Chapter 167: Snack Time for Dove

Dove’s eyebrows shot up. Her mouth dropped into a frown so immediate, so genuinely offended, that for a second he almost laughed despite the way his whole body was still shaking through the aftershocks.

"Oh, my naughty boy," she said, voice dropping into something scolding, something that made his spent cock twitch again like it wanted another round immediately. "How dare you get my snack everywhere."

He was panting, chest heaving, forehead nearly pressed to the table, and he couldn’t even find words, just a rough exhale that might be an apology and might be a laugh.

From the other chair, Edrik made a sound low in his throat, frustration, maybe, or something uglier, something possessive, and before Thorne could lift his head to look, Edrik was already diving back in, tongue pushing deep into her, like he couldn’t stand one more second of her attention being anywhere but on him.

"Oh, fuck..." Dove’s hips jerked forward hard against Edrik’s mouth, her hand flying out to brace against the table edge, fingers digging into the wood right beside the mess Thorne had made. "Edrik, ah, right there..."

Thorne watched, still trembling from his own release, as her thighs started to shake again, as her head tipped back and a sound ripped out of her that was barely human, high and strangled, and then she was coming again, body bowing forward, and this time when she came she squirted, hot and slick, straight into Edrik’s face, and the bastard didn’t even flinch. He lapped it up as though it were the finest thing he had ever tasted, groaning against her like he was the one getting rewarded.

Thorne’s cock, spent only a minute ago, gave an interested twitch anyway.

Dove was still shivering, thighs trembling where they bracketed Edrik’s head, breath coming in little hitching gasps, and it took her a long moment before she managed to lift her head, blinking slow, looking almost drunk on it. When her eyes landed on Thorne again, something in her expression sharpened back into focus.

"Okay," she breathed, voice still shaky but with that familiar command threaded through it. "Give me my snack."

She stuck her tongue out, waiting.

Thorne groaned, low and rough, something primal clawing up out of his chest, and he dragged himself the rest of the way across the table toward her, cock already thickening again despite everything, despite the mess still cooling beneath him. He got himself positioned, shuffling forward on his knees, rope still looped uselessly around one wrist where the chair leg finally gave, and he angled his hips toward her mouth.

She didn’t wait for an invitation. She took him in one slow slide, her mouth so wet, so hot, that his head dropped back and a growl tore out of him before he could stop it.

"Fuck. Dove. Yes..."

Her mouth worked down his length, tongue flat against the underside, and the noise she made around him was obscene, wet and hungry, a muffled, half-formed sound, her throat working to take him deeper. He could feel the vibration of her moan against his cock and it nearly undid him right there.

"Oh, glup, glup glup..." The sound was filthy, shameless, her lips stretched around him, spit slicking down to where her hand had come up to grip the base of him, pumping in time with her mouth.

"Ngh, amuhhh, ahah..." She pulled back for air, just enough, her lips red and swollen, a thread of spit connecting her mouth to the head of his cock, and then she was sinking back down, taking him deeper, cheeks hollowing with the suction.

Thorne’s hips twitched forward before he could stop them. "Fuck. Sorry. Dove, I..."

She moaned around him, encouraging, not pulling back, and that was all the permission he needed. His control, already shredded from coming untouched not two minutes ago, from watching Edrik eat her out while he sat there straining against rope, snapped clean through. His hips started moving in earnest, shallow at first and then deeper, fucking up into the wet heat of her mouth, her nose nearly brushing his stomach with every thrust.

"Fuck. Dove. Yes, just like that..." His voice came out wrecked, half growl, and he could feel her throat working around him every time he pushed deep, could hear the wet sounds, her hand still gripping the base of him where his hips couldn’t quite reach.

Beside them, Edrik was still bound to his chair, chest heaving, mouth and chin slick and shining, watching with an expression caught somewhere between fury and raw, helpless arousal. His cock stood flushed and furious against his stomach, untouched, twitching every time Dove moaned around Thorne’s length.

"Dove..." Edrik’s voice came out strained, almost pleading, almost angry. "Dove, c’mon..."

She didn’t stop. If anything, the sound of Edrik’s frustration seemed to spur her on, her head bobbing faster, taking Thorne deeper, her moans turning higher-pitched, more desperate, like she was getting off on being wanted by both of them at once, like their frustration was as much a pleasure to her as anything else in this room.

Thorne’s hand found the back of her head, not pulling, not forcing, just resting there, fingers curling into her hair as his hips snapped forward, fucking her mouth in earnest now, the table creaking beneath them both.

"Fuck, Dove, I’m not gonna, ngh, I’m close again already, fuck..."

She hummed around him, and the vibration of it had his thighs shaking, his whole body winding tight.

"Ahah, mmph, glup glup..." Her moans kept coming, muffled and wet, her hand working him in rhythm with her mouth, spit slicking down over her knuckles, and every noise she made sounded like she wanted this exactly as much as he did, like she was chasing something in the act of it beyond just giving him what he had begged for.

He could feel it building low in his spine, that same desperate pressure from before, except sharper now, almost painful with how fast it was cresting again.

"Dove, fuck, I’m gonna..."

She didn’t pull back. If anything she took him deeper, throat working around the head of him, and that was what did it. His hips stuttered, a rough sound tearing out of his throat, and he came hard down her throat, hips jerking forward one last time before he collapsed forward over the table, chest heaving, rope still tangled uselessly around one wrist, utterly spent.

Dove swallowed around him, pulled back slow, lips kiss-swollen and glistening, breathing hard herself.