the rest of the way, grinding her dripping cunt against his mouth, and the sound he made was muffled and desperate and went straight through her.

His tongue found her clit almost immediately, like he had been starving for it, like he couldn’t help himself even bound and helpless the way he was, and she rocked against his face, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there as he licked and sucked and groaned against her, the vibration of it making her thighs shake.

Thorne cursed from the other chair, straining to see, straining against the ropes that held him exactly where she put him, and she glanced over at him with half-lidded eyes, watching his cock twitch untouched, watching the muscle in his jaw flex as he fought the urge to beg again.

"Ahh, fuck, Dove..." Edrik’s voice was muffled against her, desperate, and she ground down harder, chasing the feel of his tongue, the slick drag of it against her clit, her thighs trembling with how good it felt to finally, finally have what she had wanted since she first saw these two men standing shoulder to shoulder, too big and too proud and too hungry for her to resist tying them both down and making them wait.

"That’s it," she breathed, hips rolling, "that’s it, good boy."

Edrik groaned against her, the sound raw and wrecked, and his tongue worked faster, like praise was the only thing he needed to be good at this, to be good for her, and she felt the pleasure building low and tight in her belly, her nails dragging through his hair, her breath coming faster.

"Dove," Thorne said again, voice strained, rope creaking as he shifted, "please, I need, fuck, just let me watch, let me..."

"You are watching," she said breathlessly, not looking away from the ceiling, hips still moving against Edrik’s mouth. "That’s, ah, that’s exactly what you’re doing."

Thorne groaned as though that was both the best and worst answer she could have given him, hips jerking against nothing, cock leaking against his stomach, and she could feel the second man’s frustration radiating off him in waves even as she rode the first one’s face, even as Edrik’s tongue found a rhythm that had her thighs shaking and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Edrik," she gasped, grinding down harder, "right there, don’t stop."

He didn’t stop. He had chosen to stay bound, though his strength could break the chair, and he kept working his tongue until her thighs clamped around his head and her back arched. Pleasure crested through her in a long, shuddering wave that left her gasping above him, her hips rocking slowly through the last of it.

She lifted her hips a little, breathless, slick glistening on his mouth and chin, and looked down at his hungry eyes, his mouth still close beneath her, his chest heaving against the ropes.

"Please," he said, voice hoarse. "Dove..."

She turned her head toward Thorne, who was watching her with the same desperate hunger, hips still twitching uselessly against his bindings, and she smiled, slow and satisfied, already thinking about how long she was going to make him wait before she let him have his turn.

Thorne’s cock twitched against his stomach, leaking steadily now, a thin trail of pre-cum sliding down to pool against his navel, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Edrik’s mouth working between her thighs, couldn’t stop watching the way her hips ground down shameless and greedy against a mouth that wasn’t his.

"Fuck," he gritted out, rope biting into his wrists as he strained forward. "Fuck, Dove, let me..."

She didn’t even look at him. Her head was tipped back, throat bared, breath coming in short little gasps that went straight to his already aching cock.

"Please," he tried again, voice cracking on the word in a way he’d be embarrassed about if he had any blood left for shame. "I need, just let me touch you, or let me, fuck, anything, please, Dove..."

She peeled herself off Edrik’s face slow, like she was savoring every second she made him wait, and when she finally turned her head toward him he felt it like a hand closing around his throat. Her eyes were glassy, half-lidded, her mouth soft and parted, and she looked at him like she was deciding something.

"Please," he said again, lower this time, rougher. "I’ll do anything. Just come here. Let me..."

Something in her expression shifted. Softened, maybe. Or maybe just turned hungrier.

"Okay," she said. "Come here, boy. On your hands and knees."

He moved so quickly that the chair rocked under him. A leg split as he strained forward, loosening the rope around his ankles and leaving one loop hanging from his wrist. He dragged himself clear of the broken wood and got his knees onto the table, still watching her. The broken chair clattered behind him.

He got maybe two feet across the table toward her before his cock jerked and he came untouched, spilling hot over the wood beneath him, a groan tearing out of his throat that sounded wrecked even to his own ears.