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Amber to Ashes (Torn Hearts #1) Page 114
Author: Gail McHugh

“It’s both of us,” Brock offers, his voice encased in a delicious, tempered growl. “Now it’s time to guess which one of us is about to lick this pussy until it aches to be fucked.”

Before I can say a word, they simultaneously withdraw their fingers, the chilled air rolling across my dampened flesh in their wake. Wasting not a single second, a pair of hands shackles my wrists, gently lifting my arms over my head. A surge of adrenaline floods my listless muscles, my heart thrashing as fear, desire, and excitement create a craving so intense—so brutally intoxicating—I feel as if I’m about to explode.

Another pair of hands brushes down my collarbone, along the sides of my breasts, the soft silk of a tongue stopping to lick, suck, and lightly bite my nipples before coming to rest where I need it most. I moan, my fingers gripping a shoulder for support as my leg is guided onto an unknown surface.

Hands still held captive above my head, I shimmy my ass against the hardened cock of whoever’s behind me, each of my senses tested as I hear what I assume are knees hitting the ground, followed by a soft, cool breath over my slickened folds. A hand grips the underside of my thigh, lifting my leg higher, as a tongue laps my clit, sucking on the swollen bud with a long, deep, mind-numbing groan.

“Oh my God,” I pant, ripping my wrists free from their confines. My fingers seek the hair of the man whose tongue is pleasuring me as I thrust my hips forward, grinding my pussy against his face. “God, yes. Please don’t stop.”

From behind, a hand comes around the side of my jaw, tugging my head back as soft lips capture mine in a ravenous kiss, a groan on the heels of each greedy swipe of his tongue. Before tonight, if someone had asked me if I could tell the difference between Brock’s and another man’s touch, I would have said without a doubt I could. But once whoever was just devouring me pulls away, I’m left clueless as to who’s where and doing what. All I know is I’m surging with an intense desire to feel these men fill me, take me, use me up until I beg them to stop.

Almost perfectly timed, the mouth buried between my legs halts its delicious intrusion as I’m swept up—bride-style—into strong, thick arms. Another deep kiss, this one just as intense as all the rest, before I’m gently placed on the bed. My back melts against cool silk sheets as anticipation lights me up, yearning dizzying my head with every nervous breath I try for.

“Spread your legs.” Brock’s voice threads through the air, his heated command spoken from too far away to determine where he is.

I obey, no inhibitions or fear hindering my movements. I’ll give them whatever they want, whatever they need, my entire body Brock’s and Ryder’s to keep.

Large hands wrap around my ankles, spreading my legs wider, opening me up, not an inch of me unexposed to their eyes. I’m pulled to the very edge of the mattress, the reality of what’s about to happen yanking me—in the best way possible—clear out of my weed-induced high.

Not expecting to feel anything so soon, my breath escapes me in a harsh rush as Ryder and Brock each take a breast in their hand and sweep their tongues over the hardened peaks of my nipples. I lurch forward, tingles screaming across my skin as my heels hit the wood floor, their echo lost amid the increased pounding of my heart.

They pull away for what feels like an eternity before I feel a touch again on my inner thigh. The bed dips with the weight of a body to my left, a tantalizing groan to my right. A tongue licks a fiery trail up the bend of my calf as fingers trace my swollen lips, the shell of my ear, and the curve of my jaw. A mouth descends upon mine, kissing me soft and slow. Its addictive taste is familiar yet unfamiliar, but delicious all the same as its rhythm picks up, kissing me faster, harder. Another talented set of lips finds the flat of my stomach, moves up the arch of my ribs, the sensitive swell of my breasts, and ultimately lands on my neck, where it sucks with vigor, each teasing bite and masterful flick turning me into a fiend for them, for this, for us.

Drowning in an ocean of bliss, I let out a shaky whimper. My fingers delve into a thick mane of hair as a glorious tongue dances with mine. Another meets my ankle, its warmth traveling to the back of my knee, the curve of my waist, and the dip of my navel before heading back south, lapping at my clit with urgency.

My womb jerks in ecstasy, sweat gathering between my breasts as two fingers effortlessly slide inside me. Letting out a guttural groan, my boy licks me slow—ripening me up—his mouth attacking every inch of my pussy as my muscles buckle under the pressure of my approaching orgasm.

“You taste better than I could’ve ever imagined.” Ryder’s snarl travels across the room, his free hand digging into the back of my thigh. “I could suck on this pussy for days.”

Curiosity burns across my body, scalding everything in its path, intensifying my need to watch Ryder take me so intimately as I spring up onto my elbows and yank the tie from my eyes. Breathless, the delicious sight of him buried between my legs annihilates the air in my lungs, my already explosive want for him igniting into something dangerous, mentally lethal.

On instinct, I flit a nervous glance at Brock, scared of what his reaction to all of this is, petrified of how I’ll receive it.

I gnaw on my lip, guilt edging the deceitful corners of my self-indulgent mind as I touch his jaw. “I love you,” I whisper, praying he believes me, hoping I haven’t killed off his ability in being able to fully trust me after tonight. “I love you so much. I need you to know this, feel it without a speck of uncertainty.”

“I do, baby girl.” The drowsy cadence of his voice feels like the finest cashmere, its warmth coating my stomach. “I know it more than you’ll ever understand.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and swathes my lips in a kiss, each deep, probing press of his tongue absorbing another piece of my heart into his. In one fluid motion, he drops his mouth to my breast, capturing my nipple between his teeth, gently biting it. A gasp kicks from my throat, my spine arched as the healing caresses of his and Ryder’s tongues send a bolt of electricity through my limbs. Brock pulls back, his heated grin detrimental to my sanity as he juts his chin toward Ryder. “Like the way he’s taking care of you?”

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Gail McHugh's Novels
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