62. Darcy

It's later now, and I'm nicely buzzed from the wine. Through the French doors, the park is all muted indigo shadows beneath a lavender sky. We've talked, and laughed, and kissed, and I've watched with amazement how the guys are together. How comfortable, how easily affectionate. How often their gazes turn to each other. It's truly amazing to see.

I really should have turned up an hour earlier than I did and brought a bucket of popcorn. I can't wait for them to reenact all those orgasms so I can watch.

For now, though, it's about me.

They've made that much clear.

I'm sitting on Max's lap on the sofa, in almost the exact place where he first bent me over and fucked me. His dick is swelling against my arse, his hands are all over my skin, rubbing and smoothing and admiring, and his mouth can't stay away from my shoulders, from kissing and licking and nipping them.

He gathers my hair back in a single handful and twists it into a rope, and I gaze dreamily up at Dex, who's standing in front of me. He's still in his shorts, that line of dark hair bisecting his olive abs, and the mere view of his body has me wanting his skin flush against mine.

‘Have at her,' Max tells him, and he gets down on one knee. It's such a courtly, respectful gesture. A worshipful one, even. It's the pose of proposals, of genuflection, of receiving one's knighthood. And he looks like an angel, his dark hair falling over one eye. He's a storybook knight. He's every girl's Prince Charming, come to propose.

Which is why it's so ridiculously hot when he doesn't pop out a ring or make the sign of the cross but reaches behind my neck with a knowing smile and tugs hard at the silky tie so my halter tumbles down and my breasts are there for him to do with as he likes.

Max releases my hair and lays it over one shoulder in a rope. His hands slip under my arms and around my ribcage, cupping my breasts and supporting them, displaying them for Dex's gratification. I can't explain it, but the push-pull of having Max behind me and Dex in front of me, of Max's hands thrusting me forward, serving me up to Dex, is so erotic. I'm a plaything, a little doll for them to amuse themselves with.

Dex leans forward, all lashes and cheekbones and lips, kissing me slowly, self-indulgently, as Max's thumbs flicker over my nipples and his lips find my neck. I arch into Max's touch, into Dex's mouth. My pussy is already heating, dampening, at the intensity of it all, and we've barely begun.

Then Dex is bending and claiming my breasts for himself, his fingers brushing Max's as he takes over, his mouth latching on hard, and the otherworldly echo of his pulls somewhere deep in my core has me moaning a little, until Max slips a couple of fingers in my mouth.

‘Suck,' he orders, and I do, using my tongue to show him exactly what I'd do to his dick if I had the chance. It seems he gets my message, hardening further beneath me. I shift on him, seeking friction, my nerves from a few minutes ago forgotten, because the two of them already have me hot and bothered.

‘Jesus fuck,' he groans, sliding his fingers in and out of my mouth. ‘I can't wait to get inside that hot little arse.'

At that, Dex releases my breast. ‘Help me get her dress off,' he tells Max. Between them, they hoist my bum up and manoeuvre my dress down my legs until it's a pool of fabric on the floor. I'm naked in Max's lap aside from my oversized gold hoop earrings, and that has the power dynamic shifting further.

I can tell Dex senses it too, because he gives my body a once-over that's filthy and proprietary and ominous in equal measure. I'm splayed back against Max now, my head on his shoulder, my legs dangling.

‘Open her up for me,' he tells Max, and I inwardly rejoice. I love that Dex is such a natural switch; I love that he's Max's new little fuck toy but can join forces with him to overpower me.

‘You heard the man,' Max says smoothly. ‘Give him access to that pretty little cunt, sweetheart, or there'll be trouble. He needs to warm you up.' His dick is now fully erect and sticking into the small of my back. I widen my legs, and he reaches around, wrapping a hand around one knee and using it to hook my leg over his thigh so my foot is on the outside of his leg.

When he's done the same with the other and I feel stretched open, he collapses back into his semi-reclining position on the sofa, pulling me down with him.

‘Relax,' he croons against my ear, tenderly brushing my hair away from my temple before bringing his hands to my breasts and fondling them. I'm locked into place, his legs as effective as gynaecological stirrups at holding me open, and fuck if it isn't incredibly arousing to have Max playing with me while I'm spread for Dex.

‘God, that's more like it,' Dex says. He comes to kneel before me again, his knuckles brushing up the insides of my thighs, tantalisingly close to where I'm exposed and pulsing for him. ‘Are you comfortable like this, angel?'

‘Yes,' I say, and it sounds breathy, spaced out, because I swear the anticipation has me in a chemical haze already and Max's skilful fingers on my nipples are winding me higher.

‘Good,' he says. His eyes look darker in this light, like he's some kind of fallen angel, always beautiful and newly depraved. ‘Because you look like a goddess, all laid out for me like this. And I want to make you feel so amazing you'll never, ever forget it.'

With that oath, he bends his beautiful face to my pussy and I let my eyes drift closed.