of desire. “You’ve got the word, angel. If you don’t want him to, you make it stop.”
“And if I like it?” She tilted her ass toward Remy’s ministrations. “If I don’t want him to stop?”
It was all Remy could do to keep his hand rhythmic. He twisted his grip to trace his nail around her clit. A kiss of pain. She shuddered. Too much. He dipped into his jeans, unzipping them and drawing out his throbbing cock. “You better tell me soon, sweetling. I can come all over this pretty ass I’ve marked, or I can come in my hand. But I will come.”
Framing Naya’s jaw, Daniel kissed her deep. Their tongues plunged back and forth. His breaths rasped when he said, “If you like it, you like it, angel. Whatever you need.”
Except Remy heard the lie. “More. Say all of it.”
Daniel flinched. “And I…I want to see him fuck you.”
She moaned in reply, then found her voice. “Yes. Please. Please, Sir. Whatever you want.”
Remy fished a condom out of his pocket, where he’d stashed it on an earlier shot of hope. Even that foolish hope didn’t compare to where this night had wound up. He rolled it down with hands that trembled, but at least it was on.
Notching his cock at her opening, he purposely dragged his hands from her shoulders to her ass, over her welts. Their welts. He gripped the back of her neck, thumbs nestled at the base of her skull, and turned her face up. “Kiss your man, chère . Kiss him deep while I fuck your hungry cunt.”
Chapter Seven
Daniel knew the moment when Remy drove deep because Naya surged forward. If their kiss hadn’t been rough to begin with, it became an unrelenting plunder—just from momentum. The force of Remy’s thrusts rocked the sofa. Naya’s moans dug into Daniel’s brain, down to a place where the surreal lived.
The woman he loved was being fucked by a near-stranger who’d beaten her to tears.
Holy Christ, Daniel only wanted more.
More meant more of his angel. Remy may have been outwardly calling the shots when wielding his belt, but Naya’s awareness of her needs and Daniel’s support had been key. This wasn’t a one-man show, especially when it involved the woman arching into each sharp thrust.
Daniel wanted to see it. If another man was fucking Naya, he needed to see it.
Either he’d vomit out of pure regret and fear, or he’d need to clamp the base of his dick to hold back wash after wash of depraved pleasure. It could flip either way.
“Enough kissing,” he rasped.
“Daniel?”
“Don’t stop.”
After securing Naya’s hands to the back of the sofa, he crossed to the other side, shucking his clothing as he walked. He was nude by the time he stood watching Naya and Remy in profile.
“Jesus.”
His whisper could’ve encompassed any number of surprises. First was the blunt, visceral shock of watching another man’s stiff prick slide so smoothly, so fiercely, in and out of his woman. Daniel loved her pussy: the way she tasted and clenched and took every inch, no matter how rough they played. He’d never been able to make her cry, but shit, he’d always been able to make her moan.
That joy belonged to another man now, and Daniel was stunned by the way he feasted on what he saw. By how much he wanted them to keep going, harder, faster, until they came right before his eyes. Two fit, magnificent people making each other crazy. He had a front-row seat to the dirtiest show a man could imagine.
Next he noticed Naya’s back, her ass. She was marked with pink and red welts—common enough after thirty minutes with a paid Domina. This was different. So much more intense. Not just because Remy’s belt had done such damage, but because they weren’t done yet. She had reached her threshold and her gorgeous release. That was usually where their session ended.
This wasn’t a session. It was a threesome. They were all going to come, and damn if that didn’t jerk Daniel’s arousal up another eight notches.
“Get over here, stud.”
“And if I like it?” She tilted her ass toward Remy’s ministrations. “If I don’t want him to stop?”
It was all Remy could do to keep his hand rhythmic. He twisted his grip to trace his nail around her clit. A kiss of pain. She shuddered. Too much. He dipped into his jeans, unzipping them and drawing out his throbbing cock. “You better tell me soon, sweetling. I can come all over this pretty ass I’ve marked, or I can come in my hand. But I will come.”
Framing Naya’s jaw, Daniel kissed her deep. Their tongues plunged back and forth. His breaths rasped when he said, “If you like it, you like it, angel. Whatever you need.”
Except Remy heard the lie. “More. Say all of it.”
Daniel flinched. “And I…I want to see him fuck you.”
She moaned in reply, then found her voice. “Yes. Please. Please, Sir. Whatever you want.”
Remy fished a condom out of his pocket, where he’d stashed it on an earlier shot of hope. Even that foolish hope didn’t compare to where this night had wound up. He rolled it down with hands that trembled, but at least it was on.
Notching his cock at her opening, he purposely dragged his hands from her shoulders to her ass, over her welts. Their welts. He gripped the back of her neck, thumbs nestled at the base of her skull, and turned her face up. “Kiss your man, chère . Kiss him deep while I fuck your hungry cunt.”
Chapter Seven
Daniel knew the moment when Remy drove deep because Naya surged forward. If their kiss hadn’t been rough to begin with, it became an unrelenting plunder—just from momentum. The force of Remy’s thrusts rocked the sofa. Naya’s moans dug into Daniel’s brain, down to a place where the surreal lived.
The woman he loved was being fucked by a near-stranger who’d beaten her to tears.
Holy Christ, Daniel only wanted more.
More meant more of his angel. Remy may have been outwardly calling the shots when wielding his belt, but Naya’s awareness of her needs and Daniel’s support had been key. This wasn’t a one-man show, especially when it involved the woman arching into each sharp thrust.
Daniel wanted to see it. If another man was fucking Naya, he needed to see it.
Either he’d vomit out of pure regret and fear, or he’d need to clamp the base of his dick to hold back wash after wash of depraved pleasure. It could flip either way.
“Enough kissing,” he rasped.
“Daniel?”
“Don’t stop.”
After securing Naya’s hands to the back of the sofa, he crossed to the other side, shucking his clothing as he walked. He was nude by the time he stood watching Naya and Remy in profile.
“Jesus.”
His whisper could’ve encompassed any number of surprises. First was the blunt, visceral shock of watching another man’s stiff prick slide so smoothly, so fiercely, in and out of his woman. Daniel loved her pussy: the way she tasted and clenched and took every inch, no matter how rough they played. He’d never been able to make her cry, but shit, he’d always been able to make her moan.
That joy belonged to another man now, and Daniel was stunned by the way he feasted on what he saw. By how much he wanted them to keep going, harder, faster, until they came right before his eyes. Two fit, magnificent people making each other crazy. He had a front-row seat to the dirtiest show a man could imagine.
Next he noticed Naya’s back, her ass. She was marked with pink and red welts—common enough after thirty minutes with a paid Domina. This was different. So much more intense. Not just because Remy’s belt had done such damage, but because they weren’t done yet. She had reached her threshold and her gorgeous release. That was usually where their session ended.
This wasn’t a session. It was a threesome. They were all going to come, and damn if that didn’t jerk Daniel’s arousal up another eight notches.
“Get over here, stud.”
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