Chapter 242: Wild and Wet Weather

Thorne drops into the chair like his strings have been cut. Edrik’s grin splits wider. "Oh," he breathes, hands sliding up the backs of her calves, "do I get to fuck our wife while you watch?" Thorne’s knuckles go white against the arms of the chair.

"If our wife wants it," Edrik continues, leaning forward until his lips brush her navel, "our wife gets it." His tongue flicks out, just a quick warm dart against her skin, and Dove shivers even though she’s trying not to. "Don’t she, love?"

She doesn’t answer him. She doesn’t need to. His mouth climbs her body, open-mouthed and wet, trailing heat up her ribs until he finds her breast and seals his lips around her. He groans when he does, a low satisfied rumble that Dove feels vibrate through her chest, and she knows. She knows this is his favorite part. He’s told her a hundred times, whispered it against her skin in the dark, confessed it like a sin he has no intention of stopping.

He cups her other breast with his free hand, kneading, thumb dragging across her nipple until it hardens, and then he switches, sucking the other one into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound.

Thorne makes a noise. Something raw and involuntary, barely human, and Dove’s eyes cut to him. He’s rigid in the chair, every muscle locked, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach, already glistening at the tip. He’s dripping. She can see it from here. His hands are shaking where they grip the armrests, and she watches his throat work as he swallows, watches his chest heave, watches his whole body strain toward her like a dog on a leash.

She holds his gaze.

Edrik’s fingers find her mouth, pressing between her lips, sliding across her tongue. Two of them, thick and calloused, and he starts moving them in and out, fucking her mouth with the same lazy rhythm he sucked her breasts. She lets him. Lets her jaw go slack, lets drool gather at the corner of her lips, lets him watch his fingers disappear and reappear, wet and shining.

"That’s it," Edrik murmurs, mouth still hot against her chest. "Good girl."

He bends his head again, sucks her nipple deep, and bites. Not gently. His teeth sink in, and Dove’s moan breaks through her throat, ragged and loud. He nibbles, pulls, releases, and the skin is red and swollen when he lets go, a perfect crescent of tooth marks darkening on her breast.

He does it again, lower—bites the curve where her breast meets

her ribs, sucks a bruise into being, and another, and another, marking her, claiming her, while his fingers keep sliding in and out of her mouth.

She’s shaking. Her thighs are trembling, and she hasn’t even been touched yet, not really, not where it matters, and Thorne is watching it all. She can see his cock twitch, can see the wetness spreading, can see him fighting himself. His hands lift an inch off the armrests. They drop back down. He doesn’t move.

She hasn’t said he could.

Edrik pulls his fingers from her mouth, wet strings of saliva clinging to her lips, and she gasps, sucking in air, and then his hand is between her legs, and he doesn’t ease into it.

He slams his fingers inside her. Two, maybe three, she can’t tell anymore, just fullness, sudden and brutal and perfect, and her knees buckle.

She arches backward, spine curving, and Edrik catches her, moves behind her, one arm hooked around her waist to hold her upright while his other hand keeps fucking into her. In and out. In and out.

Wet obscene sounds fill the air, and Dove is gasping rocking shaking against him head falling forward.

She opens her eyes.

Thorne’s cock is right there huge hard dripping so close she could lean forward take it in.

And he’s staring at something broken desperate on face.

Hips lifting off chair barely an involuntary thrust fighting control.

A bead precum slides down shaft.

Watches hand twitch start reach himself start touch stop.

Trying so hard not get up fuck mouth.

Can see tearing apart.

"You look so pitiful," voice wrecked breathless each word pushed moans Edrik fingers curl inside finding spot press rub, "Sitting there watching can’t even ah can’t even touch yourself can you? Nearly cumming already aren’t you? Just from watching just from oh god..."

Edrik twists wrist drives deeper Dove words dissolve wail.

"Look at you," whimpers staring cock wet pooling tip shaking hands strained face, "So desperate So needy You want this so badly could cry couldn’t you Couldn’t you Thorne?"

Nods jerky broken barely movement jaw clenched tight muscles jumping.

Edrik laughs neck. "He’s always so good waiting," breath hot skin fingers don’t stop slow relentless rhythm. "But you’re being mean love Teasing like that."

"I’m not ah not mean honest pathetic looks..."

Hand down ass hard crack splits air scream whole body seizes clenches cumming just slap fucking teasing orgasm tears shakes apart legs buckling arm only holding upright cums hard sobs.

Doesn’t stop eases down lays out mouth replaces fingers tongue sliding slick wetness lapping cunt tasting groaning vibration voice rumbles oversensitive flesh tongue pushes inside fucking way fingers did screams raw broken sound.

His hand is on himself now, stroking, jerking himself off while his mouth works her, tongue swirling over her clit, dipping back inside, lapping up everything she’s giving him. He’s relentless. He’s hungry. He eats her like he’s starving, like she’s the only meal he’s ever wanted, and Dove is writhing, her hands fisting in his hair, her back arching off the surface beneath her.

Her tongue lolls out. Involuntary. Unconscious. Her body reaching for something her mind hasn’t caught up to yet, and she’s lapping toward Thorne’s cock, reaching, straining, her mouth open and wet and desperate.

Not there yet.

Not yet.

Thorne watches, and his chest is heaving, and his cock is leaking steadily, and his whole body is rigid with the effort of staying still, and Dove looks at him through half-lidded eyes, mouth open, tongue out, reaching for him, and she smiles around the sound of her own screaming pleasure.