Broken Limits

Page 59

Chapter Twenty
MY MOUTH AND PUSSYare stuffed full, and I don’t feel degraded, but I do feel deliciously depraved. This is what I needed, my men, washing away everything Don ever did to me.
Hitching my hips, I pull Wilder deeper into me, seeing stars when his piercing hits my already battered G-spot. Jesus, it is so intense it almost hurts.
He is fucking me like a machine, working his cock in and out, and hitting the right angle to send me over the edge any moment. At the same time, Brody’s cock is hitting the back of my throat.
“Fuck, I’m not going to last,” Brody grunts.
I’m still momentarily shocked when a flood of cum washes down my throat, thick and salty.
I struggle to swallow it all, and then he’s pulling out of me and taking my mouth in a fierce kiss.
“You did perfect,” he whispers close to my ear when the kiss ends, words only heard by me, not the others.
I didn’t do anything. I’m simply lying here, getting the best fucking of my life. Wilder ought to win an award for it.
He changes his position slightly, and it goes from intense to insane. Holy crap.
“That’s it, fill her up with that big cock,” Rafferty orders.
I’ve only just come. Surely I can’t again, but it hits me like a tidal wave, washing over me and dragging me under until I can’t do anything but surrender. My back bends like a bow, my tits pressing skyward. I squeeze my eyes shut as wave after wave of pleasure rips through me.
“Goddamn, she’s coming again.” Asher’s voice reaches me as if from far away.
Wilder’s hips jerk, and he groans as he comes, too. His hot cum floods my channel, and I clench my inner muscles, wanting to hold it inside me.
Wilder sags above me but holds his bodyweight up on his arms so he doesn’t crush me. “God, Snow, that was intense.” Gently, he pulls out of me, and a heated gush of cum floods from between my thighs. God, I’m wet, so wet, and this is only the start.
Wilder kisses me on the forehead and then climbs off.
It’s such a touching gesture, but I don’t get time to luxuriate in it as Rafferty pulls me up and turns me over.
“Get on your knees and press your tits to the blanket,” he says, his voice harsh with desire.
I do as he says. My knees are on the blanket, and so are my elbows as my shoulders are pushed down, gently but firmly, so I’m in the yoga puppy-dog position.