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I love the way my body responds, the buzzing thrum like an ache when he orders me. It makes me feel dirty. Used. It feels wrong in a way that makes me need more. He slides and slams into me. The water makes the rhythmic slaps of his hand on my reddening ass even sharper. The sting of friction from his cock, together with the heat on my ass where he spanks, both shock me into a red surge of sensation.
Between slaps, he fingers and massages my ass, opening and softening me. By the time he slides two, then three fingers up, I’m juddering and shaking in every direction. His cock slams in and my insides flip. Water runs in streams down my face and in my eyes and mouth.
My moans mingle with gurgles as he yanks back my head and slips his cock out of my pussy, and up into my ass. My arms and legs patter at the explosion of raw sensation as my ass is stretched over his cock. No one has been there before.
I love the intense feelings, and I can’t decide if I want most for him to come in my ass or up in my pussy, when all the while my mouth and throat are still gagging for him.
He slides out of my ass and scrupulously cleans his cock before he plunges back into my pussy. I collapse and burst inside, feeling like he’s come home. I’m slipping on the tiles, and my hands give way. I bang my elbow as I collapse into the swirling pool of water. But he doesn’t let up.
He grips my ass hard and shouts as he cannons into me.
I wail, trembling all over and delirious in clenched and bursting oblivion as my pussy convulses, gripping tight on his hard ridges. He pummels me harder, higher, with no mercy. His heat swells and blasts, hosing my insides with his thick, sticky splatter.
Walking back to the house, our clothes are drenched and sticking to us like we just walked through a carwash. Even with nothing but the moonlight and the low garden path lamps, I hope nobody can see us.
My hand swings and happens to graze against his. Our little fingers happen to connect. We both let go like we’ve been stung. We could easily be seen. Nothing in this house can be trusted.
A warm feeling lights low in my gut as I realize, we’re both thinking the same thing. In one way, it’s almost as good as holding hands. In another way, the invisible connection means so much more.
Or it could. I bite my lip to remind myself, nothing in this house can be trusted. Least of all, Carlo.
We part without a word on the way in and head to our rooms separately.
On the way to my room, I hear something behind me but when I turn to look, there’s no-one in the hallway behind me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Wrapped up tight in the covers, I curl up naked, buried and hidden with the lingering scents of all three brothers on my body. I sleep, deep and sound, and I wake up, energized and starving hungry.
This morning, I spend an extra long time in the shower. Much as I adore all those lingering tangs, I can’t afford to wear them around the house. Especially not in range of Mrs. Jago’s sharp nose.
For breakfast, I put on the minimum makeup for protection. My Stella McCartney sculpted blazer over a loose white shirt and wide-leg pants gives me a serious look and a sleek silhouette. Altogether I’d prefer a suit of armor, but this is not a bad second best.
Taking my time to walk down the long staircases, my mind wanders, conjuring thoughts. Images. Pictures and sounds I should not be thinking of. Memories I know I shouldn’t have.
The heat in Carlo’s lap in the car.
The press of Bruno’s body and Alessio’s, in front and behind me, and how my breath fluttered in the crush.
How I burst and shattered with Carlo inside me, and how he exploded and shot like a column of lava from a volcano.
The distinct and unique tang of each of their body heat.
Their harsh slaps, so individual, I could tell each of them just from the sting and the throbbing ache they left on my behind.
The shape and sharpness of their teeth, and their tender gasps, so different and individual, the sounds of satisfaction they let out as they made me come.
The dizzying thrill of each of their scents. And the sinfully delicious combination of all three.
All three of my princes were there for me, there to protect me, to give me everything I wanted, all that I craved. Maybe it’s my inexperience, but pleasure never felt as deep as this, and nothing ever felt so much like it was mine. There was never anything in my life like this before.
It’s like all my senses and my instincts are lit up and alive, like never before. Like my senses can reach out farther, wider. Longer. Like I’m feeling things, connections, that I never saw, that never came out for me before. And I’m feeling valued. Precious. Wanted. Needed, even.
And it’s like I’ve lived up to now from moment to moment, hour by hour. Day by day.
But now I see a future. Am I kidding myself?
Is this a mad, buzzy hangover, or is this the echoes of my first contact with love?
