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I kick off my sweats and fist my throbbing cock, stroking it to the rhythm of her cries and moans.
“Fuck, Mick… your mouth,” she whimpers, and I can’t help but smirk at her flushed cheeks, her parted lips.
“Fucking love your tits,” Mickey murmurs against her skin.
“More,” she pleads.
While Mickey lets go of her tit, and rids himself of his sweats, I settle in between her quivering thighs, ready for my favorite meal. As I lap at her opening, he straddles her, finding a position that allows him to fuck her tits without adding weight to her stomach.
The downside of him doing that, is that instead of her face, I’m looking at his pale ass which is anything but pretty. I focus all my attention on her swollen, weeping sex, sucking and lapping, licking and nipping until she tenses and cries out as an orgasm tears through her. Wetness floods her core, and I make sure I greedily lick it all up, leaving no drop behind.
“Your tits are fucking magnificent,” Mickey rasps.
She mewls and lifts her hips like she wants more. “Tell me what you need,” I demand, my voice rough with desire.
“Your cock,” she breathes out, her body arching in silent supplication.
“Good whore,” I praise her, and I surge up, positioning myself at her entrance. “Look at you, satisfying us both like the goddess you are,” I grunt as I slide into her, filling her completely.
Mickey’s hands knead her breasts as he thrusts between them, drawing moans from her lips that drive me insane with need.
“Fuck yeah!” Mickey groans triumphantly. At first I think he’s coming, but when Gail gasps with surprise, and he jumps off it like she’s burned him I don’t think that’s what’s happening. “I finally got it. Mhmm!” He moves to the side before sucking her tit into his mouth.
“He’s fucking drinking my milk,” she says, sounding as though she’s having trouble believing it.
He lets go of her tit with an audible pop. “Technically, it’s not milk yet. It’s colostrum, and it tastes fucking delicious.”
Gail makes an “are you fucking kidding me” face, but when I start to move inside her, it quickly morphs into pure bliss. Her eyes glaze over with lust. “More… please,” she begs. It’s a plea that slices through any semblance of control, spurring me on.
“Anything for you,” I promise, thrusting deeper, finding that spot inside her that makes her cry out. Mickey’s moans as he suckles her mingle with hers, the sound a symphony of sin that I’ll never tire of.
Gail snakes her hand under Mickey as he lies on his front, and he lifts his hips to make room for her. She grabs his cock, tugging at it in perfect symphony with my thrusts, which seems to make him suckle harder, at least if the wet noises are anything to go by.
As the crescendo builds, I can feel the taut strings of restraint snap. We come apart, a maelstrom of gasps and groans, names whispered like vows. It’s raw and beautiful—the kind of pleasure that brands your soul.
We collapse onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and satisfaction. Sweat cools on our skin, and the room settles into a contented quiet, punctuated only by our collective breathing.
“I love you, Gail,” Mickey murmurs, his voice a soft caress against her temple. He looks at me, his silver eyes shining with something fierce and tender.
“Love you,” I echo, the words still unfamiliar but so damn right. I repeat them as I brush a strand of Gail’s dyed black-and-white hair from her face.
We wait, hearts thumping, for her response. She smiles, a secret dancing in her gaze, but doesn’t say the words back. Not yet. And somehow, that’s okay. It’s a game we play, but the waiting makes the eventual victory sweeter.
“Keep trying, boys,” she teases, the twinkle in her eye promising more than just words. There’s a journey ahead, but it’s one I’m ready to take. For her, for Mickey, for us—for this chaotic love that’s become my everything.
Gail
3 weeks later.
The roar of the crowd vibrates through my bones as Lucia and I push through the throng of Sabertooths fans, their cheers a wild cacophony in the electric air of the arena. Sweat slicks my palms, and my heart thumps against my ribs like it’s trying to escape—excitement and nerves are a heady cocktail that I can’t seem to stop sipping.
“Come on, Gail! This is going to be epic,” Lucia shouts over the din, her grin infectious as she tugs me along. “Sawyer’s been on fire all season. And with Soren and Mickey on the ice, damn, girl, we’ve got this in the bag!”
“Hope so,” I reply, my voice hitching a little higher than I intended. I can’t help it though, tonight everything gets decided down there on the ice.
We find our seats, prime real estate in the family section, and I peel off my jacket, revealing the outfit that’s a silent shout-out to my men. The long-sleeved Sabertooths colored crop top clings to my skin. It’s sheer enough that the black bra underneath is no secret. It’s bold, it’s scandalous, and I love how it makes me feel—a blend of exposed and powerful.
My fingers trace the numbers emblazoned right where my nipples are hidden beneath the fabric—7 for Mickey, 12 for Soren. My dark, low-waist maternity pants cradle the curve of my swelling belly, a reminder of another layer of our perfectly imperfect relationship.
