Page 117 of Honey Cut
Forbidden sex right in front of the person it would hurt the most.
“Show me,” Mark says, nipping at Tristan’s jaw before pulling away. “Show me how much you can come. How much you like feeling my cum on your cock.”
Tristan obeys, his hands on my waist, his green eyes gone dark with pupil. When our eyes meet, I see that he’s already broken open and he hasn’t even come yet. Then his stare moves back down to where he’s embedded in me, Mark’s orgasm all over both of us, and I can see the jaw-clenching strength it’s taking him not to unload right this very moment.
For his part, Mark has grabbed something from beside the throne and has settled onto his knees behind Tristan, and the moment I recognize that he’s got the lube dispenser is the moment I recognize that he’s hard, his flesh jutting between his hips once again.
By now, I know that this is how insatiable Mark can be when he has something he wants within his grasp. But it doesn’t make it any less filthy when he presses himself to Tristan’s back and starts rubbing his erection against Tristan’s flexing ass.
“I’m going to take what I want now,” he says to his bodyguard. “And you’re going to let me.”
As if there were any question. As if there had ever been any question.
When Mark gets his first finger lubed up and then swirls it around Tristan’s entrance, Tristan bucks between my thighs, panicked lust filling his face. “Oh fuck,” he whispers. “Oh God.”
I can feel through Tristan’s tensed frame the minute the swirling becomes pressing and then when pressing becomespushing, when Mark finally gets a finger inside and grazes Tristan’s prostate. Tristan practically jumps, and then he surges forward with a gasp, driving into me, hauling me close to his chest and shoving his face against my neck.
“Mnuh,” he says into my throat as Mark pushes another finger inside him. His chest is rising fast and hard against my breasts, and his arms are crushing me to him, and his erection is unmoving inside me, thick and hot. “Jesus.”
I can see over his shoulder to where Mark is working him open, to where the muscles of Mark’s shoulder and arm are flexing as he curls his fingers inside Tristan’s body. Mark’s eyes lift to mine, and he gives me a smile that is so sudden, so wide and happy, that I feel like I’m falling through the floor.
“You remember what this feels like, don’t you?” he murmurs, still smiling. “How hot he is in there? How tight it is around your fingers and then suddenly so soft and inviting? The noises he made when you did—this—” Mark’s arm moves a little, like he’s moving his fingers inside, and Tristan whimpers into my neck.
“I remember,” I say faintly. I’ve already come twice, and I don’t think I can do a third, but my body is still responding. To the feeling of Tristan in me and around me, to Mark’s sinful voice.
“Been missing this,” he says now as he pulls his hand free. More lube goes into the palm of his hand, and then he works it over his erection with slow, deliberate movements, his smile fading as he takes in Tristan’s back, the curves of his ass. His hips bracketed by my thighs. “Been thinking about it an awful lot, my knight.”
He moves closer on his knees, one hand holding himself and the other hand pressing between Tristan’s shoulder blades, pressing Tristan forward just enough that he hinges at the hips and gives Mark more access. It pushes me back against the throne, but I don’t mind. I like Tristan’s weight in my arms; I like being able to see down his back to where Mark is wedging himself inside.
Mark’s eyes fall closed as he breaches the rings of muscle, and his shoulders lift with a long breath.
Tristan moans. He’s shivering, and where our naked chests touch, he’s damp with sweat. I push my hands into his hair and croon to him, soothe him. Praise him for letting Mark have this, for being so good and so strong and for eating my pussy so well earlier. Tristan’s cock flexes inside me every time Mark moves, every time Markbreathes, and then Mark is all the way in and Tristan still has his face pressed to my neck and he’s mumbling and moaning to himself, like a man burning with a fever.
I drop my hand down from Tristan’s head, and then I weave my fingers with Mark’s where his are splayed on Tristan’s back. Our eyes meet, and I see the seethe of jealousy and the clutch of his anger, and I see also his possession and arrogance, and I see also this gorgeous, tender thing, vulnerable and sad and happy and fond and scared, and I could name it for him, I want him to name it for us, but I’m terrified to be wrong. I’m terrified to ask,Do you love me? Do you love Tristan?and hear any answer that’s notDown to the last atom, down to the last quark, I love you as much as you love me.
But I can endure not hearing him say it tonight because I can see it in his eyes, like a prism of pain and obsession that refracts colors I thought I alone could perceive.
Our eyes and fingers stay locked as Mark begins working his dick in and out of Tristan’s channel, as he begins flexing his hips and thighs and piercing his bodyguard with long, deep strokes.
Each one sends Tristan sinking deeper intome, like Mark is fucking me with Tristan’s body, and each one has Tristan shaking and shaking.
“Nothing has ever felt like this,” he pants into my neck. “It’s too much, honey. It’s too much. I want more.”
“Shh,” Mark says, his cock rifling in and out of Tristan now, sweat beginning to mist on his stomach and neck. “You’ll get more. You’ll get everything.”
“Please,” Tristan begs. “Please, yes, everything. Do anything you want to me. Anything?—”
“Oh, I’m going to,” promises Mark. “I’m going to do everything I want. I’m going to start by filling you up. Breeding you just like you’ve wanted since you came here. Would you like that?”
Tristan can’t speak because he’s seized by some unspeakable, vicious, merciless pleasure. He sucks in a breath by my neck, his entire form rigid and straining, and then with a cry I swear they can hear in heaven, he releases, dick pulsing, cum spurting, his hands digging into my back as he holds me tight and shoves his organ as deep into me as it will go.
Mark is relentless behind him, cruelly impaling his ass over and over, and Tristan is still crying out, and my own orgasm takes me by surprise, a short, sharp thing that has me clenching around Tristan and making him practically thrash between my legs. Mark grabs hold of the arms of the throne for leverage, using them to slam into Tristan with enough force to shake the breath from both the bodyguard and me, and then with a few erratic strokes, Mark roars like a king on a battlefield and comes.
He comes grunting, sweaty, and brutal. Still gripping the arms of the throne to keep himself speared as deeply as possible. He comes with the cords of his neck pulled taut, the veins in his arms and chest popping, with an avid fury haunting his expression. Semen is slick between Tristan and me, and it’s everywhere between Mark and Tristan, and then Tristan’s body goes still and he slumps against my chest. He’s crying, I think.
Mark keeps using him, even after Tristan is limp and trembling. Mark seems greedy of the now-lax welcome of Tristan’s postorgasm body, delighted by it, and he fits himself into the wet hole over and over again until finally he stops and pulls free. Ejaculate is everywhere, and he takes a moment to rub his dripping cock against Tristan’s ass, using Tristan like a human towel. Tristan shudders at that, hugs me harder.
My husband stands up, like someone surveying the damage from a storm, except it was him; he was the storm.
